Gospel Story Finder

I really like “Elevator Prayers” (Aug. 2012). This last year I had to take a standardized test in science. It was the first time I had taken this test because only fifth graders take it. I said a prayer in my mind while I was in the hallway. I wanted to be able to remember the things I had been taught. After the test I got a really good score. Heavenly Father helped me feel calm and sure of myself. I know that Heavenly Father hears and answers my prayers no matter where I am.

The troops gathered early on a spring morning, just as the sun was breaking over the Montana hills. Mostly young men, they came in small clusters at first, a patrol here, another there, marshaling in the city park until their ranks were full. The ribbons and badges on their uniforms caught the fire of the dawning light.
You could tell by looking in their eyes that this was serious business. They came prepared for action, dressed in orange vests and hunting caps, wearing leather gloves. And they came heavily armed.
With trash bags.
For these were Scout troops, joined by Cub Scouts, some Girl Scouts, and a few other service groups. And their battle was an all-out war against litter.
This gathering of 289 in Missoula and others like it throughout the state would form an army of 7, 000. Dispersed in groups of four youth and two leaders per mile, they would clean Highway 93 from the Canadian border to Idaho. They would spruce up parts of Interstate 15. And working west from the North Dakota border, they would tidy significant stretches of Highway 2, Interstates 90 and 94, Highway 87, and other major thoroughfares.
By midday they would collect more than three million pounds of trash, including 2,000 pounds of recyclable glass and thousands of recyclable aluminum cans.
And they’d be home in time for lunch.
This one-day cleanup has been an annual affair for five years now. It started small, when LDS Scouts in northwest Montana decided to do something about trash on Highway 93. Their good example spread to district level, where “Project 93” drew 1,100 participants the first year, 2,000 the next, then went statewide as “Project Good Turn.”
Now people throughout the state are recognizing the contribution.
“The best part is when people honk and wave,” said Seth Tollefson, 12, of the Missoula Fourth Ward. “I think a lot of people are happy about what we’re doing.”
Indeed. One man traveling south out of Canada was so moved by the sight of mile after mile of volunteers, that he found their Scoutmaster and gave him $40. “Take your troop to lunch,” he said. Bakery trucks have stopped to hand out snacks. Soda pop truck drivers have spontaneously donated free drinks.
Community organizations have also chipped in. Amateur radio operators provide statewide communication. The highway department provides the trash bags and picks them up when they’re full. Radio and television stations air public service announcements advising motorists to slow down. The highway patrol cruises the areas being cleaned.
“A lot of the community knows that most of the Scouts are in on this, and that the Church sponsors a lot of the Scout troops around here,” said Cannon Flake, 16, of the Frenchtown Branch. “So they get a good impression of the Church when they see us out working.”
The younger boys eagerly tally what’s been gathered besides trash: keys, golf balls, tennis balls, a volleyball, an unexpired charge card (returned to the owner), a set of wrenches, cassette tapes, a warped record album, coins, a $10,000 cashier’s check (returned to the owner), a $10 bill (donated to the troop fund), a $50 bill (donated to the pack), and other souvenirs.
And leaders talk about increased camaraderie, since adults, priests, teachers, deacons, and Primary-age Cub Scouts all work together on the same project; and about how in ten years, there won’t be so much litter because Project Good Turn is making the youth aware of what a problem litter can be.
And, of course, there’s a noticeable improvement in the appearance of the highways. “One place we worked on looked like the city dump, but when we got done, it looked like somebody’s lawn,” said Scoutmaster Jim Bartmess of the Missoula Fourth Ward, Missoula Montana Stake.
But perhaps the greatest benefit of the Montana cleanup has been what it has done for the young men themselves. “It gave you a sense of accomplishment, like you’d done something instead of sitting around all day,” said Seth Shearer, 13, of the First Ward.
“Most people would call it a boring day,” said Joe Diesen, 15, of the same ward. “And it was tiring. But I didn’t feel really tired, because I knew that I was doing something that was right.”
Mark Fallentine, 17, of Frenchtown, had planned on sleeping in, then spending the day getting ready for a school dance. “Friday night, I got two calls from the priests quorum about the cleanup. Then Saturday morning I got a call from the branch president. So I went. But after we got out and started working, I felt really good about it. And now, just driving by the highway and looking at it, I can say, ‘Hey, I worked on this, and it looks real nice.’ It taught me that I ought to participate even when at first I don’t want to.”
“One of the coordinators caught our troop just as we were finishing our first stretch of highway,” said Brent Chipman, 13, of the Fourth Ward. “He said there was another place that needed to be done, and asked if we could help. We did two more sections, so we went the extra two miles!”
Dave Speer, 12, of the Second Ward, told a similar story. “We did a mile. Then they told us to go ahead and do another mile, because someone didn’t show up. So we went back and did another mile. It was cloudless almost, and it was so hot out there. After a while, we sat down on one of the railings by the side of the road, and as the semi trucks came by they would blow wind on you and cool you down. You knew you’d worked hard, but it felt good.”

Not long ago, I glanced out the window of the mission home kitchen in Santiago, Chile. There behind the house I could see a large English walnut tree with a big pile of dirt under it. Playing in the dirt pile, I spied two little boys. It had rained recently and both boys were covered with mud. I could barely tell who they were. When they saw me looking out the window, smiles broke out on their faces, and then I could tell it was my son Chris and his friend David. Chris’s face was so covered with mud that when he smiled, his teeth showed through like six small marshmallows on top of a chocolate cake.
Later when it was time to come in and David had gone home, I sent Chris upstairs to bathe. We joked about how it would take three tubs full of water to get him clean. The first would have to be shoveled out just like pure dirt; the second, dipped out with a bucket like runny mud, and maybe we would be able to wash the third down the drain.
After Chris had soaked for a few minutes, I went in to help him get really clean and we had a serious talk that I hope he will never forget.
We worked together to get one hand scrubbed clean and then he compared it with the other that was still dirty. “Boy, Dad,” he said, “it’s sure great to have clean hands.” I explained how true that is, and said, “I want you to know that it is not the dirt of the earth that makes people’s hands really dirty. If a boy steals, if he is mean to his friends and hits them on purpose, if he tells his parents he will do something and then doesn’t, or if he is naughty or disobedient in other ways, this causes real “dirt”—the kind that you can’t wash off with soap and water. It’s the kind of dirt that you have to wear all the time and, even though others can’t always see it on you, you know yourself that inside you are not clean.”
I want all my dear, young friends to know there are different kinds of dirt; one you get on your hands from working and playing. This you can wash off. The other kind of “dirt” comes from doing bad things, sometimes called sin, that seem to stain your heart but can be “washed” away when you repent.
First you must do all you can to correct the wrong you have done. Then ask your Father in heaven and others to forgive you, so your hands and heart will be “scrubbed clean” from the dirt of wrongdoing.
The Savior said, “… entangle not yourselves in sin, but let your hands be clean, until the Lord comes.” (D&C 88:86.) He also said to those who had repented and were living pure lives: “Behold, your sins are forgiven you; you are clean before me; therefore, lift up your heads and rejoice.” (D&C 110:5.)
I hope that you will often get your hands dirty with hard work and play, but I hope that throughout your lives, this is the only dirt you will have to get rid of and not the kind that stains your heart through sin or disobedience. I want Chris and all other children to remember that should you slip and fall into sin, you can be washed clean by true repentance.
What joy it is to have clean hands and a pure heart!

One of Willis’s naval assignments was aboard a minesweeper operating off the east coast of the United States. As far as he knew, there were no other Church members among the crew.

When the ship put into port at New Bern, North Carolina, for repairs, Willis looked up the address of the local branch and attended services. He found out that the next Saturday there would be a Gold and Green Ball. Excited at the prospect of going to a dance, Willis asked two of his shipmates, Kenneth Kinzel and John Archer, to go with him. The two liked the idea of going to a social function where there would be some single girls, so they accepted the invitation.

They attended the dance and thoroughly enjoyed themselves. Ken was particularly impressed that they had such an enjoyable time without drinking and without the other activities usually associated with “hitting the beach.” He wanted to know more about a church that would sponsor that kind of activity and asked Willis how he could learn more. Willis contacted the missionaries. They taught Ken and John, and in a few weeks both were baptized. Soon afterward, their ship left port for Charleston, South Carolina.

Elder John R. Lasater, formerly of the Seventy (1987–92), told of an incident that occurred while he was traveling in Morocco. A car had injured one of the lambs belonging to a shepherd, and according to local law, the shepherd was entitled to 100 times its value. His interpreter said, “But the old shepherd will not accept the money. They never do because of the love [they have] for each of [the] sheep.” Elder Lasater then observed the old shepherd pick up the injured lamb, place it in a pouch in the front of his robe, stroke its head, and call it by name. The interpreter told him, “All of his sheep have a name, for he is their shepherd, and the good shepherds know each one of their sheep by name.”

Elder Lasater continued, “Do we understand the personal nature of the shepherd’s call? … Do they know us as true shepherds who love them, who willingly and freely give time and attention to their needs, and in that marvelous process, instill the confidence and security so greatly needed in God’s children today?” (“Shepherds of Israel,” Ensign, May 1988, 74–75).

May I share with you the account of how our Heavenly Father answered the prayers and pleadings of one woman and provided her the peace and assurance she so desperately sought?
Tiffany’s difficulties began last year when she had guests at her home for Thanksgiving and then again for Christmas. Her husband had been in medical school and was now in the second year of his medical residency. Because of the long work hours required of him, he was not able to help her as much as they both would have liked, and so most of that which needed to be accomplished during this holiday season, in addition to the care of their four young children, fell to Tiffany. She was becoming overwhelmed, and then she learned that one who was dear to her had been diagnosed with cancer. The stress and worry began to take a heavy toll on her, and she slipped into a period of discouragement and depression. She sought medical help, and yet nothing changed. Her appetite disappeared, and she began to lose weight, which her tiny frame could ill afford. She sought peace through the scriptures and prayed for deliverance from the gloom which was overtaking her. When neither peace nor help seemed to come, she began to feel abandoned by God. Her family and friends prayed for her and tried desperately to help. They delivered her favorite foods in an attempt to keep her physically healthy, but she could take only a few bites and then would be unable to finish.
On one particularly trying day, a friend attempted in vain to entice her with foods she had always loved. When nothing worked, the friend said, “There must be something that sounds good to you.”
Tiffany thought for a moment and said, “The only thing I can think of that sounds good is homemade bread.”
But there was none on hand.
The following afternoon Tiffany’s doorbell rang. Her husband happened to be home and answered it. When he returned, he was carrying a loaf of homemade bread. Tiffany was astonished when he told her it had come from a woman named Sherrie, whom they barely knew. She was a friend of Tiffany’s sister Nicole, who lived in Denver, Colorado. Sherrie had been introduced to Tiffany and her husband briefly several months earlier when Nicole and her family were staying with Tiffany for Thanksgiving. Sherrie, who lived in Omaha, had come to Tiffany’s home to visit with Nicole.
Now, months later, with the delicious bread in hand, Tiffany called her sister Nicole to thank her for sending Sherrie on an errand of mercy. Instead, she learned Nicole had not instigated the visit and had no knowledge of it.
The rest of the story unfolded as Nicole checked with her friend Sherrie to find out what had prompted her to deliver that loaf of bread. What she learned was an inspiration to her, to Tiffany, to Sherrie—and it is an inspiration to me.
On that particular morning of the bread delivery, Sherrie had been prompted to make two loaves of bread instead of the one she had planned to make. She said she felt impressed to take the second loaf with her in her car that day, although she didn’t know why. After lunch at a friend’s home, her one-year-old daughter began to cry and needed to be taken home for a nap. Sherrie hesitated when the unmistakable feeling came to her that she needed to deliver that extra loaf of bread to Nicole’s sister Tiffany, who lived 30 minutes away on the other side of town and whom she barely knew. She tried to rationalize away the thought, wanting to get her very tired daughter home and feeling sheepish about delivering a loaf of bread to people who were almost strangers. However, the impression to go to Tiffany’s home was strong, so she heeded the prompting.
When she arrived, Tiffany’s husband answered the door. Sherrie reminded him that she was Nicole’s friend whom he’d met briefly at Thanksgiving, handed him the loaf of bread, and left.
And so it happened that the Lord sent a virtual stranger across town to deliver not just the desired homemade bread but also a clear message of love to Tiffany. What happened to her cannot be explained in any other way. She had an urgent need to feel that she wasn’t alone—that God was aware of her and had not abandoned her. That bread—the very thing she wanted—was delivered to her by someone she barely knew, someone who had no knowledge of her need but who listened to the prompting of the Spirit and followed that prompting. It became an obvious sign to Tiffany that her Heavenly Father was aware of her needs and loved her enough to send help. He had responded to her cries for relief.

Chase and Heston watched as Sister Lind interrupted their Primary lesson by placing an empty chair between them.
“President Benson has a family saying about chairs. Have any of you heard it?” she asked, glancing at the extra seat. When no one held up his hand, she gave the answer herself: “‘no empty chairs!’ What do you suppose President Benson means?”
When still no one responded, Sister Lind help up a picture of Jesus holding a lamb. Smiling, she continued, “Could it have something to do with our lesson on Jesus and His lost sheep?”
Sharla raised her hand timidly. “Is the chair missing a person, like Jesus was missing a sheep?”
Sister Lind nodded. “That’s it, Sharla. Just as Jesus brought back His lost sheep, we’re supposed to find our friends missing from Primary and bring them back to their empty chairs.” She placed her hand on the chair between Chase and Heston. “Now, who is missing from our class? Who needs to come back and sit in this chair?”
The whole class turned to one another and mumbled one name—“Charles.” No one dared to shout it out. They were all reluctant to talk about Charles because his mother had died only two months before.
Charles had loved Primary, especially singing time, but he hadn’t come to church for almost three months. The empty chair in the classroom suddenly seemed very lonely. Charles wasn’t in it, and the other children missed him.
“What can we do?” Heston asked.
“Well, Charles is what the rest of our lesson is about. We’re going to discuss what we can do for him, and then we’ll pray for help.”
The class had a lot of ideas: “Let’s ask him to play soccer!” “How about inviting him to the Primary talent activity?” “Isn’t it almost time for his birthday? Why don’t we do something for his birthday?”
Sister Lind checked the class roll and looked at the birthday list. “You’re right,” she announced. “His birthday is next Saturday.”
Jessica jumped up and suggested, “What if we took balloons and sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to him at his house?”
Heston and Chase pulled faces. “The balloons are okay, but do we have to sing?”
Sister Lind laughed. “Of course you’ll sing.” She smiled at Jessica and said, “That’s a fine idea.” To the whole class, she added, “I also think that while we’re there, he’d like to be invited to the Primary activity. Let’s meet at my house on Saturday at ten o’clock.”
When everyone agreed, Sister Lind looked at the empty chair again. “Before we have the closing prayer, I want to remind you to remember Charles in your individual prayers this week.”
On Saturday morning the children met at Sister Lind’s house and they all went to visit Charles. “Before we go in,” she said, turning to the children, “don’t forget about the talent activity.” She smiled at Chase and asked him to invite Charles to the activity. “The rest of you must show Charles that you really want him to come,” she told them.
The balloons bobbed gaily as the children walked to the door. Only Chase walked slowly—he was wondering how to invite Charles to the activity.
A dog ran out the door when Charles opened it. “Look who’s here, Dad!” he shouted with a surprised look on his face. “It’s Sister Lind and my Primary class!”
“Happy birthday to you,” they sang. “Happy birthday to you. …”
“Ar-rooo!” a strange voice joined in, unheard by all but Sister Lind.
“Happy birthday, dear Charles. …”
“Ar-rooo!”
This time they all heard Charles’s dog, Bowser, “singing” with them. He was sitting by the door with his head thrown back for a full-throated sound.
“Ar-rooo-ooo!” he finished the song for them, then gave them a big doggy smile, rolling his head to one side and watching the children and Sister Lind laugh.
“Charles, Bowser likes to sing, too,” Heston shouted.
“He sure does,” Charles said, hugging his dog tightly. “He loves music as much as I do.”
Chase saw his opportunity. “Then how about singing with us for the Primary talent activity?”
The class stopped giggling at Bowser and looked expectantly at Charles.
“Dad, can I?”
Charles’s dad was quiet. He just looked down at the floor. Their whole plan might have ended awkwardly right then if Heston hadn’t started giggling again. “Hey, Charles,” he laughed, “can Bowser sing with us for the show? Do you think he’d do it?”
Bowser loved the idea! He lifted his head high and sang his loudest “Ar-roo.”
Charles’s dad lifted his head, too, and watched the happy faces of his son and his son’s friends as they again broke into helpless laughter. “Sure,” he said softly. “Maybe I’ll come too.”
During the next few weeks Charles, Bowser, and the rest of the class practiced their special act at Sister Lind’s house. Bowser enjoyed certain notes more than others, so Sister Lind played through her music until they found the song that appealed the most to him.
On Primary Talent Night, everyone’s family and friends crowded into the cultural hall. After the opening prayer, the bishop announced, “And now for a very different opening act, Sister Lind’s Valiant A class will accompany Bowser, the singing dog!”
Charles and his classmates led Bowser onto the stage, and Sister Lind stood below them. “Look across the room and tell me what you see,” she whispered.
The children looked out at the hall filled with people. Charles waved when he saw his dad sitting in the back, surrounded by Sister Lind’s family.
“No empty chairs!” Sharla told Sister Lind excitedly. “There are no empty chairs here tonight—or in our class, anymore.”
“That’s right!” Sister Lind gave them all a big smile and Bowser a pat, which made his tail wag with a thud on the stage. “Now let’s sing!”
The children’s voices rang, and so did Bowser’s. The room filled with laughter at the hound’s musical howls. Everyone—including the children and Bowser—was having a good time. And best of all, there were no empty chairs.

I have learned similar lessons from my neighbors down the street. Larry Morgan, 97, and his wife, Elizabeth, 94, have successfully filled various roles in their lives together: husband and wife, father and mother, senior missionary companions in Holland. When Larry was 72, he was called as a counselor in the bishopric. At that time there were 79 widows in our neighborhood, and by assignment from the bishop, Larry and Elizabeth visited every one of them.
For more than 40 years, on fast Sundays, Larry and Elizabeth’s children, and now their grandchildren and great-grandchildren, have gathered in the evening to end their fast. “We wanted our family to enjoy being together, and everyone likes to eat,” he says. “We had lots of wheat in storage, so we’d grind our own flour and make waffles. Then we’d eat until everyone was filled.” That simple, shared meal has fostered enduring feelings of family togetherness.
Today, children and grandchildren do the cooking. Elizabeth has dementia but knows the family is near. To each person present, she repeats over and over again, “I love you.” When the meal is finished and everyone is gone, she enjoys listening to Larry read scriptures and Church magazine articles out loud and finds reassurance in just knowing he is there.
About two years ago, Larry fell and damaged his spine. As a result, he can no longer walk. “I don’t waste time asking, ‘Why me?’” he says. “I received a priesthood blessing. I was told I will walk again, even though it will not be in this life. Because of the Atonement and the Resurrection, I know that it will happen. I’ve learned that our Father in Heaven is in charge. When we accept His will, then we can count on His help.”

Immediately following the news of Hurricane Katrina’s destruction, the G. family held a family council and decided to give the money they had saved for new furniture to the Church Humanitarian Fund instead. This brought light to the children’s eyes. Taylor, Nathan, and Zachary asked if they could donate their personal savings to the fund. Their parents agreed. However, after counting their savings, the children said they needed to do more and asked if they could set up a stand to sell lemonade and cookies. They were soon open for business. The three boys manned the stand on Saturday from 10:30 a.m. to 5:30 p.m., taking no breaks except (in shifts) to eat. They allowed themselves no lemonade or cookies. At the end of the first day, they were elated that they had made $67. They asked permission to open again after school, but were told no. “But there are more people who need help!” the children explained. Mother agreed, and they raised another $24. They were filled with gratitude and joy as they sealed their money in a donation envelope.

One day, a shy student came crying into Julie’s history class. After listening to the young woman’s feelings, Julie gave her some Church pamphlets to read. The girl trashed them. A short while later, the friend suffered severe family problems and ran away. Julie and her family invited the girl to stay at their home for a few days. “I tried to share the gospel with Maura, but she didn’t seem interested,” comments Julie. “Then I volunteered to help her at her job in a stable. In familiar surroundings she could sense how much I thought of her.”
Julie continues, “Maura felt discouraged about life and down on herself. She would ask, ‘Why would God let these things happen?’ Heavenly Father inspired me with answers to her questions. It was amazing how she changed when she started the discussions. She came to know she was a child of God and to believe in herself. I could not believe my joy the day of her baptism,” exclaims Julie.

In September 1972 President Harold B. Lee visited Israel. President Lee was accompanied by Sister Lee, Elder Gordon B. Hinckley of the Quorum of the Twelve, and Sister Hinckley.
While in the Holy Land, President Lee met with the mayor of Jerusalem and other officials of the Israeli government. He also visited Bethlehem, where Jesus was born, and Nazareth, where the Savior spent His childhood.
One of his special visits was to the Garden Tomb, a beautiful area where it is believed Jesus was buried and rose from the dead. There President Lee met with the Saints in Israel and organized the Jerusalem Branch of the Church. The Primary children of the new branch sang one of President Lee’s favorite songs, “I Am a Child of God.”
Later when President Lee spoke to members of the Church in Rome, he told them that his choicest experience in the Holy Land was hearing the children sing that lovely song. He explained that we all are truly God’s children and that our Heavenly Father wants us to do what’s right so that we can return to live with Him.
The children of the Jerusalem Branch will always remember President Lee and his visit with them. They feel blessed that a modern-day prophet visited this land where Jesus lived and taught. They are glad too that they are able to visit some of these sacred places.

A week and a half before the October 2019 general conference session, I, along with family and friends, had to bury the loveliness of my mother, Eudie (YOU-dee) Charnes. My heart was broken, grieving, and empty beyond empty. The beauty of Eudie, the beauty that was Eudie, was, simply and sadly, no more. She was no longer before me to hold, to hug, or to nourish—to bless, to sing to, to cry over, or to pray with. The life and the light that had given me life had died, her blessedness now gone and beyond. And so too a part of me died with her also, a part deep within, leaving me forever without. With grace she died, embraced by faith, interlaced in the loving arms of her beloved family: of my wife, Sarah; of our daughter, Yael; and of mine, her newly orphaned son.
We were all together, yet completely alone—each alone in our individual loss, but bound together in our shared loss. And that fragile togetherness that we shared with each other was helped, and at times was even held together, by the kindness and presence of two living Latter-day Saint community treasures: Brother Mike Law and his eternal celestial companion, Sister Debbie Law, of Colorado, USA. Their humble hearts overflow with a love that can only be described as being inspired from above, and we are forever grateful for the light of their accompanying presence during our walk through the darkness and the despair of death.
It was during this time, a mere two days after burying my mother, that my desperate cry for the blessed was answered—answered in the form of a simple phone call and offer from my treasured friend Brother Mike Law. He was again reaching out and reaching in, as always, to see how I was faring and wayfaring along, in loss along this long and lonely journey of woe.
While we were speaking, I noticed a subtle tenor of uncertainty entering into Mike’s voice as he asked me the following question: “Joe, I know the answer is probably going to be no, but would you like to go to general conference, if I can get tickets?” My response was simple, immediate, direct, and urgent: “Mike, there’s actually nowhere else that I’d rather be.”
Those were my words, friends; those were my words—words sung forth in solemn song and solemn sorrow. I just knew that general conference would be that consecrating moment of graceful uplift for my heart. I knew the generous arms of every Latter-day Saint–inspired heart would be unconditionally extended and extending in love—that the arms of their loving hearts simply would not fail.
At general conference, people simply smile from the heart. They say hello from the heart, and they glow from the heart. There is an unspoken language of presence of heart. Their presence says hello. Just being there says hello. Just being there is being embraced.
That was the balm my aching soul needed—that heart-embracing balm of general conference kindness. That is why general conference would truly be that healing balm of Gilead for my soul in need.
And this is a general truism of your grand faith. Wise, loving, nurturing kindness is the service anthem of the Latter-day Saint community; it is the emblematic hallmark and legacy of your faith. If the old adage is true that “the highest form of wisdom is kindness,” then general conference is truly a gathering place for some of the wisest human beings on the planet.
You are “a light unto the nations,” and a light unto my heart. Bless you, Mike, for following the promptings of your heart. Your devotion to helping me restore peace within has the heavenly choir above singing, “Well done, good and faithful servant” (Matthew 25:23).

I remember shortly after Alessandra and I got married, we had both just finished our university studies and moved back to Brazil to start our professional lives. It was difficult to find a job and we were both working in jobs that were below what we believed to be our potential. We could not even afford to pay rent, so we lived with my in-laws for a period of time, but we always paid an honest tithe.
We could see through some very small miracles throughout our lives how the Lord was opening the windows of heaven and rebuking the devourer in our lives. Over the years we were able to progress in our careers and afford rent, and later we were able to afford a mortgage. I remember one instance where the company that I was working for was laying off people and I was not laid off. I remember friends that were not members of the Church saying that I was lucky, but I knew that it was the Lord rebuking the devourer as mentioned in Malachi.
In other circumstances where I received a promotion at my work, I know that it was not only because of my qualifications, because I would look around and see that many of my colleagues had the same qualifications that I had. I know that it was the Lord opening the windows of heaven and blessing our lives.

“Drat!” Ben slapped the water in disgust as he watched his scuba man settle at the bottom of his uncle’s swimming pool—again. His two plastic turtles floated just fine, but the plastic scuba diver kept slipping from his hand and sinking like a stone. Ben couldn’t dive to get it, so he had to keep asking his brother for help.
Ben knew that Heavenly Father helped people who had faith. When he had the scuba diver in his hand again, he closed his eyes and said a silent prayer: “Please don’t let my scuba man sink.” As soon as he had said amen, he opened his eyes and dropped the little plastic man into the water. It sank right back to the bottom. “Why didn’t Heavenly Father answer my prayer?” he wondered.
A few days later, Ben came home and found his mom cooking squishy broccoli casserole with slimy sauce. Ben hated broccoli. “Please, Heavenly Father,” he prayed. “Let me have ice cream for dinner instead of squishy broccoli.” But Mom still served broccoli and slimy sauce for dinner. “Why didn’t Heavenly Father answer my prayer?” Ben wondered again, poking a hunk of broccoli with his fork.
One afternoon, Ben’s mom said he had to clean up his room in the next 15 minutes if he wanted to play video games. Ben’s room was a big mess, with toys, clothes, and books all over the floor. Ben wanted to play video games, but he didn’t want to clean his room. “Please let my room be cleaned by magic,” he prayed. Fifteen minutes later when Mom came back to check, the room was still messy. Ben was not allowed to play video games. “Why didn’t Heavenly Father answer my prayer?” he wondered for the third time.
One night Ben awoke in the middle of the night with a terrible earache. His ear hurt so much that he had to go to the hospital. On the way, he prayed, “Heavenly Father, my ear hurts worse than anything has ever hurt me before. I really need help. Please help the doctors find a way to make my ear feel better.” Ben remembered that Heavenly Father hadn’t always given him what he asked for, but he tried to have faith and believe that the pain would go away.
At the hospital, the doctor gave Ben some medicine. It tasted yucky, but Ben swallowed it, and on the way home his ear started feeling better. He knew that Heavenly Father had answered his prayer.
As Mom tucked him back into bed, Ben told her about the scuba diver, the broccoli, and the messy room. “Why does Heavenly Father answer some prayers and not others?” he asked.
“Heavenly Father always answers our prayers,” she said. “But sometimes the answer is no if we ask for things that would be bad for us. He wants us to learn here on earth. What did you learn at the swimming pool?”
Ben thought for a minute. “I learned that some things float and some don’t,” he said. “And that I have a nice brother who will help me.”
Mom nodded. “Then there’s the casserole. I’m sorry you think that broccoli is squishy, but it’s good for you. Why do you suppose Heavenly Father let you eat it?”
Ben sighed. “Because he wants me to be healthy and strong.”
“And finally the messy room,” Mom said. “Why didn’t Heavenly Father clean it for you?”
“I guess because it’s my job, and I need to learn to do it.” Ben sat quietly for a minute, thinking. “But when I asked Heavenly Father to help the doctors to make my ear feel better, the answer was yes,” he said.
Mom nodded. “Yes, it was. But did your ear stop hurting the instant you asked?”
Ben frowned. “No. Why not?”
“Heavenly Father wants us to do all we can to help solve our problems. What did we do?”
“We went to the doctor, and I took the medicine he gave me, even though it tasted yucky.”
Mom smiled. “Heavenly Father helped the doctor to give you good medicine, and He helped your ear to feel better.”
Ben rubbed his ear. “Sometimes the answer is yes, and sometimes it’s no.”
“And sometimes it’s ‘not yet,’” Mom added.
Ben hopped out of bed. “I’m going to thank Heavenly Father for helping the doctors to make my ear feel better,” he said. “And from now on, I’m going to try to ask for things that are good for me. Heavenly Father knows how to answer best.”
Mom gave him a hug. “I think that broccoli is making you smarter already!”

Some years ago in the early spring, I took little Shelly’s hand in mine, and for hours we carefully picked our way from one rock to the next along the creek bed shaded by some tall trees. The gurgling water was like a musical accompaniment to the dance we were creating as we would take a step, hesitate, take another, and then wait a moment to secure our balance.

Before long, we were drawn to an open meadow where some large cottonwood trees had been recently cut. Making my way through the tall grass, I held Shelly’s hand in mine as she cautiously placed one foot ahead of the other, walking the full length of the tree and back again. We noticed in that springtime tender green shoots forcing their way through the earthy floor and the winter snow receding toward the mountain peaks. It seemed as though all of nature bore evidence of God’s creations and his love for us.

Our afternoon activities continued until the evening breeze reminded us that our special day was coming to a close. Approaching the narrow, steep garden path leading to my home, I let go Shelly’s hand, allowing her to go first. Our hands struck together for a moment. A bond had formed from the warmth of the day through our shared adventures.

Just before reaching the clearing near the house, we stopped. Bending down, I lifted Shelly up to see into a little nest built by a robin in the branch of a tree.

At the close of this memorable day, before tucking my little niece (whom my sister shares with me) into bed, we knelt together while she expressed her own thanks which included the creek, the slippery rocks, the big tree, and the robin’s nest. Feeling a renewed appreciation for those same wonderful blessings, I tucked the covers around her and bent down for a goodnight kiss. Reaching up with both arms around my neck and pulling me close to her, Shelly whispered, “I wish we were in the same family.”

“Shelly, my dear,” I quickly explained, “we are in the same family.”

“No, I mean the very same family. My last name is Larsen, and your last name is Kapp, and that isn’t the same. I mean if you were my sister and we had the very same last name.”

Even though she was very young, I felt that she might sense the security of our eternal relationship if I could awaken within her a great eternal truth. “Shelly, we really are in the very same family. You see, we are all our Heavenly Father’s children, every one of us, and that makes us in one great family. We are brothers and sisters, and Jesus is our Brother, too, our Elder Brother.”

“Then, what is Jesus’ last name?” she asked.

“Shelly, we know our Savior as Jesus the Christ.” With the pure innocence of youth, she began to make us all one family by securing this relationship as she linked my first name with the surname “The Christ.”

“Oh, no, my dear. We don’t put our names together like that.”

“But why not?” she asked.

Wanting her to be aware of the sacredness of our relationship with the Savior, I tried to explain. “I guess maybe it’s because sometimes we are not good enough. I don’t feel worthy yet.”

With that, she raised up on her little elbow. “What do you do that’s wrong? Why don’t you stop doing it, and then we can all be in the same family? We can all use his name.”

As I pondered the answer to her simple questions, I heard in my mind words as though I was hearing them for the first time. And yet, it had been only two days since I had attended sacrament meeting, where I had listened to the same words. I had heard them with my ears often before, but now it seemed different. It was as though I was hearing them with my whole heart and soul:

That they are willing to take upon them the name of thy Son, and always remember him, and keep his commandments which he has given them. [D&C 20:77]

Wasn’t this the very thing that we were talking about—the responsibility of taking upon oneself that sacred name and committing to try always to remember him and keep his commandments?

It was dusk as my mother and I drove to my grandparents’ home. I stared out the window, lost in my own thoughts.
“Pretty sunset,” my mother commented.
“Mmmm,” I mumbled in agreement, seeing the glorious sunset for the first time.
“Do you know what Davy says?” she asked me. I turned toward her, suddenly interested. Eloise, my mother’s best friend, had died two years earlier after battling cancer. She left behind four children. The youngest was seven-year-old Davy.
“He says sunsets make him think about his mother,” she said, choking back tears. “He says it’s just like she’s smiling at him.”
I turned my attention to the evening sky. Davy’s words brought me a new perspective. The sunset was now more than a swirl of reds and yellows making intricate and beautiful patterns in the sky. It was a reminder of Eloise and others who had passed on and their love for those they had left behind.
As we drove on in silence, I watched the sunset fade into night. I was suddenly more aware of the beauty of the trees, the stars, the moon, and the clouds. I am thankful to Heavenly Father for the beautiful gifts he gives us every day. And I am thankful for a wise young boy who can see Heavenly Father’s love in something as simple as a sunset.

In another ward, the Relief Society sisters were organized to supplement the time that the husband was out of the home and unable to care for his wife who was a native of Thailand, whose English language skills were limited. She had a disease that attacked every organ of her body. The sisters learned to operate the respirator. They bathed her, combed her hair, brushed her teeth, cleaned her house, and prepared meals as well. I heard this woman cry words of gratitude for the love and patience of those who served her.

As the organist played prelude music, Keeley looked around the chapel. She smiled when she saw some of her friends she had left behind when her family moved to a small town in eastern Colorado.
Her family had returned to Loveland, Colorado, for the blessing of her aunt and uncle’s baby girl. All of her dad’s family had come for the special event.
She liked her family’s new home, but she was happy to be back in Loveland, where she had lived most of her life and had so many relatives and friends.
After the opening song and prayer and announcements, the bishop announced that there would be a blessing of a baby.
Keeley watched as her dad, uncle, grandpa, and other family members gathered to bless baby Kaitlyn.
Uncle Mark gave his daughter a name and a blessing. She knew that the men who stood in the circle held the priesthood. Keeley’s dad had explained how important the priesthood was when he had baptized her and confirmed her a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints a year ago. In another year, her oldest brother, Samuel, would receive the Aaronic Priesthood and be ordained a deacon.
Keeley felt tears sting her eyes as she heard Uncle Mark’s voice quiver during the middle of the blessing. She reached up to brush them away.
When the blessing was over, Uncle Mark held up Kaitlyn so that the congregation could see her.
After sacrament meeting, Keeley and her brothers went to Primary. The chorister invited them to choose their favorite songs for the children to sing.
Keeley chose “I’m Trying to Be like Jesus.”* The Primary children had sung it for the Primary sacrament meeting program a year ago, and it had remained one of her favorite songs.
Following opening exercises and sharing time, she went to class. When class let out, Keeley said good-bye to her friends. Once again, tears gathered in her eyes.
Everyone in the family went to Uncle Mark and Aunt Celeste’s home after church. Keeley took a turn holding the new baby. All too soon, it was time to leave.
“It was like going home,” Keeley said during the drive. “All of our family and friends were there and were glad to see us.”
“That’s how it is in heaven,” Dad said. “Family members and friends who are already there are happy to see those they left behind on earth.”
“Like when Grandpa Munson died?” Keeley asked. Her mother’s dad had died before Keeley was born. She had heard Mom talk about Grandpa and what a great man he was.
“Exactly like that,” Mom said. “We were sad that Grandpa had to leave us, but we knew there were lots of people in heaven waiting for him.” She took Keeley’s hand and squeezed it. “I know you were glad to see your old friends, and they were glad to see you. We’ll see them again. In the meantime, you have friends at our new home who will be happy that you’re back.”
“Just like in heaven,” Keeley said. She liked the comparison.
“Just like in heaven,” Mom agreed.
After family prayer that night, Keeley kissed her parents good night. She thought of her friends back in Loveland and her friends here at home, then she imagined how many more friends and family members must be waiting to see her again in heaven. A sweet warmth settled over her like a comfortable blanket as she got ready for bed.

For example, in a counseling session, Marilyn described how frustrating it had been to lie in bed after she and her husband had yelled at each other. “I knew I was in the right,” she said. “I knew he was going to flip on the light and apologize, but he never did. The more I thought about it, the madder I got. When I heard him start to snore, I couldn’t stand it—I jumped out of bed and yelled at him some more and then went downstairs. Can you believe that he still didn’t apologize?” Marilyn’s experience is a good example of how not to deal with angry feelings.

We are commanded to teach our children to pray and to walk uprightly before the Lord. You may remember the story that Elder Robert L. Simpson told about a three-year-old boy who knelt down with his daddy to say his bedtime prayers. Eyes were closed, heads were bowed, but no words were spoken for several moments. Soon the little boy climbed into his bed. The daddy opened his eyes and said, “But what about prayers?”
And the boy answered, “I said my prayers.”
“But I didn’t hear you,” said the daddy.
Then followed the child’s classic comment, “But Daddy, I wasn’t talking to you.” (See Proven Paths, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1974, p. 148.)