Gospel Story Finder

Claudiana: At the height of my illness, my faith began to weaken. I thought Heavenly Father wasn’t listening to my prayers, and I wondered what I’d done to deserve this suffering. During one hospital exam, I was in so much pain that I thought I was going to die. In this moment I feared for my life and my future, but Gustavo grabbed me and reminded me of the things I used to teach him back when he was investigating the Church.
“Now is the time to put those teachings into practice,” he said. “You need to have faith.”
I thought of Ether 12:12: “For if there be no faith among the children of men God can do no miracle among them; wherefore, he showed not himself until after their faith.” Gustavo helped me believe in a miracle—without him, I may have lost hope. He reminded me of the eternal love and enabling power of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ and that I was not beyond their promised blessings. I am forever grateful that he helped keep the fire of faith alive in me.
Gustavo not only supported (and continues to support) me spiritually, but he also supported me emotionally. When I was sick, people pitied me and felt sorry for me, but Gustavo didn’t. Of course, he listened to my worries and held me when I cried, but he also encouraged me, joked with me, and got me out of the house when I was depressed. Gustavo was a light to me during this dark time and helped instill a confidence in me that my illness had taken away.
If your significant other is struggling, do things that will lift them up. Show them that you care about them. Support them when they are happy and when they are sad. Help them to strengthen their relationship with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. Gustavo does these things. His optimism and love helped us build a relationship that withstood my illness.

After a recent mission tour in Indonesia when I visited the missionaries and the Saints on the island of Java, I had to catch an early morning flight to Singapore, and I checked out of the hotel at 6:00 A.M. In order to go to the airport, I, with my luggage, climbed into a taxi that was parked near the hotel entrance. I told the driver to go to the international airport, but alas, his car would not start. Apparently the battery was dead.
Well, what do you do in such a case?
Many thoughts crossed my mind. I calculated that it would probably cost me much time to unload my luggage and find another taxi, and it also occurred to me that the taxi driver was trying hard to make an honest living for his family and would be very disappointed if he could not make that lucrative half-hour trip to the airport.
I made the decision to do my morning exercises by pushing the taxi, leaving the Indonesian cab driver behind the steering wheel to start the car. However, he greatly overestimated the early morning physical power of a flying Dutchman and released the clutch of the car before I had been able to give the car adequate speed. As a result, it came to a sudden halt. But I gave it another try, and this time it worked. With a roaring motor the taxi moved forward. I flung open the door, jumped in, and we were on our way.
An hour and a half later when I boarded my flight, the air hostess who greeted me at the door of the plane said: “I am surprised to see you here! You are the gentleman who pushed the taxi in front of the Borobudur Hotel this morning.”
I confirmed that this was true, and she then told me that all the members of the plane crew had witnessed the scene from the airport limousine parked at a side door of the hotel. They had been waiting for their driver to bring one more piece of luggage. She said that on the way to the airport they had talked a lot about the incident and had wondered: “What makes this man tick? If he can afford to stay in the Borobudur Hotel, why would he take the trouble to push a taxicab at 6:00 A.M. in the morning?”
I thought, “This is my chance to do missionary work!” I took a name card out of my wallet, handed it over to her, and said, “We in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints believe in sound human relations.” What a great opening line for a missionary!
Well, to cut a long story short, the air hostess told me she was not actually a stewardess but was flight services instructor for Cathay Pacific Airways and had boarded this flight to evaluate the performance of some students she had taught in the cabin crew training school in Hong Kong. That enabled me to make another statement about the Church: “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the largest educational institution in the world today. At least 2 million people teach one another on a weekly basis with divinely inspired lesson materials.” I further explained to her that a great deal of my time is spent in teaching missionaries and members of the Church in the nine missions of Southeast Asia.
She remarked: “Then you are maybe the man we are looking for—an experienced air traveler with the ability to teach our personnel involved in ticketing, reservations, check-in counter work, baggage claim area assisting, etc., how to get along well with customers.” I told her that I would gladly do it free of charge whenever they planned another initial or refresher course in Hong Kong and when these dates would not interfere with my other Church assignments. I thought then and there: “What a golden opportunity to use that beautiful book Spiritual Roots of Human Relations, written by Brother Stephen R. Covey of Brigham Young University, to let these people know what makes Mormons tick!”
After my return to Hong Kong, I was approached by the training manager of the airline, who had received a report from the flight services instructor. I made an appointment and spent a couple of hours with him in his office. He was greatly impressed by the work and the achievements of the Church.
I am sure I will have the opportunity to reach out to many souls in the future simply because of what the world observed when they saw the Church in action one early morning in Jakarta, Indonesia.

After several meetings with the missionaries, I was not making much progress. I felt I had not received a confirmation of the truthfulness of the gospel.

One day, Renee asked me, “Are you reading the Book of Mormon?”

I replied, “No.” I was listening to the missionaries—wasn’t that enough?

With tears in her eyes, Renee assured me that she knew the Book of Mormon is true and explained that if I wanted to know if it is true, the only way is—guess what—to read it! And then ask!

Read, ponder in your hearts, and “ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, … with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ” (Moroni 10:4) if the Book of Mormon is true, if this is the true Church.

So the third lesson, in one sentence: when you receive these things—the Book of Mormon—and you are exhorted to read and ask God if they are true, please just do it!

The final experience I’d like to share is about repentance. After I had finished taking all the missionary lessons, I was still not convinced I needed to change anything in my life. It was Elder Cutler, a young, confident missionary with limited Spanish, who one day said, “Joaquin, let’s read together Alma 42, and we will include your name as we read it.”

I thought it was silly, but I did as Elder Cutler asked and read in verse 1: “And now, my son [Joaquin], I perceive there is somewhat more which doth worry your mind, which ye cannot understand.” Oh! The book was speaking to me.

And we read in verse 2: “Now behold, my son [Joaquin], I will explain this thing unto thee,” and then the Fall of Adam was described.

And then in verse 4: “And thus we see, that there was a time granted unto [Joaquin] to repent.”

We continued reading slowly, verse by verse, until we reached the last three verses. Then I was struck by a powerful force. The book spoke directly to me, and I started to cry as I read, “And now, [Joaquin,] my son, I desire that ye should let these things trouble you no more, and only let your sins trouble you, with that trouble which shall bring you … unto repentance” (verse 29).

I realize now that I had expected to receive revelation without paying the price. Until then I had never truly spoken to God, and the idea of speaking to someone who wasn’t present seemed foolish. I had to humble myself and do what I was being asked to do even if, in my worldly mind, it sounded silly.

That day I opened my heart to the Spirit, desired to repent, and wanted to be baptized! Before that moment, I had thought of repentance as something negative, associated only with sin and wrongdoing, but suddenly I saw it in a different light—as something positive that cleared the path to growth and happiness.

Elder Cutler is here today, and I want to thank him for opening my eyes. Every decision I have made in my life since then has been influenced by that moment when I humbled myself and prayed for forgiveness, and the Atonement of Jesus Christ on my behalf became part of my life.

So the last lesson, in one statement: experience repentance; nothing draws you closer to the Lord Jesus Christ than a desire to change.

My dear investigator, friend of the Church, if you are listening today, you are very close to reaching the greatest joy. You are close!

Let me invite you, with all the energy of my heart and from the depths of my soul: go and be baptized! It is the best thing you will ever do. It will change not only your life but also the lives of your children and grandchildren.

The Lord has blessed me with a family. I married Renee, and we have four beautiful children. And because of my baptism, I can, like the prophet Lehi of old, invite them to partake of the fruit of the tree of life, which is the love of God (see 1 Nephi 8:15; 11:25). I can help them come unto Christ.

So please consider my experiences, and (1) take the missionaries very seriously, (2) go to church and remember spiritual feelings, (3) read the Book of Mormon and ask the Lord if it is true, and (4) experience repentance and be baptized.

I testify to you that if you pay the price of revelation, humble yourself, read, pray, and repent, the heavens will open and you will know, as I know, that Jesus is the Christ, He is my Savior, and He is yours. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Their married life got off to a great start. Leonie and Frank saved up to buy land and build a house, which they completed soon after their honeymoon. The newlyweds enjoyed taking long walks together, playing cards with friends and going to balls, and when they eventually welcomed five beautiful children into their family, Leonie cherished being a mother. “Throughout our childhood and our lives, we always felt loved,” says Lisa.
After some time, the family’s fortunes changed. They lost their home and had to move several times as Frank sought reliable work. Times were hard, but Leonie never complained. “Mum always demonstrated incredible patience,” said Lisa. She was an excellent cook who would brighten her children’s days with great food and fun activities. “I knew we weren’t all that well off, but thanks to Mum, I had no idea how poor we really were.”

Talents are meant to be shared. As you learn to play the piano, you can bless others with your music. As you develop your talent for spirituality, you can use this gift to bless your family. Did you know you have some responsibility for the happiness in your family? It isn’t just your mom’s or dad’s job to keep the family happy. You can help too. Listen to what Brooke did as she shared her talent for spirituality.
“My eight-year-old sister was scared of strangers coming into the house. One night she came into my room, and I tried to explain to her that she wasn’t hearing anyone walking around. I remembered my seminary teacher challenged us to always try to have Heavenly Father’s Spirit with us. So I prayed in my heart that I would get help to not be frustrated. A verse came instantly into my head. I opened the scriptures and told her to read it to me. Then I was bearing testimony to her about the Holy Ghost and how if she wanted peace to get down and pray and the Spirit would come. She gave me a hug and kiss and went off to bed. Then I remembered my 10-year-old sister on the top bunk. She told me she never knew that if you wanted something like that you could pray and the Spirit would bring you peace. I know the Holy Ghost was inspiring me to say that” (letter).
There are lots of ways you can bless your family. Brooke did three important things: she bore her testimony, she prayed for her sister, and she was an example to her other sister on the top bunk. This strengthened her own spirituality as well.

I feel impressed by something that has been said to repeat an experience. There are a number who are listening in tonight, and one particularly who will remember this very vividly—an incident that took place a number of years ago in Japan. I want you to pay particular attention to a part of this, to show how a mistake in your early life can blight the possibilities of your future opportunities for service in the kingdom of God.
It was just after the war; things were tense. We were at one of the upper camps where the planes could take off, and within half an hour they could be over on the Russian side. We were holding a noon meeting with our servicemen. They called on a young man to speak first. He announced his text from the prayer of the Master when he prayed for his disciples: “I pray not that thou shouldest take them [my disciples] out of the world, but that thou shouldest keep them from the evil.” (John 17:15.) Then this lad delivered one of the finest talks on chastity that I have ever heard. He closed by saying, “Rather than lose my virtue, I would die and have my body sent home in a pine box and my dog tags follow after.”
There was a hush over that audience of servicemen, and then he bore his testimony; and as he started to leave the pulpit, he stumbled and fell, draped over the pulpit. We lifted him off the pulpit and worked with him until he was revived, and then took him down in the audience.
As they carried him down, the mission president said to me, “I wonder if he has a bad heart.” And I said, “You know, I have had a feeling that there is something quarreling inside of him against what he has been saying to us.”
When it came my time to speak, I said to him, “Now, my boy, you have made a profound impression upon all of us. You have said you would rather die than lose your virtue. But remember, the devil heard you, as we heard you, and if I don’t miss my guess, he is going to make you prove that you would give your life before you would lose your virtue. You had better be on guard.”
The group leader took me aside when the meeting was over, and he said, “You were hitting close to the mark, because up at the Chitose Airbase there has grown up one of the most filthy, rotten cities filled with prostitutes to try to entrap our men, and we have tried to keep them out of their clutches. But this boy had made a date with one of these hussies, as they called them, patriotic hussies; and we found out before he kept the date and said, ‘Now look, we are not going to let you keep that date. Think of your mother; think of your sweetheart; think of your sisters. Now we will go down with you and help you break that date honorably.’”
This they did, and kept him under their surveillance for two weeks. They assigned him to do ward teaching, or home teaching, as they call it now; that meant, visit all the inactive boys in the camp. And two weeks later they assigned him to talk on the subject of chastity.
So the years passed. We were with President McKay at the dedication of the Los Angeles Temple. Between sessions I walked out to get some fresh air. As I walked up the west side of the building, I saw on the upper elevation a young man who seemed familiar to me, and I got closer to this young man that I had seen in Hokkaido, Japan. As he recognized me, he came running down the steps and threw his arms around my neck, and said, “Guess what! They have called me to be a worker in the Los Angeles Temple.”
There was a lump in my throat because I was there at the crossroads when he almost made a fatal step that probably would have forfeited him the right to be a worker in the Los Angeles Temple.
More years passed, and then I was out at a conference where he lived; and I saw a young couple walking down the aisle, the man holding in his arms a beautiful child, and a beautiful girl holding on to his arm, whom he introduced as his wife. As they uncovered the face of their new baby, I thought there was pride in the face of that young man because he knew as a young father that in the blood of his own child there was clean, pure blood. That is the reward that comes to one who passes the test.

Photograph courtesy of the author
For a hobby, I took up beekeeping. Soon, people started asking me if they could buy some of my honey.
After selling a little honey, I thought about paying tithing on my “interest” (Doctrine and Covenants 119:4). I really didn’t think of the money I earned, however, as an increase. I spent a lot more on beekeeping equipment than I made selling honey.
But I remembered that tithes are holy to the Lord. As members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, we honor Him by paying tithing. Paying tithing is an expression of our faith in God and His promises.
I remembered that those who pay tithing receive this promise from the Lord: “Prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it” (Malachi 3:10).
I accepted the Lord’s challenge and paid tithing on my honey sales. On the tithing slips, I wrote, “From honey money.”
A short while later, a friend came to my house and said he knew someone whose beekeeping husband had passed away. The widowed wife wanted to get rid of all her husband’s beekeeping equipment and was thinking of throwing it away. Instead, my friend took me to pick up the equipment.
All the beekeeping equipment I had ever wanted and wished for—and more—was there, including all kinds of honey-extracting equipment.
Nobody gives away beekeeping equipment. But within a week after I made the choice to pay tithing, Heavenly Father opened the windows of heaven and rewarded me. I believe chance had nothing to do with it. I have a testimony that Heavenly Father knows me and my desires. My testimony of the importance of paying tithing has certainly grown.

Some weeks later, I had a vivid dream. My three boys had climbed to the top of a cliff. As they stepped to the edge, I felt powerless to keep them safe. Any of them could make a choice at any moment that would lead to a deadly fall. I cried out to God in fear.
I awoke with my heart pounding. I rolled out of bed to pray that Heavenly Father would protect my sons—not from a physical fall but from a spiritual one that now felt just as real.
The Spirit prompted me to open the Pearl of Great Price. His guidance took me on a spiritual journey through the story of Enoch (see Moses 7:21–67). As I read, I realized that our Heavenly Father watches us make choices that could lead us over the ledge toward spiritual death. With my dream fresh in my mind, I now had a better understanding of how hard it must be for Him to watch us make such choices (see Moses 7:28).
But I realized I could not ask God to keep my boys from falling without asking Him to take away the agency He had given them. For a brief second, I understood the draw of Lucifer’s promise that he would save everyone, including our loved ones (see Moses 4:1). But Satan’s promise was deception because it would “destroy the agency of man” (Moses 4:3). And Heavenly Father knew that if we were to become like Him, we must be able to choose to obey Him (see Moses 7:32–33).
I was stunned as I considered our Father’s unwavering commitment to our agency in spite of what it must have cost Him personally (see Moses 7:37). But where did that leave me? Was I really powerless to do anything to help them?
As my own soul ached for my children (see Moses 7:41), the Spirit whispered to me to lift up my heart and be glad (see Moses 7:44). I kept reading and was struck by the following words: “I am Messiah, the King of Zion, the Rock of Heaven, which is broad as eternity; whoso cometh in at the gate and climbeth up by me shall never fall”1 (Moses 7:53; emphasis added).
This climb was what I had just dreamed about! This promise of safety is what I had just prayed for. When I looked at our mortal journey as a climb, I realized my boys were going to slip and fall. We all do. I did. That’s why I wanted to protect them; I was afraid that if they fell off the rock, they might be so hurt that they wouldn’t want to get back up.
But as the Spirit continued to teach me, I realized that the experiences I’d had in turning back to the Savior after my falls had changed me. They created in me an appreciation for what Jesus Christ had done for me. It’s what bound me to Him now. That experience is invaluable, but it is only possible when we are free to choose to turn to Him again if we have chosen to turn away.
I now understood that I couldn’t keep my boys from making choices that would lead to a fall. But I could help them learn to recognize good choices, and I could teach them whom to turn to, not only when they made bad choices but in all things.
Nephi’s metaphor of a path helped me know how I could help my boys learn to turn to Him: “Wherefore, if ye shall press forward, feasting upon the word of Christ, and endure to the end, behold, thus saith the Father: Ye shall have eternal life” (2 Nephi 31:20; see also verse 19).
Whether we are talking about clinging to an iron rod or to a climbing rope, the safety I wanted to provide my boys is found in being connected to the Savior by relying upon His word. Instilling in them a love for the scriptures and the teachings of living prophets can give them what they need to press forward—or upward—even if they slip and fall.

I learned years ago a very important lesson. I think it was the second time I’d ever met President Harold B. Lee; I had been introduced to him once before. I was serving as a member of a stake high council, and on one occasion the stake president presented in our meeting the name of a man to be called to a position of leadership in the stake. I was teaching seminary at the time, and Brother Leon Strong, also a seminary teacher, had talked to me a time or two about this man. We’d commented on what an able man he was and how sad it was that he couldn’t do more than he did because of a handicap relating to his wife. She had one personality trait that I think could be characterized by the term malicious; I think that identifies what it was.

When the stake president presented the name of this man for a presiding office in the stake and called for a vote, the two of us cast negative votes. That’s rather unusual. The president talked it over for a few minutes, and then said that he felt he’d like to proceed anyway, and asked if we would sustain him in issuing this call. Immediately the issue changed. In my mind, then, it was a vote to sustain the stake president, not necessarily a vote for this man to office, and when he called for a vote, Brother Strong and I joined the other ten members of the stake high council affirmatively, approving the call of this man to office.

When our stake conference was held, a month or two later, when the ordinations were to take place, Elder Harold B. Lee, of the Council of the Twelve was the visitor. After the conference we’d assembled in the stake center for the ordinations. Elder Lee had ordained a bishop and his counselors and some others, and then this man was called forth to be ordained by the member of the Council of the Twelve. Brother Strong nudged me—we were sitting together—and with a smile on his face he leaned over and said, “Well, Brother Packer, now we’ll see whether this Church is run by revelation.”

Elder Lee put his hands on the head of this man, began the usual introductory words to an ordination, then hesitated. Then he said words to this effect: “The other blessings relating to your activities and life and occupation that you’ve heard pronounced upon the others here apply to you as well, but there is a special blessing.” And then that man received the longest blessing, the most pointed of them all; and in reality, it was not a blessing for him but a blessing for his wife. It was a very interesting thing to see.

Immediately, when the meeting was over, I went to Brother Lee and said, “Did you know this brother before you ordained him?”
“No,” he said. “I didn’t know him. I think I hadn’t seen him till I came into this room.”
I said, “He received a very unusual blessing.”
And Elder Lee said, “Yes, I felt that.”
Later the president of the stake explained: “I meant to talk to Elder Lee about that and tell him that here was a man that had need of a special blessing, but in the press of business, we just didn’t have time.” And so Brother Strong was right. That day we did see whether this Church is run by revelation or not.

At another baptism, a young girl of 14, with tears in her eyes, hugs the sister missionary who has taught her the gospel. Even though this missionary had to leave her home thousands of miles away to serve a mission, it has been worth it.
Two missionary stories with the same emotion and the same sacrifice. It may be surprising to learn they took place 150 years and an ocean apart. The first missionary was Addison Pratt, who baptized in 1844 the first members of the Church in the Pacific not far from Tahiti. The second missionary was Barbara Nauta, a native Tahitian, who left her island home to serve a mission in Canada in 1993.
Just like those missionaries 150 years ago, young Tahitians look to the Lord to guide them as they serve. For example, Barbara Nauta, who grew up in Tahiti, served in the Canada Toronto Mission. She said investigators in Canada were amazed that she had left her warm Pacific island to learn another language (Barbara, who speaks French and Tahitian, had to learn English) and suffer in cold and snow. They asked her why. “I told them the Lord sent me here,” she says.

I’m home now, at our dinner table, after working my four-hour shift in the bookstore. Mom has just warmed up a plate of food for me.
“I think we’ll have fun in that class,” she says, scrubbing off a pot in the kitchen sink. “I can’t believe we ended up together. Of course, if you think it’s too awkward to have me in the same class, I could transfer.”
“Oh, no, Mom. I don’t mind at all,” I tell her, hiding the fact that for one more semester my social life probably will be roughly on par with a turnip. “But why family relations? It’s not like you don’t have any experience. Remember us? Your five children?”
Mom stands up straight and sets aside her dish rag. “Well, I’m taking three classes. Geology, because every time I’ve looked out this window in the last 27 years, I’ve seen mountains. I want to know more about those mountains. The humanities class is to help me better appreciate the beauty around me.” She picks up the rag and begins some intense scrubbing on a casserole dish. “And the family relations class—that’s to help me know if I could have done a few things better.”
I know what she is talking about—my younger sister, Jan. A little more than two years ago, when I was on my mission in Peru, Jan left home just before graduating from high school. We don’t really know where she is. A phone call, a postcard, maybe a letter at Christmas, first from Chicago, then somewhere in Florida, then a half-dozen other locations. She just tells us that she is fine, working, and maybe will come back someday. We’ve all lost sleep over her.
I finish my meal and give her a hand with the rest of the dishes before heading to my room to work through some calculations for my building materials class. I hope for the millionth time that Jan is okay somewhere.
I’ve decided not to break things off with the blonde-haired girl from California, at least not yet. In fact, once again I think our relationship is progressing nicely. She did sort of look around in class the other day. I took that as a sure sign she was checking to see if I was there.
Anyway, the big break came when the instructor, Dr. Holgate, took roll out loud. I very casually pretended not to be paying attention, but I was all ears, hanging on each “Here!” as the names were called out.
“Carianne Meacham?”
“Here!”
That’s it! She has a name. I scribble furiously in my notebook. Carianne. A wonderful name. It fits someone used to surfing off Malibu, working on her tan, and playing volleyball on the beach, all important qualities in a prospective wife.
My mother is nudging me. “The teacher’s calling your name!” she whispers hoarsely.
“Here!” I blurt out, standing up. The whole class laughs.
Tonight I am again trying to concentrate on homework. But there’s a huge distraction sitting on the end of my desk.
It is the university phone book.
Inside it, I know, Carianne Meacham’s name will be listed, where she lives, her hometown, her major, and her phone number.
Try this scenario:
“Hello, Carianne. I’m David Williams, the guy you said hello to in family relations class two weeks ago, the ruggedly handsome one who sits next to his mother.” Well, maybe I could get just a few basics about her from one quick peek at the phone book.
I open it and search through the M’s. Voila! Meacham, Carianne L. Sophomore. Nursing major. Lives off campus. But what’s this? She’s from Seattle, Washington, land of perpetual drizzle.
I can adjust. I like rain. I like little green plants growing behind my ears and between my toes. I like rust, honest.
I wonder if Carianne knows what sacrifices I’m making for her.
Family relations class, a debate is raging. Dr. Holgate raised the question. “Is there ever a time when parents are justified in asking their children to leave home?” The arguments churn on. The class consensus seems to be that, yes, there are rare occasions when a child should not be allowed in the home, such as if his or her behavior is damaging the entire family or setting a bad example for younger siblings. Dr. Holgate is at the front of the class, looking slightly entertained. Class is almost over.
“Any other thought?” she asks.
“Yes!” my mom says.
“Go ahead.”
“When you have children, they are yours forever, not just in good times or okay times, but always. You have to love them always, show them that you care always, and be there for them always,” Mom says, her voice slightly quivering.
It is an amazing turn of events. The class bursts into applause. Up front, Dr. Holgate is beaming. The buzzer sounds and class is over. Several students come up to talk with my mom, the new class star. One of them is Carianne who grasps her arm and says, “Ruth, what you said is true.”
While I’m happy for my mom, it’s a little difficult to accept that Carianne is more impressed with my mother than with me.
Not a good day in Family Relations 101. Dr. Holgate announces we need to pair up with someone else to work jointly on our final project. It will be a report on some aspect of family relations. The choice of topics is up to us. Half of our grade will be on our paper, the other half on a 15-minute class presentation by the two-person teams.
“Okay, pair up,” Dr. Holgate urges. “If you can’t find a teammate, I’ll assign you.”
Carianne Meacham stands up and turns toward me. My heart starts to thump. This is it. I knew I was right. All semester long, she’s secretly wanted to get acquainted. I owe Dr. Holgate for this opportunity, I really do.
Carianne smiles. I smile back. I’m already to ask, “How ya’ doin’?” which is my best get-acquainted line. She is only inches away. I hear her voice.
“Ruth, would you like to work together?” she asks my mother!
“Why yes, I’d be tickled to.”
Cruel fate. Aced out by my mom. Again.
I feel a hand on my shoulder. I look up into the bespectacled face of a man in his late 20s, balding, with a lopsided smile.
“Hey, we’re the only ones left without a partner. Whaddya say? Pete LaFete is my name, and I’ve got some great ideas for this project.”
I can’t find the right words to tell him I didn’t take this class to further my male bonding experience. But I’m so stunned, I nod. Peter LaFete and I are a team.
I am slumping. I am a baseball player who has gone hitless in his last 27 at-bats, a singer who comes down with laryngitis the night of the big concert. I’m struggling with my engineering classes, and Family Relations 101, the class I took for enjoyment is turning into a nightmare. Hey, I’m 22 years old, and I should know more about … about … life.
Yes, life. I should be more on top of it than I am now. I need a triumph. Just a small triumph, a little victory to reinforce that I do have something to look forward to.
I got together with Peter LaFete. We are going to do our research paper on successful dating. Pete is single, six years older than I am, and has just changed his major to family relations although he has 224 credit hours and should have graduated before I left on my mission. I told him since neither of us has much of a track record in dating, we might have a credibility problem.
“No way, pard. I know a lot about dating,” he says confidently.
I have a few theories about why Pete is still single.
Dark, cold, and rainy. Sort of like my life right now. I am in my room, studying. It is almost 11:00 P.M. Mom and I went over each other’s notes in preparation for the final tomorrow in Family Relations 101. Then I came up here to hit the books. Downstairs, everything is quiet. The rain slashes against my window. It’s on nights like these that I most often think of my sister and wonder where she might be.
I hear a commotion on the porch. I get up from my desk, wondering what is going on. There is a loud knock on the door. Mom and Dad are at the bottom of the stairs, fumbling with bathrobes, turning on the entry lights. Dad opens the door a little and peers into the darkness. A figure steps into the light spilling from our home.
It is my sister, soaking wet, looking tired, looking very different than the skinny junior in high school I knew when I left on my mission.
“Can I come in?” she asks, her voice trembling.
“This is your home, Jan,” my dad says softly.
“Mom, Dad, I need to start over.”
“We’ll talk later,” Mom says. My sister throws her arms around Mother, and they both begin to cry.
I think my slump is history.
It is Friday, at the end of the semester. All of the work for family relations and my other classes is done. Mom and Carianne were a brilliant team. Their presentation was terrific.
Pete LaFete and I were less than genius. “I’ve found in my experience,” Peter lectured during our presentation, “that a proper way of saying good night on a fourth or fifth date is to kiss a girl lightly on her forehead. Girls remember it.”
I bet they do, Pete.
Anyway, I’m just getting home and pushing my way through the back door. Something smells great in the kitchen. Mom is at the stove.
“Hello, dear.”
“Hi, Mom. Where’s Jan?”
“In the dining room with your dad. She registered at the community college today. Maybe she’s finally turning the corner. By the way, I invited some company over for dinner tonight. Hope you don’t mind.”
“No big deal, Mom,” I answered, since we often throw an extra plate on the table for guests. I peek into the dining room, and there, with her back toward me, chatting away with my dad and sister, is Carianne Meacham.
My mom smiles serenely.
“I got an A in family relations, remember? And I saw her name in your notebook the other night when we were studying. Now try to say something besides, ‘How ya’ doin’?’ Carianne is an intelligent girl, and I don’t think that will impress her at all.”
And that’s the way I got to know Carianne Meacham.
Sometimes I sit back and like to sort things out. I’ve been thinking about the last months. I think about Mom going back to school at age 53 and showing all of us that learning is something you do all your life. I think about her report card, two A’s and a B. (“Geology wasn’t as intriguing as I was hoping,” Mom explains.) I think about my sister and what my mom had to say about loving always. And I understand better that there are at least two kinds of education. One kind deals with the mind, the other with the heart.

“When Mom and Dad were first married they lived on a farm. One day Dad knew an orphan pig would die if he didn’t keep it warm and feed it himself. So he brought the pig inside and put it in the oven. He didn’t turn on the oven but thought the pig would be comfortable there for a while. He didn’t think to tell anyone what he’d done and my mother, not knowing about the pig being there, came into the kitchen and turned on the oven to bake something. Needless to say, an unintentionally roasted pig at our house that day caused quite a problem.”

As part of the UK‘s coronation celebrations, Monday 8th March was designated the Big Help Out Day. On this bank holiday, individuals, groups and communities were encouraged to give volunteer help. Members of the Belfast Stake assisted in the Windsor Community Garden rebuild in Belfast. This was organised by the Northern Ireland Inter-faith forum.
The Windsor Community Garden is a volunteer initiative created by a group of Baha‘i youth around 10 years ago. The previously small disused site on Lower Windsor Avenue has since flourished as local residents have cared for it and developed it.
Victor, who arrived as a refugee from Ukraine alongside his spouse, became the main caretaker of the garden a year ago. He highlighted that much of the wood for the raised beds was rotting away, and was in need of being replaced. So it was planned to rebuild the garden on the 8th as part of the Big Help Out.
It was a large project, and involved moving about 10 tonnes of soil. In recent years the Windsor area of Belfast has become increasingly diverse so the volunteers came from many different faith and belief backgrounds, and from many different nationalities.

I sit at the sewing machine and feed thread onto seams of flannel. Child-print patterns in soft colors decorate the tops, and coordinating colors form the backs of the baby receiving blankets I’m sewing.
Our ward Relief Society assembles newborn kits for poverty and disaster areas. I’m an amateur seamstress, but I’m committed to participate. I enjoy choosing fabric for the project and cutting out blanket-sized squares.
I put right sides of the fabric together, sew around the edges, and leave an area open to turn the blanket right side out. Then I stitch along the edges, clip the corners, turn the blanket so that the colorful sides are on the outside, and stitch up the open area.
I sew along the top of the edges to reinforce the seams. I ease the fabric into place and take off at a brisk pace. As I rush to finish so I can resume household duties, a thought strikes me: “What if I were sewing this blanket for baby Jesus?”
With that thought, I slow down and take great care to straighten the seams. But even with care, the stitching doesn’t run straight.
Next I sew a 10-inch (25 cm) square in the center to secure the front to the back. I make a heavy paper template, center it on the blanket, and lightly mark around it. I put the fabric in place, ease down the needle, and carefully sew.
When I’m done, I clip the threads and pull out the finished blanket. It isn’t square—it’s a cross between a trapezoid and a parallelogram.
I set the blanket aside, pull out fresh flannel, and start again—taking greater pains for this gift worthy of Deity. But even with the extra effort, the results are only slightly better. Each blanket I sew is imperfect.
I feel that I can’t take any of the blankets to the collection site, at least not this year. I’ll keep practicing, and perhaps someday I can make a contribution.
Then another thought floats through my mind: “If you wait until your sewing is perfect, the Christ child will be in Egypt.”
I understand. The opportunity for service would be gone. The Savior accepts our offerings when we use our best efforts, imperfect though they may be. I know that a newborn, wrapped in a soft, clean blanket, would not refuse to sleep because the corners aren’t square.
As I contemplate whether my efforts will make a dent in worldwide needs, Christ’s counsel comes to mind: “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me” (Matthew 25:40).
So I continue sewing blankets, working to make them as attractive as I can. I know there is a need now, not some vague time in the future when I can sew them perfectly.

To conclude their year of study of the New Testament, the three seminary classes of Merced, California, held a mock trial to hear witnesses give testimony about the death and resurrection of the Savior. To add authenticity to the proceedings, they received permission to use a local courtroom at 6:00 A.M.
Students were selected as jurors, court reporter, bailiff, and members of the press. Others were asked to participate as witnesses, representing biblical characters. The trial was conducted with witnesses testifying as to what they knew and had seen. Each witness was cross-examined. The courtroom was crowded with spectators as those students not assigned parts were invited to watch.
The jury returned with a verdict, indicating that the evidence presented supported the claim that Christ died on the cross and was resurrected.
The seminary students were involved in something out of the ordinary and were given the chance to examine the significance of the world-changing nature of the crucifixion and resurrection.

Many years ago, a humble and faithful patriarch, Brother Percy K. Fetzer, was called to give patriarchal blessings to Church members living behind the Iron Curtain.

Brother Fetzer went into the land of Poland in those dark days. The borders were sealed, and no citizens were permitted to leave. Brother Fetzer met with German Saints who had been trapped there when the borders were redefined following World War II and the land where they were living became part of Poland.

Our leader among all of those German Saints was Brother Eric P. Konietz, who lived there with his wife and children. Brother Fetzer gave Brother and Sister Konietz and the older children patriarchal blessings.

When Brother Fetzer returned to the United States, he called and asked if he could come visit with me. As he sat in my office, he began to weep. He said, “Brother Monson, as I laid my hands upon the heads of the members of the Konietz family, I made promises which cannot be fulfilled. I promised Brother and Sister Konietz that they would be able to return to their native Germany, that they would not be held captive by the arbitrary decisions of conquering countries and that they would be sealed together as a family in the house of the Lord. I promised their son that he would fill a mission, and I promised their daughter that she would be married in the holy temple of God. You and I know that because of the closed borders, they will not be able to receive the fulfillment of those blessings. What have I done?”

I said, “Brother Fetzer, I know you well enough to know that you have done just what our Heavenly Father wanted you to do.” The two of us knelt down beside my desk and poured out our hearts to our Heavenly Father, indicating that promises had been given to a devoted family pertaining to the temple of God and other blessings now denied to them. Only He could bring forth the miracle we needed.

The miracle occurred. A pact was signed between the leaders of the Polish government and the leaders of the Federal Republic of Germany, permitting German nationals who had been trapped in that area to move to West Germany. Brother and Sister Konietz and their children moved to West Germany, and Brother Konietz became the bishop of the ward in which they resided.

The entire Konietz family went to the holy temple in Switzerland. And who was the temple president who greeted them in a white suit with open arms? None other than Percy Fetzer—the patriarch who gave them the promise. Now, in his capacity as president of the Bern Switzerland Temple, he welcomed them to the house of the Lord, to the fulfillment of that promise, and sealed the husband and wife together and the children to their parents.

The young daughter eventually married in the house of the Lord. The young son received his call and fulfilled a full-time mission.

Even with such deep focus, Juan knows that it’s not easy to stay on target. A few years ago he gained a lot of strength from older young men in his ward. But most of them have moved or have started attending elders quorum, leaving Juan with few Church friends to support him when things got hard. During those times, Juan sought strength from his parents and siblings—and from his Heavenly Father.

“You feel a little alone sometimes because you have different standards, a different way of living, of treating other people, of seeking different things in life. But the truth is,” Juan adds confidently, “you are never alone. We always have prayer, and we can always draw closer to our Heavenly Father. I have always prayed to have the strength to do what’s right, to have the courage to stand up to my friends when they do things that aren’t right.

“And you know what?” he continues. “Sometimes my friends have told me they admire my example and the strength I have to say no.”

Some of the temptations that Juan faced were easy to reject. He could easily say no when a friend would invite him to drink alcohol. That was a clear violation of the commandments.

“But there are times when the temptations are more subtle,” Juan explains. “As it says in the scriptures, sometimes it’s disguised [see Matthew 7:15]. The temptations can appear as though they are nothing bad because they don’t appear to break a specific commandment. That’s when you have to pray to be aware of what’s going on so that you don’t get confused. The Spirit has helped me understand this many times when something is wrong or when people are trying to get me to do bad things.”

As Juan prepares for his mission, he has made some new friends in the Church who support him.

“I’m an example for other youth now, and this has been a blessing for me,” he says. “It helps me understand that the effort to be strong, to be faithful, is worth it.”

When tragedy strikes in a village in Polynesia, help isn’t very far away. That’s just the way things work in the tight knit communities of the Pacific.
This was especially true for Tevita Lei, a student at Saineha High School in Vava’u, Tonga.
When his family’s home was completely destroyed by fire, they lost everything. The next day, his fellow classmates got together and discussed what the family needed to start putting their world back together.
Mele’ana Mafi teaches computer science at the school, which is operated by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She remembers the day she looked around her classroom and noticed someone missing. Students confirmed that Tevita Lei was not there.
The teacher asked, “Why is he not here?”
A soft voice in the back said, “His house burned down last week.”
“Our simple discussions led everyone to think outside the box,” Mele’ana recalls.
“Students started volunteering to donate things for the most urgent needs, such as uniforms, school materials, a new school bag. The rest of the students volunteered to donate other things such as food, clothes and blankets.”
Mele’ana then went to the school principal, Motuliki Fakatava, to tell him about the situation and to see if he could provide transportation for the class members to deliver the items they had collected. He readily agreed.
“As soon as Mele’ana told me this story,” Motuliki reports, “I felt an overwhelming feeling of gratitude. Several months ago, I felt prompted to begin to set aside in storage some food and clothing, but I didn’t know why or who it would be for. As soon as Mele’ana told me this story, I knew this was the right time and purpose.”
The next day, all the members of Tevita’s computer class got on a school bus during home room time and went to see what was left of his home. In addition to Motuliki’s items, the students brought along all that they had managed to collect including some essentials such as rice, flour, sugar, beans and crackers.
They found Tevita and his father there by themselves amongst the charred remains of their home.
“I told his father the purpose of our visit and asked permission to do a short devotional service with them,” Mele’ana says.
“When we started to sing ‘We thank thee, O God, for a Prophet,’ we truly felt the spirit present and confirmed God’s love for His children. The sincerity of the prayer offered truly touched our hearts and put everyone in tears.”
She continued: “I was so broken hearted when we arrived to see Tevita and his father outside trying to clean up the ashes and burned remains of their home. I knew in my heart that this was the right thing for us to do.”
Some of the students shared their feelings about their visit to Tevita and his dad:
“Last night I was confused about what I should take to give the family. It came to my mind that it doesn’t matter if it is something small, big, cheap or expensive, but that you tried your best to help. It shows Tevita’s family that this is not the end and that the good Lord loves them. I saw the smiles on their faces, and it reminded me of my family.”
“I hope that what we gave them was a big help to their family. By helping others, we learn to love them as ourselves. I am grateful, and may God bless their family.”
“As we arrived, I just imagined myself in the position that he is in, with such difficulty and struggling to survive. It touched me most when his father said that he is grateful that Tevita has family out of his actual family, meaning us, his computer classmates.”
“Seeing my classmates’ willingness to help him really touched my heart. It showed the love of a family we had in our class. No matter how big our help was to Tevita Lei, that didn’t matter, but what mattered was that our classmates were willing to give a helping hand to our dearest brother. We will never leave anyone behind.”
“I know that Tevita’s dad was so excited and grateful for what we have been able to do. He said that now he can feel that ‘there is a family for his son that still cares about him.’ Everyone in this life is my family.”
“The moment I saw this brother, my heart and soul filled with the spirit of love. I appreciated my teacher for the great spirit that inspired us as a computer class to visit our beloved classmate Ti Lei. I felt the love that Jesus had for His children.”
Mele’ana summarized her thoughts about this experience: “I am grateful for the opportunity to reach out with our class to Tevita. What has happened this morning was a great start of our day. The acts of kindness, working together, love, empathy, and service, does reflect who they really are. They are sons and daughters of Heavenly Father.”
“As I came back to my classroom and reflected on my students and the goodness and mercy of God for His children, the scripture in Alma 26:37 (The Book of Mormon: Another Testament of Jesus Christ) came to mind:
“Now my brethren, we see that God is mindful of every people, whatsoever land they may be in; yea, he numbereth his people, and his bowels of mercy are over all the earth. Now this is my joy, and my great thanksgiving; yea, and I will give thanks unto my God forever.”

Rose bounced on her toes as she peeked out the window. Their friends would be here any minute!
Every year at Christmastime, Rose and her family acted out the Nativity. They always invited people to come over and join them. This time they had invited their neighbors and the missionaries! Rose was excited because their neighbors had a baby to be baby Jesus.
Everything was almost ready. Mom was taking the treats out of the oven. Rose’s little brothers had picked up all their toys. Ellen was getting the costumes. And Rose had even taped a big, yellow star to the wall for decoration.
“Rose,” Mom called from the kitchen. “Can you help Ellen get the costumes ready?”
“OK, Mom!” Rose turned to help her sister, who was carrying an armful of blankets.
“We have blankets, towels, and dress-up clothes from the closet,” Ellen said. “We can even use this basket as a pretend manger.” She handed Rose a big basket. Rose put a soft blanket inside it for the baby.
“Perfect,” said Rose.
Rose’s little brother Jack pulled a gray blanket over his head and made a funny face. “Can I be the donkey?”
Rose laughed. “No, silly! You wanted to be a Wise Man, remember?”
“Oh yeah!” said Jack. He grabbed the toy crown and put it on his head.
Then there was a knock at the door.
“They’re here!” Rose said. “I’ll get it.”
Soon the house was full of happy people. Rose helped everyone get their costumes on. The sister missionaries were the shepherds. Her brothers and sister were the Wise Men. The cute baby was baby Jesus, and his parents were Mary and Joseph.
Rose put on a soft, white hat. She was a sheep.
Finally everyone was dressed and ready to go. Elder and Sister Yancey, a missionary couple from their ward, opened the New Testament to the Nativity story. They read the verses out loud. Everyone acted out their part.
At the end of the story, everyone sang “Silent Night.” Rose felt warm and happy. She knew she was feeling the Holy Ghost. It felt like Jesus was close to her heart.
After the song, Mom played the video “Samuel and the Star.” Ellen said a prayer. Then they brought out the treats. Everyone had fun visiting.
“So, what was your favorite part?” Sister Yancey asked.
“I liked singing the song,” Ellen said. “And playing with baby Jesus.” Ellen bounced the baby on her lap. She had been playing with him ever since the song ended.
“I liked bringing Jesus gifts,” Jack said. He was still wearing the pretend crown.
“What about you, Rose?”
Rose spread her arms out wide. “I liked everything!” she said in a loud voice. “But most of all, I liked having everyone here to celebrate Jesus. Because that’s what Christmas is all about.”

Dustin Matsumori, a Stanford freshman from Murray, Utah, faced a dilemma similar to Elsa’s. He knew he was going to go to college, but where? And why? So Dustin started doing what any good student would do—his homework. He considered cost, class sizes, majors offered, and the student population at each school on his list.
“I came to visit Stanford with my parents and was really impressed with the beautiful campus and the great weather,” says Dustin. “Then the tour guide started giving us the stats about Supreme Court justices and Nobel laureates and other impressive people who have graduated from Stanford.”
Dustin was excited by the prospect of being able to go to a school that had such an awesome reputation. But he wasn’t ready to sign on the dotted line just yet. Something was still missing.
“When I was getting information about Stanford, I found out that the Latter-day Saint Student Association [LDSSA] hosted a seminar each Friday at lunchtime. When I walked into that room with the other LDS students, I felt right at home. It was then that I knew I could go away from home and have wonderful educational experiences and still strengthen my testimony.”