Gospel Story Finder

A few months later Brigham set out on foot with his brother to preach the gospel in Canada. They traveled over 250 miles in snow “a foot and a half deep with a foot of mud under it,” and in two months they converted 45 souls. Whatever the price, Brigham was willing to pay it in order to build up the kingdom of God on the earth. “I was as destitute of language as a man could be … ,” he said, “but I was so gritty that I always tried my best.”

Masha’s mother, Ludmila, works long hours Monday through Saturday in a shop downtown. She recently got this new job so she doesn’t have to work on Sundays. Ever since her baptism three years ago, she has been Relief Society president. Masha is learning a lot from her about service.

“When we find out somebody needs help,” says Sister Zemskova, “all the sisters in the branch help as much as they can.” One young mother whose husband has to work on Sundays found it difficult to get her two baby girls to church on her own. On many Sunday mornings, Masha and her mother help her get the children ready and to church. Masha plays with the babies at times so their mother can rest.

At the beginning of the school year, I met a wonderful student. She has a big heart and is always willing to share anything of hers with other students. At first, most of them didn’t know how nice she was. Because she has some mental disabilities, sometimes she would do things that made them uncomfortable.
One day the music teacher asked my friend to perform some of the actions for the song we were practicing. When she started to dance, some of the other students began to laugh. I know that most people don’t like being laughed at, so I didn’t laugh at her. I thought about what Jesus would want me to do, and I kept quiet and enjoyed her cute dance.
In the mornings, while we are waiting to go into the school, my friend comes to see me first thing and gives me a big hug. We sit together at lunch as often as we can, and she always has a bright smile that makes me happy to be her friend. Sometimes I see her playing alone at recess, and I make an extra effort to play with her. It makes me sad when I can’t find a friend to play with, and I want my friend to be happy.
In my Primary class and in family home evening, I have learned that Jesus wants each of us to love one another, as He loves us. John 13:34 is my favorite scripture, and I have read it twice in Primary this year. It helps me to remember to be like Jesus. Trying to be like Him gives me a special feeling in my heart that makes me feel good.

This story took place in Japan.
Akari helped her little sister, Miori, put out their Nativity set. She loved getting ready for Christmas.
The figure of the baby Jesus reached up from the manger with a smile on His face. Akari smiled too. It made her think about how much Jesus loved her. Many people in Japan didn’t celebrate Jesus Christ’s birth like Akari’s family did. But they still gave gifts and spent time with family around Christmas.
Dad’s phone rang. He picked it up and talked for a minute. “Thanks for the reminder,” he said. “I’ll see you on Christmas morning.” He put down the phone.
“Are you going to the service project?” Akari asked.
“That’s right,” Dad said. “I’m going to Tokyo to help give food to people without homes. Some people in our ward help out every year.”
“Can I come this time?” Akari asked.
“Sure!” Dad said. “Miori can come too.”
On Christmas morning, Akari’s family woke up early to open presents. Akari loved her gift! She was excited to play with it later.
Mom packed lunches for everyone and hugged them goodbye. Then Akari, Dad, and Miori got on the train.
When the train got to Tokyo, Dad led Akari and Miori to a park with lots of tents and people.
“These are the people we are here to serve,” Dad said. “They don’t have much, and having food for Christmas will be a blessing to them.”
A group of people set out bread rolls, noodle bowls, and desserts on tables. Akari saw some kids her age helping too.
“Are all these people from our church?” Akari asked Dad.
“Not all of them,” Dad said. “Isn’t it great how many people want to help?”
Akari, Miori, and Dad put food into boxes. Then they helped give the boxes to the people in line. “Merry Christmas,” Akari told each person.
Soon all the boxes were gone. But there were still people in line waiting for food!
Dad frowned. “I guess there isn’t enough.” He turned to the people waiting. “I’m so sorry. We’re out of food.”
Akari didn’t want those people to go without food. Was there something she could do?
“They can have my lunch,” she said.
“Good idea!” Dad said. “Let’s all share our lunches.” The other helpers nodded. They got out the lunches they’d brought for themselves. All the people in the line got some food!
Akari was a little hungry, but that was OK. The people at the park needed the food more than she did.
“I’m proud of you,” Dad said on the train ride home. “That was nice of you to share your food.”
“It’s what Jesus would do,” Akari said.
Akari felt warm and happy inside for the rest of the day. And not just because it was Christmas! She was glad she could share the Savior’s love.
What did Akari do to be like Jesus?
Illustration by Amanda Yoshida

In 1979, Art Hansen was wrestling with the decision to give up his personal pursuits in competitive skiing to go on a full-time mission. Back then he went to a sacrament meeting that helped him make up his mind.
Art listened to a talk given by a friend who had accepted a mission call. “I thought, hey, I’m going to go too,” he remembers. Guided by his initial excitement, he penned a letter to another friend, Elder Matthew Balkman, who at the time was serving in the Philippines. He told his missionary friend about his decision to serve. Only one problem—Elder Balkman never received that letter or the two that followed. “We didn’t communicate regularly back then,” Art says. “I didn’t know he never received my letters.”
Almost 30 years later, Elder Balkman’s son Blake was called to serve in the same location in the Philippines where his father had served. When Elder Balkman junior arrived at the mission home, he was presented with three faded letters from “Elder Hansen” addressed to an Elder Balkman. He noticed the postmarks were dated 30 years ago and sent the letters home to his father, assuming they had something to do with him. Elder Balkman senior then forwarded them on to his old friend Art Hansen, not knowing that this time the letter would arrive just at the right moment—for someone else.

Mavis sat in her comfortable rocking chair as she listened to the evening news. Toward the end of the news she heard the reporter mention that in South America many newborns were being sent home wrapped in newspaper.
“Wrapped in newspaper?” said Mavis out loud. “That’s terrible!”
So Mavis went to her sewing room and went to work. Over the next few weeks she made more than 200 quilts and receiving blankets. As she finished each blanket, she gave it an affectionate hug before placing it in one of the boxes to be taken to the Church’s Humanitarian Services Center.
There’s something you should know about Mavis: she was 91 years old and legally blind. But Mavis was an amazing individual. She said, “There is something I can do,” and she wanted to exert herself to make a difference to the newborns around the world.

When the 23-year-old Heber J. Grant was installed as president of the Tooele Stake, he told the Saints he believed the gospel was true. President Joseph F. Smith, a counselor in the First Presidency, inquired, “Heber, you said you believe the gospel with all your heart, … but you did not bear your testimony that you know it is true. Don’t you know absolutely that this gospel is true?”
Heber answered, “I do not.” Joseph F. Smith then turned to John Taylor, the President of the Church, and said, “I am in favor of undoing this afternoon what we did this morning. I do not think any man should preside over a stake who has not a perfect and abiding knowledge of the divinity of this work.”
President Taylor replied, “Joseph, Joseph, Joseph, [Heber] knows it just as well as you do. The only thing that he does not know is that he does know it.”
Within a few weeks that testimony was realized, and young Heber J. Grant shed tears of gratitude for the perfect, abiding, and absolute testimony that came into his life.1

About six years ago, while in a weekly ward meeting, we received news that one of the sisters had been hit by a car. Though she was taken to the hospital immediately, she died a short while later.
The bishop asked one of his counselors and me to visit her immediate family to offer comfort and our help in arranging for the funeral. We went to the only relatives she had—a married sister, Maria Gerez, and her family, who were not members of the Church.
The family welcomed us and accepted our help. We had the opportunity to discuss the plan of salvation as well as make arrangements for the funeral services. Two weeks later, the entire family came to church to thank the members for the help and support they had received.
The family was introduced to the missionaries and, in a short time, the mother, Maria, and one of the daughters, Karina, were baptized. As the years passed, they were both active. The father, Ramon, would come at the end of Sunday meetings to pick up his family and he always participated in the recreational activities.
One Sunday afternoon, my wife and I were talking about missionary work. We both agreed that Ramon Gerez was in many ways a member of the Church; he just hadn’t been baptized.
We decided to arrange an evening together with both of our families. We did so and also invited the missionaries. Since we didn’t know each other well, the visit began with casual conversation. But, almost immediately, something inside of me was saying, “Ask him NOW, NOW!”
I realized that this was the key. All I had to do was ask him. So I looked Brother Gerez straight in the eye and said, “As you might imagine, we are here for a very special reason. My wife and I have noticed the good relationship you have with your family and that is why we would like to ask you a few questions.”
“Do you believe in God and in his Son Jesus Christ?” I asked.
“Yes,” he replied.
“Do you love your wife and your daughters?” I continued.
“Yes,” he said again, showing a definite interest.
“Do you love your family enough that you would like to be with them after death and throughout eternity?” I asked.
Again he said, “Yes.”
“You are a good man,” I told him. “You love your family and there is no reason to postpone receiving the blessings of the priesthood and the temple any longer.” My wife then bore her testimony and we arranged for Ramon to receive the missionary discussions.
One month later, Ramon Gerez was baptized. He has since served in many positions in his ward and stake in Argentina.
I learned something from this experience: All we have to do is ask. If we are worthy of the blessings that come from asking with a “sincere heart and with real intent,” the Lord will answer our prayers by touching others with his Spirit. If the question is asked with the Spirit, the answer will also come in that manner, especially if we have the courage to ask.

A few years ago, my wife and I were struggling with one of our young single adult children. A long series of events had left us emotionally drained. I regrettably remember saying, “I’m over it. I’m turning off the ‘I care’ switch.” For a few days, I felt better, detached, less stressed, and I thought I had found peace.

But then came Sunday.

I had recently read Elder Peter F. Meurs’s 2016 general conference talk, “The Sacrament Can Help Us Become Holy.” He offered five ways to deepen our worship:
Prepare in advance
Arrive early
Sing and learn from the sacrament hymn
Participate in the prayers
Remember Jesus as the emblems are passed

I tried to apply those teachings, but my heart was still heavy. Then came the opportunity to learn from the sacrament hymn. Verse 2 pierced my heart:
As now our minds review the past,
We know we must repent;
The way to thee is righteousness—
The way thy life was spent.
Forgiveness is a gift from thee
We seek with pure intent.

Immediately my heart turned not just to the Saviour but to my child. The Spirit whispered to me, “Call him and tell him you are sorry. Let him know you love him.”

After the meeting, I messaged: “I’m going to call you this afternoon, I need to talk. Please answer. I promise I won’t hassle you.”

I called and said, “I love you, Son. Please forgive me.” There was a period of silence, then his voice: “Aw, is that it? All good, I love you too. I’m sorry. How was your day?”

That moment was sacred. It was healing. It was the Saviour’s balm, and it came because I tried, however imperfectly, to build on the rock.

Life’s challenges began at an early age for Joseph. His father, Hyrum Smith, and his uncle, the Prophet Joseph Smith, were martyred when Joseph was only five years old. Then, when he was nine, he had to drive his mother’s wagon across the plains to the Salt Lake Valley. And soon after settling in Utah, 13-year-old Joseph was orphaned when his mother died from overwork and malnutrition. But these trying experiences taught Joseph the importance of kneeling before his Father in Heaven and standing up for what he believed in.

I’m sure I’ll never forget the branch president in Semarang, Central Java—President Samad. My companion and I were assigned to serve as a resource to him as he gained more ability to lead and teach the people of his branch. Very few missionary or training materials had at that time been translated into the Indonesian language.

We met with President Samad each Sunday for about forty-five minutes. He would ask us to discuss some topic—fast offerings, teacher development, or some other gospel-related subject—and we would prepare the best we could with this still-awkward second language of ours. We always began with prayer, and then he would say, “Sisters, you just do the best you can to tell me what you’ve prepared. Every so often, I’ll have you stop, and then I’ll tell you what the Spirit has taught me.” And that’s exactly what would happen. Those were some of the most spiritual experiences of my life.

We had a similar experience when we called another man to be the president of our stake mission. Through some discouraging experiences in Church service, he thought himself halfway on the road to apostasy and not at all sure of his testimony. He resisted his appointment vigorously, saying that it would deprive him of time to do some of the most enjoyable things in life. We explained to him how once again we had sought the direction from the Lord about who should preside over the mission. We told him that he was not being forced to accept the call, but that he should ask his Heavenly Father whether or not it was right for him to serve. The Lord gave him a powerful assurance that he was called to the work. The following year he, with his missionaries, baptized nearly ten percent of all the nonmembers in our stake. Later on, he was called to be a bishop.

In the 1960's I learned a hard lesson when I failed to follow the promptings I received which could have cost lives and a significant amount of money. Our small trucking company operated between Idaho and Arizona. On one occasion, my younger brother, Heber, and I were returning from Phoenix to Flagstaff in one of our 18 wheelers when we encountered a severe blizzard. The weather turned much colder as the snow storm blanketed the entire area. We knew we were gaining 100's of pounds of additional weight and were afraid to proceed to the port-of-entry where we knew we would be overweight. On the other hand we didn't want to lose time by waiting out the storm. We stopped to ask about possible short-cuts. We were told there was one, and were given directions to take. As we proceeded down the road everything seemed fine, at first, but soon the road became narrow and questionable. We looked for a place to turn around but there was none. It was snowing so hard we couldn't see to back up. I knew we shouldn't be there and felt prompted to stop. However, we continued down the road and finally negotiated a curve to the right followed by a curve to the left. We realized that on our right side was a sharp drop off into a canyon and on our left side was a mountain range, with a rather deep gutter. We eventually slid off the road toward the mountain and were immediately stuck. I later realized that this was a tender mercy of the Lord.

We walked back to town, a distance of approximately a mile and approached a company that operated wreckers, but after telling them where we were, they refused to come and help. We approached the only other company in town with equipment large enough to assist. The owner agreed to help, but needed to put chains on his wrecker. Finally the three of us got inside the wrecker, and after driving to the area, we backed down the road until we came to the location of the truck. The operator hooked the cable from his wrecker around the frame of the trailer to lift some of the weight, and allow the trailer to more easily slide back onto the road. However, when the pressure was applied to the cable, the front of the wrecker lifted off the ground. He looked for a tree to which he could attach the winch on the front of his wrecker to hold it down. There were only three trees large enough to offer any assistance. He attached to the first one, but when pressure was applied, the tree snapped and broke off like a twig. He then attached to the second one, but under the pressure it literally pulled out of the frozen ground roots and all. He turned to me and said: "I guess you realize that if this last tree doesn't hold, you are here for the winter?"

No one will ever know the feelings that went through my heart. I knew it was in the Lord's hands. I knew the impact this could have on our small business if we were stranded for the winter. I also wondered how I could explain to my father that we are okay and would be home soon, but the truck wouldn't be home until spring. It was also obvious that this last tree was about the same size as the other two. I walked to the side of the trailer, and bowed my head and silently pleaded with the Lord for forgiveness in failing to follow the promptings of the Spirit. I pleaded for His help. I don't think I have ever prayed harder. I prayed that the Lord would bless that tree with extra strength to withstand the pressure it would need.

As the cable was tightened, the springs creaked and popped as the weight was lifted enough to slide the trailer back onto the road. (I can still hear that sound today.) He then directed me to get inside the truck and use the power of the engine to assist him as he pulled the rest of the truck back onto the road. A feeling of peace and gratitude came and I thanked the Lord for His goodness. It was still snowing so hard that I was unable to see out of the mirrors He pulled us backward all the way to Flagstaff while my brother stood on the running board to tell me when to turn the steering wheel to the right or to the left. When we finally got back to town it was dark! We had lost all day! Precious Time! It required all of our money to pay the wrecker fees. When it finally stopped snowing we were able to knock some of the snow off the truck. However, it was now a mute point. The port of entry was closed. Not only had we lost all day and all of our money, we now had to finish the rest of our trip without food.

In addition to the temporal lessons that were learned, the spiritual lessons were invaluable. I thought about everything as we drove home through the night. The Lord knows us personally, loves us, and warns us through the Holy Ghost. We must learn to follow His promptings! The Lord hears and answers our prayers, but we must first do all we can and then trust Him! There are no spiritual short-cuts! The adversary wants us to believe that it's easy to return to the strait and narrow path, but he is the great deceiver.

As I thought about the trees, I compared the first one to people who won't withstand peer pressure and will break rather than keep the commandments. Don't be one of them! I compared the second tree to others whose testimonies are weak and lack the depth of conversion. They are like the seed planted in stony places that have no root in themselves and when tribulations or persecutions arise, they are offended. Strengthen your testimonies daily! The tree that stood strong I compared to parents, bishops, stake presidents, and good friends who will assist us when we take the wrong road. There are those who will refuse to help. They are like the priest who 'saw' and the Levite who 'looked' and then passed on the other side of the road, as depicted in the Story of the Good Samaritan. Don't be one of them! The man who helped us onto the road and back to that point where we had departed from the path, was like the Good Samaritan who "came where we were and had compassion on us." Be like the Good Samaritan!

This experience has influenced the decisions I have made throughout my life. Time is an inherited commodity, there is a time appointed for us, and precious time is lost forever when we take the wrong road. The only way back from spiritual short cuts is repentance. It requires a change of heart and a change of directions. The atonement of the Savior is the one sure foundation we can always rely on. This experience was indeed a wake-up call.[11]

Cantonments Athlete Serves on and off the Court
Martin Aggrey, a standout athlete from the Cantonments Ward in the Accra Ghana Christiansborg Stake, has turned his passion for sports into preparation for missionary service. In high school, he excelled as a sports leader, especially in volleyball. But it was at the stake center where he discovered a new love—pickleball.
Introduced to the game by senior missionaries, Martin quickly became hooked. “The spiking reminded me of volleyball, and the quick hand movements were like table tennis,” he said. Though unfamiliar at first, he embraced the challenge under the guidance of mentors like Elder Halladay, Elder Sackley, and Elder Galland—missionaries whose faith and example inspired him both spiritually and athletically.
That dedication recently paid off. Martin and his 15-year-old partner clinched second place in the men’s doubles at the 2025 Battle of the Paddle tournament. Now preparing to serve a full-time mission, Martin draws a clear parallel between rising in sport and progressing in discipleship: “If you expect the best from yourself, you will always improve.”
He looks forward to serving the Lord and plans to continue his athletic pursuits upon his return.

Just for the fun of it, the youth of the Knox Ward in Melbourne decided to show their appreciation for their parents by treating them to dinner. They organized a special evening they called, “The Fabulous Fifties and the Surging Sixties.”
A youth committee selected a menu that would fit the theme; then a large group prepared and served a three-course meal. They played music from the appropriate decades, and parents and kids alike were encouraged to dance. For the adults, it brought back fond memories. For the kids, it made new ones.

The Rescue
During those years, the Lord repeatedly reached out to rescue me through a pattern of interventions that, over time, saved me. I would like to share a few of the rescues that defined my path. I will then share some of the choices that had to be made in order for the rescues to effectively change my life and move me forward on the path of happiness.

Rescue #4: Second Chances
The fourth rescue came when I met and married my husband, Jeff. We were a very unlikely match, or so I thought, but by the end of our first "blind" date, I felt something in his presence that I had never felt before, and I found myself not wanting to say goodbye. The Lord was with me on that journey; and eight months after we were married, Jeff was baptized a member of the Church. We were sealed in the Los Angeles Temple a year later after he legally adopted our daughter. Today this good man helps me to do things I never dreamed I would have the chance or opportunity to do. I am eternally grateful to him for his sacrifices for our family and for me, for his steadiness and consistency in life, and for his loyalty and devotion to our family and to the Lord.

Dad’s car was mustard brown. Its color made the rust spots less noticeable. It seemed like a tank left over from a war. The name on the car’s grill was Plymouth. Actually it wasn’t a Plymouth at all. It was half Plymouth and half Dodge, a spare-parts mobile made up of two wrecks, always lacking something and always showing us a new frailty in its character.
But Dad’s car was his pet. He would never consider giving it up for anything. He tried convincing us that it was really a sports car in disguise. He would tell us that it had a floor stick shift just like a Porsche. I soon realized, however, that a floor gear was the only thing the old wagon and a Porsche 920 had in common.
“Anyone can have a nice new car,” Dad would say. “But how many people do you know that actually own a 1976, stick-shift, mustard-brown station wagon? We want to be unique.”
Unique was an understatement in my book. You see, I was in ninth grade, my first year in high school. I wanted to impress my peers. But how could I when everyone knew that the mustard-brown tank belonged to my family? It was bad enough that I was a freshman and couldn’t drive. But to imagine being seen by upperclassmen in that junk heap was more than I could bear. When my dad would drive me and my brother to school after seminary, I would duck down as he pulled in to the drop-off spot. I desperately hoped that no one would see me. I would then slink out of the car, bury my head in my books, and run as fast as I could for the safety of the school building.
During my junior year in high school, however, my feelings for the “tank” changed. It took a frustrating experience—my illustrious career as a cross-country runner—to finally show me the light.
During the cross-country season, I came to see a great likeness between myself and the tank. I was not, to say the least, the star of the team. I was slow (my engine only a weak V-6), ungraceful (my rusting joints needed oiling), and my body type was not the one best suited for running (I had the wrong engine with the wrong carburetor). Yet I was constant. I ran every day, sometimes even twice a day, always trying to improve, trying to be the magnificent runner I dreamed of becoming. But I was nowhere close. I tried everything I could think of to improve my time. I ate the right pastas, I tried exotic stretches, I even slept in my shoes (I had read in a magazine it made one more in tune with running). But nothing worked! I was extremely frustrated. I felt like last year’s track shoes headed for the trash. I wanted to be the foremost runner on the team, but it took all my energy to keep from coming in last.
Finally I asked my dad for a blessing. I desperately needed some outside help. But what my dad said as he laid his hands on my head was not at all what I had expected. He told me flat out—“You are not a runner.” He said, “Your purpose is not in being the best runner. You have another purpose for being on the team.” And that was it. I felt let down and not particularly proud of myself. I did feel, however, that what my dad had said was what the Lord wanted me to hear. So I continued with the racing, straining and struggling my hardest not to come in last. At times I felt I had a few screws loose or that I could use a better set of spark plugs, but I never changed—at least not physically.
By the end of the season, however, I had changed. Spiritually I had grown. My vision had been expanded. On the night of our final athletic banquet, my coach came up to me and told me the secret I found in our old station wagon. He said:
“I know running hasn’t been easy for you, and you know something, you’ll never be a great runner.” No joke, I thought to myself. I’ve heard that one before. Then he continued. “But you are one of the most important members of our team. You have had such a positive influence on the team; they all look up to you. Thanks for being such a good example.”
And that was the secret. That’s what made the car special—it had a function, a worthwhile purpose. It was the car we knew we could depend on during winter in subzero temperatures. We knew it would be the only one to start. It was the only car that could pull our trailer and the only car with a rack on top for hauling luggage or Christmas trees. Despite its many frailties, it was needed, wanted, and yes, even loved.
Our station wagon would never be the sleekest car on the block. It would never win any prizes for the smoothest performance or most comfortable ride. Though it was old, rusted, and to some people even worthless, it was vital to our family. Its dependability was more important than its outward value.
The lesson I learned from the old station wagon was this: Although it may not be easy to see, our Heavenly Father has given everyone an important purpose. Despite our frailties, we are needed, wanted, and loved. We are each unique and priceless.

The Olson family in Brigham City, Utah, USA, found that even changing one small aspect of their Sabbath day brings about great blessings. Instead of watching regular television on Sunday, they focus on Church-sponsored media. They found that watching the Bible videos (see BibleVideos.org) with their children invites the Spirit as well as questions from the kids that prompt good family discussions.

“Not watching TV on the Sabbath led to the biggest shift in focus for me,” said Sister Lacey Olson. “We might feel like there are so many rules with regards to Sunday, but I think the Sabbath is a day unrestricted with regards to service and charity. If we choose, the Sabbath day can arm us with rejuvenation to face the world in the following week.”

The prophet Micah declared: “He hath showed thee, O man, what is good; and what doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?” (Micah 6:8). There is enough for a long sermon in that one command. Let me talk about one point only: “To love mercy.” As an example, may I read a paragraph from a letter I received from a young woman who is engaged in this kind of activity as president of the Relief Society.
Yesterday [she writes] I spent most of the day picking up welfare groceries and delivering them. One of the two cases I called on was tragic. She is a woman who, years ago, was in a fire and her head was badly injured. For years she has undergone constructive surgery and has a number of pins holding her scalp together. She is divorced, and in order to support herself and her four-year-old girl, she works doing any small job she can find, until she is through surgery and can return to school to complete her training as a dietician. She has no car and relies solely on her bicycle for transportation in this great and busy city. She has ridden that bike all winter, with her little girl on the back, sometimes going as many as 48 kilometers in a day to get to and from a small job.
A week ago she slid on a patch of ice while riding her bicycle, fell, struck her head, and suffered a concussion. She refused to go to the hospital because she had no money to pay medical bills, so she remained in her apartment, suffering from pain until her sister found her and got medical help. Her mother was able to assist her just a little. Her home teacher happened to call and discovered her plight. When I, as the Relief Society president, called her, I discovered she had no food in the house, no medication for her diabetes, and no money. So yesterday I went to deliver the groceries and take her some medication. What an opportunity to serve someone so desperately in need!

Karina’s leg and body muscles are very strong, and she is a good helper and a hard worker on her family’s small farm. The farm has a big tom turkey, chickens, and a dog with lots of puppies. Karina loves animals. One of her chores is to feed the chickens. And she has figured out her own method of getting this chore done. She picks up the bag of corn with her foot and places it under her chin to carry it while she walks. Then she sits on a chair, opens the bag of corn with one foot, puts the other foot in the sack for a footful of corn, and throws the corn out for the chickens to eat. Karina also loves to hold the chickens. She carefully catches a baby chick with her feet and holds the soft, fluffy bird under her chin.