Gospel Story Finder

Graduation day was approaching. There were finals to prepare for, college applications to finish, and homework assignments to complete. Life was crazy! Then there was the church stuff: read my scriptures, pray, go to seminary, and serve in the priests quorum. I felt like the weight of the world was on my shoulders. Lastly, many of my friends relied on me for support. They were having problems and needed someone to talk to. I couldn’t keep up with everything, and unfortunately, the first thing to go was scripture reading.
One day I felt especially overwhelmed. Everything happening in my life just seemed to take over. I felt like I had no control. I went to my bedroom to escape. I sat on my bed and tried to forget about everything for a few minutes.
While I was sitting there, I had the impression to pray. I got on my knees, bowed my head, and prayed to Heavenly Father. I explained that I needed help, that I could not do everything by myself.
After closing my prayer, I looked across my bedroom. I could see the corner of my scripture case underneath a pile of schoolbooks. I felt ashamed that I had neglected the scriptures so much. As I looked at them, I felt the peace of the Spirit. I knew I could find an answer in the scriptures.
As I thumbed through my scriptures, I read Helaman 12:1, which states, “And thus we can behold how false, and also the unsteadiness of the hearts of the children of men; yea, we can see that the Lord in his great infinite goodness doth bless and prosper those who put their trust in him.”
This verse spoke to me strongly. I had been trying to do everything myself. If I would really put my trust in the Lord, He would bless and prosper me. I needed to prioritize my life and make sure that I made time for the important things, like reading my scriptures.
I have remembered this verse throughout my life. It has helped me to remember the Lord and that He is mindful of us and will help us if we put our trust in Him.

“Yippee!” Andrew yelled when he saw the batch of cookie dough that his mother was putting into the refrigerator. “That means that tomorrow is ‘Cookie Sunday!’”
“Yes,” replied his mother. “Do you remember what you must do to earn these cookies?”
“I remember. I just need to tell you one thing that I learned in sacrament meeting. That’s easy.”
“You’re right, Andrew. It’s too easy for a big boy like you. This time I want you to tell me three things that you learned.”
“Three!” Andrew took a closer look at the cookie dough. “Is it chocolate chip?”
His mother nodded. “You know, Andrew, listening longer will help you be reverent longer too.”
When the bishop stood up at church after the sacrament had been passed the next day, Andrew forgot to listen. He was busy looking at his favorite book about Jesus. He especially liked the picture of Jesus with the children. He liked to imagine that he was one of those children and that Jesus was smiling at him.
Mother tapped Andrew on the arm as the first speaker stood up. It was Samuel Jenkins, a friend of Andrew’s big brother. Andrew liked Samuel because he sometimes let Andrew play with his basketball. He gave Samuel a big smile, and Samuel smiled back! Then he started his talk. Andrew listened hard. Samuel said that he was saving his money to go on a mission. I’m saving my money, too, Andrew thought. He had a bank that had a place for his tithing, his missionary savings, and his spending money. He was saving his spending money to buy a red fire engine just like the one Toby had. Where is Toby today? he wondered. Andrew saw Toby’s dad and baby brother sitting in front of them, but Toby wasn’t there. Toby was his best friend, and he had taught Andrew how to tie his shoes. Andrew was leaning down to see if his shoes needed tying, when his mother tapped him on the back. Oh—oh, thought Andrew, I’m not listening any more.
Andrew looked up just in time to see Samuel sit down and another man take his place. The man’s name was Jethro Williams. He and his family had just moved into the ward. Andrew thought that Brother Williams had kind eyes. Brother Williams was introducing his family, so Andrew turned around to locate them. He didn’t see any boys his age in the family, but there was a little girl with pigtails. Andrew also looked around for Toby, but he didn’t see him. He did see his friend Jacob, though, and gave him a little wave. Andrew felt his mother’s hand on his shoulder, so he quietly turned around and saw Brother Williams opening his scriptures.
One day I’ll have my own scriptures too, Andrew daydreamed. My scriptures will be black like Dad’s, with gold pages that whisper when you turn them. He leaned over and saw that a lot of words in Dad’s scriptures had red-pencil lines under them. That meant that the words were extra special.
Brother Williams was reading something about the Lamanites, so Andrew opened his Book of Mormon Storybook and turned to his favorite story about Samuel the Lamanite. He was still busy looking at the pictures when he heard the organ start to play. Is the meeting over already? Andrew wondered. No, it’s just a rest hymn, he decided as the congregation sang “The Spirit of God.” Andrew sang especially loud on the chorus. In Primary the chorister had said that when the children sang the chorus, they sounded like angels.
After the song, Sister Williams stood up. She had a soft voice that reminded Andrew of his Primary teacher. His Primary teacher often said, “Bless your heart.” Andrew listened hard to hear if Sister Williams would say that, too, but she didn’t. Instead she said another word a lot. She said, “thankful.” Andrew listened, and he counted on his fingers that she said it five times! She really is thankful. Andrew thought.
Then Sister Williams began to cry a little. Andrew used to feel funny when grown-ups cried in church, but his mother told him that people sometimes cry when they feel very happy inside because of their blessings. Andrew decided to count his own blessings. He thought of his new bike that he was learning to ride and of his pet gerbil, Blacky. Then he thought of Amanda, his baby sister, who was asleep on Dad’s lap. Andrew was reaching over to pat Amanda’s curly head when the organ began to play again. The meeting was almost over! This time it was a hymn that Andrew didn’t know, but he helped hold the book for his mother and hummed softly.
After dinner that afternoon, Andrew’s mother got out the bowl of cookie dough. “Well, Andrew,” she said, “Tell me what you learned today.”
Andrew thought hard. “Samuel Jenkins talked about saving for his mission. He told me that when he goes on his mission, he’ll give me his basketball! Isn’t that great?” Mother nodded. “Yes, that’s great. And I’m glad that you were listening when he talked about being a missionary. What else did you learn?”
“I learned that we have a new girl named Sarah Williams in our Primary class. Her father had her stand up in sacrament meeting. In Primary I found out that she likes chocolate chip cookies, just like me!”
Mother smiled. “OK, Andrew. That counts. Shall we take her some cookies to share with her family today?”
“OK, Mom.” Andrew’s eyes lit up. “And could we take some to Toby too? He wasn’t at church today because he’s sick.”
“That’s a good idea,” said Mother. “But first you need to tell me one more thing that you learned today.”
Andrew spoke slowly, “Well, Sister Williams was thankful for five things, and in church I could only think of three things that I was thankful for. But now I’ve thought of two more.”
“What are they?”
“I’m thankful for all my friends and for chocolate chip cookies to share with them!”

When my mom was expecting my sister Chantel, the whole family tried to guess if the baby would be a boy or a girl. I was sure it would be a boy, since we already had seven girls. We had only three boys, and all of them were older than I was. I hoped I was right, because it would have been nice to have a brother who wasn’t big enough to tease me. But when Chantel came to our family, I was grateful for this special new girl who is my sister.
Chantel has Down’s syndrome, which makes it hard for her to learn quickly. We have discovered, however, that Chantel is a peacemaker. When everyone else is fighting or yelling at each other, Chantel always helps us remember that we should be helping, not hurting, each other.

Usually Jennifer loved library time at school, but today she was confused about something the librarian said. Mrs. Miller said that books like biographies and science books are nonfiction, while adventure stories and fairy tales are fiction. Jennifer had never thought about the difference between fiction and nonfiction.
“But shouldn’t writing something that isn’t true be illegal?” Jennifer’s classmate Adam asked.
Mrs. Miller smiled. “No, Adam. We have lots of books that aren’t true that we all love—like all your favorite novels and storybooks.”
After school, Jennifer was still puzzled. She knew that a lot of the stories and fairy tales she loved were make-believe, but it was still fun to pretend they were real. As Jennifer thought about fiction and nonfiction books, she wondered where the Book of Mormon would be shelved. Was it really true, or was it just a nice story that was fun to believe was true?
Jennifer thought a lot about the Book of Mormon over the next several days. She spent a lot of time reading it too. If people could invent enough stories to fill up the large fiction section of the library, was it also possible that someone could have made up the Book of Mormon? Jennifer wasn’t sure how she ever would know the truth.
When Sunday came, Jennifer was still worried about whether or not the Book of Mormon was a true book. She was worried that she was even asking the question. Everyone else at church seemed to know the Book of Mormon was true. How could they feel so certain when she felt so unsure?
During the sacrament, Jennifer said a silent prayer. It felt good to pray. Jennifer felt warm inside. She felt like Heavenly Father was telling her it was OK that she wanted to know about what was true.
As Jennifer took the sacrament, she started thinking about her baptism. She thought about how happy she had felt. She thought about how taking the sacrament renewed her promise to Heavenly Father to keep His commandments. She thought about how the feelings in her heart let her know that Jesus lives, even though she had never seen Him.
Then Jennifer began thinking about the Prophet Joseph Smith, and she had that same warm, peaceful feeling. It was the same way she felt as she read the Book of Mormon. She knew that Heavenly Father was telling her through the Holy Ghost that the Book of Mormon was true and that Joseph Smith was a prophet.
Sacrament meeting went on as usual that day, but Jennifer felt different. She felt grateful that Heavenly Father was willing to answer her questions, and that she knew for herself that the Book of Mormon was true.

Initially I served as a teaching missionary in the England Manchester Mission, but after a few months I fell ill and came home in the spring of 2022. I transferred to the Nordic Service Mission area, together with an elder from Sweden and a sister from Finland. We were the first missionaries in the Nordic Service Mission area which covers Finland, Sweden, Denmark and Norway. Our mission leaders live on the outskirts of Stockholm, Sweden, Elder and Sister Hägglund.
Today we have seven service missionaries in the Nordic region. There is a sister in Denmark, two elders and a sister in Sweden, two sisters in Finland and me in Norway. Since there are so few missionaries, the mission, the district and the zone are one and the same. We meet once a week via Zoom for district meetings, updates and devotionals. I am serving as the district/zone leader. I have conversations with each of the missionaries once a week, at the end of the week we all submit a report to our mission leaders about how our service is going.
In my service, I carry out work for charities and private individuals. In our service mission, we try to find projects that the missionaries themselves have an interest in and have skills in. My main assignment based in Oslo, is called Operation Wood (Operasjon Ved). It is a charity that goes back more than 50 years. Every year, Oslo municipality receives a certain amount of timber donated from Løvenskjold, which owns large forests around Oslo. Oslo municipality provides a place to work, and volunteers who come and cut, dry and split the wood. The volunteers mostly consist of some retired gentlemen and me.
From October to March, with the help of the Lions Club, we drive out to families or individuals that need help with heating during the winter. During this period, we deliver approximately 160,000 kilos of firewood.
The reason why I do a lot of work with timber is because I started splitting wood in kindergarten as a three-year-old boy. I really liked this and over the years have developed a great interest in this work and find great joy in this kind of activity.
It feels meaningful to be part of the long and important tradition we have in Norway of managing, refining and using the forest to sustain life in a sensible way.
I have also done some work for private individuals. Felling trees and splitting them into firewood that they can use themselves. I also help with other practical work in the ways I can, like putting up some sports equipment.
The goal of my mission, as stated in our mission’s purpose; is to help others come to Christ by serving them as the Saviour would. We do our best to be worthy representatives as we carry His name in the service we do. Unlike the teaching missionaries, we are not called to preach. We are called to serve. We help show that the Church is not just knocking on doors and handing out copies of the Book of Mormon, but that we are also a Church that wants to contribute to society.
A particular scripture that I treasure in relation to my service as a service missionary is Mosiah 2:17 where King Benjamin taught his people about service: “And behold, I tell you these things that you may learn . . . that when you are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God.”
I finish my mission in December 2023. I served for 24 months as a full-time missionary.

A great help for missionaries and for Spanish-speaking people everywhere is the translation of the Book of Mormon into Spanish. Meliton Gonzalez Trejo is the man who is most responsible for its first translation. The son of a nobleman, Meliton was born in Garganta la Olla, Spain, in 1843. Well educated as a boy and young man, he was always interested in religion. But nothing he read about various churches satisfied him.
One day, however, he heard a friend mention a group of people, called “saints,” who had been led over the Rocky Mountains in America by a prophet. These people, Meliton was told, were living in the Salt Lake Valley. He was so anxious to find out more about them that he asked for and was given permission by the queen to join a military expedition to the Philippine Islands, as he thought this would be a help toward his going to America.
During his stay in the Philippines, Meliton became seriously ill. While recovering, he had time to think more about religion and the “saints” in the Salt Lake Valley. One night after a fervent prayer for guidance, he was directed in a dream to leave the army and journey to Utah. This dream was so sacred to Meliton that he never told the details of it to anyone but President Brigham Young whom he met soon after arriving in Utah. In order to leave the Philippines the young soldier needed money. In time, he was able to secure two thousand dollars in bills that he sewed inside the lining of his vest before he left.
Arriving in Salt Lake, Meliton investigated the Church and soon became a member. He was one of the first missionaries to go to Mexico, and was asked by the General Authorities to translate the Book of Mormon into Spanish. With some help from another man, Meliton Trejo finished the translation in 1886.

When Loniana Fifita wants to make changes in the world, she begins with recognising her passion, and being mindful of those around her, then starts using her skills and talents wisely.
Along the way, she seeks to align her plans with what God wants her to do, accomplishing what He has given her the talents and opportunities to do. And above all, she does it with love.
The United Nations Youth Day on 12 August had the theme, “Youth Engagement for Global Action”—seeking to highlight the ways in which the engagement of young people at all levels is enriching institutions and processes, and thereby enhancing youth opportunities for influence.
Loni’s talents and love have changed the world for many Tongan children who now have access to a public library—the first in the country.
Loniana Fifita is a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Auckland, New Zealand. She was born in Ha’apai Tonga and moved to Auckland with her family when she was nine years old.
Loni has been engaged as a youth advocate since she was 15 years of age. She served as a youth representative on the Maungakiekie-T?maki local board, one of the 21 local boards of the Auckland Council.
While attending University of Auckland, Loni also served on the Auckland Council Youth Advisory panel, working alongside Auckland mayor at the time, Len Brown.
With her focus and passion on youth, she explained, “I wanted to make my area [Maungakiekie—T?maki] liveable . . . because that's the whole purpose of council.”
Loni started looking at projects and preventions for many issues facing Pacific youth. She kept asking herself, “What can I do?”
Because of the rising number of social issues in the community, she joined a passionate group of community change makers in creating initiatives to help solve social issues concerning youth. One of the key initiatives was “Phenomenal Young Women” which focused on building young women’s well-being in all aspects of life.
Phenomenal Young Women creates “safe spaces for young women in T?maki to connect, grow well-being, feel confident to try new things, and have fun.”
These experiences, Loni’s connections within the local and city councils, and her ability to connect with people, prepared her to be the librarian at the local board’s library in T?maki. But when approached about taking that post, she hesitated.
Loni has always wanted to work as a humanitarian. She never thought she would be a librarian, and she didn’t go to the library when she was young.
“I felt like Heavenly Father just handed me opportunities, but I was trying to ignore it, because it was not part of me,” she said.
“You know how you have your own plan, and He gives you His plan?”
After praying and fasting about it, she decided to take the position.
“My dream was to be a humanitarian, and this was the door to it,” Loni reflected. “Working in the library, I always wanted to give back . . . but I didn’t see the [opportunity] until Cyclone Gita hit [Tonga].”
It was in the aftermath of Cyclone Gita, that Loni’s engagement on the national level began. Being a librarian and also Tongan, and well-known for her work in the T?maki community, she was asked to help establish the first public library in her beloved island nation of Tonga and serve as the first librarian.
With schools and educational resources destroyed, Loni worked tirelessly with founders, Kahoa and Brendon Corbett, as donations of thousands of books from over 50 Auckland Council libraries, as well as computers, and even bicycles, were brought to the renovated community fale (centre).
The library opened in October 2019, in the village of Kolovai, with plans for a second library underway in a nearby town.
Loni paid her own fare on her trips to Tonga, lived by herself, and donated her time and talents to establish the library. She started weekend English classes, children’s programs, computer and family history classes, job application skills classes, and even bicycle rentals.
She says, “Tongans now understand that a library is more than a building—it is a safe place for growth and development, connections, and learning for many different reasons.”
For Loni, the definition of humanitarian is: “Love for humanity, doing things for the well-being of the human being without price . . . no matter what it is . . . or where [people] are from, or what their circumstances are. And so, my drive for humanitarian projects is the pure love that service brings.”
“Being a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is one of the greatest things,” says Loni. “If I didn’t have it, I wouldn’t understand my Heavenly Father’s plan and my plan, to align [them] together and it will be bigger than what I think it could be.”
UN Youth Day is an opportunity to celebrate and reinforce the achievements of young people. Loniana Fifita’s accomplishments and achievements are great examples of what a young person can achieve with passion, talent, and lots of love.

When I first visited Czechoslovakia, long before the people there had freedom, I was met by Jiri Snederfler and his wife, Olga. I went to their home, which is where the Prague Branch of the Church met. On the walls were picture after picture of the Salt Lake Temple. I said to Sister Snederfler, “Your husband must truly love the temple,” and she said, “I, too; I, too.”
She brought out an album of pictures of the missionaries who were serving there in 1950, when their government made the mission there close. As she held up each photograph, she said, “Wonderful boy, wonderful boy!”
Brother Snederfler has always been willing to stand up for the gospel. When the Church wanted the Czechoslovakian government to again recognize it officially, the Communist leaders told us, “Don’t send an American or any other foreigner. Send a citizen of Czechoslovakia.” That was frightening because to admit then that you were a leader of any church meant that you might be thrown into prison!
Brother Snederfler was the one chosen to go to his government. He later told me that he had asked for the prayers of the branch members. Then he went to Olga and said, “I love you. I don’t know when—or if—I’ll be back. But I love the gospel, and I must follow my Savior.” With that spirit of faith and devotion, he went to his government leaders and told them that he was the leader of the Church there and that he wanted them to again recognize it officially.
Meanwhile, Elder Russell M. Nelson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles had been working very hard to get the needed approval. It came: “Your church is again recognized in Czechoslovakia.”
Brother Snederfler eagerly went to tell Olga and the other stalwart members of the Church there that once again missionaries could come to their country and that they could again worship Heavenly Father in freedom. It was a happy day.
Jiri and Olga Snederfler are now the president and matron of the Freiberg Germany Temple, where faithful members of the Church in Germany, Czechoslovakia, and nearby countries attend. They are happy to find themselves each day in the Lord’s house, which they so dearly love.

Being an intern for the New Era magazine is definitely a thrill. I get to discuss the exciting future of the youth of the Church, learn about how the Church magazines operate, and write to my heart’s content.
Of course the job does have a few snags—I have to wear dresses every day, I have to be here at practically the crack of dawn, and riding the elevator up to the 23rd floor of the Church Office Building after lunch makes me queasy. But the benefits by far outweigh the costs.
The only thing missing from this opportunity of a lifetime is an office with a window. Of course, I’m a bit out of line wanting one—I think you have to work here about 20 years before you get that blessing. But one day one of the editors called in sick. I knew what that meant. I’d get to use her office for the day, and I’d have windows.
For about the first 15 minutes, I didn’t get anything done; I was too busy enjoying the view. The office faced west, and I had before me an unsurpassed view of Temple Square and its surroundings. Moroni was sparkling in the sunlight, and it was the first time I’d ever seen him without getting a crick in my neck.
I watched the ant-sized people milling about the grounds. I saw a wedding party trying to organize itself for the photographer, flower beds aglow with spring blossoms, and magnificent structures built to give glory to the Lord.
Then I looked beyond the temple grounds to the surrounding city. Somehow, it paled in comparison. The grass wasn’t as green, and the people didn’t seem quite as buoyant. I saw grim asphalt parking lots, dusty train yards, and a tan layer of air covering the valley.
Then I looked up at the sky, and a thought popped into my head. This must be what it’s like for Heavenly Father. I wondered what he thinks as he observes his children from on high. I found the answer in the scriptures.
In Psalms 14:2, David says the Lord “looked down from heaven upon the children of men, to see if there were any that did understand, and seek God.” [Ps. 14:2] and again in Jeremiah 31:28, the Lord speaks of watching his children, saying, “As I have watched over them, to pluck up, and to break down, and to throw down, and to destroy, and to afflict; so will I watch over them, to build, and to plant, saith the Lord.” [Jer. 31:28] The Lord watched over the children of Israel during times of joy, sorrow, obedience, and transgression—just as he watches us now. And although we aren’t always as righteous as we should be, he is always there.
It’s reassuring to know that the Lord is always watching and will not forsake us.
Tomorrow, I return to my storage-closet-turned-intern-office. I’ll still envy others’ windows, but I’ll have quite a different perspective on the world than I did before.

Some of Karen Sharp’s friends claim she has rocks in her head. After all, a look into her room reveals rocks everywhere. Boxes filled with sorted stones are neatly laid across the floor. More rocks are sitting on a paint-splattered table. Some of these are glued together, and close observation reveals distinct shapes beginning to form. Some resemble bears, lions, and hippopotamuses. Others take a shape almost human in nature—bishops, missionaries, skiers, doctors, golfers.
A 19-year-old member of the Bountiful [Utah] 21st Ward, Karen first began painting rocks a little over three years ago. She experimented gluing together different shapes and sizes of rocks and came up with some unique ducks and fish, which won her a Best of Show award in Bountiful’s Handcart Days craft contest. People came next, so for Christmas Karen put together a “portrait in stone” of her family, including the dog. A pebble zoo and a small village full of shops followed next. Karen’s stony craft is now selling in stores and shops throughout her home region and as far away as North Dakota and Seattle.
She has also taught art to children in her home. Taking over a bedroom as a studio and classroom, Karen organized her course into eight lessons on different artistic skills. Her miniature artists liked the lesson on rocks best of all. Rock art has proven so popular, in fact, that Karen is writing a book she hopes will be published.
To make her rock figures, Karen selects stones of just the right sizes and shapes. These are sorted into “heads,” “trunks,” “shoes,” whatever she happens to need. From there she glues them together and adds ski poles, golf clubs, or whatever, with a fast-drying epoxy. When the glue is dry, she paints the solid colors, then adds eyes, mouth, and perhaps a tuft of hair out of colored yarn.
Rock art is fun, imaginative, and not too complicated for you to try. With if you can capture your dad’s big feet, brother’s big grin, and sister’s freckles—and they’ll love it too.

When I was a boy, childhood diseases appeared regularly in every community. When someone had chicken pox or measles or mumps, the health officer would visit the home and place a quarantine sign on the porch or in the window to warn everyone to stay away. In a large family like ours, those diseases would visit by relay, one child getting it from another, so the sign might stay up for weeks.
We could not blockade ourselves inside our homes or stay hidden away to avoid those terrible contagions. We had to go to school, to employment, to church—to life!
Two of my sisters were stricken with very severe cases of measles. At first they seemed to recover. A few weeks later Mother glanced out of the window and saw Adele, the younger of the two, leaning against a swing. She was faint and weak with a fever. It was rheumatic fever! It came as a complication from measles. The other sister also had the fever.
There was little that could be done. In spite of all of the prayers of my parents, Adele died. She was eight years old.
While Nona, two years older, recovered, she had fragile health for most of her life.

One of the most beautiful stories in our heritage, an experience of President Heber J. Grant’s, bears witness that a testimony about the right relationship between life, death, and the spirit world can comfort us in times of sorrow, help us understand God’s purposes, and teach us the true nature of our existence. President Grant writes:
“I have been blessed with only two sons. One of them died at five years of age and the other at seven. My last son died of a hip disease. I had built great hopes that he would live to spread the Gospel at home and abroad and be an honor to me. About an hour before he died I had a dream that his mother, who was dead, came for him, and that she brought with her a messenger, and she told his messenger to take the boy while I was asleep; and in the dream I thought I awoke and I seized my son and fought for him and finally succeeded in getting him away from the messenger who had come to take him, and in so doing I dreamed that I stumbled and fell upon him.
“I dreamed that I fell upon his sore hip, and the terrible cries and anguish of the child drove me nearly wild. I could not stand it and I jumped up and ran out of the house so as not to hear his distress. I dreamed that after running out of the house I met Brother Joseph E. Taylor and told him of these things.
“He said: ‘Heber, do you know what I would do if my wife came for one of her children—I would not struggle to keep that child; I would not oppose her taking that child away. If a mother who had been faithful had passed beyond the veil, she would know of the suffering and the anguish her child may have to suffer; she would know whether that child might go through life as a cripple and whether it would be better or wiser for that child to be relieved from the torture of life; and when you stop to think, Brother Grant, that the mother of that boy went down into the shadow of death to give him life, she is the one who ought to have the right to take him or keep him.’
“I said, ‘I believe you are right, Brother Taylor, and if she comes again, she shall have the boy without any protest on my part.’
“After coming to that conclusion, I was waked by my brother, B. F. Grant, who was staying that night with us, helping to watch over the sick boy. He called me into the room and told me that my child was dying. I went in the front room and sat down. There was a vacant chair between me and my wife who is now living, and I felt the presence of that boy’s deceased mother, sitting in that chair. I did not tell anybody what I felt, but I turned to my living wife and said: ‘Do you feel anything strange?’ She said: ‘Yes, I feel assured that Heber’s mother is sitting between us, waiting to take him away.’
“Now, I am naturally, I believe, a sympathetic man. I was raised as an only child, with all the affection that a mother could lavish upon a boy. I believe that I am naturally affectionate and sympathetic and that I shed tears for my friends—tears of joy for their success and tears of sorrow for their misfortunes. But I sat by the deathbed of my little boy and saw him die, without shedding a tear. My living wife, my brother, and I, upon that occasion experienced a sweet, peaceful, and heavenly influence in my home, as great as I have ever experienced in my life.” (Improvement Era, June 1940, pp. 330,383.)

In the apartment I rented, I found a small Mormon book entitled, Articles of Faith, by James E. Talmage. I never knew if Sister Stone secretly placed it there, or if it had been left by the former tenant. At any rate, I began reading it after the children were in bed at night; not because I was interested, but because there was nothing else to do.
During those first few weeks, not a Saturday went by that Sister Stone didn’t stop and ask if we would like to go to church with her on Sunday. When I would politely refuse, she never pushed the issue; but still she regularly asked. At the same time, I became more and more engrossed in the book. I had never heard of such things as I found in that book, though I had studied the Bible faithfully most of my life. Much of what I read I either wondered about or outright disagreed with, so I started jotting down notes of such items as I came across it.
One Saturday when Sister Stone came by, I still refused to go to church with her, but I did tell her that I had some questions about it, and that if she would send her pastor to talk to me I’d discuss them with him. In just a few days I was visited by a man named Marvin Turner and his wife, who said they were stake missionaries and had come to answer my questions. Almost defiantly I brought out my written questions, seven pages in all, and told them that if they could answer them I would listen to whatever they wanted to teach me. Brother Turner’s response was that he did not have all the answers, but he knew that through the Church he could find me logical, reasonable answers. Through the patience and tenderness of the Turners, I finally reached the time when I was willing to pray about the truthfulness of those things that they taught me. I consented to go to church with them. Some time later, I was baptized. However, when I moved to southern California, I lost track of my new friends. I remarried and had other children.
That was many years ago. Now I sit in sacrament meeting and watch while one of my sons passes the sacrament and another one blesses it; I watch the faith and testimonies of each of the children grow; and my thoughts turn toward people who have joined the church as a result of different ones spreading the gospel; and I think too of our kindred dead who have had their baptisms and endowments and sealings done through our genealogy work.
Ultimately my thoughts turn toward a gracious Sister Stone and a sharing, loving Turner family somewhere among the vast number of Saints who, I have no doubt, are still serving the Lord through loving and caring. I ask myself how I can ever repay those people who cared so much for someone so rebellious long ago. And the answer comes to me loud and clear: “Go, and do thou likewise.” (Luke 10:37.)

Nigerians like to say that they live under “a fierce African sun.” Temperatures near the equator vary only slightly regardless of the season. So when we had our all-Africa service project in August, we began at 7:00 a.m. in order to get as much as possible done in the cooler morning hours.
With shovels, rakes, and machetes, we got to work clearing weeds and hauling trash from the vacant lot near our Yaba Ward building in the Lagos Nigeria Stake. After working for three hours, we had cleared about three acres (1.2 ha) of the four-acre (1.6 ha) lot.
“What do you think of rounding off with this small section and scheduling another day to finish clearing the lot?” the bishop asked.
Overhearing the bishop, Emmanuel, the teachers quorum president, expressed disappointment.
“If we leave this section undone, none of the youth will feel that they have done much today,” he said. “Please, let’s finish.”
Because the weeds were about six feet (1.8 m) high in most places, they obstructed our view and made it difficult to determine how much remained.
“Brother Hill, let’s see how long it might take you and me to clear a narrow path, maybe only two feet wide,” Emmanuel said. “If we can do it quickly, others may see that it is possible to finish sooner than they might imagine.”
The young men, divided in two groups, had been working on opposite ends of the lot all day. No one had broken through the maze of weeds to the other side. With an aching back, I went to my knees to find some relief while continuing to hack away at the weeds with a machete. Worried, some youth came to see if they could help and then pitched in when they saw Emmanuel and me working toward each other. Within minutes we had broken through to each other, and a small cheer went up. Seeing the breakthrough, others began working in pairs doing the same thing.
In less than an hour, we finished. Beaming with satisfaction, we congratulated each other—especially Emmanuel, who had literally provided a path for others to follow.
The bishop and I thought that we, in our age and wisdom, knew what these young men could accomplish. We saw only hot, tired boys, but Emmanuel saw an opportunity for his friends to build dignity and confidence. He knew that exerting extra effort would bring greater satisfaction to them than finishing the job later. He reminded us of the strength of the youth of the Church and how we all benefit when they contribute and lead.
I realized that we don’t need to wait for our youth to grow up—they can make a difference now if we let them.

My friend Jorge reached across the table, offering me a sip from his glass of champagne. I was surprised by his offer. He knew I was a Latter-day Saint and drinking alcohol was against my beliefs. I politely shook my head, indicating that this time, like all previous times, I would pass.
He brought his hand to his forehead and exclaimed, “¡Pero es nuestra graduación!” (But it’s graduation night!)
Yes, it was graduation night. And in Ecuador, this was our night to celebrate. The evening had begun with a formal dinner for our entire families. A bottle of champagne had been placed in the center of each table, and well-mannered waiters had served an excellent meal. After dinner, those of us who had just graduated danced a waltz with our father or mother.
Eventually all the parents left, and only the graduates and our friends remained. It was around midnight when Jorge approached me and offered me some of his drink. Jorge felt that just this once wouldn’t do me any harm, especially considering the event was a once-in-a-lifetime occasion and everyone was expected to have a drink.
I simply replied, “I know it’s graduation night. That doesn’t matter.”
All through high school, I had been invited to drink and smoke, but I had always refused, explaining that my religion taught me drinking and smoking were harmful. My friends usually did not persist after the explanation, but I never knew how they really felt about my turning them down.
To my surprise, Jorge smiled, extended his right hand, and shook mine. All he said was “I really admire this about you,” and he walked away.
Later, while reflecting on what happened that night, I remembered the counsel President Gordon B. Hinckley has given us to “stand for something” (see “True to the Faith,” Liahona, Sept. 1996, 4). To Jorge and my other friends, I had stood for something. I realized that often we may think our efforts to do the right thing make us unpopular. While that may be true in some instances, for the most part, people take note and see Latter-day Saints as people who stand for something worthy of admiration.

To you comes a second question: “Whom shall I marry?” May I make personal application of this question? At a dance for the freshman class at the University of Utah, I was dancing with a girl from West High School when a young lady from East High School danced by with her partner. Her name was Frances Johnson; I didn’t know it at the time. I just took one look and decided that there was a young lady I wanted to meet. But she danced away, and I didn’t see her for three more months. Then one day, while waiting for the old streetcar at Thirteenth East and Second South Street in Salt Lake City, I looked and couldn’t believe my eyes. Here was the young lady whom I had seen dancing across the floor, and she was standing with another young lady and a young man whom I remembered from grade school days. Unfortunately, I couldn’t remember his name. I had a decision to make, and I thought to myself: “This decision requires courage. What should I do?” I found in my heart an appreciation of that phrase, “When the time for decision arrives, the time for preparation is past.”
I squared my shoulders and plunged toward my opportunity. I walked up to that young man and said, “Hello, my old friend from grade school days,” and then he said to me, “I can’t quite remember your name.” I told him my name, and he told me his name. Then he introduced me to the girl who later became my wife. That day I made a little note in my student directory to call on Frances Beverly Johnson, and I did. That decision was one of the most important decisions that I have ever made. Young people who are at that particular time in their lives have the responsibility to make similar decisions. They have the important responsibility to choose whom to marry—not only whom to date.

At a Young Women in Excellence event in her ward, Lily was recognized for completing her Individual Worth value project. For this project, Lily participated in Special Olympics. She competed in three track-and-field events and three swimming events. She worked very hard to prepare for her competitions and learn the proper techniques.
When Lily first started learning how to throw a rubber javelin for a track-and-field event, it was a bit tricky. But Lily practiced hard, and when the day of the event came, Lily was not nervous at all because she knew just what to do. When the results came in, Lily earned the gold medal!
Lily’s participation in Special Olympics helped her learn that she can do hard things, that she can develop her talents, and that she has great worth.

In the small town in Idaho where I grew up, there was a movie theater that featured an afternoon matinee every Saturday. I would always go with two or three of my friends. The theater would show a short movie about sports and another about current events. The main feature was usually a cowboy movie with lots of action.
One Saturday during intermission, the staff wheeled out a 10-speed bicycle. It was red, it was beautiful, and they were going to give it away to the person in the audience who had the winning ticket stub! Oh, how I wanted that bicycle!
The announcer reached into the container and pulled out a ticket. As he read the number on the ticket, I discovered that I had the winning ticket. Yet I didn’t move or say anything. I was too shy and embarrassed. I did not have enough confidence in myself to stand and let everyone know that I had the winning ticket. He announced the winning number two more times, and each time I held the ticket down so that no one could see it. Finally, the announcer read another number. One of the friends I came to the movie with happened to have the new number. He jumped up, screamed, and ran to the stage to claim his bicycle. That bicycle could have been mine!
As I walked home alone from the movies that Saturday, I thought of the story of the ugly duckling. I was feeling a lot like that little swan. I felt like I was wandering around in the woods trying to hide and that no one liked me. I didn’t realize who I was or what I could become. By the time I arrived home, I knew something had to change. I remember thinking, “It’s time to grow up. That will never happen to me again.”

Some people are able to identify some moment or event when they discovered the truthfulness of the gospel. I’m not one of those people, but I’d like to tell how I came to know that the Church is true.
Like many, I was born and raised in the Church and had always believed in the gospel. But when I became a teenager, I started to question my testimony. How could I really know for sure? I was hoping for some sort of spiritual manifestation that would eliminate all my doubts. I was very troubled because of my uncertainty. Whenever I bore my testimony, I always talked about the good things in the Church, but I couldn’t say that I knew it was true. What I didn’t realize then is that our testimonies don’t necessarily come in the form of fireworks but rather as a small spark or flame which must be fed.
During my senior year of high school, my seminary teacher taught me another important principle necessary in gaining a testimony. She would often tell us that if we really wanted to know if the Church was true, we needed to live what we believe. Although it is essential to pray and study the scriptures, knowledge without application is worthless. I finally realized that I had always known the Church was true through living the standards and constantly having to explain and defend my beliefs. I had been feeding my fire by sharing my flame with others. It helped me realize how strongly my beliefs burned within me.
Now I am able to stand in front of the congregation and say, “I know that this Church is true.” I know that if you study the Lord’s teachings, strive to become closer to Him through constant prayer, and stand as a witness of God “at all times and in all things, and in all places” (Mosiah 18:9), you will also discover for yourself the truthfulness of the gospel.

“Why not just a little?” That was the question David asked after his early-morning seminary teacher had finished an entire lesson about protecting yourself from sin. “I’m not talking about doing anything big,” David continued. “I just want to know why I can’t have a sip of beer—just to taste it and know what it is like. Why not just one cigarette or one night with a girl so my friends will stop bugging me?”
Before the teacher could even start giving him the usual answers, David outguessed him and blurted, “And don’t tell me that alcohol kills your brain cells and that cigarettes cause cancer. Don’t tell me about AIDS.” He didn’t want to hear the typical “scare” stories. David continued, “I know men who used to drink and smoke, and they’re bishops now.”
It was true. David knew many people who had repented and been forgiven of their sins. “So,” he looked directly at his teacher and repeated his original question, “why not just a little?”
By now nearly every young person in the room was nodding and saying, “Yeah, why not?” The seminary teacher knew he had to say something—quickly. He swallowed hard, said a silent prayer, and offered, “Try looking at it like this: Isn’t the Holy Ghost a member of the Godhead?”
“Yes,” answered David, “but what does that have to do with anything?”
The teacher explained, “Well, ‘no unclean thing can dwell with God’ (1 Ne. 10:21; Mosiah 2:36–38). Maybe that’s why we must be baptized—completely cleaned—before we receive the gift of the Holy Ghost” (see D&C 68:25; D&C 84:64).
The room was quiet. Despite the fact they had already sat through one lesson that day, David and his friends were listening to their teacher. “In scriptures we are told that the Spirit won’t always strive with men (see Gen. 6:3; Ether 15:19; D&C 1:33).
“The immediate consequence of any sin is withdrawal of the Spirit of the Holy Ghost. So one cigarette may not be enough to give you cancer, but it is enough to alienate you from the Spirit. One can of beer may not make you an alcoholic and leave you homeless, but it is enough to leave you without the Spirit. The same thing for a premarital sexual experience.”
Most of the class was agreeing with their teacher now, but David still wasn’t completely convinced. He said, “So the Spirit leaves. So what?”
Class time was over. The students needed to go to school. “Let’s pick this discussion up tomorrow,” said the teacher, and they did. Over the next few days the class studied the fruits of the Spirit. What David had not considered was that when we lose the Spirit we automatically lose some other things as well.
The seminary class was glad David had asked, “Why not just a little?” In the course of their discussions and study, David and his friends had come to some important conclusions. One student summed it up like this: “Why not just a little sin? Well, why not just a little touch on the burner of a hot stove? Sure, you may heal in the long run, but not without going through a lot of unnecessary pain and suffering.”