Gospel Story Finder

When I was nine years old, we lived in Fillmore, Utah. One rainy day, my mom, my two sisters, and I left for Kanab, Utah, to help my great-granny. We were on a winding road where you can’t see what is coming toward you until it is right there. The rain started pouring so hard that it was even harder to see. We had to keep driving because there were no places to pull over. I asked Mom if I should say a prayer. She said yes, so I did. I asked Heavenly Father to let the rain slow down until we got across Bear Valley. After a few seconds, the rain came down only very lightly and almost stopped. When we turned onto Highway 89, the rain picked up again, but we could see. We felt good about continuing our trip.
This year, we moved to Price, Utah. It started raining really hard while we were trying to load the moving truck. I went into my empty bedroom and asked Heavenly Father to let the rain quit until we were finished. It did quit, and we even had some sun. I told my parents what I had done, and Mom cried and hugged me because she remembered about Bear Valley, too. It didn’t rain again until we left Fillmore with all our things loaded.
I have a strong testimony of the power of prayer. I know that Heavenly Father listens to children. I will be a deacon soon, and I know I will need to use prayer constantly to help me fulfill my duties. And I know that He will be there and will listen to me.Kass Esplin, age 11Price, Utah

Most high school track stars have large teams to run and hang out with, but Jenny West, 17, runs alone. Even though the cross-country team at St. Helena High School in Napa Valley, California, was terminated last year, Jenny is still chasing her dreams. This teen from the St. Helena Branch in the Napa Valley Stake trains and runs on her own every day for three to five miles. By herself she has developed an individual program that has led her to the regional and state cross-country meets this year. It’s hard not to have a team, she says, but she knows that many people are cheering for her. Jenny also knows that she really hasn’t done this by herself. Her Heavenly Father and family have helped along the way. “My mom and I pray before every single meet,” Jenny says. “I pray that He will help me to do my best.”

In a video series on mormonchannel.org, a young man named Bubba shares his story about how his life was headed for disaster.1 He had grown up in a violent home, where his father was murdered when Bubba was only three years old.

Bubba grew up choosing the same life he’d always seen. He joined a gang and started fights with anybody who crossed him. By high school he figured he would end up in prison before long. And he didn’t care.

God intervened. At this dangerous crossroads in his life, Bubba met a Latter-day Saint family who showed him loving kindness and goodness. He’d never been around people like this before—people who showed compassion and love. He started spending as much time with them as possible. When he asked the family why they acted the way they did, they said it was because of their faith in Jesus Christ.

He wanted to find out what they knew. He began praying and studying the scriptures. And soon he felt something he’d never felt before. “Surely there is a God, and He loves me!” Bubba says. With God’s help, Bubba began to build his life over again with Jesus Christ as the foundation, leaving his old life behind.

“My nature changed. Who I am as a human being is different than who I was. Now I have a purpose. I have a destiny,” he says. “I have somewhere that I’m going.”

These days Bubba sees his future with brightness, faith, and hope. “I know that it is only through Jesus Christ, my faith in Him, that will help me get to where I want to be,” he says.2

Sue Preece, the Relief Society president of the Southport Ward, initiated a huge game of virtual tag, socially distanced, to brighten and lift the local area’s spirits, but it reached beyond local.
Sue explains the event, “We wanted to remind our members to take some time in their busy lives to stay in touch with each other and try to brighten someone’s day.”
On the designated day, the game began with Sue and her two councillors contacting two more people that they knew. They could use any means to make contact and let the person know they were being thought of, asking if there was any help they needed. Each person they contacted was then asked to contact two more friends, and so on.
Rebekah Brown (pictured), who took part in the project, said, “It all started as a bit of fun really, but it just grew and grew! It was amazing and touched so many lives. People just wanted to get involved, and contacts were made not just locally but worldwide. It was such a simple thing. It didn’t take too much time but was very effective.
“A lot of people went to bed that evening feeling cared for and loved. In this unprecedented period of social isolation, it’s essential to help lift each other’s spirits. We should be particularly concerned about those who need to continue shielding because of health issues. When the rest of us start to get back to a new sort of routine, it’s increasingly vital that we don’t forget the most vulnerable in our society.”

One Sunday morning, as we were going to church, our son, Steven, who was about 6 years old at the time, noticed that some young people were playing soccer in our street. He said to himself, “I wonder why these people are playing soccer on Sunday while they should be attending church?” It was obvious our son knew that Sunday is a special day when we are required to do certain things, and therefore, we are expected to stay away from other things. Steven knew that Sunday is the day of the Lord and that we must keep it holy.

When I left high school, my goals were to attend college for at least a couple of years, get married to a handsome man, and have four perfect, beautiful children (two boys and two girls). My husband was to have a large income so I wouldn’t need to work, and then I planned to do Church and community service. Thankfully, one of my goals was to be an active and faithful member of the Church.

Well, as you may know, many of my goals were not realized in the way I had hoped. I finished college, served a mission, got a job, continued on with my schooling to earn a master’s degree, and continued working in my profession for many years. (I thought marriage was sure to happen 13 years ago when I opened a fortune cookie and read, “You will be married in less than a year.”) But there was no handsome man, no marriage, and no children. Nothing had gone as I had planned except for one thing. I tried to be an active and faithful member of the Church. For this I am most grateful. It has made all the difference in my life.

I had the opportunity to serve many years in Young Women and felt that gave me an opportunity to teach and testify to younger women who were developing their testimonies and seeking to progress in God’s appointed way.

I also had the opportunity to serve in Relief Society callings, which helped me to learn to serve others and increase my faith and gave me a great feeling of belonging. Even though I wasn’t married and had no children, I felt my life had meaning. There were times of discouragement, and at times I questioned the plan.

One work colleague who was not a member of our Church said to me, “Why do you continue to go to a church that puts so much emphasis on marriage and families?” My simple answer to her was, “Because it is true!” I can be just as single and just as childless outside of the Church. But with the Church and gospel of Jesus Christ in my life, I found happiness and I knew I was on the path the Savior would have me follow. I found joy and many opportunities to serve, to love, and to grow.

For reasons known only to himself, my husband left our marriage with little or no explanation to his family and friends. Perhaps in an attempt to make sense of his decisions, many of my in-laws made assumptions without asking me any questions. They came to some incorrect conclusions. Usually I heard their comments indirectly, which was frustrating because I had no opportunity to respond with the truth. These comments hurt me, and I often felt my integrity was in question. I wondered if these people I had been so close to had ever really known me.
Two years after my divorce, I was told that one of my former spouse’s relatives had made a comment implying I was unforgiving. The remark began to fester inside me. I wanted to clear my name; I wanted to tell that man just how wrong he was. As I counseled with my bishop on the matter, I realized that what was important was that Heavenly Father and I both knew the truth about my relationship with my former husband and my contribution to the marriage. I suddenly felt at peace. I knew I could talk to this man about his comment if I chose to, but I no longer felt it mattered much. Because of the Atonement I could let the hurt feelings go. I did not need to suffer because of this man’s—or anyone’s—opinion of me.

I have Proximal Focal Femoral Deficiency (PFFD), which made one leg grow slower. My left leg was nine inches (23 cm) shorter than my right.
Doctors thought they might have to amputate my leg, but we found a doctor in Florida who could lengthen it. The “fixator” he attached made my bone grow a millimeter every day. Over the summer, my leg grew five inches (13 cm)! I got a blessing before one of my surgeries, and I know it helped.

For some time the rumors had been coming in from Salt Lake City, but confirmation of the facts was difficult. Finally, the official word came in a brief telegram signed “Hinckley.” The word spread quickly amongst the members of the Israel Group—“President Lee is definitely coming. The Prophet will be here in the Holy Land.” And so there we were, at the airport, waiting in the VIP room with representatives of the Ministries of Tourism, Foreign Affairs, and Religious Affairs. With fewer than thirty Latter-day Saints in the entire country, the prospects of a meeting with President Harold B. Lee, Elder Gordon B. Hinckley, and President Edwin Q. Cannon, Jr., of the Switzerland Mission—along with their wives—was exciting, to say the least.
President Lee had come to retrace the footsteps of the Savior during a brief trip that took him to several countries and a number of conferences of the Church. President and Sister Cannon had been invited to join the party in Athens and to accompany them (the Switzerland Mission having authority over branches in the Middle East).
I had met President Lee before, as had some of our other members—including group leader David B. Galbraith. But this visit was different, for he now came as the Lord’s anointed. There had been many visits to the Holy Land by General Authorities of the Church since Orson Hyde’s visit in 1841, and several of the present-day leaders of the Church had met with us in our Sacrament meetings. But this was the very first visit of any president of the Church in this dispensation to this land where the head of the Church, our Lord and Master, spent his mortal life.
In the hustle and bustle of the official reception and introductions, I was particularly impressed by the humble spirit displayed by the man for whom all the fuss was being made. Extending his hand he said, simply, “Hello. I’m Brother Lee.”
“Brother Lee”—a simple, yet somehow exalted title. Laying aside his title of president of the Church, he chose to represent himself in his most important role—that of a spirit-child of God, a true brother to all of us. His deference to others was continually displayed in the way he courteously assisted his wife at all times, even when it was inconvenient for himself. At one meal, while we were eating fish, President Lee arose from his place—leaving his own meal to cool—and carefully took the bones from her fish.
During their visits to sites where Jesus had lived and taught, both President Lee and Elder Hinckley were occasionally seen sitting in silent meditation, often with tears in their eyes, as they contemplated the mission of the man who had called them into his service. On several occasions, President Lee tried to play down the activities of the noisy crowds of tourists who poured into the holy places.
We found the President both firm in his convictions and willing to listen to the ideas of others. Brother Galbraith drove the car for President and Sister Lee and Elder and Sister Hinckley, explaining to them many things of interest along the way. On one occasion Sister Lee said, “Dear, I haven’t heard you say a word for the past forty minutes.” To this the President replied, “Darling, I learn much more by listening than by talking.”
Such a great lesson it was, and he taught it not by word but by example, as a true disciple of Christ should. He set the example for us in many ways. One evening, after a long tiring day, President Lee was so bothered by an ailment that it was difficult for him to go to sleep. He called upon Elder Hinckley and President Cannon to give him a blessing, which resulted in great relief. Here indeed is a man who takes the priesthood for what it truly is—a blessing from God to be put to use and not merely hidden away until Sunday morning.
Most impressive to us members was our meeting with three presiding brethren in the Garden Tomb in Jerusalem on September 20. Their strong testimony of Jesus, given in this sacred spot from whence he arose from the dead, moved us to a greater determination to do good. And this being one of the essentials of the calling of a prophet, we can thereby further testify that Harold B. Lee is deserving of that title.
At that time the small group of Saints was officially organized as the Jerusalem Branch, President Cannon calling for the sustaining votes. Brother Galbraith was set apart as branch president by President Lee, and Elder Hinckley set me apart as first counselor. I have received numerous blessings in the Church at the hands of the priesthood but none so inspiring as that given to me on this occasion. Elder Hinckley’s words concerning matters that he could not have known without revelation from the Lord, and the subsequent fulfillment of two specific promises given in that blessing, are additional evidence of the Spirit that guides the leaders of the Church.
I made a deliberate attempt to gain some idea of the reaction of the brethren when the call was made for sustaining votes, and hence looked in President Lee’s direction. I have often sat in conferences of the Church and raised my hand to sustain the prophet of the Lord. But this was the first time I had ever witnessed a prophet raising his hand to sustain me. It was something I’ll never forget, something which, embedded in my memory, will remind me of my responsibilities if ever I hesitate to do that which the Lord requires of me.
Words cannot really express my feelings at spending these several precious hours in the presence of God’s chosen spokesman and his close associates. But somehow I have felt the need to try in order that others may profit in some small measure from the Spirit that was and has remained with us since the Prophet of God visited. I hope that all who read these words will come to appreciate the sincere love and concern of President Harold B. Lee for each member of the Church and for all mankind—a love that makes him most fitting as the channel through which God extends to mankind the means whereby salvation and exaltation may be attained.

I started sharing my testimony on social media when I was a teenager. But it was easier back then to stand up for my beliefs. At the time, most of my friends were members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and shared similar values to mine. Social media was different too. People were less inclined to tear others down. If they didn’t agree with you, they would simply scroll away.
That all changed as I entered young adulthood. Suddenly people had issues with my beliefs, and many of my friends were choosing paths contrary to the teachings of the gospel. And when one of the Apostles was being torn down all over social media, I was shocked that I couldn’t see anyone defending him.
So I did.
Over the next week, I received threats and hateful messages from strangers and friends alike about my post. I cried every day. I wondered if I had done the right thing. I even felt a bit like I’d been abandoned by God. After all, I’d tried to stand up for His Apostle, and I’d received nothing but hate.
But I held on. I didn’t take down the post.
Slowly, the narrative changed. Yes, I was still on the receiving end of those hurtful messages, but to my surprise, others started to stand with me. I watched as members from around the world supportively shared my post. My gratitude for not being alone soon turned to humility as I realized that finally, the good messages outweighed the bad. God had not abandoned me. Instead, He’d sent more disciples to stand beside me.

The young men and young women in Welland, Ontario, Canada, get excited about seminary. Winters in Welland are long and harsh, and during the greater part of the school year, going to seminary means a trek to the church in the dark and cold. Of course, teenagers in Welland are no different than teenagers anywhere else. Getting enough sleep is a paramount concern—something that can be a bit of a challenge when you get up for an early-morning class. But a few years ago, the Welland seminary students had a teacher who changed their lives, and their mumbling and grumbling about the early hour seemed to shrink, while their excitement about seminary seemed to grow.
Despite the fact that he had been ill with cystic fibrosis all his life, their teacher, Brother Ron Cunningham, wouldn’t have traded his calling as a seminary teacher for anything. In terms of his health, some days were better than others. But every day he taught seminary, he said, was a good day.
“He was our friend,” says James Burton, 17. “We all had such a good time, even though he was sick. He had such a great sense of humor, even about things that made him look silly. Sometimes, especially at the beginning of class before everyone was fully awake, he would fall asleep—while he was teaching.”
Because cystic fibrosis fills the lungs with fluid, breathing is difficult, causing extreme fatigue. Consequently, it seems that just about everyone has a favorite “Brother Cunningham fell asleep” story.
There were other ways he filled the seminary with laughter and fun, too. There were games and contests for scripture mastery, treats and stories to make lessons easier to understand.
“One year, Brother Cunningham brought an entire set of army men for us to use to reenact battles from the scriptures,” says Craig Dumoulin. “At first we thought it was crazy since none of us have played with toys like that since we were little, but it really did make it easier to understand. And it was a lot of fun.”
But Brother Cunningham taught his students much more than how to have a sense of humor. Make no mistake, the gospel was his life, and he wanted to help his students feel the same way.
“Because of his illness, he was pretty small physically,” says Matthew Glanfield, 18. “But I have never known such a spiritual giant.”
It was that spirit, that great feeling, that kept the students excited and happy about getting up before dawn to study. Even in the Toronto area’s brutal and icy winter. Even during exams when time was scarce. Even when it would have been easier to stay in bed and catch a few more minutes of sleep. Everyone knew that no matter how hard it was for them to get out of bed in the morning, it was harder for their teacher. If he could do it, they knew they could too.
The young men in the ward seemed especially responsive to his style of teaching. Although he didn’t fit the stereotype of macho strength and he was unable to participate in many athletic activities, the young men all say that he was exactly the kind of man—an honorable priesthood holder who was married in the temple—that they all aspire to be.
“There were a lot of things he couldn’t do, but he worked hard at the things he could do,” says Matthew. “He always told us that it was his number one wish for us to go on missions and be great missionaries. He couldn’t go on a mission because of his health, but he could contribute to the missionary effort by training others to share the gospel.”

One Sunday at church I realized that my time with the Young Women program was almost over and I would soon be with the young single adults. I was sad because I knew that things would never be the same. After Sunday School, I tried to cheer up, but I just couldn’t do it. I tried to tell myself that Heavenly Father did not want me to feel sadness but rather joy (see 2 Nephi 2:25).
I was just about to cry on my friend’s shoulder in the hallway when the ward clerk came up to me and said, “Sister Danelys, here’s the mail!” He handed me a white envelope with only my name on it. I was curious to know what it was, so I asked the clerk who had sent it. As he walked away, he told me it was from the patriarch and that it was a copy of my patriarchal blessing. I did cry, but my tears were tears of joy because I knew God had seen my sadness and had provided a way for me to find joy in my sadness. My patriarchal blessing had finally arrived in writing, at the precise moment when I needed it most.
When I got home and read it, I cried again and prayed and thanked God for it and for helping me to remember how fortunate I am to be His daughter and to have the light of the everlasting gospel in my life.

Let me tell you about this boy again. Now he is married. He has graduated with a degree in engineering, and he has left to go away to a big city. He and his wife were nervous—a new job, a new home, away from the family.
He told me these two experiences. He worked in a large room with a lot of engineers. After he had been there for two months, he was getting things ready so that he could leave his work on time. We had taught him to arrive at work a little early and to stay a little after time, to do a little extra. But this day he wanted to get away right on time. One of the other engineers asked him where he was going.
“What are you in such a hurry for?”
“Well, we are going to a dinner tonight.”
“What kind of a dinner?”
“It’s a quorum dinner. We are taking our wives to a special dinner and social.”
The other engineer shook his head. “I don’t understand you. I’ve been here two years; I don’t know anybody yet. My wife and I are still just by ourselves. You’ve been here for two months. Already you’ve been invited to dinner.”
The next experience. One day one of the engineers asked if my son would help him move. “We found a better apartment. Saturday we are going to move. I need some help. Will you help me?” Our son said, “Yes, I’ll be glad to.” And then his wife made some bread for them and prepared a meal. He helped them move. Then he said this: “Dad, I’ve been thinking about that. He hardly knows me. I hardly knew who he was.” And he said, “If I’m the one who was the closest to him, the one he would dare to ask help him move, he doesn’t have anybody.” And he said, “Look what I have.”
When he and his wife arrived in the new city, they went to Church. He went to his quorum; he belonged the day he walked in. A quorum—to sustain one another, to help one another. A quorum of the priesthood. You boys of the Aaronic Priesthood can begin to prepare now. You’ve trained to help others—to gather the fast offerings; to take care of other assignments, the sacrament, home teaching; to get you trained to help others. Why? You belong to a quorum. A quorum. The word quorum is a marvelous word. In the Church, the worth of quorums has never yet fully been realized.
It is a tremendous honor to belong to a quorum. To be called to preside over a quorum is a distinct responsibility. To be called as the secretary of a quorum, or to teach a quorum, is a tremendous responsibility. Do you know where the word quorum comes from? It isn’t in the Old Testament or the New Testament. It comes from ancient Rome. When they would form a commission of great importance to perform a great work, they would appoint the members of this commission. And they would send them their certificate. And on that certificate the word quorum would appear. It would tell what the commission was going to do, how important it was, that great men were being chosen, and then it would contain these words: Quorum vos unum, meaning, “You are to be united.”
My young brethren, you belong to quorums. What a tremendous opportunity! You can learn to be in charge, to take care of your life and to assist others. I am grateful to have held the Aaronic Priesthood, and to still hold it. I am more grateful that my sons have held it and grateful that you can hold it. God bless you, my boys. May the Spirit of the Lord rest upon you. The gospel is true. The priesthood is a great opportunity. In the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

As an 11-year-old, Victor Penafiel was playing at a train station in Colombia near his home. School was out, and he decided to jump on a train. The train operators told him to get off, but when they weren’t looking, he jumped on again. Two more times they caught him and told him to get off. It was God’s way of warning him to get off the train, he recalled.
When the train started with a jerk, he lost his balance and fell with his legs under the train. His automatic reaction to the intense pain was to reach down with his left arm. Victor lost both legs at the hip and his arm just below the elbow.
He was rushed to a small hospital nearby because he wouldn’t have arrived alive if they had tried to reach a larger but more distant hospital. He needed a blood transfusion, but blood supplies were scarce. A petition went out to a nearby naval base for someone to donate blood.
“They asked for 1, and 11 came,” Victor recalled, noting that all 11 blood donors had his blood type.
The doctors treated him, and despite losing three limbs, he miraculously survived.
“Ever since, my life has been a series of miracles,” Victor said. “I’m certain the Lord works miracles.”
Victor has lived his life maneuvering in a wheelchair without allowing his disability to limit his faith. More than 30 years after the accident, another series of small miracles that began several years ago brought him an opportunity to walk, but with a very different outcome than expected.
The first steps on the road to walking again actually took place in the water.
At 23 years old, Victor Penafiel watched others swim while he clung to a corner of the pool. His friend, Arturo Espinoza, saw his desire to swim and offered to teach him. But Victor had a great fear of water. Even before his accident, he didn’t know how to swim. Swimming wouldn’t be easy, especially with only one arm. After a year of struggling with Victor’s fear, Arturo guided Victor into the middle of the pool and removed the life vest he wore during lessons.
“Let’s see how you get out of this,” Arturo said, leaving him there.
Victor got out of it, and the challenge helped him see he could swim. After that, Victor never used a life vest. Now he loves swimming, he said, because when he is in the water, he feels free.
About 10 years later, Victor entered a competition where he swam about three miles (5 km) across the Guayas River in Ecuador. The current was strong, the water dirty and cold. He was the only disabled competitor among some 120 swimmers, he said. He made it across the river while many of his competitors weren’t able to complete the race. He finished 3rd in his age group and 15th overall.
Victor and his story are well known in his home city, Guayaquil, Ecuador, and he has served as an inspiration to many. He said it’s important to take advantage of every moment in life to help others. “Part of our happiness depends on our helping others to be happy,” he said.
His wife, Mercedes, said once they were invited to appear on television in Quito, Ecuador. During the trip home, a woman stopped them and thanked them. Her son had lost his leg, and Victor’s story had motivated him. The boy had said, “If he can, why can’t I?”
Once he accompanied the missionaries to teach an investigator. “Is he a member of your Church?” the investigator asked upon seeing Victor. The missionaries responded affirmatively, and the investigator said, “Well, if he’s a member, baptize me now.”
“It’s because of his example and the way he lives his religion,” said Sister Ann Long, who served with her husband, Clyne, as missionaries in Ecuador at a Church employment resources center.
Unemployed people came to the center, and after watching a recorded news story about Victor, they often were motivated to successfully search for and obtain employment.
“They said, ‘We don’t have any excuse,’” recalled Sister Long.
On the last day of their mission, the Longs, having not yet met Victor in person, wanted to find and thank him for his help. They found him working in the temple. They wanted to do something to help this man who has helped so many others. After returning home, they began making plans to help Victor receive prosthetic legs.
The Longs found a company in the United States willing to donate prosthetics, but when Brother and Sister Penafiel arrived in Utah in June 2006, they discovered that because of a miscommunication, prosthetic feet had been donated but not legs. Because their visas would soon expire, Victor and Mercedes had until July 24 to raise the necessary money for the legs.
Media organizations in Utah did news reports on Victor, and a donation fund was set up. Donations both small and large began coming in. “It was something that was beyond our comprehension. God helped us understand in that instant His love and His power,” Victor said.
With the donations, enough money was raised for the prosthetic legs. Victor looked forward to the long-anticipated ability to again “walk, walk, walk.” On July 13, 2006, Victor took his first steps in more than 30 years as he began the physical therapy process.
However, the prosthetic legs caused excruciating pain. After being unable to adjust to them, he visited another specialist. The pain resulted from a nerve problem that would likely worsen if he continued using the prosthetics and that doctors recommended against trying to repair surgically.
Victor was sad that he would have to give up his new legs, but in typical Victor fashion, he turned the experience into something positive, expressing thanks that the doctors discovered the nerve problem.
Then Victor donated his prosthetic legs—and with them his dream to “walk, walk, walk”—to the company that provided them, so that they can be donated to people in Haiti.
“At least they’ll help someone,” said Victor. “Not just one person, but two. They’ll be a great help. That’s how I see it.” Instead, Victor received a motorized wheelchair.
“I don’t know why all of this happened,” he said. “But I know it wasn’t a surprise to the Lord. We don’t always comprehend how He works. But he manifests His powers in many ways. I know He knew about this nerve problem before I came, even though I didn’t. Yet, He brought me here. Now we have to wait to see why He brought this all to pass. He knows. For that I feel fine. Because I know He knows what he’s doing.
“To lose a finger or hand, an arm, a leg is a difficult situation, but while there’s life, there are reasons to be happy,” Victor said. “And if God is in our life, it’ll be much better.”

Maria twirled in the pretty new Sunday dress that her grandmother had made for her. It was pink with white ribbons. It was the prettiest dress Maria had ever had, and she felt very beautiful in it. She smiled at herself in the mirror and twirled again to make the skirt fan out. Maria was excited to go to church on Sunday to show her friends her new dress.
At church Maria liked hearing all her friends say nice things about her dress. In Primary she played with the ribbons on her dress instead of listening to Sister Sánchez’s lesson.
Maria didn’t pay attention to the testimonies people gave in sacrament meeting either. She was busy untying and retying each of the bows on her dress over and over again.
When the meeting was over, she noticed that some people had tears in their eyes as they left the chapel.
“Why are those people crying, Mama?” Maria asked.
“They felt the Spirit today,” Mama said as she wiped away a tear of her own. “And sometimes that brings tears to our eyes. The testimonies were wonderful, weren’t they?”
Maria didn’t answer. She couldn’t remember anything anyone had said.
That night as Mama tucked Maria into bed, Maria asked, “Why didn’t I feel the Spirit in church today, Mama?”
“The Spirit speaks in a still, small voice,” Mama said. “We must pay attention to notice it. When we go to church, we need to focus on Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ—then we can feel the Spirit.”
Maria thought about what she had been focusing on at church that day. She had been thinking about her new dress, not about Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.
The next week Maria wore her pretty pink dress to church again. But she listened to Sister Sánchez in Primary. In sacrament meeting she tried to think about Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. Maria left church feeling the Spirit in her heart. She was glad she had gone to church not just to show off her new dress.

When I was 11, I started doing yard work for Grandpa. Either he would pick me up in his white Dodge Dart or I would ride my Schwinn Stingray across the overpass to his house. At first all I did was mow his lawn, but later I started pruning, planting, and working the compost pile. When we worked in the garden, Grandpa always wore a pair of brown trousers stained with paint and grass. He cinched the trousers high on his waist with a ragged belt that was too long, and tried to keep his plaid shirt tucked into them. On his head sat a mesh golf cap, and in his hand he carried his working cane, a dull-colored hardwood cane my sister Kris had bought in Salt Lake City, as a Christmas gift for him one year.
The handle of the cane was curved like the wood on Mom’s bentwood rocker, but rougher, and the shaft disappeared into a round rubber toe like the kind used on crutches. This cane was not as stiff as Grandpa’s first cane, nor as elegant as his second, but it was more useful than both of them. He not only used it around the house for opening cupboards or reaching for the phone book, but outside as a garden tool.
When he needed to water a dry spot out between the pine trees, he would hobble through the grass, pulling the hose along behind him with his cane. In early spring, after I had pruned his fruit trees, he held the discarded limbs in place with his cane while I tightened the twine around them. And over Memorial Day weekend we planted his garden together: I dug the furrows and bent low to plant the seeds, and he followed behind, pushing the soil over the seeds with the handle of his cane, then tamping the soil until it was firm. Later in the summer, he would hold the clambering delphinium stocks away from the fence while I tied them to stakes. And in October he would sit patiently under his pear tree in a chair, staring into the boughs, pointing with his cane to a piece of fruit I had missed.
After a few years, during which it was used for virtually everything, the cane was all scratches and dents. Part of the handle had splintered badly, then worn smooth again so that I could feel a slight depression when I held the cane. The upper part of the bow was discolored from being held so much, and near the rubber toe were splashes of paint and grease. When Grandpa first got this cane I didn’t like it much—there was nothing distinctive about it—but after years of constant use it developed a personality. It didn’t protect or dazzle, but it served well.

The Book of Mormon was a means of introducing Wannipha Thongchalerm, to the Church. First introduced to Christianity by a United States serviceman, she received a copy of the Book of Mormon from a friend. The book led to visits by the full-time missionaries. “Learning the gospel was a happy experience for me,” she says. “The missionaries would visit me every other day, and I would make notes of what they told me. Each time they came, I would repeat the previous lesson back to them. I was baptized in 1976.”
Sister Thongchalerm married a nonmember whose work required him to travel a great deal. After five years of marriage, they were divorced. Prior to the divorce, Sister Thongchalerm began studying to be a nurse, a profession she still follows at one of the local hospitals. Three years after her divorce, she married Anan, who had been baptized in 1981. With their two children, Ariza, 4, and Aachanoon, 3, they were among the group that went to the Manila Temple.
“When I came back from the temple, I felt a greater need to share the gospel with others. I decided I would try to bring at least ten other people into the Church, a goal I reached within two years.”
Sister Thongchalerm, who teaches in seminary, Sunday School, and Relief Society, treasures her testimony. “I feel that no matter what happens, no one can take away my testimony of Jesus Christ.”
The Thongchalerms live in a multilevel house in Udorn—a house Brother Thongchalerm will completely finish “some day.”

At the Berlin Olympics in 1936, Hitler declared that Caucasians were a superior race. North America had 10 black athletes, who, much to Hitler’s chagrin, scored more points than any national team. Chief among them was Jesse Owens. At the opening ceremonies, Hitler refused to greet Owens and deliberately snubbed the black athletes. Owens simply shrugged and said, “I didn’t come over to shake hands with Hitler, anyway.” Owens then battled to win four gold medals. As he broke the world’s record for the running broad jump, the first to greet him was not a fellow team member but an exuberant German competing in the same event, Luz Long.
“I have never seen anything like this. You are the greatest of all!” Long exclaimed.
As Owens took Long’s hand in both of his and squeezed it, the crowd thundered approval. Then the two competitors wrapped their arms about one another and began to walk toward the track. The crowd—in spite of Hitler’s presence—went wild with joy and shouted for many minutes.

Want to Help Michelle?
Michelle has inspired a lot of people with her story. And they in turn have wanted to help her. You see, sometimes Michelle has medical treatments for her unique health challenges that require her to take a break from indexing for a time.
A few people got together and decided to form an indexing group on FamilySearch so they can help index for Michelle to make up for those times when she’s unable. Anyone can join. If you want to help out, head over to FamilySearch.org and then look up the “Michelle Thornton” indexing group.

Ben stood with his friends after school in the hot sun as they waited for the bus home. He wished for the thousandth time that there was some shade at the bus stop!
“Hey, here comes Frankie,” one of his friends said. Frankie was part of their group.
“Dude, your shoes are so old they must’ve been made out of dinosaur skin!” Vince said once Frankie got closer.
Ben laughed at the joke as he glanced down at Frankie’s feet. Yup, his friend had on the same pair of tennis shoes he’d worn all school year. It was almost summer vacation. By now, the ratty shoes had holes in them and were falling apart.
They liked to give him a hard time about it, but Frankie always laughed it off.
Sure enough, Frankie was chuckling along with everybody else. But then Ben noticed something he hadn’t seen before. Frankie’s smile seemed different somehow. Like he was trying to cover up that he really was upset.
Something cold turned in Ben’s stomach.
His friends teased Frankie about the old shoes until the bus rolled up. This time, though, Ben didn’t laugh with them. He couldn’t help but feel like they’d hurt Frankie’s feelings.
As Ben plopped down onto the hot green vinyl seat of the school bus, he kept remembering the look on Frankie’s face from a few minutes earlier. Frankie walked to the back of the bus and chose a seat by himself.
Ben looked down at his lap. Had they gone too far? He knew Frankie’s family didn’t have a lot of money. In fact, now he wondered if those old scuffed shoes were his only pair besides church shoes.
Even though Ben had snagged a window seat on the bus, he couldn’t enjoy the ride home.
The next day Ben’s bad feeling grew worse. He thought about how he would feel if his friends made fun of what he wore. How often had they done that to Frankie?
And then he saw his friend at school. Ben’s eyes widened. Frankie was wearing new shoes! Not just new shoes, but cool new shoes. Ben felt another stab of guilt as he wondered if Frankie’s family could afford them.
At recess he grabbed a basketball and went over to shoot some hoops with Frankie. “So, where’d you buy those shoes?” Ben asked. “They’re awesome!”
Frankie shook his head and said quietly, “I didn’t. DJ bought them for me.”
Ben nearly dropped the basketball. DJ was one of the kids they hung out with at school. A kid who, now that Ben thought about it, never teased Frankie.
While the rest of them had made fun of Frankie, DJ did something nice instead.
I’m supposed to be Frankie’s friend, Ben thought. Why hadn’t I been nice too?
Ben cleared his throat and stopped bouncing the ball. “Hey. So, um, I’m really sorry about yesterday. You know. At the bus stop. That wasn’t nice of us.”
Frankie just shrugged. “It’s OK.”
“Hey, wanna play a game of one-on-one?” He passed the ball to Frankie. “You can start!”
Frankie’s face lit up in a smile, and Ben knew how he wanted to act from then on. He wanted to help make his friends happy every chance he could.