Gospel Story Finder

Some years ago, as Sister Gong and I met a lovely family, their young daughter, Ivy, shyly brought out her violin case. She lifted out the violin bow, tightened and put rosin on it. Then she put the bow back in the case, curtsied, and sat down. A new beginner, she had just shared all she knew about the violin. Now, years later, Ivy plays the violin beautifully.

Like little Ivy and her violin, we are in some ways still beginning. Truly, “eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.” In these times, we can learn much of God’s goodness and our divine potential for God’s love to grow in us as we seek Him and reach out to each other. In new ways and new places, we can do and become, line upon line, kindness upon kindness, individually and together.

Sam Basnet, baptized in 2009, is also the only member in his family. Doing missionary work at the Oslo center helped him to share the gospel with his relatives when he returned to visit them in Nepal. He told them about the priesthood and the Book of Mormon, having already helped the missionaries teach other people the same principles in Oslo.
“My family wanted to feel the way that I was feeling,” said Brother Basnet. “They had seen the difference between ‘Sam-before’ and ‘Sam-after.’ Before, I had no hope. I was not positive. After my baptism, I used to come into the center and everything was higher than before.”

The story of Lorenzo Odone, a six-year-old boy who developed adrenoleukodystrophy (ALD), a rare fatal genetic disease, powerfully portrays the connection between family and questions of the heart.

The story opens when Lorenzo begins having trouble at school. Teachers meet with Lorenzo’s parents, Michaela and Augusto, and explain that Lorenzo is often unresponsive in the classroom and should be placed in a special education program. Unconvinced that Lorenzo has a problem, the Odones argue that with the proper attention, Lorenzo will do fine in the regular classroom. But then Michaela notices some of the behavior problems at home. Lorenzo begins having accidents around the house, and when he plays outside with his friends, he seems to have difficulty at times controlling his arms and legs.

The Odones begin to worry that something is seriously wrong with their child, but when they take Lorenzo in for a medical examination, the physicians are unable to identify the problem. After a series of frustrating visits to the hospital, Michaela and Augusto finally find a physician who diagnoses Lorenzo’s disease as ALD, a disease that strips away the myelin—the insulating tissue that surrounds the nerve endings. The doctor explains that there is no cure for the disease, that the medical profession is just beginning to understand what it is. The Odones plead with the doctor; they tell him that they will take Lorenzo anywhere for special treatment—anywhere they can find someone who is working on a cure. But the physician cannot help them. He looks over his desk at them and simply shakes his head, indicating that neither he nor anyone else can provide the help Lorenzo needs.

The next day Augusto goes to the local library and begins reading about ALD. He finds that the disease often leads to death within two years of diagnosis and that before the child dies, he gradually loses control of bodily functions, often experiencing blindness, deafness, and complete loss of speech and mobility. Augusto and Michaela cry out for help; they begin searching for answers to their son’s problem. They seek help from God, as well as from the medical profession.

The Odones know that their time is short. They know that if they do not respond quickly, Lorenzo will die. As they continue to study the disease, they find that ALD makes it impossible for the body to digest fatty acids and that the rise in fatty-acid levels gradually destroys not only the body’s myelin but all of the vital organs. The Odones’ question becomes “How can we lower Lorenzo’s levels of fatty acids?” After months of intensive study and personal prayer, they light upon the idea of using oleic acid, an extract from olive oil. When they administer the oleic acid to Lorenzo, they find that his fatty-acid levels indeed decrease, but the decrease plateaus at the halfway mark.

They watch in anguish as Lorenzo’s condition deteriorates. Michaela, his mother, devotes herself so completely to his care that she begins to forget her own physical needs. At a point of deep discouragement, Augusto convinces Michaela that she must continue on and that they must extend their search for a cure to Lorenzo’s illness.

Augusto returns to the library, studying all the scientific literature he can find on long-chain fatty acids. His search is intense; he thinks about Lorenzo’s problem day and night. When his research fails to yield what he is looking for, he becomes frustrated and knows that he needs help from others who are seeking a cure for ALD. He and Michaela begin working with a medical researcher who is conducting studies on ALD; they appreciate his help but do not believe that he is bold enough to try new approaches. Augusto returns to the library again and again; the librarian becomes an important resource for Augusto, supplying him with scientific studies on long-chain fatty acids. Augusto begins building models of the fatty acids so that he can visualize what is happening inside Lorenzo’s body.

After months of research, Augusto hypothesizes that an extract from rapeseed oil might be effective at reducing Lorenzo’s fatty acids to normal levels. But then he finds that this oil is not approved for human consumption in the U.S., so he is unable to convince an American firm to produce the substance for him. Finally, he finds a chemist in England who agrees to help him. He is close to retirement but agrees to extract the substance from rapeseed oil so that Augusto can try it with Lorenzo. When the Odones receive the oil from the British chemist, Lorenzo’s condition has already deteriorated significantly. They try the oil nonetheless and find that it indeed reduces Lorenzo’s fatty acids to normal levels.

1. “Jesus told Peter to feed His sheep. That’s how Peter could show Jesus he loved Him.”
“Mom, did Jesus have a herd of sheep?”
“No, sweetie. Jesus is sometimes called the Good Shepherd, and we are like His sheep. Jesus was teaching Peter that if we want to show Jesus we love Him, we should help others.”
2. “Is that why we are going to deliver the pie to Sister Jacobs after family home evening?”
“Yes, it is. But it would be nice for you to think of something you can do to show Sister Jacobs you love her.”
3. Olivia thought about what she could do. She remembered that Mom and Grandma really like the pictures she draws.
“I know! I can make a card for Sister Jacobs and draw a picture on it!”
4. Olivia drew a beautiful rainbow. On the inside of the card she wrote, “Get well soon! Love, Olivia.”
5. When Olivia and her family got to Sister Jacobs’s house, Mom asked Sister Jacobs how she was feeling. Sister Jacobs started to cry.
“I just found out I have to go to the hospital to have an operation tomorrow. I’m a little scared.”
6. Mom handed Sister Jacobs the pie. Then Olivia gave her the card she had made.
“Thank you, Olivia. This beautiful card and your sweet smile make me feel better.”
7. Olivia felt like somebody was hugging her heart. She was happy that she could help Jesus feed His sheep.

On one occasion I spent a few moments with two elderly patrons who were quietly relaxing
before engaging in an endowment session. As we spoke, I asked one of these men what he
was called to in the Church. His name is Eric and this is his story.
“I was called to a meeting with the Stake President. In my heart I knew that I was to be
interviewed for a new call to serve. I had no inspiration as to the nature of the call and
attended the meeting without any apprehension.
“When I left the Stake President’s office, I was quite dejected. Somehow the call - which I had
accepted - had left me feeling flat, and wondering ‘Why me?’ I had been called to be a Prison
Visitor. I returned home wondering how I could possibly fulfil this call.”
Eric made arrangements to visit the prison to receive instructions for his future visits.
“As I made my way to the prison, still feeling dejected and confused, I heard a voice, quite
clear and distinct, it entered my mind and my heart… ‘Eric, I gave my life for them.’
I was stopped in my tracks. The realisation of these words filled my heart. ‘Eric, I gave my
life for them.’ As much for them, as for me. Tears welled up in my eyes. I became very
emotional and found a quiet area, away from public gaze.
“After a few moments of quiet contemplation, I made my way into the prison to receive my
instruction and begin my Prison Visitor experience.
“I remained a Prison Visitor for 34 years. I learned so much from my experience with these
special members of our society. From within my soul, I learned so much about how to love.”

My bishop has helped me by encouraging me and giving me opportunities to strengthen my talents.
Knowing that I played the piano, he asked me one day if I wanted to learn how to play the organ. I had always thought it would be fun to learn, but my bishop was the one who really encouraged me to start. He helped me get in contact with the ward organist so she could help me get started, and it’s been going really well! Every time my bishop sees me practicing, he compliments me and asks about the next time I’ll be playing in sacrament meeting.
I know my bishop sees my potential, and I’m grateful for his constant encouragement. He has helped me learn and grow in ways I would not have been able to on my own.
Aubrey B., California, USA

It would be fun to be magic, Brett thought as he snuggled into his warm bed and dreamed of dancing bears and enchanted rabbits. He and his family had just returned from a trip to the circus. They had enjoyed the funny clowns, the animal acts, and the daring acrobats, but Brett thought that the magician was the best part of the evening. He had performed exciting tricks with hoops and ropes and had even pulled a rabbit out of an empty hat.
Brett was still daydreaming about magic the next morning during breakfast. “It’s a beautiful day,” Brett’s big brother, Ryan, said as he helped clear away the dishes. “Do you want to come with me for a walk through the meadow?”
Brett shook his head. “I’m going to try to make some magic of my own.” He went to his room and began searching in drawers, cubbyholes, and corners. He rummaged through his toy box and even peered under his bed. Now and then he would stuff something into his backpack. When it was full, he zipped it up. “There’s my magic kit,” he said. “Now all I need is a magic word. How about … snickerdoodles! They’re my favorite cookies, so it’s a word that’s sure to work magic.”
Sitting outside under the big oak tree, he began the test. He remembered Mom telling him often, “Brett, you need to put on your listening ears!” He reached into his magic kit and pulled out a sheet of pink paper and a pair of scissors. Carefully he cut out two very large ears and placed them over his own.
“Snickerdoodles!” Brett whispered with his eyes closed. “Now let’s see if these ears have any magic.”
He walked into the meadow by his house, then stopped suddenly as he began to hear wonderful things. Close by, a squirrel chattered, bees hummed, and a bird whistled a happy tune. Listening very carefully, Brett could even hear Mom singing as she worked in the kitchen.
“My listening ears are magic!” Brett shouted.
The day was beginning to get warm, so he slipped off his shoes and socks and put them on a big rock where he could find them later. “Snickerdoodles!” he said brightly as he continued his walk barefoot. “Let’s see what other magic I can make.”
The grass tickled his toes like a tiny forest. The uneven ground became mountains and valleys to his bare feet. “I’m a giant!” he said with a giggle. Suddenly he felt something cool and squishy, and when he looked down, he found that he was standing in mud.
Brett liked all the new feelings—especially the thick, creamy mud oozing up between his toes. “Even my feet are magic!” he decided.
Reaching into his magic kit, he took out some toy glasses with a big, funny nose attached. “Snickerdoodles! I bet that with these on I’ll be able to see some neat things and sniff all kinds of fantastic smells.”
Sure enough, he smelled something wonderful right away and looked up to see a cherry tree covered with snow-white blossoms. A flash of silver caught his eye, and he saw a brook splashing merrily through the meadow. His big fake nose turned toward home as he smelled cookies baking—mmmm!
Filled with excitement, he ran to the top of the hill, where he could see Ryan in the distance. “Hey, Ryan, wait for me! I have something magical to show you!”
Sprinting toward Ryan, Brett tripped and tumbled head over heels down the hill, sprawling in a heap at the bottom—and on top of his now-crumpled magic ears and smashed magic glasses. The rest of his magic kit was scattered all around him.
“Oh no!” he wailed. “I’ve ruined my magic!”
Brett was still crying when Ryan came running up to help him. Between sobs, Brett explained about all the magical things he had discovered and how sad he was to lose them.
Ryan helped Brett to his feet and began gathering up the scattered treasures. “You silly boy,” he said kindly. “The magic isn’t in paper ears or funny glasses. It’s in your own body. Heavenly Father gave us sight and smell and hearing and taste and touch so that we can enjoy His beautiful world. You’ve had them all along.”
Brett sniffled. “Really, Ryan? Are you sure?”
“Look, don’t you still see the brook? Can’t you still smell the wildflowers? Don’t you still feel the wind on your cheek and the ant crawling on your hand? Why, if you listened hard enough, I bet you could hear Mom filling the cookie jar right now. How about trying out your sense of taste on a fresh-baked cookie?”
Brett jumped to his feet. He looked all around and drew in a deep breath. “You’re right, Ryan!” he exclaimed. “I’m the magic! Come on, I’ll race you for the first taste!”
They galloped side by side across the meadow. “Thanks, Heavenly Father! Thanks for my marvelous, magical body!” Brett shouted to the sky.
And guess what? The cookies were snickerdoodles!

After World War I ended, Amelia began taking premed courses at Columbia University and at Barnard College. But studying medicine lacked the pleasure she found in nursing and Amelia soon grew restless. When a letter arrived from her family in California urging her to come west, Amelia packed her bags and bought a train ticket home.
Amelia could hardly wait for the long ride to end. Soon she was hugging her family and talking excitedly about what she had been doing. “Oh, I missed you so much!” she cried.
There was little time for Amelia to rest. The Earharts wanted their daughter to meet new people. She was invited to a number of delightful parties and picnics. Then one afternoon Amelia and her father went to see an air show in Long Beach, California.
“Well, are you having a good time?” her father asked.
“A wonderful time, Father! Wouldn’t it be glorious to fly like that!” Amelia exclaimed.
“Would you like to go up for a spin?” he questioned, catching his daughter’s enthusiasm.
“Do you think I could?” asked Amelia, hardly believing that it would be possible.
“I believe Mr. Hawks, one of the pilots, sometimes takes people up for short rides,” Mr. Earhart told his excited daughter.
“Let’s find him, Father! I just have to go up!” Amelia exclaimed.
They found Mr. Hawks and a few moments later Amelia and the pilot were taking off in a plane from a strip of graveled ground nearby. They just barely cleared the derricks of some oil wells near the end of the runway, but Amelia was too thrilled to be frightened or to notice how old and rickety the plane was.
“As soon as we left the ground,” Amelia recalled, “I knew I had to fly by myself! Miles away I saw the ocean [and] the Hollywood hills smiled at me over the edge of the cockpit. … We were friends, the ocean, the hills, and I.”
As soon as Amelia was out of the plane, she began coaxing her father to let her learn to fly. But he was hesitant and Mrs. Earhart was even more reluctant to agree to Amelia’s plan.
“Flying is not a suitable pastime or occupation for a young lady,” said Mrs. Earhart. “Flying is for men.”
“But why is it only for men, Mother?” Amelia persisted. “Why can’t a woman control an airplane as well as a man?”
“Amelia, there are some things a young lady doesn’t do. Flying is one of them,” her mother insisted.
“Voting used to be something women didn’t do,” said Amelia, not wanting to drop the subject.
“My dear,” her mother added, “there’s a big difference between marking a piece of paper and handling a flying machine.”
Though this may have ended the discussion at the moment, her parents both knew that when Amelia wanted to do something, she would find a way to do it. Before long she had a job where she could work during the week and take flying lessons on weekends. Within a year, she had made her first solo flight. In 1920, she set the women’s altitude record of 14,000 feet.

Michael Richardson is making a difference as he serves an elderly couple, both of whom use walkers. After a lesson on service during family home evening, Michael thought of Brother and Sister Neeley and wondered if he could help them. His mother asked Sister Neeley, who suggested that Michael could help them out of the building after sacrament meeting.
Michael liked the idea and has been serving Brother and Sister Neeley ever since. He is faithful to his self-assigned project, and has missed helping the Neeleys out only when his parents took the family to visit another ward. “Then he worries about the Neeleys,” his mother reports, adding that “Michael takes this assignment very seriously.”
Sister Neeley thought Michael would soon tire of the assignment, but he continues to serve Sunday after Sunday. “In fact, he came to the choir seats where I had sung with the stake choir at stake conference and asked if I needed help,” Sister Neeley reports. “He is definitely a person who is making a difference.”

I started going to church with some friends in our neighborhood. But then we moved and I stopped going.
In my new school I signed up for seminary. I began reading the scriptures daily. One night it hit me just how much my life needed changing. I had been learning about the gospel, but I hadn’t been living it. I was still hanging out with people who made it difficult to live righteously. I knew I had to get serious about changing my life. The next day I went and talked to Brother Porter, my seminary teacher. He told me when and where my ward met.
The next Sunday I went to church but sat down in the back of the chapel. It took a while to make friends because of my reputation, but I kept going each week because I knew that was where I was supposed to be. For my 15th birthday, my other grandma gave me a gift certificate for a haircut and some new clothes. A few days later I was ordained a teacher.

Some of those involved in the project were able to submit names for family members who had researched names but had not submitted them for temple work. For Amanda Gardner of the Pioneer Ward, researching names helped draw her closer to family members. She helped her grandparents, Allen and Helga Willie, submit names they had been researching for 30 years. Her other grandfather, Sterling Gardner, helped her friend research names. Amanda says, “One of my good friends had no names to submit, so she came to my grandpa and he helped her find about 175 names. At first she was like, ‘Oh, they’re just names on paper.’ But I realized they’re not just names on paper; they’re family members.”

But by the next year the young apostle’s loyalty was tested. He told the Saints in 1857, “Once in my life I felt a want of confidence in brother Joseph Smith. … It was not concerning religious matters … but it was in relation to his financiering.”11 As part of the great national “Panic of 1837,” the Kirtland Anti-banking Society—in which many of the Church members had invested—failed, and Joseph was blamed. Many apostatized, and others wavered for a time; in fact, Joseph was later to lament that among the original Twelve, only Heber C. Kimball and Brigham Young did not ever “lift their heel against me.”12 The reason Brigham Young remained true, he later testified, was that after his momentary doubt, he immediately recognized his mistake:
“A feeling came over me that Joseph was not right in his financial management, though I presume the feeling did not last 60 seconds, and perhaps not 30. It gave me sorrow of heart. … I repented of my unbelief, and that too, very suddenly, I repented about as quickly as I committed the error.”13
As President Young later recorded: “During this siege of darkness, I stood close by Joseph, and with all the wisdom and power God bestowed upon me, put forth my utmost energies to sustain the servant of God and unite the Quorums of the Church.”14 At one time he offered to “cow-hide” a man who came into Kirtland and shouted through the streets in the middle of the night that Joseph had been “cut off” and he was to take the Prophet’s place. Once he learned of a plan to ambush and kill the Prophet who was returning from Michigan in a stagecoach, and he saved Joseph’s life by riding out to get him off the stage, substituting William Smith as a decoy while they escaped. At the height of the crisis, his vigorous defense of the Prophet succeeded in thwarting attempts to depose Joseph as President. In fact, because of this, Elder Young had to flee the city for his life in December even before the Prophet had to leave. Later he commented concerning this time, “When I saw a man stand in the path before the Prophet to dictate him, I felt like hurling him out of the way and branding him as a fool.”15

Illustration by Patricia Geis
Ava squirmed in her seat. She bounced. She wiggled. She heard her Primary teacher talking. But Ava could not pay attention. All she could think about was the box under Sister Obi’s chair.
It was wrapped in shiny blue paper. It had a gold bow on top. What could it be? Ava leaned her head way down. She stared at the box. She wished she could see through the shiny paper. She could hardly wait to find out what was inside.
Finally Sister Obi pulled out the box. She set it on her lap. Ava leaned forward. But Sister Obi didn’t open it.
Sister Obi held out the box. “Inside this box is one of Heavenly Father’s greatest creations. Look inside. Then pass it on without saying anything.” She passed the box to Noah.
Noah slowly lifted the lid. He stared inside the box. He smiled. Then he passed the box to June.
Ava stood on her tiptoes to try to see. But it wasn’t her turn yet. What could be so important to Heavenly Father? And how could something so special fit in such a little box?
She watched everyone take a turn. One by one, each of her friends opened the box. They looked inside. They smiled.
Finally it was Ava’s turn! She lifted the shiny lid and looked inside. It was a mirror! Ava looked at the mirror in the box. She saw her own face looking back.
Ava saw her eyes get big. Was she one of Heavenly Father’s greatest creations? Did Heavenly Father love her that much?
Ava smiled. She felt warm and happy inside. It was like a big hug. A big hug from Heavenly Father. He did love her! She was one of His greatest creations.

Sarah M. Pomeroy tells of a time when she was a young girl and the Prophet came to the home of her family trying to raise money to pay the lawyer fees to defend his friend Porter Rockwell. She states:

Joseph requested my father to lend him $100.00 to pay the lawyer who defended Porter Rockwell. He explained the situation, and father freely counted out the money. 'This shall be returned in three days, if I am alive,' said the Prophet, and departed.

My aunt, father's sister, who was camped with us, was quite wrathy, and called my father very foolish and unwise.

'Don't you know Thomas,' said she, 'you will never see a cent of that money again. Here are your family without a home, and you throw your money away.'

'Don't worry Katie,' father replied, 'if he cannot pay it, he is welcome to it.'

This conversation was held before us children, and I thought seriously about it. Would he pay it, or would he not? But I had strong faith that he would.

The day came when it was to be paid. A cold, wet, rainy day. The day passed. Night came; 9 o'clock, 10 o'clock, and we all retired for the night. Shortly after there was a knock at the door. Father arose and went to it, and there in the driving rain stood the Prophet Joseph.

'Here, Brother Thomas, is the money.' A light was struck, and seated at the table, he counted out the $100.00 in gold.He said, 'Brother Thomas, I have been trying all day to raise this sum, for my honor was at stake. God bless you.'...My testimony is that Joseph Smith was truly a Prophet of God.[15]

Karen
Karen, 18, has been a nanny for nine weeks. She has decided that the job is not what she is looking for and is planning to go to school when she returns home.
“I love kids, and I’ve been baby-sitting since I was 11. After graduated from high school, I couldn’t decide whether to go to college or what to do. I called a nanny agency and asked them to send me an application.
“My sister had a friend who had been a nanny and hated it. I avoided talking about the subject with her. I didn’t want to know about it from someone who hated it. Now I wish I had asked her more about it before I came out.
“I thought I would have to do the shopping, run small errands, take the kids to school, and such. I knew I would have to do the laundry, but I’ve never had to do laundry for six people before. I thought I’d have to make the kids’ beds and straighten their rooms, dust and vacuum, and clean the kitchen. I agreed to all of that. But when I got out here, I had to clean the parents’ bedroom too, change the sheets, and clean up after them. I felt like saying, ‘You’re 40 years old. Pick up after yourself.’
“They told me they had two guinea pigs and said I wouldn’t have to care for them. But I do. Anything else in the house that needs to be done I just do because it bothers me. When I’m cleaning her house, I keep thinking I should be home cleaning my mother’s house instead of working for this woman I don’t even know. Why am I here? A lot of girls are running away from something. I had everything at home. Every time I think about it, I ask myself, why did I come?
“I thought there would be lots of things to do here, but I don’t know the area. It’s hard to find your way around. It’s hard to think of things to do when you don’t know what is available. On my evenings off, I just go to bed, I’m so tired.
“If I were to give advice to a friend who was thinking about being a nanny, I would sit her down and explain that she would have a lot of responsibility for the kids. The family I work for seem to take parenting as a hobby. They are part-time parents. The kids are not well disciplined. They get anything they want. And there is housework to do all the time. I would tell her to go to college or get an apartment, but don’t jump out of the frying pan into the fire. You have to be very stable and ready to take on a lot of responsibility to be a nanny.
“I’m going home and going to college. I didn’t want to go to college, but education is so important. I realize now that I don’t want to clean someone else’s house. I want to be skilled in something.”

Probably most touching to me, though, was an encounter during my recent trip to Iran. Three female university students, clad from head to toe in coal-black chadors, approached rather tentatively and handed me a handwritten note thanking me, in earnest if quirky English, for the Islamic Translation Series. If I had had any doubts that the series could serve as a small but real bridge between sometimes estranged cultures, that settled it. There are probably not two more alienated countries right now than the United States of America and the Islamic Republic of Iran, yet this small academic project managed to rise above differences of religion and politics.

One winter evening when I was five or six years old, my father took me downtown. This was during the Great Depression, when jobs were few and many people were poor. My father and I were looking at store windows as we walked, and soon we found ourselves in front of a sporting goods store. It was full of fun things like fishing lures and pocketknives.
A shabbily dressed boy was standing near us, looking longingly into the window. I didn’t pay much attention to him, but my father went over and spoke with him briefly, then put his hand on his shoulder and led him inside the store. I watched as the boy picked out a pocketknife and my father paid the shopkeeper.
I didn’t get a pocketknife that day, but I did get a lesson. As my father and I walked away from the store, he said, “You have me. He doesn’t have anybody.” Later I realized how generous and how sensitive to the needs of others my father was.

Anna’s heart sank as she walked into the room and saw the Christmas tree. The water heater in their house had burst, and water was all over the floor. Dad was still trying to clean up the mess. The few presents under the tree were completely soaked.
Anna and her little brothers grabbed some towels and tried to dry the presents. But it didn’t really work. They were a soggy mess.
Anna’s family was going through a hard time. Her dad didn’t have a job right now. Her mom was going to have a baby soon, and she felt sick a lot. And now they wouldn’t have any presents for Christmas.
That night as Anna got ready for bed, she could hear Mom and Dad talking in the kitchen.
“What are we going to do?” Mom asked. It sounded like she was crying. “We don’t have enough money for the house payment, and now we don’t even have presents for the kids.” Anna had an empty, twisty feeling in her stomach.
“We’ll figure something out,” Dad said.
Anna walked into the kitchen. Mom reached out and gave her a big hug. With her arms around Mom’s tummy, Anna felt the baby move. She smiled. “We have a new baby coming. You always say that a baby is a miracle.”
Mom smiled back. “That’s right. We have a lot to be grateful for.”
“We have each other,” Dad said. He kissed the top of Anna’s head. “It’ll be OK.”
On the way to her room, Anna heard her brothers crying. She sat down on David’s bed.
“Everyone is so sad,” David said quietly.
“And we won’t have any presents,” Robbie said, sniffling.
“It’ll be OK,” Anna said again. “You’ll see.”
Before she got into bed, Anna knelt and asked Heavenly Father what she could do for her family. She didn’t have any money to buy presents, but she still had a warm, comforting feeling in her heart.
The next morning, she stayed in bed thinking for a few minutes before getting ready for school. Then an idea came to her! That afternoon she hurried home and did her chores and homework. Then she found some paper and string and a few markers and stickers she had gotten for her birthday. She took them all to her room and closed the door.
Anna almost laughed when she thought about how surprised her family would be. First she folded the paper and tied it together with string to make four booklets. She chose a star sticker to put on Mom’s booklet and a planet for Dad’s. She put a dog for David’s booklet and a rocket for Robbie’s.
Then Anna started drawing. For Mom she drew a picture of herself sweeping the floor. She drew a picture of herself cooking dinner with Dad, one of her playing soccer with David, and one of her reading a book to Robbie. It took her several days to fill each booklet with pictures.
Finally it was Christmas Eve, and Anna carefully placed her booklets under the tree.
The next morning, she gave each person in her family a booklet. “I like these pictures,” David said. “I like playing soccer.”
“They’re not just pictures,” Anna said with a sparkle in her eyes. “They’re coupons! The pictures all show things I’ll do for you.”
“This is the nicest gift you could have given us,” Mom said as she looked through her booklet. Anna was thankful that Heavenly Father helped her think of making Christmas coupons. A new baby was coming, and with Heavenly Father’s help, everything really would be OK.

I attended a seminary graduation in Omaha, Nebraska. The speaker, again a young man, described this experience.
“Each morning I awoke to the sweet voice of my mother calling out, ‘John, John, time to get ready for seminary!’ The year rolled on and the mornings grew cold and wet and dark; still the happy voice of Mother would sing out, ‘John, John, time to get up for seminary!’” Then he added, “I learned to hate that sound!”
But then, choking back the tears, he thanked his mother for what she had given him. And I think only later did he realize that she had to be up first every morning.

Melissa decided to try one more time to save her marriage, which seemed distant and disconnected. That’s when her husband, Cameron, told her honestly about his pornography use. At her urging, he agreed to tell the bishop, and eventually they both talked to their parents. But, as he explains, it “took two years to finally see that there was more to repentance than telling a few people and saying a prayer.” He had to learn that not looking at pornography wasn’t enough. To truly be in a state of recovery, he had to turn to God and find healthy ways to deal with the stress, fear, shame, and anxiety that triggered his craving to look at pornography.
After a relapse, Cameron agreed to attend an addiction recovery program and, over time, has come to understand that the Savior does not give up on us as soon as we make a mistake.
Through also attending a 12-step program, Melissa feels that her family finally has the tools to move forward. She remembers how difficult the 12-step meetings were in the beginning, but she was motivated by a facilitator who suggested that Melissa “try us for 90 days. If you don’t like us, we’ll refund your misery.” Melissa eventually realized that just as she felt hope from others’ stories, maybe she could help others feel hope by sharing her experiences.
Melissa used to believe that if she stayed married, she would only pretend to be happy. Her perspective changed when she realized that the Savior saw potential in her, in Cameron, and in all of Father in Heaven’s children. He put all He is—the Light and the Life of the World—into saving us and giving us another chance. Because of the Savior, Melissa says, she can now smile in a genuine, I’m-happy-to-be-alive way.
Melissa and Cameron remain married and work to live in recovery.