Gospel Story Finder

“We’re going to an interesting place today,” Grandfather said as he came into the kitchen.
“Where are we going?” asked Jimmy.
“Someplace that is very close,” Grandfather replied. “We can drive there in fifteen minutes.”
“What will I see?” Jimmy wanted to know.
“You’ll see many things that you’ve never seen before,” Grandfather answered.
“Will I see a horse?” Jimmy loved to play guessing games.
“You’ll see every kind of horse you’ve ever wanted to see,” Grandfather explained.
“Are we going to a farm?” Jimmy asked.
“No. You’ll have to guess again,” said Grandfather with a twinkle in his eye.
Jimmy looked at Mother. “Grandfather says I’m not going to a farm. But he says that I’m going to see horses.”
“Perhaps there are other places where you can see horses, Jimmy,” Mother smiled.
Jimmy thought about that. Then he had an idea. “Will I see all kinds of bears and wild animals?”
Grandfather nodded his head. “And you’ll see many other animals too, Jimmy.”
Jimmy looked puzzled for a moment and then laughed, “I know. Grandfather is taking me to the zoo.”
Grandfather shook his head, “No, we’re not going to the zoo. But we’ll see all kinds of zoo animals.”
“Grandfather,” Mother asked, “what else will Jimmy be able to see?”
“Everything,” Grandfather answered. “If you want to see the stars and the planets, they are there. If you want to learn about insects, you’ll find them there too.”
Jimmy was really puzzled now. Where can Grandfather be taking me? Jimmy wondered as they rode in the car. Where is this mysterious place we are going to visit?
Finally Grandfather parked the car in front of a big building with large windows. There were many steps leading up to the front door.
Jimmy asked, “Is this where I’m going to see everything?”
Grandfather smiled. “Yes it is, Jimmy,” he answered. “Anything you want to learn or see is inside this building.”
“How can everything be inside a building?” Jimmy asked. That seemed hard to believe.
“All that man has learned and all the places he has been have been recorded in books,” Grandfather explained. “And in this one building you can see pictures and read about anything you wish!”
Jimmy looked at Grandfather. “What is this wonderful building?” he asked.
“The library, Jimmy,” Grandfather smiled.
And hand in hand they walked together up the steps and into the building.

When I was a senior in high school, I was on the varsity cheerleading team. Every day at practice, the girls on my cheerleading team talked about what was going on in a daytime soap opera on television. I had never watched it and knew that it was a show with low morals. However, I felt left out every day at practice as the girls excitedly talked about the show. The Spirit whispered to me not to watch it, but I desperately wanted to be included in their conversations, so I started watching.

It didn’t seem so bad to me. I rationalized that it wouldn’t affect me. I knew that I wasn’t going to do the bad things that I saw the characters do. I got hooked and watched the show every day. When I went to Brigham Young University, I arranged my class schedule so I could watch it every day. I never missed an episode.

I got married and had my first baby. I put him down for a nap every day during the show so I could watch it.

As the years passed, the Spirit whispered to me many times that I should stop watching that show. But I refused. I was so involved with the characters and their lives. It was my way to relax, so I continued watching. I was convinced that it was not hurting me.

Nineteen years after high school, I was still watching the show every day. At general conference, Sister Sheri L. Dew, then Second Counselor in the Relief Society General Presidency, was speaking about walking away from the world and things that are unholy. She then said, “I invite each of us to identify at least one thing we can do to come out of the world and come closer to Christ.”2

When she extended that invitation, I felt a tremendous outpouring of the Spirit, and I heard the words in my mind, “You have to stop watching that show now!” It was so powerful; it was like a smack to my face. I knew in that instant that I could not ignore this prompting any longer. I felt an urgency to never watch the show again. I realized that not one character was doing anything virtuous or honorable. I was inviting trash into my life every day. I committed to the Lord, right then and there, that I would never watch it again.

It was not easy! Nineteen years of habit and addiction was hard to break. Monday came and it was time for the show to start. I walked over to the TV remote. I wanted so badly to turn it on. I remembered my commitment to the Lord that I wouldn’t watch it ever again. I walked away.

Then I thought about my favorite character and wondered what might happen to her and walked back to the remote. I knew I needed God’s help, so I got down on my knees and prayed for strength to be able not to watch it. I thought of my promise to Heavenly Father, and I walked out of the room. I chose to follow the promptings I had received from the Holy Ghost and to honor my commitment.

That scenario repeated itself every day that week and into the next. Every day, I knelt and prayed and pleaded for strength to not watch, and every day I chose Jesus Christ and walked away from a television show that was immoral. I received strength to overcome from the power the Savior offers through His Atonement.

After some time of doing this, a miracle occurred. I completely lost all desire to watch the show, after watching it daily for 19 years. It was amazing! I also lost the desire to watch all the questionable shows I had been watching, so I stopped completely.

My conscience became sharpened, and I recognized evil for what it was. I honestly wanted to avoid any appearance of evil (see 1 Thessalonians 5:22). I was not desensitized to it anymore.

But the most amazing thing that happened was that I felt the influence of the Holy Ghost magnified in my life beyond anything I had experienced before. My spiritual progress accelerated tremendously! All those years I had thought I enjoyed the companionship of the Holy Ghost, but I had been experiencing only a sliver of what I might have. I realized that watching those shows all that time did affect me. I had missed so many years of having a stronger companionship with God. When I used my agency to give up unholy, worldly things, the Spirit was free to come to me in much greater measure, and what an incredible difference that has made in my life to strengthen, comfort, and guide me.

We tend to hold on so tightly to things of no worth—things that actually hold the door closed to the blessings that God wants to bring into our lives. Why do we trade the powerful, enabling influence of the Spirit for the fun or the popular? Maybe watching a television show is not a big deal or a huge sin, but it kept me from having the Holy Ghost in great abundance in my life and slowed down my spiritual progression.

I am so thankful that the Lord didn’t give up on me but patiently kept asking me to give up something unholy so He could fill my life to overflowing with His influence.

When he was 14 years old, President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985) was asked whether he had read the Bible all the way through. “I had read many books by that time, the funny papers, and light books, but my accusing heart said to me, ‘You, Spencer Kimball, you have never read that holy book. Why?”1 From that point on, President Kimball made it a point to “feast upon the words of Christ” (2 Nephi 32:3).

I love whole wheat pancakes. On my mission in Brazil, I bought a nice nonstick frying pan to cook them in. I also made sure that I had a plastic spatula so as not to scratch the pan.
About this same time, I received my first junior companion. One of the first things I did was show him my frying pan and plastic spatula, with specific instructions on how to use them. I didn’t mind him using them to fry an egg or something, but I didn’t want my pan ruined.
On our next preparation day, I heard my companion stirring something in the kitchen. I soon realized that he was frying an egg. I decided to peek in to see if he was following my instructions.
When I turned the corner, I just about had a heart attack. There he was, with the frying pan in one hand and a metal spoon in the other, trying to flip the egg. He was scraping and scratching, trying to get underneath the partially cooked egg, all the while destroying my frying pan.
Before I could yell, it hit me. It was an honest mistake. With help from above, I was able to calmly walk over to the drawer, pull out the spatula, and hand it to him, saying: “Here, use this. I think it will work better.” He thanked me and went on frying his egg.
Back in our room I realized that, as strange as it sounds, I had been “worshipping” that frying pan. For days, it had been more important to me than many other things, including my relationship with my new companion. It had been affecting the spirituality of our companionship. It had become my idol.
I’m so thankful that my Heavenly Father taught me an eternal truth through this small but powerful experience. I’ve come to better understand what the Lord meant when He said, “Thou shalt have no other gods before me” (Exodus 20:3)—including the nonstick kind.

Every year since he was three years old, Tommy Tipana had gone into the wilderness with his grandfather, Utak, for a short period of time to learn the old ways of his people. Tommy’s father, however, was a modern Eskimo who lived in a sturdy wooden house and had a snowmobile. He did not approve of the old ways, but he allowed Tommy to learn what he could from Utak.
The year Tommy was ten, Grandfather Utak invited him to go on a trip through Anaktuvuk Pass by dogsled. So, early one morning Tommy waved good-bye to his parents, then snuggled down under a bearskin robe on his grandfather’s sled. Utak cracked the long whip that sent the dogs bounding toward the snow-covered tundra, and the journey began.
At the end of the day, Utak and Tommy stopped the dog team and fed them strips of caribou meat. Afterward Utak tapped on the snow with his ayoutak (long stick used for probing), and they listened for a deep, resounding squeak. “A good spot,” Tommy said, pointing.
His grandfather smiled and nodded. “Yes, the snowdrift is firm and deep here, Grandson. It will make a good igloo. You learn well.”
Together they cut out blocks of snow and stacked them. Then they packed the joints and cracks with loose snow, leaving only a small doorway for them to enter. They built a fire, and all was warm and cozy for the night. Next they cut a hole in the ice and fished for arctic charr. As Tommy and Utak ate their meal, Utak smiled in the light of the fire, for he was pleased with his grandson. “It is good that you learn the ways of our people,” Utak said encouragingly. “Soon there will be few who remember, and the new ways are wrong.”
“Father lives the new ways,” Tommy said, bewildered. “How can they be wrong?”
“Your parents go to the store to buy their food and clothes. They have forgotten how to fish and hunt and tan hides and sew. They have no dogsled, but ride on a snowmobile. All that we need is outside our igloo, Tommy, if we know how to use it.”
Utak slept, and Tommy sat curled in his bearskin, watching the fire. Outside, he could hear the whistling snow as it covered everything with a white blanket. He wondered which way was best—the old way or the new way. Tommy liked them both.
Early in the morning, Tommy and Utak ate and dressed quickly, for the fire was low. Tommy coiled thongs of caribou skin around his boots to make them skid proof. Pulling the hood of his fur coat closely around his face, he crawled out into the blazing whiteness of the new day. The dogs, shaking the snow from their coats, barked and strained at their tethers while Tommy threw them strips of frozen whale blubber. When they were through eating, Tommy helped them into their traces and waited for Utak. But Utak did not come out of the igloo.
“Grandfather!” Tommy called, kneeling at the doorway. “The dogs are ready.”
“Tommy, come here,” came his grandfather’s faint answer.
Tommy crawled back into the igloo. His grandfather sat leaning against the wall amid their belongings. His hand was massaging his chest.
“Grandfather,” Tommy whispered, “are you ill?”
Utak motioned for Tommy to come closer. “You must leave me here, Tommy. I am a sick old man, and it is the old way to deal with sickness.”
“I cannot leave you!” Tommy cried. “You are my grandfather.”
“Adjornarmat (that is life),” Grandfather said, shaking his head slowly. “Now do as I say! Leave me here. Take the sled and return to your parents … but do not forget the old ways.”
“I will not leave you, Grandfather,” Tommy replied. “There is much I do not know yet, and you are the only one who can teach me.”
Tommy hurried outside to get a wide strip of baleen (whalebone) from the sled and bring it into the igloo.
“Here, Grandfather, let me help you.”
Tommy helped Utak onto the baleen, then pulled his grandfather to the sled. Slowly Utak climbed onto the sled, and Tommy wrapped him in bearskins. Then Tommy packed their few belongings and turned the dogs toward home. His grandfather slept.
The dogs knew Utak was not driving them, and they growled, refusing to pull. Finally, Tommy lifted the heavy whip and commanded them as his grandfather had done so many times before. The whip cracked sharply in the frozen morning air; the lead dog growled one more time, then began to pull. They had a new master now, but he had learned much from their old master.
Back along the frozen tundra the sled raced, mile after mile, without Grandfather to guide it. Nevertheless, the boy remembered all he had learned and drove the sled in a straight line. Late that night, they arrived home.
The next morning Utak awoke in a hospital bed with white sheets. There were curtains at the windows. A nurse was leaning over him.
“Your grandson saved your life, Mr. Tipana,” she said, smiling. “Would you like to see him?”
Utak nodded, and Tommy walked into the hospital room, followed by his parents. He bent and hugged his grandfather gently. “Thank you, Grandfather,” he whispered.
“You saved my life and yet you thank me?” Utak was puzzled.
“For the old ways,” Tommy said and smiled. “If I had not known them, I would not have been able to bring you to the new ways that have saved your life.”
Tommy’s father frowned. “Utak! You must give up the old ways—the new ways are better and safer.”
Tommy simply smiled to himself as his father and grandfather argued about the old and new ways. He wondered why they did not understand as he did that both ways were good. Tommy knew he would live somewhere between them, for he had learned to love them both.

Although Mary managed to get some additional cattle to help pull the wagons to the Salt Lake Valley, the trek still tested and refined her faith. One day one of her best oxen became very sick, lay down, and was apparently near death. Had this happened, she could not have continued on the journey to the Valley. Mary got a bottle of consecrated oil and asked two brethren to administer to the sick ox. Although administration to the sick had only been used for humans, Mary believed that the Lord would heal the animal that she needed so desperately.

After the blessing, the ox got up and was soon ready to pull the wagon again. Two more times other oxen became ill, and twice more Mary asked the brethren to bless them. Each time, they were healed instantly. Despite all difficulties, Mary and her family arrived in the Salt Lake Valley on September 23, 1848, a full day before the rest of the company.

I was blessed with parents who, as devoted Church members, taught me many things about the gospel early in my life, including the importance of the gospel of work. They were both hard workers and tried to save what money they had. They did not spend much on themselves, but used it to bless their children. It was easy for me to learn to like work because I had parents who worked without complaining.
My father was a bookkeeper and my mother had her housework to do. My sisters and I each had our own chores, but there was still some time for us to play. As we grew older, there was more work to do and more responsibility. There were times when I did not want to work because I would rather play, but it was a healthy life for me both physically and spiritually.
We lived on a little farm and had some ducks, chickens, lambs, several cows, and quite a few pigs. It helped our family to produce some of the things we ate so that we did not have to buy everything at the store. There were small gardens to be weeded and watered and fruit trees to be pruned and fruit to be picked.
My parents wisely gave me another good reason for working hard. I was allowed to keep some of the money I earned from the sale of the animals and fruits. They also had me keep records for my 4-H project, which was raising pigs, so that I could tell how much money I was making or losing. This was a good experience for me in learning about what things cost.
Because my pigs were purebreds, I used to take them to county and state fairs and to livestock shows to exhibit them. The pigs had to be scrubbed clean before every show. But it was worth the extra work.
Each time I won first, second, or third prize and got a colored ribbon my parents would pin it on a white sheet until one day the sheet was full of them. It was a real thrill when I got my first purple champion ribbon.
As I look back on those years, it was good that I was kept busy and that work was something expected of me. I do not believe people can be happy unless they have work to do. One can really be more of a slave to idleness than to work. Work also keeps us humble and reminds us of how all our blessings come to us from our Heavenly Father.
Those who don’t like to work need to ask themselves this question: “If I do not work, whose responsibility is it to provide for me?” Heavenly Father has fairly said that the person who is idle should not eat the bread of the worker. In today’s world, however, many people think that others have a responsibility to take care of those who are idle or lazy. This is not what Jesus Christ teaches, however. We are to work and to share, but we must not be lazy and then expect others to share with us.
When we work we are less likely to waste things, and waste is a real problem in some families and countries. The person who is a hard worker is also more likely to share what he has with those who are truly poor and needy.
The gospel of work is a very important teaching of the Church. If we learn to work early in life we will be better individuals, better members of families, better neighbors, and better disciples of Jesus Christ, who Himself learned to work as a carpenter. I have seen the place in Nazareth where carpenters and tradesmen still work, I am told, much as they did when Jesus lived as a boy. Those carpenters’ shops and stalls are very humble, but there Jesus learned a great deal that helped Him do the special work He had to do.
Of course we should not work just for show. We work to provide the basic things we need in life—food, clothing, and shelter. We work to be happy. We work to serve our fellowmen.
We need to know how to work for another reason: even our Heavenly Father’s work is really work! There won’t be any lazy people in heaven. They would not be happy there anyway, because there will always be so much to do.
If we learn to work now, we will not only be happier in this world but in the world to come, for work is one way we can show our love for others.

Illustrations by Kellan Stover
It was my first time hanging out with my new friends Becky and Sarah. I was so excited! Becky’s mom dropped us off at the bowling alley, and I followed Becky and Sarah inside. I could smell hot dogs and hear something clattering in the background.
“I’ve never been bowling before,” I admitted.
“Don’t worry,” Becky said. “It’s easy.”
“And fun!” Sarah added.
They led me to a counter, where we checked out special bowling shoes. Then we found our lane and put the bowling shoes on.
I picked up a bowling ball. It was a lot heavier than I thought it would be. Sarah showed me how to put my fingers in the holes in the ball. Then Becky showed me how to roll it down the lane.
On my first try, my ball didn’t hit any pins. But after a few turns, I got the hang of it. One time, I even knocked over all the pins at once!
“Nice!” Becky gave me a high five. “That’s called a strike.”
When the game was over, I went with Becky and Sarah into the bathroom. They unlaced their bowling shoes. Then Becky shoved the shoes behind the garbage can.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Becky grinned up at me. “This is part of the fun. We always sneak out without paying!”
I froze, feeling my stomach clench. “What about the money your moms gave you?”
“We keep it,” Sarah said as she slipped her regular shoes back on. “Come on, hide your shoes too.”
My heart was beating fast. I knew it would be wrong to not pay. But I didn’t want Becky and Sarah to get mad at me. I wanted them to like me.
Heavenly Father, I prayed silently, please help me be brave enough to do the right thing.
I took a deep breath. “I can’t do that. It would be like stealing.”
Sarah put her hands on her hips. “I thought you were our friend!”
“I am,” I said. “But I don’t want to steal.”
Becky frowned. “My sister will be here any minute to pick us up. Just ditch the shoes and let’s go!”
“Yeah, it’s no big deal,” Sarah said. “We do this all the time. Besides, no one will ever know.”
But I would know, I thought. And Heavenly Father would know.
I shook my head. “I’m gonna go pay for mine.”
Becky pursed her lips. “Then I guess we can’t be friends.” She and Sarah pushed past me and out of the bathroom.
After they were gone, I got their shoes out from behind the garbage can and took all the bowling shoes back to the counter.
“How was the game?” the man at the counter asked. “And where did your friends go?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Turns out they weren’t really my friends.” I told him what happened and pulled out the money my grandma had given me. “I can pay for all of us.”
“That’s OK. You can just pay for yours.” The man took the money and gave me my change. “Thanks for being honest. I’m sure your parents would be proud of you.”
I called my grandma to come get me. As I waited, I thought about what the man had said. A warm feeling spread through me. I knew it was the Holy Ghost letting me know I’d done the right thing. I could find friends who would help me choose the right.

The final awareness activity of the conference was a bit of a shock to most of the youth. As they were seated for a beautiful, all-you-can-eat brunch, blindfolds and ropes were distributed. The teens were divided into partners to help each other: one was blindfolded, the other had his “good” arm tied to his side. They were then invited to go to the buffet and help themselves.
This experience and the discussion on blindness helped Laura Lemke of the White Oak Ward a few days later when she encountered a blind man who appeared lost at the subway station. Without hesitation, she went up to him and offered assistance. Rather than grab him, she offered her elbow to him, and led him to the fare card machine.

“If the parents can’t attend the wedding, it’s important to get them very involved in everything else,” said Karen Foutz, whose parents were not recommend holders when she was married. Including the parents in the planning of wedding breakfasts or dinners, showers, and the reception can help. Karen made the occasion successful by letting her mother take care of most of the reception plans and having her grandmother sew her wedding dress. “That way, they felt like they were a part of everything, rather than feeling alienated from it all,” she said.

Around the turn of the twentieth century two missionaries were laboring in the mountain region of the southern part of the United States. One day as they were walking along a ridge in the hill country, they saw people gathering in a clearing near a cabin some distance down the hillside.
They discovered that there was to be a funeral. A little boy had drowned. His parents had sent for the minister to “say words” at the burial of the little fellow. The elders stayed in the background to watch the proceedings. The little fellow was to be buried in the grave already opened near the cabin. The minister stood before the grieving father and mother and the others gathered and began his funeral sermon. If the parents expected to receive consolation from this man of the cloth, they would be disappointed.
He scolded them severely for not having had the little boy baptized. They had put it off because of one thing or another, and now it was too late. He told them very bluntly that their little boy had gone to hell. He told them that it was their fault, that they were to blame—they had caused their son endless torment.
After the sermon was over and the grave was covered, the friends, neighbors, and relatives left the scene. The elders approached the grieving parents. “We are servants of the Lord,” they told the sobbing mother, “and we have come with a message for you.”
As the grief-stricken parents listened, the two young elders unfolded to their view something of a vision of the eternities. They read from the revelations, and they bore to these humble, grief-stricken parents their testimony of the restoration of the keys for the redemption of both the living and the dead.
I do not berate the itinerant preacher. Indeed, I have some sympathy for him, for he was doing the best he knew how to do with such light and knowledge as he had received. But there is more than he had to give. There is the fulness of the gospel.
The path the missionaries pointed out to those humble folk was more than conversion and repentance and baptism; for, to those who will follow, in due time that path leads to the sacred rooms of the holy temple. There members of the Church who make themselves eligible can participate in the most exalted and sacred of the redeeming ordinances that have been revealed to mankind. There we may be washed and anointed and instructed and endowed and sealed. And when we have received these blessings for ourselves, we may officiate for those who have died without having had the same opportunity.

I was in a ward where, for about a year, we sang the same sacrament hymn every week. Every. Week.

Our organist was just learning how to play when she was called as the ward organist, and in a conversation with her, she told me that she was really struggling with the sacrament hymns. She could practice and learn a whole bunch of other hymns every week, but when it came to the sacrament hymns, she was stuck with only one she felt confident enough to play in our church service. And so we sang the same sacrament hymn. Every Sunday. For a year.

I didn’t tell her at the time but having her play the same hymn every week was a real blessing for me. I was struggling to love some family members who thought and acted differently from me. Every week at sacrament, we would sing Hymn 172, where the second verse starts: “Fill our hearts with sweet forgiving; / Teach us tolerance and love.” [15] I needed to sing that hymn so the Spirit could teach and reteach me tolerance, love, and forgiveness every week. And every week, little by little, I learned to grow, change, repent, and forgive so I could love my family.

Some years ago when I was in Mexico City, checking on some Church buildings as part of my assignment with the Church Building Department, one of the missionaries there asked, “Would you like to see the ruins of a previous civilization that are close by?” We gladly accepted the invitation. As we were returning along the highway, we saw a family working together making rope for sale. Having been in the livestock business, I was interested in their product. This family made rope from cactus fibers. They stripped the fibers from a species of long-spear cactus prevalent in Mexico and braided them into excellent rope. All of the family members were working, and I was concerned as I saw two young people who were of elementary school age. Through an interpreter, I asked these children, “Do you go to school?” They replied, “No, sir.” I said, “Why not?” They answered, “We don’t have the chance. There are no schools.” Then I asked them, “Would you like to go to school if you had the opportunity?” They replied, “Oh yes, sir.” They were sincere young people. Many people do not have the privilege of obtaining an education.
In contrast to this, what do we do with the opportunities we have? I do not know whether or not you have ever stopped to consider this, but James Russell Lowell calls this thought to our attention:
“Have you ever rightly considered what the mere ability to read means? That it is the key which admits us to the whole world of thought and fancy and imagination? To the company of saint and sage, of the wisest and the wittiest at their wisest and wittiest moments? That it enables us to see with the keenest eyes, hear with the finest ears, and listen to the sweetest voices of all time?”

The glacier glows from deep within, pulling scarce light from a gray day and turning it an eerie blue. Mostly, the glacier is dirty white. But from parts of the vertical face comes faint, cold blue fire. “Ice blue” is a real color.
At the glacier’s foot a shallow lake of ice melt is dotted with an occasional miniature iceberg. A stream of glacial water tumbles into the lake with a distant, dull rumble. It’s the only sound you hear until—
Splash! “Whoop!” Someone has just jumped into the lake. Or fallen. Or been pulled. Youth of the Juneau Alaska District are holding their annual games on the sandy shore. Relays rage back and forth across a shallow inlet. Put on hip boots, wade-run through thigh-high ice water, take off the boots and hand them to a teammate for the return trip. Splash! Someone else has tried to run too fast. Again, a sharp intake of breath and “whoop!”
Soon, a stout rope is drawn across the same inlet and the teams take sides, muscles straining, heels dug into the sand. Rhythmic chants of “pull … pull … pull” echo across the lake. Inch by inch the losing team is drawn toward the incredibly cold water.
Incredibly, too, some of the youth who didn’t get wet in the relay or tug-of-war give berserk yells and wade into the bone-chilling water for the sheer daring of it. Afterward, when everyone has dried off and is back at the chapel warming up, the kids explain. It’s not insanity, just enthusiasm.
Juneau is Alaska’s capital, beautiful and interesting but a challenging place to live. There are no highways to other major cities. To get to the rest of Alaska—and the rest of the world—you either fly or you load the family car on a ferry boat. Both are expensive, so you try to find most of your fun close to home—like the Mendenhall Glacier just a few minutes from town.
Close to home there’s plenty of cold and snow in winter, lots of clouds and rain the rest of the time—more than 100 inches of precipitation a year. So, the young women just plan their camps by the calendar, not by the weather forecasts. If you let the probability of rain stop you, next thing you know, you could start worrying about the possibility of bears. Instead, you take along rain gear and a few armed priesthood brethren. And you go enjoy camp.
School football and soccer games are rarely canceled for rain. Baseball is often played under conditions that would be a “rain-out” in the lower 48 states. In a climate like this, trees grow tall, roofs grow moss, and these LDS kids have grown an attitude that seems to say, “No matter where you live—live. Jump into life with both feet.”
No, the rope’s not for the weatherman. We’re still on the subject of jumping. Carly Perkins and Shannon Orme are members of the Juneau Jumpers, one of the largest rope jumping teams in the world. “It’s about the only thing we can do that’s indoors and doesn’t cost much,” explains Carly. “And since it’s always raining, it’s something to pass the time.”
But what a way to pass the time! According to Shannon, 10 minutes of rope jumping equals about 20 minutes of jogging. “If we didn’t keep the Word of Wisdom, we really wouldn’t we able to do this,” she adds. Qualifying for the “double unders”—two passes of the rope on each jump—requires doing 200 in a row without a mistake. Then there are the “quadruple unders” … !
Add complicated routines with multiple ropes and jumpers, and you can see that competition rope jumping is as different from the schoolyard variety of rope jumping as the Monte Carlo Grand Prix is from driving school. So who teaches all of this? Sure, there are adult coaches, but it’s the team members themselves who train new candidates for the team and literally teach each other the ropes. You work with another team member to qualify for new routines. “Even freestyle, we have to do it with someone else so they learn it too,” Shannon says. “You learn to get along with pretty much everybody,” adds Carly. There’s no “king-of-the-hill” mentality on this team. You only progress and go on the road trips by being willing to help others reach your own level of accomplishment.
That’s a lot like the attitude you find among the LDS youth of Juneau, Alaska. For example, at the lake and at the chapel afterward was a fellow student who was being friendshipped by some of the LDS kids. Having seen them in action, she announced that she was ready to talk to the missionaries. You know that when she does talk to the missionaries, she’s going to have a big team backing her up and teaching her the ropes. Around here, they don’t just jump into life with both feet. They like to take a friend along.
Sometimes the world can seem like a pretty cold place. But LDS kids in Juneau have learned that if you jump in with both feet—and help someone else do the same—life can be great no matter where you live.

Reaching the city in September 1855, Barnard found work in Apostle John Taylor’s office, helping publish an LDS newspaper, the Mormon. He received board and room but no pay. Within weeks he saw his English suit become threadbare and too small for his growing teenage body. He needed money. “What shall I do?” he asked Elder Taylor. The Apostle thanked him for his labors, wished him well, and then gave him a special blessing. “You will find work and make more money than you ever have earned before,” he promised the boy, and then added: “In life you will always succeed financially.”
The promise proved true but slow. Barnard’s first job was low-paying, menial, and smelly. How his mother would have pained to see Barnard, his landlady’s laundry basket in hand, walk to the fish market, fill the basket, and then peddle fish throughout the city. But it was a living. Slowly, day by day, his fish turned into American coins that added up.
Just when Barnard calculated he had enough money, 60 dollars, to buy a cart and horse to expand his business, a local Mormon leader called him aside. “The Lord wants you to be a missionary,” Barnard was informed. Loyally the teenager gave up his fish business to be a fisher of men. “Priest White,” as locals called the 15-year-old, filled a good mission during the six months his fish money lasted.

I stood in the warm font, my white dress billowing around me. I was excited to be baptized, to be clean! Elder Daniels put me under the water, and I came up soaking and smiling. When I opened my eyes, I felt so good. I never wanted to do anything wrong again. My parents smiled at me.
“You did great,” my mom said after I was confirmed. She had even written me a poem for my baptism day. My dad was not a member of the Church, but I knew he felt OK about my choice since he let me take the missionary discussions.
Two of my best friends from the fifth grade came to see my baptism, and my parents took us all out for yummy ice cream afterward. My favorite food!
My friends and I took our cones and explored the gardens near the ice cream shop. The creamy ice cream on my cone looked so good. But on my first lick, the whole scoop fell off the cone and onto the grass!
Without thinking, I said a word my mom had asked me not to say. I slapped my hand over my mouth, realizing what I’d said. I was so sad. I didn’t know what to do. My parents thought I was just sad about my ice cream. They offered to buy me another, but I didn’t feel like eating anymore. Who cared about ice cream? I’d just made a terrible mistake and ruined my perfect day. I wasn’t clean anymore!
The rest of the day I felt awful about what I had said. And I didn’t want to tell my mom because she might get mad at me for saying a bad word. I was embarrassed that I had spoiled my new clean record so soon after being baptized.
That night I prayed for forgiveness. “Heavenly Father, I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to say that word. It just came out. I don’t want to say it again.”
I went to bed unhappy, and on Sunday morning I still wasn’t feeling very good. When we got to church, I waved hello to Elder Daniels with the same crummy feeling in my stomach.
I felt even worse when my mom said, “I’m so glad you decided to be baptized.”
During sacrament meeting a familiar tune made me look up. It was the sacrament hymn. The words were about Jesus. As I started to sing, I concentrated on the words. They spoke about Jesus’s amazing Atonement and how wonderful it was. Then I remembered something the missionaries taught me. They said that every time I sincerely repented and took the sacrament, it would be just like I was baptized all over again! I could repent. Instantly my heart felt lighter, and I realized that everything would be OK.
I was so relieved and so grateful for the sacrament that day. I took the bread and water and promised Heavenly Father I would do my best the next week to keep all His commandments. I was so happy. I knew that I was clean again.

In 1840, when Charles was twenty-one years old, he heard two Mormon missionaries preaching the gospel. He knew that what they were teaching was true, and he asked to be baptized. Charles was the only member of his family to join the Church. Not long after his baptism, Charles also became a missionary and was the companion of the missionary who baptized him! Charles served his mission in England and North Wales until 1843.

As part of the ‘Rise and Reach’ summer programme, on three days in 2020 (15 August, 3 September and 24 October) a group of youth, young adults and missionaries of the Church in Walworth, London, undertook service projects for Thames Reach, at three of its sites. Thames Reach is a charitable organisation that supports homeless and vulnerable individuals, some with mental-health concerns, to access housing, training, and employment opportunities.
For various reasons, including the national lockdown caused by the COVID-19 pandemic, no gardening had taken place for a long time at the sites, and the gardens were much in need of attention. Thus, when the offer of help was made, Amy Dawe of Thames Reach readily accepted.
The tasks for the volunteers involved cutting back overgrown foliage, tree branches, weeding and litter-picking around the properties. On each occasion, the volunteers laboured diligently, the results being a very noticeable difference in the appearance of the gardens.
Amy was delighted with the results. She said the residents were very pleased with the transformation. Once again, they would be able to use and enjoy their outdoor spaces, thanks to the tremendous hard work of the group of Church volunteers.
Following the completion of the second project, Bishop Abdul Rollings-Kamara of Peckham Ward, received an email from the volunteers programmes manager of Thames Reach. She informed him that the volunteers had won a Volunteer Hero Award, in recognition for the work they had undertaken. This came as a surprise to everyone. A certificate of achievement was subsequently awarded, as well as a gift voucher. These were presented by Bill Tidnam, chief executive of Thames Reach, on 24 October.
Through their service, the volunteers have exemplified the Rise and Reach motto to ‘Go and Do’, by going out and doing good for their community. Although their service was unconditional, they received a wonderful and unexpected award. The bishop will put the gift voucher towards food for a foodbank.

I think of a story about President David O. McKay, ninth president of the Church, when he was a young lad. He was taught by his father to pray when confronted with a problem. When he was eight years of age, he received a new pocketknife on his birthday, and he recounts the experience of that day by telling how he got on his horse and rode out into the valley, made a fire, ate his lunch, and then got ready to return home.
As he began riding home, he remembered he had forgotten his new pocketknife, and so he quickly turned around and raced back to the same spot and searched in vain for his knife. He then remembered his father’s teaching, and because of the counsel of his father and his faith in him, he got on his knees and began to talk simply and earnestly to the Lord. In the midst of his prayer, he saw a vision come into his mind—a picture as clear as any TV picture—and there, as a picture in his mind, he saw his knife under a clump of weeds. He got up on his feet, looked around, walked directly to the scene he had just witnessed in his mind, and found his knife exactly as it had been revealed.
What a powerful lesson on faith in one’s father and faith in the Lord this young president-to-be learned that day. This kind of faith leads to spiritual and other accomplishments.

When a group of young women in the state of Washington, USA, wanted to become more involved with family history, they decided to create an embroidered family-tree project. It ended up bringing their family history to life and taught them new skills along the way.
“This project was a great way for the young women in my ward to work together and have fun learning about our families,” says McKenna S., 14. “Creating my family tree has given me a new perspective on my ancestry. I learned about people I didn’t know who were part of my family, and I had the opportunity to be baptized for one of my great-grandmothers.”
To start the project, each young woman collected five generations of ancestors’ names. The group began by visiting a local family history center, where they learned how to do family history research online. Monica B., 14, especially enjoys researching names on new.familysearch.org and submitting her ancestors’ names for temple work. She says, “It was a neat experience to take family names—that I found myself—to the temple to do baptisms. I feel a stronger connection to my ancestors now and love seeing their names on the tree displayed in our home.”
The young women spent time working with their parents, grandparents, aunts, and uncles searching for family information. All this time spent sharing family history stories and collecting names helped them strengthen their family relationships. For Madison F., 14, it became a family project. Her mother says, “This project helps the whole family. We knew very little about my husband’s side of the family and have had fun finding and reading through the names on his side of the tree, because most of them are people we had never heard of.”
After gathering names, the young women took a trip to the temple to begin the ordinance work for their ancestors. “I was very excited to take the names I had found to the temple,” Jerica D., 17, says. “It made the experience much more meaningful.”
In addition to learning about family history and temple work, the young women also learned how to embroider. They each embroidered their family’s last name onto a tree, and each leaf on the family tree has the name of a family member on it. At first, Tahna T., 13, resisted this part of the project because it wasn’t a skill she felt she was good at, but she learned to enjoy it so much that she continues to develop her talent with needlework.
The young women say that one of the best parts of this project was getting together for parties to work on their trees together. They met at a leader’s home and brought their family tree materials and snacks to share. Then they spent hours chatting, working, and snacking. They compared unusual and similar family names, helped one another with embroidery, and talked about how to lay out the leaves of their trees. Natasha T., 16, says, “I had a lot of fun working with the other young women, kind of like we were a family.”
Now the young women proudly display their family trees at home. Some of them have hung their trees in their bedrooms, while others have displayed them in their family rooms for visitors to see. They love to look at all the names and talk about them with their families. Breanna D., 15, says, “I thought it was really neat how we could look up so many people I was related to and know that they once lived and breathed just like me.”