Gospel Story Finder

Best friends Daniel Dewey and Lyle W. Rogers had always planned on getting their Eagle Scout Awards together and sharing a Court of Honor, but their plans looked doubtful when, the day after he passed his Board of Review, Daniel was diagnosed with a severe type of adult leukemia.
Daniel had to undergo six weeks of chemotherapy, and his chances of coming home for his Court of Honor looked doubtful. Just about every Church member in Gooding, Idaho, prayed for Daniel, and his name was on the prayer rolls of several temples.
Finally, prayers were answered, and Daniel’s cancer went into remission. Daniel was able to make the two-hour trip from Boise, where he was being treated, to Gooding, and the friends’ Court of Honor was one of the most touching ceremonies most people who attended could remember.
After the ceremony, Daniel had to return to the hospital, but his cancer continues in remission and he has received bone marrow transplants from his little brother. He has been eager to get out and get back to Scouting.

“Grandma, I’m so sorry, but I can’t go to church with you. I forgot to bring a dress and shoes,” I told her in my most regretful voice. Not wanting to go to a ward of strangers, I had purposely left my church clothes home when I visited Grandma. I hadn’t washed my hair nor put on any makeup, and I waited until a half hour before church to give Grandma the news. I was positive Grandma would agree I was not fit for church.
Smiling, Grandma quickly appraised my condition: “Rachelle, this isn’t a problem. We’re close to the same size, and I have the perfect outfit for you.” She opened her closet and pulled out a blue paisley grandma-skirt with a coordinating pink blouse. The sleeves were too long, and the skirt’s hem swished around my ankles. Not only was Grandma taller than me, but she also had long, narrow feet. After attempts with different shoes, she helped me stuff tissues in the toes of some colorful beaded loafers.
“You look beautiful,” Grandma beamed. I pasted on a smile, but I was aware I couldn’t look anything but ridiculous in an old-lady dress with flat, greasy hair. Grandma was optimistic, and with her sweet prodding, we headed out the door for church.
“Bishop,” Grandma said as we entered the foyer, “I’d like you to meet my granddaughter Rachelle. She’s come to visit me for a few days.” I shook hand after hand as Grandma proudly introduced me to practically everyone in her ward.
It was a relief when sacrament meeting began and we were seated quietly on the bench. I was so embarrassed I couldn’t concentrate on any of the announcements or songs. I kept my head down, hoping none of the young men had seen me. I was seriously wishing I were in my own dress, wearing makeup, with stylish hair.
The priests began to reverently bless the sacrament. It wasn’t until the priests began to bless the water that I finally started to listen and realized what I had done. I had been so worried about attending an unfamiliar ward that I had given no thought to remembering God, His Son Jesus Christ, and what They have done for us. I realized that I had even planned to break His commandment by not coming to church. I had also lied to my grandmother about forgetting my clothes. I felt ashamed.
As I thought of our Savior and His love for us, my heart lifted. I had planned to not come to church, but here I sat. This made me smile. I was grateful for Grandma, for the borrowed dress, and that Grandma loved me enough to bring me to church. She had helped me put God first and keep His commandments.
I never “forgot” my church clothes again.

I would like to share an incident which took place during the Vietnam War. There were some who were convinced that the United States was engaged in a noble and justifiable war. However, public opinion was changing, and there was opposition which argued that the United States should pull out of Vietnam.
President Harold B. Lee was the President of the Church at the time. While at an area conference in another country, he was interviewed by reporters from the international news services. One reporter asked President Lee, “What is your church’s position on the Vietnam War?” Some recognized the question as a trap—one which could not be answered without a very real risk of being misunderstood or misinterpreted. If the prophet answered, “We are against the war,” the international media could state, “How strange—a religious leader who is against the position of the country he is obliged to sustain in his own church’s Articles of Faith.”
On the other hand, if President Lee answered, “We are in favor of the war,” the media could say, “How strange—a religious leader in favor of war.” Either way, the answer could result in serious misunderstandings both inside and outside the Church.
President Lee, with great inspiration and wisdom, answered as would a man who knows the Savior: “We, together with the whole Christian world, abhor war. But the Savior said, ‘In me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation’” (John 16:33). President Lee then explained, “The Savior was not talking about the peace that can be achieved between nations, by military force or by negotiation in the halls of parliaments. Rather, he was speaking of the peace we can each have in our own lives when we live the commandments and come unto Christ with broken hearts and contrite spirits” (see Ensign, November 1982, page 70).

Another way to be happy is to learn self-control. When I was younger, I loved to play basketball. But I did not have good sportsmanship. Winning was everything to me. Whenever someone fouled me, I would get angry.
Then I learned that basketball is only a game. I decided to change. One day, someone elbowed me in the chest on purpose. He pushed me hard. In the past, I would have gotten angry, but this time I walked away without saying anything. I had the best feeling. I knew that I had learned to control myself. It felt better than winning!

After I returned from my mission, I stayed with my family for three weeks before I had to leave to enter Brigham Young University. Before school started, my father visited me, meeting my friends and seeing Salt Lake City. When I took him to the airport, he embraced me and told me, “Out of all 46 years of my life, never ever have I felt more love or the Spirit of God in my home than when you were home the last few weeks. I know that we owe it to the service that you gave in Spain for two years.”

“He started it!” Robbie wailed.
“I did not,” Robbie’s big brother, Will, protested. “He took my stuff without asking. I was just getting it back.”
“I don’t care who started it,” Mom said. “What I care about is who stops it. And I wish it didn’t always have to be me. You are both confined to your rooms until you can work this out peacefully. And here”—she handed each of them a piece of paper—“maybe you should write down some things you can do to avoid fights in the future.”
Glumly the boys walked down the hallway to their bedrooms. Just before Will went into his room, he waved his paper at Robbie and sneered, “I’m going to write down all the reasons I can’t stand you!”
“Oh, yeah? Well, my list will be twice as long as yours.” Robbie’s response was cut off by Will’s slamming the door.
Robbie shut his own door and plopped down on his bed. What a jerk! He thought. Just because he’s bigger than I am, he thinks he can push me around. Robbie found a pencil and wrote on his paper: Reasons I can’t stand Will. Then he skipped a few lines and wrote, “1. He’s bigger than me.”
Robbie tapped his pencil on his chin and tried hard to think of another reason. He looked around his bedroom. His eyes caught sight of the model airplane that hung from his overhead light. Will had hung that model for him because Robbie wasn’t big enough to reach the light, even if he stood on a chair. Sometimes Robbie was glad that Will was bigger. It wasn’t a bad thing.
Robbie needed to write down something else. He noticed the baseball mitt hanging on the footboard of his bed. It was Will’s old mitt. Robbie hardly ever got anything new. He usually got Will’s hand-me-down stuff, including his clothes and sports equipment. Robbie wrote, “2. I always get his old stuff.”
Of course, that wasn’t always a bad thing, either. Will usually took good care of his things, and he bought a lot of them with his own money. As a result, Robbie ended up with some pretty good stuff that he didn’t have to pay for. And Will always taught him how to use the equipment, so he got free lessons, too.
Robbie knew that he was going to have to think harder to come up with a reason why he hated Will. He noticed a candy wrapper on the floor. That gave him an idea. “3. He eats a lot of food.”
That was true. Will ate at least two bowls of cereal at breakfast, and he always seemed to have a snack in his pocket. Mom said that he was an active, growing boy, and she always made sure there was a lot of good food in the house. Of course, that wasn’t a bad thing. That meant more food for Robbie to eat, too. And Will often had some little treat in his pocket to share with Robbie.
Robbie frowned. He was never going to get his list done. Will must have dozens of things written by now.
Just then there was a knock on Robbie’s door. Through the door Will quietly said, “Are you ready to see my list, short stuff?”
Robbie sighed. I might as well get this over with, he thought. Then he got up and opened his door to let Will in. Will didn’t seem angry anymore. He almost seemed happy. He’s happy his list is so long, Robbie thought. Will walked in and sat down at the desk, his list folded carefully in his hand.
“You go first,” Will said.
Robbie sat down on the bed and picked up his list. “I could only think of three reasons,” he admitted. “And they aren’t really reasons why I can’t stand you—they’re reasons why I like you.” Robbie crumpled up the paper. “Guess it’s your turn now. How many reasons did you come up with—a million?”
Will unfolded his paper and showed it to Robbie. It was blank.
“I couldn’t think of even one reason why I can’t stand you,” Will said.
Robbie’s eyes got wide.
“Really?”
“Yeah, really. You’re all right, for a little brother.” Will pulled a package of pretzels from his pocket and offered some to Robbie. “So now I guess we’d better do what Mom asked and figure out how we can stop fighting so much.”
“I think we just figured it out.” Robbie popped a pretzel into his mouth. “We just have to remember how much we like each other.”
Will nodded. “I guess you’re right. OK, we’re done here. Let’s go play some ball.”
Robbie grabbed the old mitt off the bed and followed his big brother down the stairs.

My sister and I felt an emptiness because we had no idea who our Laurunen forebears were. All we knew is that they had come from Finland to America in 1901. So in August 2004, my sister Janice and cousin Sandy joined my husband, Charlie, and me on a trip to discover our ancestors.

In the process of researching for our trip, Sandy discovered a two-page report on the Laurunen Homestead, built in 1605. The earliest mention of our family was in 1569 in the town of Kauhajoki.

Once in Finland, we rented a car and left early the next morning for the long drive to Kauhajoki. We had a hard time finding it and were about to give up when Charlie caught sight of a small airport. We drove there to ask for help. Sandy showed a young man our report, and he kindly offered to take us to the town library. I am sure we would never have found Kauhajoki by ourselves since it is well hidden down a forested highway. It seemed the Lord was leading us in our journey.

At the library a young woman gave us a map, circling the Lutheran church and cemetery. We found the church easily. After two hours of research, with the help of the pastor and several clerks, one of them called our Laurunen relatives and told them they had visitors from America. They came immediately with family genealogies dating back to the year 1550.

With the church bookkeeper as our interpreter, we walked through the beautifully manicured cemetery. Sandy stood at her grandfather’s grave for the first time. Later, she saw a picture of him and held his violin. We were all deeply touched as the void we had felt before was being filled.

Then our Finnish cousins drove us to the family homestead, which was pictured on our two-page report. They told us that our family had owned as much land as the eye could see. The house on the family homestead was enormous and had housed Laurunen families as far back as 1550. When the Russian military came into Kauhajoki, they used the homestead for military headquarters. They burned down the church and all other homes in the area. Everyone, including our family, fled to the woods for safety. After the Russians left, our grandfather led the building of the new church that we had seen earlier. Eventually the land around the homestead was divided and sold.

In 2005 Janice, Sandy, and I returned to Kauhajoki for another visit with our newly found cousins and more research. In 2006 we had our first Laurunen family reunion in America, and 15 of our Finnish cousins joined us. Eighty-nine family members celebrated the lives of our grandparents.

What a joy it has been to discover such a rich, fascinating family history and know more about who I am and where I came from. Family history is the work of the Lord.

“Why does André have to stay in my room?” Chad complained.
“Because he’s closest in age to you,” Mom said.
Chad’s family was hosting a French foreign exchange student. André was fourteen, two years older than Chad.
“He does weird things,” Chad said. One morning André had asked if he could have coffee with breakfast. He said everyone in France drank coffee, even the children.
“Maybe he thinks the things we do are weird as well,” Mom pointed out.
Chad thought about that.
When Chad’s alarm rang early Sunday morning, he jumped out of bed. Chad had just turned 12, and this was the day he would receive the Aaronic Priesthood.
André rubbed his eyes. “It is Sunday. No school.”
Chad nodded. “True. But I’m going to church. You can come if you want.”
André sat up and yawned. “Thank you. I would like that,” he said.
At church, André watched as Chad was ordained a deacon by his father, the bishop, and another man in the ward.
“What is this Aaronic Priesthood?” André asked on the way home.
“The priesthood is authority God gives so we can do things for Him here on earth,” Dad explained.
André turned to Chad. “What kinds of things can you do? You are only a boy.”
“Next week I can pass the sacrament.”
“That is where you eat the bread and drink the water?” André asked.
Chad nodded.
During the next week, André asked more questions about the Church. Chad did his best to answer them.
When Chad and his father planned a shopping trip to buy Chad a suit and white shirt for Sunday, André asked to come along.
“Sure,” Chad said.
At the store, Chad looked at suits with his father and André. “I like this one,” Chad said, pointing to a dark navy suit.
Dad nodded. “It looks nice. Let’s find a white shirt to go with it.”
“Why do you get so dressed up?” asked André.
“I want to look my best when I pass the sacrament to show respect,” Chad said. “The bread and water remind us of Jesus Christ and of the promises we make when we are baptized.”
André looked thoughtful.
“André sure asks a lot of questions,” Chad said to his father later that evening.
“He’s adjusting to American culture,” Dad said. “Not to mention learning to live with an LDS family.”
As the weeks passed, Chad spent more time helping André learn about the Church.
When it was time for André to go home, Chad had a hard time saying good-bye.
“I’ll email you,” Chad promised.
Several months later, Chad’s family received an email from André saying he had been baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He included pictures of himself dressed in white and standing between two missionaries.
“That’s the best news ever!” Chad said.

Let me give you some examples. I suppose we have all had someone do something to us that we didn’t like, and that made us angry. We can’t forget it, and we don’t want to be around that person. This is called being unforgiving. Now, the Lord has had some very strong words to say to those who will not forgive one another. Many years ago I had an experience with being unforgiving. I felt I had been taken advantage of, and I did not like that person. I did not want to be around him; I would pass on the other side of the street if he came down it; I wouldn’t talk to him. Long after the issue should have been finished it was still like a canker to my soul. I decided that I was going to pray for a better feeling about this person until I had one. That night I got on my knees, and I prayed and opened up my heart to the Lord. But when I got up off my knees, I still didn’t like that person. The next morning I knelt and prayed and asked to have a feeling of goodness toward him; but when I finished my prayers, I still didn’t like him. The next night I still didn’t like him; a week later I didn’t like him; and a month later I didn’t like him—and I had been praying every night and every morning. But I continued to pray, and I finally started pleading—not just praying, but pleading. After much prayer, the time came when without question or reservation I knew I could stand before the Lord, if I were asked to, and that he would know that at least in this instance my heart was pure. A change had come over me after a period of time. The stone of unforgiveness had been removed.

Christ is our best example of service. He served others throughout His life. When I serve others, it makes me feel good. The other day we were going to give a rocking horse to a boy in our ward, but it had to be put together. I was excited to do this because I could picture the joy on the boy’s face when he got on the horse. When the horse was assembled, I helped Mom put it in the car to take to the boy’s house. Sometimes I complain about doing things like this, but when they are over I’m glad that I did them, and I’m happy.

“Our first location there was in a log stable belonging to a widow White. Some blocks east of what was known as the Temple block. This hovel was made of a small class of crooked poles, between which I often crept instead of raising the quilt hung over the doorway. This part … at that time was thickly covered with blackberry bushes mixed with oak and hazel brush. Our family were all sick with chills and fever (familiarly known as the shakes) except my mother.
“From this Mormon home … Brother George A. [Smith] started as an Apostle on his mission to England, he having to be lifted into the wagon, as he was too weak to walk. This was in September, 1839. Before leaving he placed in my hand his last quarter of a dollar with a request to get mother some tea. The next day the Prophet Joseph and his brother Hyrum visited us and administered to us all, father being delirious from the effects of the fever. Their words comforted us greatly, as they said in the name of the Lord you all shall be well again. Upon leaving the hovel Joseph placed his slippers upon my mother’s feet and sprang upon his horse from the doorway and rode home barefoot. The next day Joseph removed father to his own house and nursed him until he recovered.”3
“A few days after her [Oliver’s mother’s] death, which was the third in Nauvoo [then called Commerce], Brother Joseph seeing that we still grew worse, told William that we would all die if we stayed there, and that he must take the team and bring us down to his own house. So he took us all into his own family, but me, he sent to Hiram Clarks, about twenty rods distant, yes forty rods. Here I spent an awful summer, the most dreadful I ever experienced, or ever expect to, in that way. My ague was attended with the Cortivical Rheumatics the most painful of all afflictions wherewith I was ever afflicted. Every other day I had the ague, and the days between, the rheumatics raged. Thus I passed days and almost weeks. …”4

One time my wife Donnette and I were trying to deal with a challenge in our family. It seemed overwhelming and we did not know what to do. We decided to follow some counsel we had received. We found a time when we were not in a hurry. We found a place that was quiet. We knelt and both of us shared a prayer. We then picked a chapter of the Book of Mormon and took turns reading out loud. We did not hurry. As we read, we would stop whenever we felt promptings and wrote them down. My list was very long. So was my wife’s. For the most part the thoughts did not directly relate to the words we were reading. But they did come from the Spirit as we were prepared to receive them. We then shared our impressions with each other. We both felt at peace. We knew our promptings came from God, we knew what to do, and we went forward with faith.

You can also be an influence for good so that the gospel message will shine through your countenance. I recently heard of a young woman who invited a group of her friends to bring their dates to her home after a dance. One couple stopped on the way to pick up a videotape to watch. As they played it, the group realized it was an R-rated movie. This young woman became disturbed and excused herself to talk to her parents. They reminded her that R-rated movies are not shown in their home and suggested that someone should turn it off. The young woman said she would do it, and she did. Everyone seemed relieved. This is a simple incident, but it illustrates a point. A young woman who wanted to be good acted on her desires, and a whole group of youth were spared a little bit of evil. Repeated many times over, until they become a pattern, such actions can be an influence that will spread through the Church and through society.

Sam was tired of sitting. He tugged on his mom’s sleeve. “How long is stake conference?” he whispered.
His mom leaned toward him. “Two hours, Sam. Look at the clock. When both hands are on the 12, it will be done. Now, let’s listen to the speakers.”
Sam fidgeted. He crossed his left leg over his right. He crossed his right leg over his left. He pulled out the hymnbook and flipped a few pages. He was in first grade, and he could read many of the words.
He put the hymnbook back. This meeting was going to last forever.
Now that he was old enough to read and write, Mom and Dad said he didn’t need treats or toys in church meetings. Before the meeting started, they gave him a notebook and a pen. They said he could draw pictures, as long as he would sit still and try to listen.
Sam tried to listen. He really did. But the speakers were grown-ups, and they mostly talked about grown-up things. It was hard to pay attention to what they said. Sam opened his notebook and began to draw. After a while, he asked Mom again when the meeting would be over. She said there was still a whole hour left! He had already drawn a robot, a space monster, a dinosaur, and his family. He was tired of drawing.
Sam sighed loudly. Mom put her finger on her lips and frowned. He kicked the bench in front of him. Dad put his hand on Sam’s shoulder and frowned. Sam crossed his left leg over his right leg. He crossed his right leg over his left leg.
Just then, he heard the speaker say “Jesus Christ.” Sam knew how to spell that. He opened his notebook and wrote Jesus Christ.
“I wonder if the speaker will say that again,” Sam thought. He listened. Sure enough, the speaker did, and Sam wrote it down. He wondered how many times the speaker would say “Jesus Christ.” He decided to count. The speaker said His name six more times. Sam wrote down each one.
When the next speaker stood up, Sam listened for “Jesus” again. But this speaker talked more about the Holy Ghost. Sam tried to spell Holy Ghost, but it was a little tricky. He thought maybe he hadn’t gotten it quite right, but it was fun to try. He listened to see if the speaker would say any other special words.
When the speaker sat down, Sam looked at his notebook. He had written Jesus Christ, Holy Ghost, Heavenly Father, and comfort. He had also written pray, listen, and obey. He had a whole page of special words.
Looking at the page made Sam feel good inside. He didn’t need toys or treats after all. All he needed were his notebook and pen—and his ears to listen for special words.

Walter and Ernestine Walser were called to Peru. Former Bishop Walser was soon called as a branch president in the remote interior mountains. With his limited Missionary Training Center Spanish, Elder Walser had to choose counselors, hold meetings, teach, train, reactivate, ordain, and so on. In fasting and prayer he received impressions from the Spirit and went about his work. Elder Walser wrote, “I learned that even with limited language, whenever it was needed, enough Spanish was given me to communicate, and I knew it was from the Lord.”

Like many adventures, there were hardships and sacrifices, but the Walsers said that the genuine love and affection of those wonderful Peruvian people and the feeling of being needed more than compensated. They are grateful for their spiritual adventure in serving the Lord.

In a Sunday School class once, we discussed Moses’ reported failure to acknowledge the hand of the Lord in providing water for the children of Israel. Our teacher, a former stake president, tried to explain to the class that we sometimes put our leaders in a “difficult” position when we give them undue praise for their performance. Many class members were puzzled: how could that be a problem? But I knew. So I shared with them a recent humbling experience.
I had been asked to speak at our stake Laurel standards night. As I began thinking and praying about this assignment, I felt inspiration come to me several times through the day, and in the still of the night, I began putting it all together. When I thought the talk was complete—all I needed for the time allotted me—I suddenly seemed to recall a great flood of information from talks and articles on the subject. Speaking quietly to the Lord, I said, “Heavenly Father, I believe you are giving me too much material, I have only thirty minutes to talk.”
Then came the clear instruction to my mind, “Write it all down, then read it aloud and time yourself.”
“That’s a good idea,” I thought. I did it, and to my great surprise, the talk came to thirty minutes. I had such a good feeling that I could have leaped around the room—I was prepared!
But the day before the Laurel standards night, I felt that I should prepare myself spiritually to give the message, and that evening, I began to fast. The next afternoon, I went to my room and began going over the talk. To my surprise, I just couldn’t put it together mentally. “What should I do?” I said in panic to the Lord. “I’m afraid I’ll be reading most of this, and if I do, everyone’s attention will be on me instead of the message you want me to give them.”
Then, very strongly, the thought came into my mind, “Leave it home.”
I resisted this. “I just can’t do that. You know what a terrible memory I have.”
Again came the thought, “Leave it home.”
Frightened, I pleaded, “Remember when I was a Primary president and stood up to give a talk and no words came? That was a terrible experience. Don’t let me go through that again.”
But again, I felt impressed by the Spirit to “leave it home,” so I relented saying, “If I do this, I will have to rely completely on thy help.” And again came the calm assurance of the Spirit that I should leave my talk at home.
That evening as I went out the door, I carried only a handkerchief. And as I glanced up at my bedroom window, I felt literally faint. Once in the chapel, waiting for the meeting to begin, I again tried putting the talk together. I just didn’t have it. I began to panic and then to pray, and immediately felt the comforting assurance that the Lord was there.
When the time came, I walked to the podium with complete assurance and gave all thirty minutes of that talk. I could hardly believe it. This was a marvelous spiritual experience.
When the meeting was over, several people came up to me and paid me glowing compliments. I literally couldn’t force myself to say thank you, and after I stammered through an awkward acknowledgement a few times, I looked around for an exit. I wanted to go home. I could not take credit for what had happened.
Looking back on the experience, the thought has come to me that perhaps the kindest thing any of us can say to someone whose words have impressed us is, “Thanks for that inspired message” or “I felt the Spirit of the Lord in your address tonight”—otherwise we lead them into temptation.

Jamie was looking forward to the garage sale. She helped her mother sweep the driveway and set up the long folding tables. Then she printed a large GARAGE SALE sign to display at the end of their street.
“Do you think we’ll have lots of people?” Jamie asked.
“I hope so,” Mother answered. “The newspaper ad should help.”
A broken toaster, some mismatched dishes, and outgrown clothing lined the tables. Jamie was fascinated by the people who came to browse through the collection of old items.
“Why would anyone pay fifty cents for an old blue bottle?” Jamie asked after an elderly lady had left with her purchase.
“Why, she’ll put some pretty silk flowers in it and think it’s the world’s greatest treasure!” Jamie’s mother explained. “People like to have unusual things without having to pay a lot for them.”
“Do you think someone will want to buy my old high chair and crib?” Jamie asked.
“Yes, I’m sure someone will,” replied Mother. “They’re almost like new.”
“I don’t like to think of my things being in someone else’s house,” Jamie said with a frown.
“Well, we certainly can’t use them anymore!” Her mother laughed. “You’re a big girl now. I’ll bet if you looked through your room, you’d find some things to get rid of too.”
Jamie went to her room to look for something she could sell. Her bookshelf was lined with books about giants and kings and clowns. This one used to be my favorite, she thought as she looked through the pages of How to Tell Time. I can’t sell it! she decided.
Inside her desk she found a set of plastic letters and numbers that she’d used in first grade. One of the Cs was missing, and the 8 was bent. I might need these to play school the next time Andrea comes over, Jamie thought. Finally, after thinking about everything in her room, Jamie decided to sell her blocks. They had been stored in the farthest corner of her closet for a very long time.
Back outside, Jamie told her mother, “I’m going to sell my blocks for two dollars.”
“Two dollars is rather high,” Jamie’s mother said as Jamie placed the box of blocks on the table. “You may want to lower the price.”
None of the adults were interested in the two-dollar box of blocks. Jamie began to think she’d keep them after all. Then an old blue car pulled up in front of the house. A young woman, followed by three small children, walked up the driveway.
“Your ad said you had a high chair and crib for sale,” the woman said.
“Yes, we do,” replied Jamie’s mother. “They’re right over here on the lawn. As you can see, they’re in very good condition.”
“They are nice,” the woman said. “The ones we have at home are worn-out.”
“Yes, I can imagine,” Jamie’s mother said, smiling at the three active children.
Jamie noticed that the dress the little girl was wearing was much too small for her. One of the little boy’s shoes had a hole in the toe, and his shirt was too big. The baby wasn’t wearing shoes, and Jamie thought his feet must be cold.
“My name’s Anne,” the little girl told Jamie. “I’m going to be in first grade this year!”
“Oh, that’s nice,” Jamie said. “How old are your brothers?”
“Marty’s four, and Alex is almost two,” Anne told her. “We’re going to have a new baby pretty soon!”
Marty spied the box of colorful blocks sitting at the edge of the table. “They’re pretty!” he said. He picked up a purple block and turned it around and around, looking at all its sides. “Bet I could build a real high tower with all of these!” he boasted.
“How much are the blocks?” Anne asked.
“Two dollars,” Jamie said. “They’re really good blocks. I haven’t used them very much.”
“Oh.” Anne sighed. “We won’t be able to buy them, Marty.”
“I have some money!” Marty declared. “Eighteen cents from my piggy bank!”
“I know,” Anne whispered to him, “and I have thirty-five cents. But even together it won’t be enough.”
“Maybe we can ask Mother for the rest,” Marty suggested.
“No,” Anne said. “She only has enough for the baby furniture.”
Jamie watched Marty’s freckled face sag into a sad frown. She watched his little fingers place the purple block back into the box. Then she thought about how useless the blocks had been sitting in her closet.
“Two dollars is probably too much for them,” Jamie admitted. “They do have some scratches. I think eighteen cents is a fair price!”
“You do?” Marty grinned. “That’s great!”
Marty counted out his dime and eight pennies. Jamie put the coins into the money box.
“Thank you,” Marty said, clutching his new treasure.
“I have some other things I don’t need anymore,” Jamie said. “If you’ll wait a minute, I’ll bring them out!”
“I don’t think we have enough money to buy any more,” Anne said.
“Wait until you see if there’s anything you like before you decide,” Jamie said as she hurried inside.
Jamie got How to Tell Time from the shelf. One of the clock hands on the cover was slightly bent, but that wouldn’t matter. It could still help a six-year-old learn to tell time. She gathered all the letters and numbers from her desk, put them into a shoe box, and then hurried outside.
“I’m too old for these things now,” Jamie said with a smile as Anne looked at the toys. “And they’re only thirty-five cents.”
“But aren’t these worth more than that?” Anne asked.
“No, thirty-five cents is just right,” Jamie replied. “You’ll have a lot of fun playing school with them.”
“I can’t wait to tell time!” Anne cried. “Thank you!”
As the old blue car pulled away from the curb, Jamie could see three excited faces looking back at her. Jamie waved. The coins she clutched in her other hand were forgotten. Inside, Jamie had a zillion dollars’ worth of happiness.

The notebook describes projects, such as making homemade bread and delivering it to nonmembers living near the meetinghouse along with a card that read, “Merry Christmas from your neighbor, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” The bread was delivered by caroling seminary students. “The surprise and joy of most of the people was great,” Sabina said. “We invited the people to our meetings, too. We contacted 37 families in this way.” Many of the families responded by sending gifts of chocolate, nuts, oranges, and cookies, along with thank-you notes, to the seminary group. “This helps pave the way for the missionaries,” Sabina said.

Not too long ago, I was working on our farm with my nephew Nash. He is six and has a pure heart. He is my favorite nephew named Nash, and I believe I am his favorite uncle speaking in conference today.

As he helped me come up with a solution for our project, I said, “Nash, that is a great idea. How did you get so smart?” He looked at me with an expression in his eyes that said, “Uncle Ryan, how do you not know the answer to this question?”

He simply shrugged his shoulders, smiled, and confidently said, “Jesus.”

Nash reminded me that day of this simple and yet profound teaching. The answer to the simplest questions and to the most complex problems is always the same. The answer is Jesus Christ. Every solution is found in Him.

Before he was called as a General Authority, Marion G. Romney was a state legislator and a prominent member of the Democratic Party in Utah. As the 1936 election neared, it was viewed by both parties as a referendum on the record of the administration of President Franklin D. Roosevelt. Roosevelt's opponents pressed him to declare himself willing to abide by the decisions of the Supreme Court. When he would not do that, the Deseret News published an unattributed front-page editorial the Saturday before the election (without mentioning Roosevelt by name) saying that the record of one of the candidates could be construed to indicate he would press for unconstitutional legislation. The editorial urged Church members to vote to protect the Constitution.

President Romney's biographer records that, when the editorial appeared, Romney was stunned. As a Democratic politician working on the re-election committee of the democratic governor of Utah, he felt that his political life had collapsed around him. It was only an editorial, and some would argue it was a legal matter and not an ecclesiastical one, but it was on the front page of the newspaper considered the voice of the Church.

He began to fast. He went to his law office, locked the door, and when he left after three hours of anguished prayer, he had received an assurance that the editorial was inspired and had been written by the Church President. He believed he had no choice but to resign from the governor's committee, which he did, and then spent his efforts from that time until the election trying to dissuade his friends from voting for Franklin Roosevelt. The election was a landslide. Democratic party candidates were swept into power at all levels of government. President Romney soon realized he'd made a costly political decision, but he believed he had done the right thing and that was enough for him.