Gospel Story Finder

Prophets have charge for the whole earth, not just for members of the Church. I can report from my own experience how personally and devotedly the First Presidency takes that charge. As needs grow, the First Presidency has charged us to increase our humanitarian outreach in a significant way. They are interested in the largest trends and the smallest details.

Recently, we brought to them one of the protective medical gowns that Beehive Clothing sewed for hospitals to use during the pandemic. As a medical doctor, President Russell M. Nelson was highly interested. He didn’t want to just see it. He wanted to try it on—check the cuffs and the length and the way it tied in the back. He told us later, with emotion in his voice, “When you meet with people on your assignments, thank them for their fasting, their offerings, and their ministering in the name of the Lord.”

President Smith showed an example of such kindness in a meeting where an accident involving a Church-owned automobile was discussed. An elderly man driving a vegetable truck with no insurance had caused the mishap. After some discussion, it was recommended that the Church pursue the matter in a court of law. However, President Smith spoke up: “Yes, we could do that. And if we press with all vigor, we might even succeed in taking the truck away from the poor man; then how would he make a living?” The committee reversed its recommendation and let the matter rest.15

We won the game, four to three, and I kicked in one of the goals myself! After the game Gracie walked over to me. “Tell me some more about your church, Ryan,” she said.

I told her about the Articles of Faith, which is what Sister Adams says that we should do if someone wants to know what the Church teaches. But Gracie didn’t seem to understand them at all, so I started telling her about Primary.

“Can any kid go to Primary, or just kids in your church?” she asked.

“Anybody who wants to,” I answered. She just stood there, waiting, so I took a deep breath and asked, “Would you like to go to Primary with me tomorrow?”

She smiled a big smile. “I’ll ask my dad.”

Oh, brother! Another girl! I thought. I was glad that Gracie wanted to go to church, but why hadn’t Kevin reacted like this? Gracie’s father said that it was OK for her to go with me, so I told him what time Primary started and when I’d pick her up. She drove off, waving at me from the window of her dad’s van.

That night Mom and Dad came into my room for my prayers. When I was done, Mom kissed my cheek and said, “We’re really proud of our missionary.”

“Don’t be,” I said.

“Why?” Dad asked.

“Because I wasn’t really a missionary to Gracie. She practically had to beg me to invite her to Primary. I didn’t want another girl in my class—I wanted Kevin to come. Why didn’t he want to go to Primary and learn more about the gospel?”

“Even Last-days Kids have their free agency,” Mom said. “Don’t give up on Kevin yet. And don’t stop being his friend just because he isn’t interested in going to church with you.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” I said.

“Good.” Dad smiled. “I’m proud of you.” And he kissed me good night.

Our lesson in Primary the next day was about the Word of Wisdom. Gracie sat and listened hard to everything Sister Adams said. Lisa and Tina-Marie were quiet too. It was a good lesson. After Primary Mom asked Gracie if she wanted to go home.

“Are you going home?” she asked.

“No. We’re going to stay for sacrament meeting,” Mom answered. “But if you’d like to go home now, I’ll take you.”

“Am I allowed to go to sacrament meeting?” Gracie asked.

“Of course,” Mom answered.

“Then I’d like to stay, please,” Gracie said.

Dad squeezed my arm, his smile almost too big for his face.

After church we dropped Gracie off at her house. “See you at soccer practice,” she said as she hopped out of the car.

“Will you need a ride to church next Sunday?” Dad asked.

“No. I don’t think so.” The whole mood in the car went down like a flat tire on a bicycle. Then Gracie leaned in through my open window. “Last night Mom and Dad and I had a big talk. Mom’s been wanting to find a church to go to ever since we moved here. And Dad said that he’s always been impressed with Ryan. So they said that if I liked your church, next Sunday they’d go with me.”

Linda Bradshaw of the Sutton Coldfield Ward, Lichfield England Stake, travelled to St. James’ Palace in London to meet His Royal Highness the Duke of Edinburgh. She was one of a group of young women and young men from all over the country chosen to receive the Duke of Edinburgh Gold Award.
Requirements for the gold award include participation and excellence in five areas—physical activity, a skill, community service, residential outward-bound course, and an expedition. Linda became proficient in art and crafts, playing the flute, aerobics, swimming, and self-defence. She completed her community service serving as an assistant junior school teacher during her free school periods. Her experience as a teacher’s assistant helped her decide to make teaching her career.
Her outward-bound experiences included abseiling (like rappeling), canoeing, fencing, and orienteering. Her four-day expedition was hiking and camping across the Cader Idris Mountains in North Wales.
“As each stage became progressively harder,” said Linda, “I appreciated the way completing seminary booklets and setting goals to memorize scriptures helped me to overcome hurdles and learn how to complete my goals for these awards.”

Perhaps just one example will suffice. One day just over a year ago, after taking care of matters at the office, I felt a strong impression to visit an aged widow who was a patient at St. Joseph Villa here in Salt Lake City. I drove there directly.
When I went to her room, I found it empty. I asked an attendant concerning her whereabouts and was directed to a lounge area. There I found this sweet widow visiting with her sister and another friend. We had a pleasant conversation together.
As we were talking, a man came to the door of the room to obtain a can of soda water from the vending machine. He glanced at me and said, “Why, you are Tom Monson.”
“Yes,” I replied. “And you look like a Hemingway.” He acknowledged that he was Stephen Hemingway, the son of Alfred Eugene Hemingway, who had served as my counselor when I was a bishop many years ago and whom I called Gene. Stephen told me that his father was there in the same facility and was near death. He had been calling my name, and the family had wanted to contact me but had been unable to find a telephone number for me.
I excused myself immediately and went with Stephen up to the room of my former counselor, where others of his children were also gathered, his wife having passed away some years previous. The family members regarded my meeting Stephen in the lounge area as a response by our Heavenly Father to their great desire that I would see their father before he died and answer his call. I, too, felt that this was the case, for if Stephen had not entered the room in which I was visiting at precisely the time he did, I would not have known that Gene was even in that facility.
We gave a blessing to him. A spirit of peace prevailed. We had a lovely visit, after which I left.
The following morning a phone call revealed that Gene Hemingway had passed away—just 20 minutes after he had received the blessing from his son and me.
I expressed a silent prayer of thanks to Heavenly Father for His guiding influence which prompted my visit to St. Joseph Villa and led me to my dear friend Alfred Eugene Hemingway.

When I was 15, I decided to get my patriarchal blessing. It was something I had wanted to do for a while, but I was nervous. Many of my friends told me it was one of the most spiritual things to ever happen to them. I wanted to make sure I did all I could to make it as special as possible.
When I asked my patriarch how I should prepare, I expected something huge, like "Go to the temple every day" or "Read the whole Book of Mormon this week." Instead, he suggested I might fast the morning of my blessing. I didn’t totally understand the impact it would have, but I did as he asked, and as a result, my patriarchal blessing was a monumentally spiritual experience for me.
This experience taught me that fasting includes sincerely praying while sacrificing meals to express gratitude to God and bring Him closer to you. When I fasted that morning, I prayed that my heart would be open to the words of my blessing. I felt the Spirit so strongly as a result, and that made my experience very meaningful.
Lincoln S., 16, Arizona, USA

Recently I heard of an excommunicated man who stormed out of his Church court bitter and unrepentant. Many of us, if we had participated in that court, might have said, “Well good, he’ll have time to make his peace”; and others might even have thought, “Good riddance.” But one of the high councilors present spent three evenings a week for the next several years visiting this man until, mellowed, repentant, and regenerated, he was reinstated in the Church.
“Nothing is so much calculated to lead people to forsake their sin as to take them by the hand, and watch over them with tenderness.”

Third checklist item: Live the commandments. Never feed the foxes! What does that mean? Breaking commandments is like feeding foxes. In England where we live, my wife and I had heard that foxes were right in town. We wanted to see a fox. A neighbor told us that if we left food for the foxes we probably would see one. Our butcher gave us some bones. Each night we would place some bones out in the backyard. Soon a fox came to eat. Then a few more. Now we have at least five foxes racing through our flower garden, digging up the lawn, and leaving a shambles every night, sort of like a furry Jurassic Park.

What started out as a curiosity is now a problem, and sin is much the same. An indiscretion can begin a process that can make a mess of a whole life. Remember, if you don’t start feeding the foxes, they will never tear up your yard. If you avoid making the seemingly small and harmless mistakes, your life will be free of many larger problems later on. Be a courageous young man by living straight. Create happy memories for yourselves and those around you.

Gaining a testimony is a major step. But what do you do when you know something is true and necessary—but it looks impossible to achieve? For example, what do you do when you have been taught how important temples are, yet you can’t travel to one? You do what the Lehmanns and other East German Saints did. You pray, and you live to be worthy of temple blessings someday in the future. And it looked like it would be a long way into the future.

But even faithful people can be surprised by blessings. And when the East German government announced in 1982 that the Church would be allowed to build a temple there, the members were grateful and astonished. “It blew me away,” says Michael simply. “From that time on, I knew everything else was possible.”

The brothers talk about the time they went with their father to see the temple while it was under construction. After work one night, they took off, riding their dilapidated bikes 25 miles through the hilly countryside. And when they got to the temple site, they just stood across the street from the rising walls and watched.

And they wept.

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.

A true story from the USA.
Emma gripped her pencil tightly as her teacher handed out the papers.
“It’s time for our Cheetah Chase,” said Ms. Malcolm. “You have five minutes to do 93 math problems. Everyone who finishes on time can add a cheetah sticker to their chart.”
Emma really wanted a cheetah sticker. If you got five stickers, you won a prize! But the Cheetah Chase math problems were so hard.
“Everyone ready?” Ms. Malcolm said. “Go!”
Emma flipped over her paper and started answering the questions. She had to think carefully about each one. It was hard!
BZZZZZZZ! The timer went off, making Emma jump.
“Pencils down!” Ms. Malcolm called.
Emma hid her paper with her hand and kept writing answers. It wasn’t a big deal if she kept going, right? She’d done it before, and nobody noticed.
“Pass your paper to the person next to you for grading,” Ms. Malcolm said.
Emma finished the last answer before passing her paper.
When Emma got her paper back, she saw the red 100% at the top. But she didn’t feel very good inside.
“Everyone come show me your papers to get your stickers,” Ms. Malcolm said.
Emma walked to Ms. Malcolm’s desk with her paper.
“Emma, can you stay up here for a minute, please?” Ms. Malcolm asked.
While everyone else was talking, Ms. Malcolm turned to Emma. “Did you keep answering questions even after the timer went off?”
Emma’s face got really hot. She nodded and looked down. “Yes.”
“Have you done that before?”
Emma shook her head. “No.” But she felt her face get even hotter. She had cheated before. And now she had lied.
“I can’t give you a cheetah sticker unless you follow the rules. Do you understand?”
Emma nodded. Then she walked to her seat with her eyes down.
For the rest of the school day, Emma felt an awful knot twisting and turning in her stomach. She felt bad for cheating. She felt bad for lying. She didn’t like this feeling!
After school, Emma talked to Mom. “I don’t feel very good,” she said.
“What’s wrong?” Mom asked.
Emma suddenly got nervous. Should she tell Mom what she had done?
She took a deep breath. “I cheated today at school.” It was the first time she said it out loud. It felt like the knot in her stomach was untwisting. “And I’ve done it before. I feel bad.”
Mom gave Emma a hug. “Thanks for telling me. You know cheating is wrong. Why did you do it?”
“Because I really wanted a cheetah sticker, but I didn’t finish the math problems in time.”
Mom nodded. “What do you think you should do now?”
Emma thought about it. “I should say a prayer to Heavenly Father to say sorry for not being honest. Then tell my teacher.”
“That sounds great.” Mom smiled. “And I can help you practice math more so you’re ready for the next Cheetah Chase.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Emma said. Then she and Mom knelt down to say a prayer. Emma felt warm. She was glad she had decided to repent.
After she prayed, Emma wrote an email to her teacher. She told the truth and said sorry for cheating. She promised she wouldn’t do it again.
After clicking send, Emma felt so much better. She knew Ms. Malcolm would probably cross her cheetah stickers off her chart. But that was OK. From now on she would earn them the honest way.
“Because of Jesus Christ, we can repent and be forgiven of our sins.”
President Russell M. Nelson, “The Answer Is Always Jesus Christ,” Liahona, May 2023, 127.
Illustrations by Anny Chen

My number-one requirement for a great Saturday is sleeping in. Number two is spending some time playing video games. Then there’s hanging out with my younger brother, Nathan. A Saturday cannot be great unless we get to play intergalactic heroes together.
But last Saturday I had to get up early for a church service activity. We met at the local food bank at 8:00 a.m. to fill bags with food for senior citizens. Nathan couldn’t even come with us because he was too young.
I didn’t see any way that Saturday was going to turn out well.
Mom could tell I wasn’t happy, so she reminded me that when we serve other people, we also serve the Lord.
“All right,” I thought. “Heroes serve others. I’ll try to have a good attitude.”
As we walked into the big warehouse, I saw rows and rows of empty pallets. We had to fill brown paper bags with food and put them on the pallets.
“Put 20 bags on each pallet,” a man told us. “Fill every pallet.”
I was stunned. There had to be at least 80 pallets in the warehouse. That meant we had to fill more than 1,600 bags of groceries. This was going to take forever!
We started filling bags with food. I carried a case of applesauce from the back of the warehouse to the area where the pallets were. Then I put two cans of applesauce in each bag. When my case was empty, I went to get another case.
Then we moved on to beans, canned chicken, and mushroom soup.
Suddenly I noticed how tired I was. I went to get a drink and then sat down. We had been working for more than an hour, but we were only about halfway done.
Mom noticed me sitting down.
“Ryan, are you OK?”
“I want to go home,” I said. “I’m really tired.”
Mom nodded. “You’ve been working really hard, but we need to finish what we came to do,” she said.
I looked down but didn’t say anything.
“Most of the older people who will eat this food only get a small amount of money each month,” Mom explained. “When that runs out, they have to wait until the next month to buy more food. What you’re doing will help them have enough to eat.”
A warm feeling started to fill my body. I was doing something important. I was helping other people who were mothers or fathers or grandparents or friends. All of them were Heavenly Father’s children.
Mom gave me a hug. “Why don’t you rest for a minute and see how you feel?” I bowed my head and said a prayer. I asked Heavenly Father for the strength to be able to finish the job.
When I stood up, I knew that I could work some more. I added dried prunes to the bags. Luckily the prunes weren’t very heavy.
When we were finished I stood back and saw hundreds of bags ready to go to people who needed them. I thought about my old requirements for a great Saturday. I hadn’t slept in or played any video games, but I felt good about what I helped accomplish.
In a few months, Nathan will be old enough to help at the food bank. Maybe we can come back as a family. Then Nathan and I can pretend that we’re heroes who have to bag food to save the day. That will be another great Saturday, just like this one!

At this point in our report from President Holland and Professor Holzapfel, I need to introduce a small character into this story: my great-great-grandfather Robert Henry Swain.12

In 1853 Grandpa Henry and his wife were baptized in Kent, England, where he was employed as a policeman and as a member of the queen’s local bodyguard. Like many of our ancestors, Grandpa and his wife, Elizabeth, and their children crossed the Atlantic to make the pioneer trek to Utah, but they did not come together. What’s unique in Grandpa Henry’s story is that when he departed from Liverpool on April 29, 1865, on the ship Belle Wood, he left alone. He and Elizabeth had separated five years earlier. We don’t know the circumstances of the divorce, but we do know that Elizabeth was not happy with Henry and had tossed her wedding band into the sea. Grandpa subsequently lost his membership in the Church.

I imagine that if any of you have been napping, I just captured your attention. What captures my attention and imagination is visualizing Grandpa walking alone into the Great Salt Lake Valley with the William S. S. Willes wagon company on November 11, 1865. I wonder what he was thinking and feeling as he entered the valley. What was this divorced and excommunicated brother to do there? He had no useful skills for the Saints at that time, and he wasn’t in a position to provide much priesthood service.

Grandpa went to work as a stonecutter in Little Cottonwood Canyon and as a stonemason on the temple, where he labored for the next 10 years. And while working on the construction of the temple, a reconstruction of his own life began taking place as he returned to full fellowship in the kingdom. Eventually he became a chief stonemason and established a family occupation that was passed forward to many of his descendants, including my father and my brothers and me. As a result, I have some experience with sweating over brick and stone in the summer and working to keep the tools and materials unfrozen in the winter. It became my own “stay-in-school” program and made the work on my doctoral studies a comparatively painless experience. That said, when I look at my soft, pink hands today, I miss the quality of that work and mourn a little its disappearing legacy as the Swain family line continues to move forward into the information age and acquires new skills in a new economy.

Two and half years after the temple dedication, on November 18, 1895, Grandpa Henry died of a lung disease attributed to his working so long in the granite dust.20 I believe, though, that his work on the temple breathed life back into him. Grandpa died surrounded by his large family. He died fully in the faith. Besides a family tradition of brick and stone masonry, he left a legacy of faith for me. Grandpa Henry was built—was remade—into a new creature.

One day, my friends and I bought drinks for lunch. My friends bought iced tea, and I bought juice. Noticing this, they started calling me the odd one out. But I felt good that I didn’t give into the temptation to let down my standards. Now, my friends respect me for standing up for what I believe. I’m thankful for the Word of Wisdom that helps me keep my body strong and healthy.
Alejandria F., 18, Philippines

Heber Jeddy Grant was tall, thin, and not very strong. He played baseball with the younger boys because he couldn’t throw the ball very far.
Jeddy wanted to play ball with the boys his own age, so he spent many hours shining boots to earn enough money to buy a baseball.
When Jeddy had earned a dollar, he bought a baseball. Then he practiced countless hours throwing it against his neighbor’s barn.
Finally Jeddy’s skill improved. The boys his own age were impressed with how well he could throw a ball, and they let him play baseball with them.
Eventually Jeddy’s baseball team became the territory champions; they went on to beat the championship teams of California, Colorado, and Wyoming.
Heber Jeddy Grant learned the importance of setting and achieving goals. This ability helped him greatly when he became the seventh President of the Church.

Sweat beads up on Bret Rasmussen’s forehead and drips down his face. He pauses in the brilliant sunshine and wipes his face on his sleeve, then hoists a stack of six folded wooden chairs. A few rows away, Brian Herr and his dad carry tables two at a time and set them up. They move steadily in the afternoon heat, staying just a little ahead of the group cutting white plastic and taping it to the tables as covers.
Bret and Brian are Boy Scouts, and they are part of a ward effort to benefit the Indianapolis Symphony Orchestra. Twice a week, all summer, the youth of the Noblesville Indiana Ward labor in the hot sun. They carry dozens of tables and chairs to the base of a long grassy hill in preparation for a symphony concert. Sweat, Scouts, and symphony—an unlikely trio? What brings them together?
It all started when the Indianapolis Symphony Orchestra began outdoor summer performances at Conner Prairie Pioneer Settlement, a restored 1836 village. The first few years, all concertgoers sat on lawn chairs or blankets on the grass. Later, Symphony on the Prairie organizers offered reserved tables and chairs near the stage for a higher price. But who would set up a hundred tables and a thousand chairs twice a week? The symphony looked for a service group, and that’s where LDS Boy Scout troop 596 came in.
They are not alone. Scout leaders, families, and friends all lend a hand. “It’s a time to see friends and get to know new people,” says Emily Runyan, whose brother Chris is a Scout. “Those of us who aren’t in the troop can still be an example of service to others.”
Missy Wardwell feels that her work at Conner Prairie changed her attitude towards service. She used to feel it was a duty, “but I found this was fun because I chose to come. It was great to work on something important.”
People notice the unity between youth and adults in the Noblesville Ward. Jennifer Rasmussen attributes it to what happens when teachers and leaders labor alongside the youth. “Before,” Jennifer says, “you only saw them on Sunday. But working together is a bonding experience.”
Jennifer also points out the benefits for new or quiet kids in the ward. “These youth get to know people and become comfortable working together, whereas otherwise they might have taken years to open up. They get invited to stay and join us in other activities.”
Missy points out another benefit. “In the summer, sometimes school friends call and invite me to a party. I know what kind of party it will be. It’s security for me to have another place to go that is good and fun and social.”
The LDS youth finish and settle down on the hill with cool drinks and snacks. With their service comes a bonus—they can stay and hear the symphony concert for free. As the sun lingers near the edge of the concert shell, thousands of concertgoers arrive. Sometimes 10,000 people throng the grounds on a symphony night. After the sun goes down, the scattered lights of hundreds of tiny citronella candles flicker like caged fireflies.
“I never thought the kids would stay for the program,” says Rich Armstrong of the Scout committee. “I could see youth using lots of outdoor energy, but I didn’t expect them to be interested in symphony music.”
“I had never heard a symphony orchestra before,” says Brennan Wood. “But the more you hear symphony music, the more you understand it.”
Trent Wardwell agrees. “This has given me a better appreciation for what goes into producing symphony music. Hours before the concert, while we are putting up chairs and tables, the symphony workers have to set up their sound system and prepare the stage, just for a short, two-hour show.”
The concert is finished. A few fireworks light the sky over the orchestra shell, and the LDS youth scramble up from their places. Swarming down the hill, they start folding chairs, clearing tables, and carrying them back to storage. Now that it is cooler, demonstrations of strength take place. Austin Armstrong carries eight chairs at once. Brennan staggers under 13. Jamie Ketring and Jennifer tote one table between them, but Jon Foote hoists one above his head and carries it alone.
The final tarpaulin is tugged up and over a mountain of chairs. It is time to go home.
The thoughts of all the youth are echoed by Emily Runyan. “My main memory of summers is our work at Conner Prairie.”

Being brought up in the Church, I was always told by my friends and family that this was the true church. I never really denied it, but I never really bothered to find out for myself either. I just assumed it was true because everything pretty much made sense and my parents and everyone else seemed so sincere about it.
I had always planned to go on a mission, partially because I felt I was expected to and also because I felt I needed to. After I had received my mission call and before I was about to enter the Missionary Training Center, I really began to think and wonder about the truthfulness of the Church. I had never prayed to my Heavenly Father about knowing the truth, and now I was so close to going on my mission I felt I didn’t have the courage to ask. It was as if I was denying the truth.
When I entered the MTC, I did so with high spirits and was happy to be there. I was enjoying the knowledge I was gaining, but in the back of my mind the thought still lingered. I needed to know for myself if the gospel was true, but I continued to push the thought farther back in my head.
One day my teacher finished giving a great lesson. He then bore his testimony and challenged each of us to find out and pray for ourselves. I was almost in shock, feeling the lesson was aimed specifically at me. That night after our companionship prayer, I knelt down and asked Heavenly Father to help me know that what I was doing was right and that the Church was true.
I finished my prayer and waited and waited. Feeling nothing, I became discouraged and went to bed.
A couple of days later, I was doing my daily scripture study when I came across this scripture: “Verily I say unto you my friends, fear not, let your hearts be comforted; yea, rejoice evermore, and in everything give thanks;
“Waiting patiently on the Lord, for your prayers have entered into the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth, and are recorded with this seal and testament—the Lord hath sworn and decreed that they shall be granted.
“Therefore, he giveth this promise unto you, with an immutable covenant that they shall be fulfilled; and all things wherewith you have been afflicted shall work together for your good, and to my name’s glory, saith the Lord” (D&C 98:1–3).
These verses really helped me understand the need for patience. A few days later at a fireside, we were talking about our prophets. I’m not the emotional type, but I’ll never forget that night. The Spirit was so strong in the room, and it was the first time I had ever felt the Spirit so strongly. Toward the conclusion, all the missionaries stood and sang “We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet.” While we were singing, they had a movie on the screen showing pictures of the prophets. I was overwhelmed, choked up, and warm inside. I knew the Holy Ghost was testifying to me the truth, and that the prophet was leading the true Church.
I recently returned from serving my mission in the Tucson Arizona Mission. I am so grateful for that special day in the MTC. I realized it’s never too late or early to pray about the truth. I learned patience while also learning the Lord will answer our prayers.

Illustrations by Garth Bruner
Stay close! We don’t want to lose each other.
Can we go on that one?
That might be too scary for Lilly. Let’s find one we can all go on.
Can we please go on the rollercoaster next, Mom?
Mom? Lilly?
I’m never going to find them!
I need to pray.
Heavenly Father, please help me find my family.
Can you help me? I don’t know where my family is.
Sure, don’t worry. Let me make a call.
Mom! Lilly!
Tucker! We were so worried!
Heavenly Father answered my prayer.
Hey, Lilly, wanna go on the bumper cars?
Thanks to Tucker D. from Texas for sharing this story! We’re glad you thought to pray.

It was family home evening, and everybody had a part to do. Mom was conducting. Dad was giving the lesson. The kids were in charge of prayer, music, and activity—except for Thomas. This week it was Thomas’s turn to bear his testimony, and he was feeling kind of embarrassed.
Thomas had shared his testimony before, but it had been a long time, and he couldn’t quite remember what he was supposed to say. So when the opening song was over and the prayer had been said, Thomas frowned.
“It’s your turn,” Mom reminded him.
Thomas looked out the window at their evergreen tree, wishing somehow it could tell him what to do.
Dad sat down next to Thomas and asked him what was wrong.
“I don’t know what a testimony is,” Thomas said quietly.
“Well, I can help you,” Dad said. “It’s telling us some of the things you know are true or things you believe. You could talk about how you like reading scriptures. That always helps you feel the Spirit.”
But Thomas wasn’t feeling ready. Everyone was looking at him, waiting for him to do something. He shook his head. “I can’t. I don’t know what it is.”
Dad patted Thomas’s arm. “It’s OK. You can do it another time.”
Later that evening Thomas sat in bed holding his Book of Mormon. Dad was right—reading the scriptures always did make him feel better. He tried to read a chapter a day, but the chapters were starting to get really long. He opened his scriptures to 1 Nephi 17.
“That’s a long one!” Thomas whispered. He said a little prayer to Heavenly Father asking for help. Then he was amazed at how quickly the time passed.
Just before Thomas turned out his light, Dad came in to say good night.
“Guess what, Dad?”
“What’s that, buddy?”
“I haven’t read my scriptures for a whole week because the chapters were getting too long. But tonight I wanted to, so I said a prayer, and Heavenly Father helped me. I read the whole thing, and it felt like only five minutes. Prayer is a good thing.”
“Thomas, do you know what you just said?” Dad asked with a smile. “You shared your testimony!”
“Really?” Thomas asked. “What do you mean?”
“When you talked about prayer and how it helped you—that’s a testimony of prayer.”
Thomas’s mouth dropped open in surprise. He thought about all the times people had taught him about testimony. He realized he had shared a testimony!
Thomas felt so good he felt like laughing. He gave Dad a hug.
“Wow, I did it!” Thomas said. “Dad, can I bear my testimony next week in family home evening? I know it’s not my turn, but I want to talk about prayer.”
“I think that’s a great idea,” Dad said.
As Dad left the room, Thomas thought about all that had happened that day. He was grateful for family, scriptures, prayer, and many other things. Right then, he was most grateful for a testimony. He knew how to share one and what it meant.

“What’re you doing with my ball?” Rodney Sims growled at me as I stood under the huge sycamore tree at the park, admiring the new football I’d found on the grass. He stomped toward me, his face red and sweaty from playing ball in the sun.
I nodded at my friend Frank. “We were just riding past on our bikes and spotted it lying here. I figured somebody lost it.”
“Well, I left it here,” Rodney barked, snatching the ball from my hands and tucking it under his arm. “It isn’t lost, and I don’t need anybody ripping it off, either.”
“I wasn’t trying to steal it,” I said, climbing back onto my bike. “It sure is a nice ball, though. If it were mine, I’d write my name on it so I wouldn’t lose it.”
“Hey, kid, you want to buy it?” Rodney’s tone was suddenly friendly. Surprised, I turned to face him. “I have another one.” He nodded at the guys who were still playing football. “If you like this one, I’ll sell it to you.”
I laid my bike down again and took the ball, a red and gold San Francisco 49ers ball. It fit my hand perfectly. I had seen some just like it at the Sports Haven, a big sporting goods store downtown. The 49ers were my favorite pro football team, and I had wanted a ball like this one, but it cost ten dollars.
“I like it,” I said, gripping the ball tightly, cocking my arm and pretending to throw a pass. I shook my head and handed it back to Rodney. “But I don’t have ten dollars.”
Rodney studied the ball as he rolled it in his hands. “I’ll sell it to you for five.”
“Five dollars?”
“I have my other ball, and I’m a Dallas Cowboys fan, anyway.”
My mind began to race. I had four dollars at home in my drawer, and I could borrow a dollar from my little sister, Stephanie. I licked my lips and grabbed the ball again, searching for flaws. There were none.
“I’d have to go home for the money,” I explained, picking up my bike. “It’ll take me fifteen or twenty minutes.”
“I’ll be here. But the price is five dollars. And no refunds or returns.”
I sped home so fast that Frank had a hard time keeping up with me. Stephanie agreed to lend me a dollar until my next allowance. I snatched the other four dollars from my drawer.
“You’d better think about this,” Frank warned as I crashed out the front door and leaped for my bike. He was still straddling his bike in the driveway.
“What do you mean, think about it? I’ll never get another deal like this! Five dollars, Frank, for a ten dollar ball! And if I bought it at the Sports Haven, I’d have to pay tax too. I can’t pass this up.”
“Something’s fishy, Joshua,” he cautioned me again. “Has Rodney ever been nice to you?” I thought a moment and shook my head. “So why’s he suddenly doing you this great big favor?”
“He has an extra football and he doesn’t like the 49ers. I’m just helping him out,” I answered defensively.
“Something has to be wrong with the ball. Maybe it has a slow leak. Have you thought of that?”
“I checked the ball out really well, Frank. It’s brand new. Nothing’s wrong with it.”
“I wouldn’t buy it if I were you, Joshua.”
I stared at my friend. “You’re just jealous because he’s not selling it to you. I’m getting that ball before Rodney changes his mind.”
Rodney was waiting for me under the sycamore tree with one of his buddies. The others had left. He had the new 49ers ball and another one that was a bit scuffed up. I held the money out, and Rodney snatched it. As soon as he was sure it was all there, he handed me the football. “You just bought yourself a ball, kid.” He laughed and slapped his friend on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s head out of here.”
Holding the ball, I watched the two run off. They were smirking as they glanced over their shoulders in my direction. An uneasiness stirred inside me. I thought of Frank’s warning. Maybe there was something wrong with the ball. I tossed it around a bit. It felt good. I squeezed it to see if it was losing air. It seemed firm enough. If there was anything wrong with the ball, I sure couldn’t tell what it was.
For the next two days, my friends and I played with my 49ers ball. It was everybody’s favorite. It didn’t have a slow leak, either. It was brand new, just like it looked. I kidded Frank about being worried and asked him if he wished he had come up with the five dollars. He shook his head, but I still figured he was jealous.
One afternoon as I sat on the front steps, tossing my ball in the air and catching it, he rode up on his bike, looking serious. “I found out something about your ball,” he said.
I grinned. “Are you still worried about this ball, Frank?”
Frank didn’t smile. “My brother Derek runs around with one of Rodney’s friends. According to him, Rodney ripped that ball off.”
“What do you mean ‘ripped it off’?”
“Rodney stole it from the Sports Haven. A couple of his friends covered for him, but he was the one who sneaked it out of the store. That’s why he wanted to sell it.”
It felt as if Frank had punched me in the stomach. I looked at the football. “Maybe this isn’t the same ball,” I argued, feeling myself get angry.
“Rodney stole a 49ers ball the same afternoon you bought it from him. This is the one, all right.”
“Well, I didn’t steal it,” I snapped at Frank. “I paid for it, so it isn’t my problem. And I didn’t know it was stolen when I bought it from Rodney. He’s the thief, not me.”
Frank shrugged and turned away. “I just figured you ought to know.”
I was angry at him for telling me about Rodney’s stealing, because I liked that ball and I wanted to keep it. “Are you going to tell anybody?” I shouted after him. He turned back and stared at me. Slowly he shook his head.
After he left, I put the ball away. When Stephanie asked me to play catch, I said no. I kept telling myself that the ball was mine, fair and square, and that I hadn’t done anything wrong. But I still didn’t feel good about having it. I didn’t even want to play with it anymore. And I sure didn’t want to tell Mom and Dad what Frank had said. They hadn’t been happy about my borrowing the dollar from Stephanie in the first place, but they’d only suggested I pray about it and left it up to me.
The next day I went looking for Rodney. He was riding his bike over in the school parking lot with a couple of his buddies. Walking up to him, I handed him the football. “I want my five dollars back!”
He looked at the ball and then at me. “I told you—no refunds and no returns. Besides, I’ve already spent most of the money. And,” he added, nodding down at the ball, “it doesn’t even look new, anymore.”
“You stole this ball,” I hissed.
The grin disappeared from his face. Jumping off his bike and letting it clatter to the pavement, he grabbed the front of my shirt and jerked me toward him. “Who told you that?”
“There are guys who know,” I rasped. “And I don’t want a stolen ball.”
“Don’t you go blabbing around that I stole that ball, kid, or you’re going to be in a bunch of trouble. Nobody can prove that I stole it. Besides, it’s your ball. You paid for it.”
“I don’t want it now.”
“That’s your problem. If you don’t want it, go throw it in the trash.” He gave me a hard shove, climbed onto his bike, and rode off with his friends.
My feet dragged as I left the parking lot, carrying the football that until yesterday had been such a prize. Now it was a cold, hard reminder of dishonesty. I saw the garbage dumpster in the corner of the parking lot. I considered throwing the ball away. But I couldn’t. I’d paid five dollars for it, and I still owed Stephanie a dollar. I couldn’t just get rid of it.
I tried telling myself that I hadn’t done anything wrong. I hadn’t known the ball was stolen when I bought it. I hadn’t been the one to take it. I had tried to give it back to Rodney. What else was I supposed to do? Was I supposed to lose my five dollars because Rodney had done something wrong?
I shook my head. All my excuses wouldn’t make the sick, guilty feeling go away. I thought of the Sports Haven. I had always liked going there and looking around. Now every time I even passed by, I thought of the stolen football. And even though I hadn’t been the one to steal it, the Sports Haven was still missing a ball. And I had it. I knew what Dad and Mom would say, and I knew I wouldn’t feel good again until I did it.
I walked home, climbed onto my bike, and rode downtown. It was tough walking into the Sports Haven. I asked for the manager, Mr. Turley. One of the clerks took me to his office in the back of the store.
“Well, hello, Joshua,” Mr. Turley greeted me as I stepped into the office. “How can I help you?”
I set the football in the middle of his desk and stared at it. “This ball was stolen from the Sports Haven,” I announced quietly. “I didn’t steal it, though,” I quickly added. I told him the whole story.
“So it’s not my ball,” I finally ended. “You might not want it, either, because it’s been used and I wrote my name on it in black marker.”
Mr. Turley leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. For a long time he thought without saying anything. Finally he leaned forward and took the ball from his desk and rolled it around in his hands. “Joshua, first of all, I want you to know that I’m happy that you had the courage to come in. I don’t expect that that was very easy.” I shook my head without looking at him. “It’s not always easy to be completely honest. In this case, it cost you five dollars. And you weren’t even the one who stole the ball. But being honest is more important than this football or the money you spent to buy it.”
Mr. Turley smiled at me. “I’m going to try to make being honest this time a little easier for you. You’ve already paid five dollars. I have some work around here that you could do to earn the other five. Then the ball would be yours.”
“You mean I could keep it?”
Mr. Turley smiled. “You just be here tomorrow morning.” Grinning, I turned and started for the door, the sick, guilty feeling gone. “Hey, Joshua,” Mr. Turley called out. I turned. He laughed and tossed me the ball. “You’d better take that with you, or someone might walk off with it.”