Gospel Story Finder

My family was driving down a residential road in France when my father thought he smelled something burning. We pulled over to the side of the road and inspected the car. We couldn’t find anything wrong with the car, but we did find something else: a wallet on the side of the road with money in it!
My initial reaction was that I would be able to buy lots of neat things. I knew, however, that we should be honest. My father drove to the police station, and we turned the wallet over to the police. I felt happy, and I know that honesty is worth any cost.

One evening when it was raining, the family sat around the fireside when suddenly a thought came to me. “Father,” I said, a bit boldly for a young boy, “tell us about our grandparents on your side of the family. We have seen our grandparents on Mam’s side but we have not heard anything about our other grandparents.”

Father stared into the fire for a few moments before answering. “Thomas,” he said, “that’s a good question, but I don’t know much about my father. My mother, who died a few years ago, told me that he died just after I was born, and I have never visited his grave. Someday I must do that.” Sometime later Father announced he was taking a day to go visiting out in the country. There was nothing unusual about this as he had relatives who lived in a little cottage in a village a few kilometers away.

When he returned home that night, we could tell by his actions that something was wrong. A few days later, he called the family together and told us what he had learned.

He had visited an old church in a village called Llanviangel and there he had found the record of his father and of his own birth. This was the story that our father told us:

In a little coal mining village up the valley a girl was born to his grandparents. They named her Rhonwen. When she was sixteen years old, she was sent to work as a servant for a rich family. Before a year had passed, she returned home expecting a baby. Her wealthy employer had taken advantage of her innocence. When he found she was pregnant he paid her two months’ salary and sent her home.

Rhonwen married one of the young men of the village before the baby was born. She failed to have him christened or his birth recorded, and he grew up with the name of Rhonwen’s husband who was killed in a coal mine disaster just after the child was born.

The discovery of the circumstances of his birth, which had later been recorded by the minister of the church, changed our father’s life. He lost interest in his garden and in his personal appearance. Instead of being his happy self, he became morose and moody.

Then one day, Mam, who normally was as gentle as an angel, made Father sit down in his favorite chair. Her gentleness was gone and in her eyes there was a bit of fire. “Gwyllam [William],” she said, “you are acting like a fool. Just because a wicked man took advantage of a young girl and a child was born, you are cursing yourself and putting the curse on all your family. It was God that gave you birth and I saw in you a fine man whom I loved dearly and married.”

The fire was still in her eyes as she spoke again. “Now I will not stand by and see you destroy yourself and us.”

She put her arms around his neck and in a voice that was now touched with love she said, “Oh my Gwyllam, we cannot live in the past. We have each other, our children and our love. Someone sinned but it was not you. Besides, we have the gospel and you hold the priesthood of God. Can we ask for more?”

It was then the agony in his heart burst forth and the tears came—tears that washed away the bitterness and cleansed his mind. From that day on he became our beloved father again. We resumed our walks in the hills and he tended his garden and flowers.

The sun was setting when Mikel and his little sister, Ainhoa, drove the cows home from the mountain pasture. The days were shorter now with a nip of fall in the air. It would get colder in the Pyrenees Mountains as winter approached.

“There’s our house!” shouted Ainhoa, waving her stick.

Although other Basque homes were built similarly, Mikel thought their house was the most beautiful one in the village. The house was of whitewashed concrete, two stories tall, with a red roof and green shutters at the windows. The sign written in Basque above the door said, “May Peace Be in This House.”

Their dog Eguzki barked at the heels of the cows until they were all in the pen and the gate shut behind them.

“Patxi said he might take me to market tomorrow!” Ainhoa said excitedly as they reached their house. “He was gone so long in the mountains with the sheep, I almost forgot what he looked like!”

Mikel walked slowly to the door. He wanted to go to market tomorrow, too, but someone had to stay and watch the cows. He wondered if anyone would remember his birthday. No one had said anything about it for the past week. Everyone had been too excited about seeing Patxi, Mikel’s older brother, who had been with the sheep for four months in the high mountain pastures.

Inside the house the family was gathering for dinner. Patxi, with his broad smile and white teeth, his sunbrowned face and twinkling brown eyes, was sitting in the dining room talking to his father. His mother and sister Garbiñe brought in platters of bread, cheese, and roasted lamb from the kitchen.

After dinner Ainhoa put her arms around Patxi’s neck. “Will you take me to market tomorrow, Patxi? You said I might go with you to sell our fat pig and some cheeses. You will take me, won’t you?”

“Of course,” Patxi said. “I never forget a promise.” Garbiñe put a plate of butter on the table and sat down near her big brother. “My friend Mirentxu has been waiting to see you since you left last May, Patxi,” she said. “She will be at the market tomorrow too. Don’t forget to say hello to her.”

“I won’t,” Patxi promised.

Mikel pulled off his jacket and beret. He sat on the hearth of the fireplace next to Amama, his old grandmother, who was mending a torn pair of pants. She nodded at him and smiled.

Amama always understood what Mikel was thinking. She said, “Tomorrow we will have three men in our family. Your father and Patxi and Mikel, who will be twelve years old.”

Mikel looked up at his grandmother and smiled.

In the morning when it was time to take the cows up to the pasture, Ainhoa watched Mikel put on his jacket and beret. She gave him the lunch his mother had packed. “I will get you some lemon drops while I am at the market,” she promised.

“If you want to,” Mikel said unhappily. Although he stumped out the door, his rope-soled abarcus (shoes) did not make much noise.

As he opened the cow pen, his father appeared with the two mules, ready to go to town. “I know you would like to go to market with Patxi, Son, but I hope you understand that you are needed here.”

“I understand,” said Mikel. He waved his stick, and Eguzki barked at the cows. They started, one by one, up the mountainside.

When Mikel reached the high pasture, he could see the roofs of the village far below. How he wished he could have gone to market with his big brother, Patxi.

From the cow pasture, Mikel could look up and see the shepherds’ huts high on the mountainside where Patxi had lived while he watched the sheep. It was lonely up there except when someone from the village brought food and supplies to the shepherds once a week.

Mikel patted Eguzki’s head. “Patxi is a brave man,” he said to his dog, “to live up in that hut through summer storms and heat. There are wild animals there too!”

Mikel didn’t mind spending time alone with the cows. He loved them and had a name for each one. They trusted him and followed him readily, so he rarely had to use his stick. He liked to sit in the shade of a beech tree or put his feet in the stream on hot days. But looking up into the high mountains now, he thought he might get a little lonesome if he couldn’t come home for dinner every night.

During the summer Mikel helped his father on the farm, and a man from the village watched the cows. However, these few weeks, Mikel and Ainhoa had to watch them until the men had stored enough fodder to feed the animals through the winter.

At midday Mikel ate his lunch—a ham sandwich, cheese, and some artichokes. Then, knowing that Eguzki was nearby to watch the cows, he lay down and took a nap. When he woke up, Mikel felt lonely on the mountainside and wished Ainhoa were with him. To occupy his time, Mikel sang a song Patxi had taught him about a captive bird.

In the evening as the cows walked slowly home, one by one, Mikel saw his entire family waiting by the cow pen. When they saw him coming, they shouted and began to sing a birthday song. Ainhoa handed him a bag of lemon drops when he met them, and Patxi gave him a heavy package. “I bought it for you in the market,” Patxi explained. “It is for you when you are in the high pastures and feel lonely.”

When Mikel was inside the house, he opened the package. There were three books—a Bible, a book by a man named Shakespeare, and Robinson Crusoe. “These will be good companions on the mountainside,” he said, holding them out.

Mikel’s father looked proudly at his son. “We have another man in our family now. Mikel is twelve years old today.”

“We need another man in our family,” Patxi said, “because I’m going to America. It will be your job to watch the sheep, Mikel.”

“When did you decide this?” Mikel asked. He knew that men sometimes went to America because they were better paid and that some of them had sent money back home. But few of them ever returned.

“We talked to a man in the market today,” Mikel’s mother said sadly. “America is still a land of opportunity. A young Basque sheepherder can make good wages there. Patxi will work for a man who lives in Idaho and who owns many more sheep than we do. Patxi will send money home to help us.”

“Then I will take care of our sheep,” Mikel promised.

“I wondered if you were old enough to do it,” Patxi said. “Then today when I saw how you stayed with the cows without complaining, I knew you were almost grown up.”

“Thank you,” Mikel said as he carefully placed the books in his knapsack. He looked over and saw Amama sitting by the fire, nodding and smiling at him.

After my family and I moved to a new state, I prayed constantly to find friends with whom I could talk about the gospel. As I prayed, I felt comforted, and a few months later I made some incredible friends. I can count on their support, and they have helped me to develop an even greater love for the gospel. I know that friends are important and they can make it easier for us to live the gospel.
Sarah P., 16, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

Paul loved to save dimes. He saved shiny new dimes and tarnished old dimes. He saved the dimes he received for his birthday.
Grandma would give Paul dimes after he pulled the weeds in her flower garden. Grandpa would give Paul dimes for helping him herd the cows into the barn for milking.
Father would give Paul dimes for helping with the yard work. Mother would give him dimes for watching his little brother.
Paul had a lot of dimes, but no place to keep them. He put dimes in his sneakers, but they hurt his feet when he walked. He put dimes in his pockets, but they fell out when he ran and jumped. So Paul took all his dimes and put them on his dresser. He kept putting more and more dimes on his dresser. Soon the top of the dresser was full of dimes.
One morning at breakfast Mother said, “You have so many dimes on your dresser that I can’t dust it.”
“And I have no place to set my new goldfish,” said his big brother.
“I have an idea,” said Father. “I’ll show you when I come home from work today.”
When Father came home, he was carrying a box. He handed it to Paul. Inside it were many green paper tubes, an envelope with the bishop’s name on it, and a small jar.
“How will these help me with my dimes?” asked Paul.
“Come with me, and I’ll show you,” said Father.
They went to Paul’s room. Paul made lots of piles by counting ten dimes into each pile. Father had him put one dime from each pile into the envelope. Then Paul recounted the remaining dimes the same way. Every time he had five piles of ten dimes, Father put them into a green tube and closed it. When no more tubes could be filled, Paul put the leftover dimes into the jar and put it on the dresser.
“What do we do now?” Paul asked.
“Let’s see how much money you put in the envelope so that we can fill out the tithing slip,” said Father. “Then you can take your tithing money to the bishop on Sunday. Tomorrow after work I’ll take you to the bank, where you can turn in your rolls of dimes. The bank will keep your money in a savings account.”
The next day Father took Paul to the bank. The lady behind the desk took all of Paul’s neatly wrapped dimes. She gave him a small book with his name printed on it. Inside, the book it told him how much money he had given the lady.
On Sunday Paul went to the bishop’s office. He proudly gave his tithing envelope to the bishop.
“Thank you,” said the bishop. “I’m sure that the Lord will bless you for paying your tithing.”
Paul felt very happy. He knew the Lord had already blessed him.

Not long ago, I was feeling spiritually adrift. I couldn’t understand it. I was going to church, rattling off prayers, and glancing at my scriptures. I occasionally felt spiritual promptings, but overall, I felt somewhat disconnected.
As I told Heavenly Father this in an anxious prayer, these words came to mind: “Be still, and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10).
It was as if the word still was highlighted, underlined, and in bold type.
I may have been doing all the right things, but I was doing them at high speeds and with shallow focus. I had adopted a distracted approach to living the gospel.
No religious practice could bring me deep spiritual connection if my participation was cursory and distracted. It was much more than a quippy scripture. To come to know God and to connect with the divine, permeating knowledge I was craving, I needed to slow down and be still.
Heeding that prompting wasn’t easy. But it made all the difference.
For me, slowing down meant kneeling and speaking out loud as I prayed. The reverent posture and my own audible words helped me focus better. Slowing down meant studying from physical scriptures and taking physical notes. It takes more effort and time, and that increased effort and time is a good way to “awake and arouse your faculties,” thus allowing the Spirit and the desire for truth to “work in you” and that seed of testimony to “get root, and grow up, and bring forth fruit” (Alma 32:27, 37).

I am so thankful for all the help I received from full-time missionaries for both getting to the temple and while there. A senior missionary couple, who are serving a humanitarian mission in Nepal, went with our group to the temple. They were like shepherds to us, making sure we had food and shelter and no problems in our travels and getting us to all the places we needed to be. Missionary sisters, serving in the family history center across the street from the temple, helped me prepare the family group sheet I needed so I could be sealed to my deceased parents. While inside the temple, missionaries guided us every step along the way. I know Heavenly Father will bless all these missionaries who come from halfway around the world to serve us. They are wonderful people.

Although they are not full-time missionaries, there was a Filipino couple, Jimmy and Rose Albos, who were especially kind to us. They catered meals for us and arranged the sightseeing which we did one afternoon. I am thankful to them from the bottom of my heart. May the Lord bless them for their generosity to our group.

It’s too bad when true friendships are ruined. Consider this example: Two close friends had a lot of interests in common. Unfortunately one of their common interests was a boy. One friend got angry because the boy paid more attention to the other one. After that fight, they never had anything more to do with each other. Each one refused to make the first move to apologize, so they avoided each other all through their high school years.

Five years later, they met at a party. They started talking and discovered they still had many things in common. They became close friends again, and a few months later, one asked the other to be her maid of honor at her upcoming wedding. They were grateful to have rediscovered their friendship, but they were both unhappy that they wasted five years when they could have been enjoying each other’s company. Maybe you can help your friends discover that they really would still like to be friends (see James 3:16–18).

It all started with a joke: “You guys should make a commercial. They make millions!”
Joseph Sim of Alberta, Canada, had been chatting with his friend about how to save money for their missions when his friend’s dad joked that they ought to try their skills behind a camera and strike it rich.
The idea stuck, if only for the adventure factor. They began working together to create a fake commercial even though they didn’t expect fame or fortune to knock on their door anytime soon. The two friends started a YouTube channel and began uploading funny videos that were all about their quest of finding a way to make a commercial.
Things kind of snowballed from there.
While they were living it up creating the short videos, Joseph realized quickly how much he loved the art. He wanted to do more. “I had found my passion for filmmaking and started an LDS film group with my friends,” he said.
Those first videos from the LDS film group were goofy and funny shorts about Mormon culture, boasting such titles as “Stuff Mormons Say.”
After the new videos began gaining an audience Joseph decided to step up his game. He launched a web series about an ambitious young filmmaker looking for his break. These new comedy videos started getting more attention than ever before—so much attention, in fact, that the web series caught the eye of a major Canadian restaurant chain who wanted to partner with Joseph.
They contacted Joseph and said they wanted to advertise their product through the storyline. Joseph couldn’t believe his luck. “In my mind, this was the chance, the break,” he said. “I knew film production was where I wanted to end up.”
The restaurant chain liked his material so much they offered to re-shoot the existing four episodes he’d already finished. That meant better cameras and equipment, a budget, the works. Fame and fortune came a-knockin’ after all.
But then came the catch.
“They wanted to change the material,” Joseph said. “They wanted to taint the humor with sexual references and immoral situations.”
Joseph began feeling uneasy as soon as they started telling him their vision of reshaping his web series into something other than the clean material he’d created. They had a specific bar-and-grill type audience in mind and wanted the videos to appeal to that group. “Are you with us?” they asked.
Joseph’s head was spinning. “They had everything I thought I wanted,” he said. “But then I was reminded of a scripture, 3 Nephi 13:24: ‘No man can serve two masters; for either he will hate the one and love the other, or else he will hold to the one and despise the other. Ye cannot serve God and Mammon.’ I knew there was no middle path. This was a simple choice.”
A simple choice, maybe, but not easy in the moment. “I felt panicked, worried, and scared I’d be left with regret,” he said. “But when I did in fact decline their offer, I felt total reassurance that I had made the right choice.”
They parted ways. The deal was off.
Fast-forward a couple years since that big decision. Joseph Sim is now Elder Sim of the England Leeds Mission. He still hopes to pursue film in the future, but he doesn’t regret in the slightest having turned down the offer.
“At the time I’m pretty sure I thought the earth itself would shatter in two,” he says. “But with a bit of hindsight, I’m fairly confident I simply stood in front of something all of us have faced: the crossroads of the world and the gospel. I’m also confident that this crossroads is a daily thing, not some milestone event in our lives. We’re constantly making the decision between convenience and covenants.”
Even though the web video deal didn’t go through, Elder Sim still learned a ton from his time behind the camera. A lot of which helps him as a missionary.
“I’ve noticed that a major key to success in filmmaking and missionary work is creativity, anything that makes us unique,” he said. “We spend so much time worrying about what other people will think and trying to be someone else that the world ends up missing out on us altogether.”
No matter who you are, your life’s a story in the making. Make sure you tell a good one.

May I share a personal experience with you?
At a previous institution where I was employed, I had been given the responsibility to meet with a group who was preparing to sue the institution and felt very strongly about what had been done and how it had impacted them. I admit that in the first meeting I handled it very poorly. The tone became accusatory, personal, and quite ugly. I found myself reacting to their anger and frustration in a very inappropriate way. The meeting did not go well, and it would be necessary to meet again.
As I prepared myself for the next meeting, I found myself preparing for war. I thought of everything that might be thrown at me, and I was preparing myself with all the things I could say or do to show them that they were wrong and the institution I worked for was right.
As I was shaving and looking in the mirror that morning and thinking of all that I could do to show them, it came to me, "Charles, choose to pre-forgive. Choose to not be offended." That is what I did. The meeting started out as the first had. I waited patiently until they were done. They had been mean, personal, and offensive. I chose to not be offended, and I listened. It was very hard. When they were done, I simply asked how we could get to a solution to their concerns and frustrations. Once they realized that I was serious about wanting to work with them and come to a resolution, the tone of the meeting changed, apologies were given, and a solution was found that resolved the dispute between the institution and this group at much less cost than going through a lawsuit. The group's leader and I became friends, and I was able to call upon him for future help at the institution. It was a great learning experience for me.

Not everybody glimpses the glory. Sometimes a lot of people just miss the point. Toward the end of the last century, a Reverend Wright was a leader in the community of Elkhart, Indiana. A man by the name of Professor Kelly visited him. Professor Kelly was a local teacher who was trying to raise money for research in technical matters, and he wanted Reverend Wright’s support. He said that if people concentrated their industrial and technical efforts, they could do unbelievable things to raise their standard of living. He outlined some of the things that he thought might be accomplished. He said that man could increase his life span. He could construct homes that provided unheard of comforts and conveniences. He might even fly like a bird someday.

Reverend Wright said, “That’s an impious thought! I’m not going to support this. Go home and pray for forgiveness. To suggest that man could fly like a bird is to defy the will of God!”

Reverend Wright had two sons—Wilbur and Orville.

Sometimes people don’t glimpse the glory. And sometimes they glimpse a counterfeit glory. They waste their lives searching for the seven cities of gold or the fountain of youth. They’re following an image. They search for fool’s gold rather than the real thing. They have missed the point.

Let’s hope that we can glimpse the true glory and catch the real spirit.

Your generation, and I hope my generation too, could live to see the second coming of the Savior. You may see times of trial that make crossing the plains or an ocean voyage across the North Atlantic look very mild. You will need to have glimpsed the glory to sustain you through such times. If you do that—if you have glimpsed the glory of the gospel, of the Second Coming, of the millennial reign, of the celestial kingdom—it can sustain you as you cross your plains and the dust rolls up in your face. You may have to bury your children on the plains or freeze your feet at Valley Forge or meet whatever your challenge is to be. You will have trials as every generation has had trials. You may have more trials than most generations. You need to glimpse the glory to sustain you through those times.

Although Joseph was only eight years old when he and his family moved to Winter Quarters, Nebraska, he and his friends were responsible for taking care of the cows.
One day, the boys were watching the grazing cattle outside of town. They were suddenly attacked by Indians. Joseph’s friends were frightened and rode their horses home. Joseph was frightened, too, but he tried to drive the cattle to safety.
3. Joseph and his horse were moving fast, but the Indians were going faster. When Joseph looked to his right, there was an Indian alongside him! There was one on his left, too!
4. Joseph didn’t know what to do. The Indians reached over and grabbed his arms and legs and lifted him from his horse. Then they dropped him to the ground and rode off with the horse.
5. Even though several horses galloped over Joseph, he was unhurt. Joseph was very brave, and he continued to be brave throughout his life. When he was older, he became the sixth President of the Church.

A little over a year ago, my husband and I visited Nauvoo. As we walked through the Old Pioneer Cemetery searching for the grave of an ancestor, Zina Baker Huntington, I was touched by the peaceful solitude and spirit I felt. I walked through the trees and read the names on the gravestones, many of them children and families. I wept as my heart was turned to our forefathers, many of whom had joined the Church and come to Nauvoo. In my mind I asked many questions: Why did they leave their comfortable homes and families? Why did they suffer persecution, sickness, even death? Why did they sacrifice all that they had to come to this place and build a temple? They hardly had shelter, and yet they were building a temple! Why did they do it? And when the temple was nearly completed, how could they leave it behind? As I sat silently contemplating this scene, the answer came forcefully yet softly to my mind and heart: “We did this for you.”

The friendships began, as many good things do, at Christmas. And even though right now the sun was beating down, the five young people and two leaders headed to Quitovac today were quick to tell their Christmas story.
“Brother Rehm got things going, I guess,” said Brian Simmons, 18, referring to Norbert Rehm, a high councilor in the Tucson Stake who previously served as branch president on the Indian reservation. Through that association, Brother Rehm became aware of the Alberque School in Quitovac, a school in need of help.
“It’s a boarding school where parents who can’t afford to raise their children send them to live,” Brian explained. “The government built the school for the Indians, but it’s funded only by donations.”
Conditions are tough. The dormitory is a barracks-like structure with concrete floors and broken windows. There is no running water. Showers from a bucket are allowed once a week. Two small bathrooms serve all 70 children. Toilets don’t flush unless tanks are filled with water carried from half a mile away. Electricity is available only when a generator is working—twice a year. Sometimes food runs out.
“To keep warm, the kids sleep two to a bed” (four to a bunk bed), said Danyel Colvin, 15, also of the Tanque Verde Ward. “In the winter, the cold wind blows right in.”
The LDS youth wanted to help. With Brother Rehm acting as go-between with the school and the Mexican government (there are strict limitations about who and what—like glass for windows—can cross the border), a campaign was launched to gather supplies the school could use. Youth in the Tucson 17th Ward gathered and prepared clothing and toys. Canned food, some basic medical supplies, and vitamins were also collected. When the ward was divided to form the Tanque Verde and Bear Canyon Wards, both units kept the project going.
The day after Thanksgiving, about 30 young Latter-day Saints and their leaders (one dressed as Santa Claus) headed to Quitovac. “We got our first look at the village,” Danyel said. “Many houses were built only of sticks. There were no trees or bushes, no roads. Just dirt and some buildings.” The school yard—an administration building, a study building with two classrooms, a covered pavilion for outdoor assemblies, and the dormitory—was also set in a barren landscape.
“Then we met the children,” Danyel continued. “There were lots of kids with no shoes. It was cold and windy, but they were wearing shorts and T-shirts.”
“We started by handing out some candy,” said Michael Walston, 14, of the Tanque Verde Ward. Then, with help from school officials, shoes and clothing were distributed. And toys.
“I helped one boy put together a toy,” Michael’s sister Susanne, 17, remembered. “He kept talking and talking. He knew I didn’t understand Spanish, and he didn’t understand English. But it was like I was his best friend. We didn’t have to speak the same language. We could communicate without saying anything.”
That was typical of the magic that happened. Teenagers and young children paired up like they’d known each other forever. There was a Christmas program, there were lots of hugs, and there was a lot of joy in Quitovac that day. But the thing Susanne remembers most is how eager the children seemed just to have someone take an interest in them.
“Sure, they were glad we brought some things,” she said. “But more than that, they wanted to share with us, even if all they could share was a smile.” That was what made the memory pleasant. That was what made a return to Quitovac worthwhile.

This story took place in the USA.
Chakell laughed at her sister’s silly pictures. It was Christmas Eve, and she and her family were playing a drawing game around the fireplace.
Christmas Eve was Chakell’s favorite day of the whole year. She felt cozy and happy after all the treats and giggling. She didn’t want it to end!
“All right,” Mom said. “It’s time for the white stocking!”
Chakell grinned. Christmas Eve was her favorite day, and this was one of her favorite traditions.
Where she lived, people hung big, fancy stockings by the fireplace at Christmas. On Christmas morning, they would be filled with treats! But this stocking was extra special. Chakell and her family would fill it with gifts for Jesus.
Mom pulled out a beautiful white stocking with gold trim. Then she handed each person a little slip of paper and a pencil. “Write down one thing you want to promise Jesus next year,” she said.
“Then we will put them in the stocking, and we’ll read them next year on Christmas Eve,” Dad added. “But first, let’s read our promises from last year.”
He reached into the stocking and pulled out the small slips of paper from last year. He handed them out, and Chakell quietly read hers: “I will help more at home.” She thought she did a pretty good job at that this year. But what would she write this time?
“I know what I’m going to write!” her sister said happily.
Chakell thought about what she could give to Jesus. What could she do better next year to be more like Him? What would He want her to do?
That’s when she saw her older brother, Braeden, writing something down on his slip of paper.
Chakell frowned. She couldn’t see what he wrote, but she was sure it wasn’t anything he would really do.
Braeden teased Chakell a lot, and they hadn’t been very nice to each other this year. She loved her big brother, but she didn’t think he would ever try to be more like Jesus.
Why does he have to be so mean to me? she thought.
She watched as he folded his paper and put it in the white stocking.
Braeden saw her staring and smiled. “Don’t peek,” he said.
Chakell looked back down at her paper and wrote, “I will try to be nice to everyone this year.” Then she put her paper in the stocking too.
Soon it was time for bed. But Chakell couldn’t stop thinking about what Braeden had written. Nobody was supposed to read anyone else’s promise to Jesus, but she really wanted to know!
While the others got ready for bed, Chakell snuck over to the white stocking. She found Braeden’s slip of paper and opened it.
“I promise to be kinder to Chakell this year,” it said.
She couldn’t believe it. Was this really what Braeden wrote? She felt tears in her eyes and carefully tucked the paper back inside the stocking.
Mom always said that having faith in Jesus Christ could help anyone change and become more like Him. Maybe she was right. Maybe Jesus really could help Braeden and her be nicer to each other.
The next morning as Chakell sat down for breakfast, she still felt warm inside. As soon as Braeden came down the stairs she wrapped her arms around him in a big hug.
Braeden’s eyes widened. “Whoa, what’s this for?”
“I just wanted to give you a hug,” she said. “Merry Christmas!”
Braeden grinned and hugged her back. “Merry Christmas.”
Illustrations by Kevin Fales

Likewise, trusted family members, leaders, and friends can be helpful in our efforts to change. When I was eight years old, my older brother, Lee, and I would spend time with our friends playing in the branches of a neighborhood tree. We loved being together in the fellowship of our friends in the shade of that tree. One day, Lee fell out of the tree and broke his arm. Having a broken arm made it hard for him to climb the tree by himself. But life in the tree just wasn’t the same without him there. So some of us steadied him from behind while others pulled on his good arm, and without too much effort, Lee was back in the tree. His arm was still broken, but he was with us again enjoying our friendship as he healed.

Several years ago I picked up the desk pen in my office at BYU to sign a paper that had been prepared for my signature, something I did at least a dozen times each day. That document committed the University to a particular course of action we had decided to follow. All the staff work had been done, and all appeared to be in order. But as I went to sign the document, I was filled with such negative thoughts and forebodings that I put it to one side and asked for the entire matter to be reviewed again. It was, and within a few days additional facts came to light which showed that the proposed course of action would have caused the University serious problems in the future.

My name is Tanoh Ahoukou Mariette, I am a member of the Abobo East Côte d’Ivoire Stake. I would like to share my testimony about believing in God even in the middle of the storms of life.
Due to financial difficulties from my parents, I had to drop out of primary school at the age of eight in a rural area in the east of the country. At the age of 18, I married a young man from my village whom I loved very much and with whom I had four children.
As a young couple, life was difficult, but I had small gainful side jobs to support my husband. Subsequently, he was recruited into the national army with the corollary of a better and more stable life for my children and me.
Once, a young man came to our house and wanted to be a tutor at home for my children. Oddly enough, I had sympathy for him, but my husband didn’t want it. I had to undertake to pay the young man myself with my meagre means. I later learned that he was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. This would prove to be precious for later.
After several years of marriage, my husband ended up leaving our home, leaving me alone with six young children. My whole world turned upside down. I had no sufficient source of income to take care of my children and me.
Depressed and seeing no prospect in front of me, I decided one morning to end my life. My last-born son was five years old at the time came to me unexpectedly (probably sent by God) and said, “No mom, don’t do that. What do you want us to become without you?” I hugged my son Martin and we cried together. I felt a sense of guilt and shame. But I had decided to live.
Life was still difficult, so much so that I left home for a brief time to give myself moments of reflection. I went to a friend’s house outside of Abidjan. One day around 6 am, a voice said to me: “Get up quickly and join your children in Abidjan”.
When I arrived, my children taught me that they should be baptized at The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, whose missionaries had previously taught my children, but to whom I paid little attention because I was not attracted to religions. I was therefore invited to attend the baptism of my children at the Quatre Etages Ward.
Bishop Etian’s speech had a positive impact on me. It was the story of the “King with the Severed Finger” told by Muslim folk wisdom. A king had a finger cut off during the hunt and imprisoned his advisor who told him to let Allah (God) prevail in all things. Sometime later the king and his retinue were captured in the bush by cannibals who did not want him because of his disability. He was therefore the only one released and his life spared. He ran to deliver his servant, apologizing profusely. The latter replied that God is never wrong and that everything works together for our good. He said, “If you hadn’t put me in jail, I would be with you, captured, devoured by the cannibals, and probably dead today.”
From that moment on, I made a firm resolution to take my life and that of my children totally into my own hands by being baptized. From then on, I decided to forgive my husband for the wrongs I had suffered. My husband is still not in our home, but I have a more brotherly and kinder relationship with him through the power of forgiveness. I undertook income-generating activities that have allowed me to provide for my family and especially to ensure the schooling of my children for more than 15 years. Today, two of my daughters are starting careers as teachers in public schools. My last son has just been admitted to the university for which I am looking for ways to finance the courses. They make me proud. I have been able to go to the Accra Ghana Temple where I was endowed and sealed to my deceased parents.
I hope one day to be able to remarry in the temple to have an eternal marriage. The lessons I draw from my life is that everything works together for the good of one who believes in God.
As told to Sadia Zouzou, Côte d’Ivoire communication director

The last week Elder Allen was in our ward, I had the privilege of being humbled again. I accompanied him on a teaching session. The lady of the household wanted to be baptized but was waiting for her husband, who seemed to be fighting his own better instincts. After a beautiful lesson on the plan of salvation, the husband’s heart had changed. He offered a plain, simple prayer that was truly inspired.

I don’t know who learns more from the elders in our ward, the investigators or the members. But I know they have taught me great lessons in faith and humility and action, and our family tries never to forget them in our prayers.

On April 3, 2022, faithful Saints all over the world gathered in their homes to watch general conference. In the Republic of the Congo, Brazzaville Stake President Belle-Vie Gayouele and his family were among millions of Saints who reverently followed the proceedings via live broadcast, when President Russell M. Nelson announced that a temple will be built in Brazzaville.
Of this sacred experience, President Belle-vie Gayouele said, “We didn’t really expect the temple to be announced at this recent conference. Nevertheless, Saints all over Brazzaville and Pointe-Noire (two cities within the country) followed the prophet’s concluding remarks with a ray of hope. When the prophet unexpectedly announced the construction of the temple in Brazzaville, it had an incredible effect. My wife, for example, cried with joy, there were great celebrations everywhere, endless video and phone calls, and that night we couldn’t sleep! My family and I knelt in humility and offered a prayer of gratitude.”