Gospel Story Finder

I hope it isn’t inappropriate to say that my wife is not that mature. For one thing, she’s about the only person, outside of kindergarteners, who laughs reliably at my jokes. She has been a professor in Boston University’s School of Management and a highly paid consultant in the petroleum industry and in other management settings, including Boeing. Now she teaches kindergarten. One beautiful day she had the courage to say, “Although I like being a management consultant, what I really want to do is to teach kindergarten” (and be poor), so she made a major career change. You should see her in kindergarten. She reminds me of those Disney princesses when she is surrounded by her kindergarten kids. I expect to see singing birds and butterflies around her. Life is great in kindergarten, and you get to wear costumes at Halloween.

I invite us to become like her and like her kindergarteners, with their fresh and courageous approach to careers and the future.

One year a girl moved into our ward whose parents smoked and drank. We became friends, and went everywhere together. Her name was Elaine, and she became active in the Church. Although her parents were inactive, they were very kind to me and welcomed me into their home. When we were in junior high school, Elaine became very popular. Some of the girls wanted to crowd me out of Elaine’s circle of friends, but she wouldn’t let them. Then one day our friendship crashed. I was without my best friend for two horrible years. It was especially hard for me because Mama was very ill then.
Mama’s family had taught me to love music, and two songs were very special to me: “I’ll Walk with God” and “You’ll Never Walk Alone.” When the loneliness at school and the rejection at home got to be too much for me, I would go walking in the wheat fields and sing them. As I sang, I was filled with hope and courage, and I could feel the Spirit of the Lord giving me guidance and comfort.
At the end of ninth grade, Mama started taking a medication that helped her to feel better. By the time I graduated from high school, she started getting out into the community a little, and life was easier for all of us.
I feel that the Lord helped me develop a compassion for other people’s feelings because of the experiences that I had because of my mother. I grew up to love the Lord and depend on Him. And I never felt that I was alone, because I knew that He was always there when I needed Him.

In that spirit, two youth, a young man age 12 and a young woman age 14, came to the temple. They were not brother and sister, but both were members of the same small church unit. The two young persons were accompanied by five adults which will tell you something of their value to the kingdom. In coming they traveled a total of eight hours to and from their homes. That is far by some standards — not so far by others. In any case, it was part of the price they willingly paid to make a faithful offering unto the Lord. As we sang a hymn together the spirit witnessed powerfully of their goodness and of their desire to be of service.

There appeared to be no ulterior social component to their coming. No shopping time, no much to be anticipated eating out experience, no fun activity to make it all worth while. Only travel, service and more travel. It could not have been more ordinary in terms of youth coming to the temple and it could not have been more extra-ordinary in terms of how it felt to have them there. In any case, we learned through them, and others like them, that with God opportunity is not determined by age or numbers, only by the reaching out of pure and honest hearts.

It is also very important for you to obey your parents. I had an experience that taught me the importance of obedience. I love horses, and I love to train them to jump. As a young man, I was invited to compete in the Pan-American Games, which are something like the Olympic Games for the countries of North, Central, and South America. For two years, I worked very hard to train for this competition. Then one day not long before the games, I disobeyed my coach. I had just finished my training session, and he had told me that it was time to stop. But I decided to make a few more jumps. As I did, I fell with my horse and was seriously injured. After all my hard work, I was not able to take part in the competition. We must all learn to be obedient to our trainers—our parents, our leaders, and our teachers. They know how to help us avoid dangers and problems.

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!”

My junior year in high school was the hardest for me. Chemistry, AP history, honors English, and algebra 2 were among the difficult classes that consumed my schedule. How would I ever get through this year? My answer came when I noticed one person in almost all my classes. Darren Hart was a very intelligent 16-year-old. I had known him since our freshman year but only as an acquaintance. Here was my opportunity to get to know him better and see if some of his brilliance would rub off on me. Soon we were studying together. In fact, a group of us got together every other night to do our homework. It proved to be a big help.
In English class, we had the assignment to read Billy Budd by Herman Melville. After reading the book, we were assigned to write an essay on its symbolism, including references to the Bible stories. No problem. I had gone to Primary and Sunday School, so I had a pretty good understanding of the stories in the Bible.
But Darren wasn’t a member of any church, and he was not familiar with the scripture stories. He asked for my help, and I willingly agreed. After all, he had helped me through my other classes. It was the least I could do. I suggested it would be best to write down all the symbolism we could find and organize it into a paper later.
The first reference we came to was Joseph and his coat of many colors. Darren had no idea what this story was about. I knew I had my work cut out for me. I asked him if he had a Bible. He came back with a different version than I was used to. I summarized the stories for him, commenting on how the stories in his translation of the Bible were a little different from the ones in the King James version. He asked me to explain the differences to him.
Darren then began questioning me about my church. I thought, You’re asking me? I don’t know enough. I’m only 16. Where is a missionary when you need one?
I began explaining a few differences between the LDS church and other churches. I tried my best to draw upon my seminary classes and the basic knowledge I had. My throat was dry, and my voice halting as I tried to find the right words.
As I began talking about the gospel, a funny thing happened. I began recalling knowledge I didn’t know I had. I explained gospel concepts in such a way that even I understood them better. My dry throat became moist again, and the trembling in my voice ceased. My tense muscles relaxed, and I felt a calm feeling flow through my body. Darren listened attentively to what I had to say, asking questions when he didn’t understand. What started out as a simple explanation turned into a six-hour discussion. The words came with such great ease, I knew that the Spirit was with me.
The next few days were a little scary. What do I do now? Should I ask him to church? No, he will think I just want to convert him. But I do want to convert him. Maybe I should just leave it alone. No, I must do something.
I finally mustered up the courage to ask Darren to church. “Darren, I noticed how interested you were in my church. Would you be interested in coming with me sometime?”
He immediately replied, “I’d love to!”
Did he just say yes? I can’t believe it. “I’ll pick you up at 8:45 Sunday morning.”
In the months that followed, Darren took the discussions from the missionaries. He began by reading the Book of Mormon and attending church almost weekly. We spent a lot of time studying church subjects and having the missionaries explain confusing gospel concepts to him. Darren was afraid that he would join the Church and then decide that the commitment was too much for him. So he studied and pondered the thought of baptism for a long time. One night the missionaries asked Darren when he wanted to be baptized. He gave them a date, much to my surprise. Tears filled my eyes as an overwhelming sense of joy blanketed my heart. I had been waiting for this for a long time. Now it was all coming true.
On a beautiful spring evening, Darren entered the waters of baptism. The gospel was something I had taken for granted in my life. It was such a tremendous blessing to be a member of the Church, and now I was able to help someone else have that gift.
What if I had passed up the opportunity to tell Darren about the Church? I am glad I was able to have the Spirit with me that evening and that I had the courage to teach what I knew to be true.

“It can’t be done. It won’t work.” That’s what everyone said. But when 17-year-old Tanya Fisher took a courageous stand against an embarrassing “eyesore” in her community of Laramie, Wyoming, she made it work.
A huge retaining wall (100 feet long and 22 feet high) covered with graffiti stood at the intersection of two of the busiest streets in the city. Many efforts had been made by the city council to eradicate the graffiti. They had tried painting over it with white wash. But that encouraged youthful street artists to write on it again. Then the city council spent lots of money to have large streetlights installed hoping to deter the activity. All that did was give the artists more light to work by. It seemed to be a losing battle.
One day Tanya and her mother were chatting at the kitchen table when Tanya came up with the idea to paint a giant mural on that embarrassing retaining wall. She thought it would be a great project for the student council of Laramie High School. An ambitious idea was born that day, but to bring it to full maturity took a lot of time and energy.
Tanya fought opposition everywhere, especially with her peers. They said it wouldn’t work, that graffiti would cover the drawings immediately. But Tanya didn’t give up. During the summer of 1988 Tanya visited Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, with her family. She contacted the Anti-Graffiti Network there and gathered more information. She took pictures of a wall that had been partially painted with a mural. Interestingly enough, there was graffiti all over the unpainted part of the wall. But the mural was left untouched. This gave her hope.
After much research Tanya’s first step was to present her idea to the student council at Laramie High School. It took a written proposal and some tall talking, but she finally won their support. The second step was to get the city council’s approval. Surprisingly, she was met with enthusiasm by both the council and the mayor, and the project took hold in the summer of 1989. It had taken more than a year to get to this point.
Ryan Fulton, a counselor at Laramie High School who became the sponsor of the project, said of Tanya, “That girl ramrodded the project and spent her time researching possibilities from other walls in other cities. She wasn’t afraid to present her ideas to the city council. That’s something for a high school student.”
The theme of the mural represents the three educational institutions of the community: Laramie High School, Wyoming Technical Institute, and the University of Wyoming. It was decided that there would be no advertising involved and neither the names of the schools nor the artists would appear anywhere in the drawings. Logos of the institutions are depicted in a kind of “new wave” art according to Tanya.
With about a dozen students from the high school and another dozen from the tech school, Tanya launched her project. John Kearnes, a Wyoming Tech student, was very helpful in the design and drawing of the mural.
Tanya had already met many challenges, but as the project began she found there were many more ahead. While the paint was still wet, rain washed away the first base coat. Hail ruined the surface in places another time. Tanya described the problems with the size of the wall. “There are 29 sections, only four where you can really stand. To get to the rest of it, we had to tie ropes around our waists and hang down the wall while we put in the measurements, did the sketching and the painting.” Over 600 man-hours were spent on this project. And Tanya personally contributed 87 hours. She also used this as her Young Women values project in the Laramie First Ward, Laramie Wyoming Stake.
Tanya’s mother Darlene Fisher, says, “Months have gone by and the wall is still fine. The whole city is proud of it. My husband (Monte Fisher) and I overhear people talking about the wall, and they don’t know we’re the parents of the girl who spearheaded the project. It makes us feel so good.”
What about upkeep on this huge project? The senior class of Laramie High School has formed a committee from the student council to provide maintenance on the wall. And the city council donates the paint.
Tanya said, “Everyone said it can’t work. But I said ‘Yes it can. If it can work in Boston and Chicago, it can work in a small town like Laramie.’” And it did! One young, determined girl, with a sense of community commitment, proved it.

Elder Russell M. Nelson: “When I was working at the Walter Reed Army Medical Center, two professional colleagues, a husband and wife, asked me about the Mormons. I gave them a preliminary overview and lent them my Book of Mormon. After about a week they returned the book to me and said, ‘Thanks a lot.’

“I said, ‘What do you mean, “Thanks a lot?”’ As one who deeply loves this book, I felt that was an inadequate response. ‘Perhaps you didn’t really read the book,’ I said. ‘Please take it back and read it. When you have read it, I would very much appreciate knowing of your feelings and insight.’

“They retrieved the book, acknowledging that they had only thumbed the pages. About three weeks later they came back with tears in their eyes and said, ‘We know this book is true. How can we learn more?’

“Then I said, ‘Now I know you’ve read the book. Now we can proceed.’ In due course, they were baptized.

“The Book of Mormon has great convincing power as another witness for Jesus Christ. There is no other explanation for its existence than that which the Prophet Joseph Smith gave.”

Because of her Down syndrome, however, Lily sometimes needs to modify experiences and projects. The Personal Progress booklet says, “You may adapt experiences and projects according to your personal circumstances, interests, and needs with the prior approval of a parent, a Young Women leader, or another adult” ([2009], 7).
With the help of her parents and Young Women leaders, Lily is figuring out when and how to adapt Personal Progress to meet her needs. But whether a project is adapted or not, Lily, her parents, and her leaders make sure that every experience and project provides Lily with opportunities to grow.
Because of her disability, Lily is unable to memorize scriptures or long passages. So, with the approval of her mom, Lily has decided to listen to an audio version of the scriptures instead and then color a picture that represents what she’s supposed to memorize. Then she discusses the importance of the verse with a parent or leader and hangs the picture where she can see it and remember what she learned.

Fasting is not only a source of knowledge, but a means of attaining other spiritual goals as well. The great power of fasting was demonstrated to our family when I was only 16 years old. Mother had become seriously ill. Medical diagnosis revealed that she had cancer. Furthermore, if the malignant cells were not removed she would die. The only chance was an operation that had been performed only rarely before. My father called the family together and asked if my brothers and sisters and I would be willing to pray and fast for mother. Of course we agreed and began an extended period of fasting. During the fast mother was administered to and in the blessing was promised that she would live to raise her children. The operation was a success. When my mother died in 1969, my youngest sister was 20 years old. Truly the power of fasting is remarkable.

For Niilo Kervinen, a 24-year-old young adult from Rovaniemi, Finland, the 10-hour train ride to Helsinki is a small price to pay for the blessing of serving in the temple.
Before the dedication of the Helsinki Finland Temple in October 2006, Niilo and other members of his ward had to travel to the Stockholm Sweden Temple or to the Copenhagen Denmark Temple. “The trips would usually take a week during the summer vacation,” he remembers. Traveling by bus and sleeping in tents on those trips are some of the best memories he has.
Yet having a temple in his native land is a wonderful blessing. “When they announced the Helsinki Temple, I was so happy,” Niilo says. “The dedicatory prayer still resonates in my heart each time I go inside.”
In speaking of conversion, Elder David A. Bednar of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles has said, “I promise that as we come to a knowledge of the truth and are converted unto the Lord, we will remain firm and steadfast and never fall away.”1 Although traveling to Helsinki requires time and money, Niilo is committed to being a disciple of Christ. And for Niilo, that is no sacrifice at all.

Recently, in Holland, the mission president was stricken with a massive heart attack and lay near death’s door for a while. Though he was an American foreigner, so to speak, he belonged to the household of God, and literally thousands of people in Holland and other lands, and the Apostles of the Lord, knelt and prayed for his life—if it was the will of God that he should live. Think of it—and it happens hundreds of times every day upon this earth. He belonged to the family of God; he felt their fasting and prayers and love. And what about his wife? She belonged as she had never known possible. I was there. I was a witness, and there were so many calls from those who belong to the household of God that she actually became weary.
As the president improved and I left, my heart was so full. Yes, for the preservation of his life, but also for the privilege of belonging to the church of Jesus Christ, here upon the earth.

Butch and Diana Alder, from Sandy, Utah, are serving as senior missionaries in the Australia Melbourne Mission. Warrnambool holds a special place in Elder Alder’s heart, as his great-great-grandparents, John and Charlotte Nye, joined the Church there.
The Nyes were introduced to the Church of Jesus Christ in 1856 by George Thomas Wilson, the local veterinarian, when he came to their home to treat their prized horse. Conversation turned to the gospel of Jesus Christ, and Brother Wilson invited the couple to learn more. At the time of their baptism, the nearest established congregation of the Church was in Sydney.
Elder Meurs told the story of his parents, who lived in the area, joining The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 1958.
Fred and Lois Meurs, strong Christians from different faiths were actively searching for someone to answer their gospel questions. After carefully studying the New Testament, they began to search for a church that had teachings that were consistent with Jesus’s teachings.
They had questions about the purpose of life, priesthood authority, what happens when we die, ordinances like baptism, and the role of prophets and apostles. They had spoken to the religious leaders of the community, but no one could give them the answers they were searching for. They began to earnestly pray for someone to answer their questions.
That same week, two full-time missionaries, Elder Jones and Elder Erikson, knocked on their door and said they had a message about Jesus Christ to share with them. Fred and Lois asked them all their questions, and the missionaries answered every one. Three weeks later the Meurs were baptised and confirmed. Some other families joined soon after, and the first Warrnambool Branch was formed.
As the Church grew, new members moved in, and others moved out.
“Many wonderful people, over the years, have been touched by the wonderful association with the Warrnambool Branch and have very fond memories,” Elder Meurs said. “Faith has been strengthened, and people have become part of the Church of Jesus Christ here on the earth. They have felt the Saviour’s teachings and His presence in their lives.”
Elder Meurs, quoting President Russell M. Nelson’s remarks from the October 2024 general conference said, “My dear brothers and sisters, in a coming day, Jesus Christ will return to the earth as the millennial Messiah. So today I call upon you to rededicate your lives to Jesus Christ. I call upon you to help gather scattered Israel and to prepare the world for the Second Coming of the Lord. I call upon you to talk of Christ, testify of Christ, have faith in Christ, and rejoice in Christ!” (“The Lord Jesus Christ Will Come Again,” Liahona, Nov. 2024).
Elder Meurs concluded his remarks by saying, “I testify that Jesus Christ lives. He knows each of us. Dedicate yourselves to living the gospel of Jesus Christ.”
Also in attendance was Damon Page, Area Seventy. Speaking to the branch members, he said:
“What will we raise here in the Warrnambool Branch? By following our faith and the promptings of the Spirit, we will touch those around us. We will raise up strong sons and daughters that will become more like our Father in Heaven and His Son, Jesus Christ.”
“How do we become who we want to be? Work is the secret. We must be willing to work for those things that will bring us closer to Jesus Christ.”
Karen Jones, a branch member since 1990, said, “The members lift and strengthen each other. Many members have passed away, but the remaining members have put their shoulder to the wheel and have helped the branch to push along. Warrnambool has given me strength, love, and hope.”
President Suringa said, “What is happening today is a manifestation of the Lord’s power. There are so many great things ahead.”

The churches, castles, and inns of thirteenth-century England are the setting for this dramatic story of Robin. Robin’s father, a great lord, was off to the wars, and his mother, a lady, was called to help care for the Queen, as there was a plague raging in the city of London. Robin is to go to a castle in the north of the land to begin serving as a page in preparation for knighthood. The plague overcomes the household staff. Robin becomes ill and is left unattended. How Robin eventually gets to his castle and how he learns there are different ways in which to serve make for exciting reading.

One Friday morning in 2013, Ojukwu M. Sesay entered a taxi from Jui to SS Camp in Freetown, Sierra Leone. As is common there, he was joining the taxi with other people already en route. The other two people in the taxi were missionaries for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. A discussion of faith and beliefs arose in the taxi. Ojukwu contributed that he believed that in the kinetic energy study of physics, faith is the potential within us, and our expressions and actions make the belief known and moving.
It was immediately after this contribution on the discussion, that one of the missionaries asked for his name, where he lives, and when he can be visited. When he answered their questions, they realized that he was not in their area for teaching. Upon reaching his drop-off point, they requested his phone number and told him that two other people would be calling him since they do not cover where he lives.
As promised, the other missionaries called and visited the following Saturday. They introduced the Church to Ojukwu and his family. He lived with his wife, children, brothers, and sisters. They were interested in the missionaries and wanted to know why they were in their family home. After they left, Ojukwu read the first lesson from the leaflet provided by the missionaries and explained it to his family.
While sharing thoughts with his wife and encouraging her to look at the truth surrounding the quotes, she became interested in the teachings. She asked him to visit the Church, so he attended the Jui Branch. Immediately after his first visit, he held a meeting with his family to explain about the Church he visited. He told them the way of worship was different from the other Pentecostal churches and his spirit found peace with the pattern of worship. The family continued to investigate and attend church services until three members of the family i.e., himself, his wife and his brother were baptized at the Jui Branch. His brother later went on a mission.
After their confirmation and obtaining a series of assignments, his wife, Ramatu Bintu Sesay, was called as the district public affair president and later as branch Primary president. He was called as the Young Men president. In 2018 there was a change in the leadership of the branch, and he was called as the first councilor of the branch presidency. He later served as the branch president of Jui Branch from 2019–2021. The family was sealed in the temple for time and all eternity in 2022.
Since February 2023, he has been the temple facility manager of the Freetown Sierra Leone Temple, which is under construction.

Answer:I really lost my temper only once in my life, but the lessons I learned from that experience cured me forever. I was 15 years old. While I was talking to some friends in front of our house, my little brother Nick, mischievously trying to get my attention, hit me with a rock which made a slight cut in my head. When he saw the blood he ran and locked himself in an old 1929 Chevrolet sedan, and proceeded to taunt me through the glass. My mind clouded with anger and with one punch I shattered the glass to get at my little brother. In the process, however, I gashed my forearm severely, the sight of which would cause some people to faint. The inside flesh sort of just boiled out of the deep wound and all the major blood vessels in my arm spurted blood.
I had a good 30 minutes in the car to the hospital, two hours on the operating table, three months of rehabilitation, and a big scar, to think about my behavior. I learned then what I have reaffirmed nearly every week of my life since then, that anger is almost always destructive, even the little bursts of irritation and annoyance that many of us get used to as just part of our daily interaction with people, and especially that anger which has decayed into a smoldering, cankering resentment and dislike. I have heard it said that there is such a thing as righteous anger or righteous indignation. Frankly, I have never seen it. All anger is tainted. Anger and pride are twin brothers. You say and do things in anger that do great damage to your life and the lives of others. A thousand apologies, as important and as wonderful as they might be, can seldom fully bind up a wounded heart which has been abused through anger.

When I was a boy growing up in Denmark, my friends and I liked to play tag. But one day we grew tired of playing the same old game, so we sat down and tried to think of something new and exciting to do.
“Let’s go to the harbor,” one friend suggested. “We can look at the boats and watch the fishermen.”
We all liked that idea, so we hopped on our bikes. Sure enough, there was a lot more action there! Sailors washed their boats while other fishermen cleaned and sold fish. Until the fish were sold, they were kept alive in well boxes—floating crates with small holes to allow water to flow in and out. The boxes bobbed between the boats and bumped into each other as the waves rushed in.
It wasn’t long before we were bored of just watching.
“Let’s play tag,” a friend suggested.
“Again?” another boy groaned.
My friend pointed to the well boxes with a sly grin. “Out there.”
Soon we were all leaping from box to box, which was much more exciting than playing tag at home. The slippery boxes jostled with each incoming wave. One time I fell off and landed with a splash. Sputtering seawater, I pulled myself back onto a crate and leaped onto another one. My foot broke right through it! Fish nibbled at my toes. It tickled, and I shrieked in laughter.
“Hey, you boys!” a gruff voice called. I looked up to see an angry fisherman coming toward us. “Get away from those well boxes before you break them. If you don’t get out of here, I’ll tell your parents!”
We scrambled back to shore, took off our wet socks and tied them to our bicycle handlebars, and took off. Our clothes dried in the wind as we pedaled home.
My clothes may have dried, but the smell of fish gave me away. When I walked in the door, Mother took one sniff and asked what had happened.
“I went to the harbor with my friends. I was playing on a well box, and I slipped and fell in the water,” I admitted.
To my surprise, Mother’s eyes filled with tears. “Jens, you must never play there again. Think of what could have happened! You could have been hurt or even drowned.” She hugged me tight. “I would be so sad, Jens. What would I do without you? You must promise never to play there again.” I gave Mother my word.
But a few weeks later, my friends came over and invited me to go with them to the harbor. Remembering the fun we’d had last time, I got on my bike and followed them. I forgot all about the promise I had made to my mother.
“You’re it!” A friend tagged me and jumped onto a bobbing well box.
I was about to chase him when suddenly I saw my mother’s face, just as if she were right in front of me, her eyes filled with tears. My heart stopped. I had broken my promise!
“I have to go home now,” I called to my friends.
“What?” one of them whined. “Why? We just got here.”
“I have to go home,” I repeated, climbing onto my bike.
My friends complained and tried to coax me into staying, but I wouldn’t listen. One by one, they all headed for home too.
I put my bike away as quietly as possible and went to my room. I felt sick with shame that I had gone where I had promised Mother I would not go.
After a while Mother came into my room. “I can tell something is bothering you, Jens. What’s wrong?”
Lowering my head, I said quietly, “I went to the harbor with my friends today. I forgot that I had promised you I wouldn’t. But as soon as I got there, I remembered. I came right home. So did my friends. Mother, I’m sorry I forgot!”
When I looked up, Mother was beaming. “Jens! I’m so happy you remembered. Because you did, you set an example for your friends and none of you were hurt.”
A while later she brought me a glass of milk and a piece of freshly baked cake. Mother made the best cake in the whole world. I was grateful for the warm treat—but more grateful for the warmth of remembering to do right.

Years ago our young family moved into a home on what was then the edge of development in our community, which afforded a view of the mountains to the east. One Monday morning, just as I finished dressing and was ready to rush out the door to work, our six-year-old son, Craig, came bringing his four-year-old brother, Andrew, into the room by the hand. With determination Craig looked up at me and said, “Dad, yesterday in Primary my teacher told us that if you hold the priesthood, you can move mountains. I told Andy this, and he doesn’t believe me. You hold the priesthood, right, Dad?” Then turning his little body and pointing out the window, he looked back at me and said, “See those mountains over there? Show him, Dad!”
What followed was a sweet experience. How grateful I was for young sons who were beginning a lifetime of learning about the priesthood.

Let me tell you about one little boy’s prayer. His name is Brayden. He was very young at the time—five or six years old. He had been reading the Book of Mormon with his family. The family would read a few verses each day and then have family prayer.

One day they read the words in Moroni 10:4:
And when ye shall receive these things, I would exhort you that ye would ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost.

It was Brayden’s turn to pray that day. He began his prayer in the same usual way, using the same usual words, but then he said something different. He said, “Heavenly Father, is the Book of Mormon true?” Then he paused.

He paused for so long that his father glanced over at him to see if he needed help in finishing his prayer. But he didn’t need any help. He finished by saying simply, “Thanks, Heavenly Father,” and closed his prayer. The Spirit entered that home and bore witness to the whole family of the truthfulness of the scriptures. His prayer was one of simple, beautiful faith.

Once, in talking with Ligia about charity, I happened to mention that I was a loving kind of guy. She agreed that I was loving with those who loved me back, but that was not the meaning of charity. I was taken back and argued with her. Later there came into my life those whom I would love. I gave them my love, my time, my energy and they loved me not. I gave service and of every resource I had and they never reciprocated. I proffered my efforts, my money, my heart and my home and on a good day they were disinterested and on a bad day they were simply apathetic. I sacrificed much for them and they never saw it.

Then one day, I had no more love to give, yet I had to love and I needed to love. No morsel of recognition of my sacrificial love was ever given and my love died, it failed me. That natural gift of mine was no more. I needed a spiritual gift to continue to love. And I discovered a deeper meaning to charity: what it has been to sacrifice for love and know very well that they shall never, ever love me. But I loved them then and I love them still. And I have caught a glimpse of a Christ-like love.