Gospel Story Finder

Carrie hurried around the corner of the grocery store aisle, trying to keep the cart out of the reach of her six-year-old brother, Andy.
“No fair!” he cried. “You’ve pushed it the whole time we’ve been here.” He tried to grab the cart, but nine-year-old Carrie twisted it away quickly, accidentally hitting a row of ketchup bottles lined up neatly on a shelf. Two of the bottles crashed to the floor, shattering and spraying the bright red contents everywhere. The two children stared in horror at the broken glass and scarlet ketchup.
Mom came around the corner just then, saying, “I want you two to stay with me. …” Her words trailed off as she saw the mess on the floor and the misery on Carrie and Andy’s faces.
“It looks like there’s been an accident,” she said. “It’s all right. Sometimes things break and have to be cleaned up. There’s no use crying over spilt ketchup.”
Mom found a clerk, who cleaned up the mess without getting mad at Carrie or Andy. Carrie still felt terrible. She knew it wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t been swinging the cart to keep it away from Andy. Before they left the store, she quietly told Mom how the bottles had been broken. Mom listened solemnly while Andy stood with a scared expression on his face.
“Are we in trouble?” Andy asked, struggling to keep from crying.
Mom hugged Andy. “No, I think you feel badly enough about what happened that you’ll be more careful in the grocery store from now on. But, Carrie, what do you think you need to do to make up for the store losing those two bottles of ketchup?”
“I think I need to pay for them. I didn’t mean to break them, but it was still my fault.”
“I think that’s a good idea,” Mom said. “I can lend you the money for now, and you can pay me back at home.”
At the cash register, Mom explained that Carrie had been playing around with the cart when the bottles broke, and so she wanted to pay for them. The clerk thanked Carrie for being so honest, and Carrie felt much better.
At home, Carrie didn’t feel quite as good when she gave Mom part of the money she’d been saving for a tape player, but she was still glad she didn’t have that sick feeling in her stomach that she had felt when the bottles exploded on the floor. She remembered how red everything looked. She had been afraid she would see that stain on the floor forever, reminding her of her mistake, but it had come clean with a wet mop.

Let me tell you about Alice. She is trained as a pediatrician. She is happily married and the mother of six children. She has served in many ways in the Church, including serving in a Relief Society presidency, and now she is the Cub Scout leader. She sews Halloween costumes and volunteers at the elementary school in the science lab.

Right now Alice is a full-time mother. Undoubtedly she will return to her medical practice when her children are raised, but that doesn’t mean that she isn’t using her medical education. Teenagers from the neighborhood have been known to appear on her porch with all kinds of symptoms.

One dramatic event occurred when a vacationing mother telephoned Alice. Her daughter’s baby-sitter had reported that the little girl was coughing and seemed sick. After apologizing for bothering her, the mother asked Alice for a favor. Could she please find time during the afternoon to check on her little girl, who appeared to have croup? For some reason, Alice immediately put aside what she was doing and went right down. She found the girl not breathing and in full cardiac arrest. She applied CPR. By the time the paramedics arrived, the little girl was breathing again. Alice’s education and her skills saved the child’s life.

To conclude, I’d like to share one final story. A few years ago, I had an experience that served as a wake-up call about how important it is to be spiritually prepared. Some employees will remember this too. It was January of 2018 when all of the phones on the island went off with a loud emergency sound and message that said: “Emergency Alert: Ballistic Missile Threat Inbound to Hawaii. Seek Immediate Shelter. This Is Not a Drill.”

In that moment, I wasn’t worried about my to-do list, the emails in my inbox, or the projects I had going on at work. My thoughts went immediately to my family and to my relationship with my Heavenly Father. I felt at peace because I knew my family knew I loved them. And I knew that I would be together with my family again after I left this earth.

President Nelson has reminded us that mortality is precious and short. Although that alert was sent in error, that morning, I learned in a very real way that we don’t know how many days we have left. But we do know that Heavenly Father yearns for us to use whatever days we are given to grow into our highest potential as His sons and His daughters.

Once, when my parents were out front working in the garden, Michael and Abbie picked some cattails outside. Cattails are plants with long stems and a hot dog–looking “flower” on top. When you blow on a cattail, the hot dog part turns into white fluff, and it gets everywhere. So guess what Michael and Abbie decided to do? They waved the cattails all around the living room and covered all the furniture with fuzz.
When I saw what they’d done, I was horrified. I went outside right away to tell Mom and Dad about the mess, hoping I wouldn’t get in trouble for it. But they just made Michael and Abbie help clean it up. They didn’t even really get punished.

I woke up really early one Saturday, which was weird—I usually sleep in. But I felt an urgent prompting to walk downstairs, like I was being led.
My mom was alone downstairs. I found out that she’d suffered a miscarriage that morning, so I cried with her and massaged her shoulders and feet. Despite the sadness, I felt at peace. All my thoughts were quiet, and I felt calm and comforted.
My mom told me I must have healing hands, because the massage made her really happy and peaceful. I was so thankful that I was able to comfort her and learn how it feels to be led by the Spirit.
This experience taught me that I don’t need to do extraordinary things to minister to others. I just need to let go of my pride and worries and focus on God’s love, and He’ll use me to be His hands and bring His light to other people.

The headquarters of the Church are in this city, which recently hosted the 19th Winter Olympics. We made a deliberate decision that we would not use this as a time or place to proselytize, but we were confident that out of this significant event would come a wonderful thing for the Church. The great buildings which we have here—the temple, the Tabernacle, this magnificent Conference Center, the Joseph Smith Memorial Building, the family history facilities, the Church Administration Building, the Church Office Building, our welfare facilities, together with scores of chapels in this valley—could not be overlooked by those who walked the streets of this and neighboring cities. As Mike Wallace once remarked to me, “These structures all denote something solid.”

And beyond this, we had total confidence in our people, many thousands of them, who would serve as volunteers in this great undertaking. They would be dependable; they would be pleasant; they would be knowledgeable; they would be accommodating. The unique and distinctive capacity of our people in speaking the languages of the world would prove to be a tremendous asset beyond anything to be found elsewhere.

Well, it all worked out. The visitors came by the hundreds of thousands. Some came with suspicion and hesitancy, old and false images persisting in their minds. They came feeling they might get trapped in some unwanted situation by religious zealots. But they found something they never expected. They discovered not only the scenic wonder of this area, with its magnificent mountains and valleys, they found not only the wonderful spirit of the international games at their best, but they found beauty in this city. They found hosts who were gracious and accommodating and anxious to assist them. I do not wish to infer that such hospitality was limited to our people. The entire community joined together in a great expression of hospitality. But out of all of this came something wonderful for this Church. Representatives of the media, so often a tough and calloused group, with very few exceptions spoke and wrote in language both complimentary and accurately descriptive of a unique culture they found here, of the people they met and dealt with, of the spirit of hospitality which they felt.
Television carried the picture to billions of people across the earth. Newspapers and magazines ran story after story.

Thousands upon tens of thousands walked through Temple Square, admired the majestic house of the Lord, sat in the Tabernacle and listened to the matchless music of the choir. More thousands filled this great Conference Center to watch a wonderful production dealing with the Church and its worldwide mission. Other thousands visited the Family History Center. The media were hosted in the Joseph Smith Memorial Building. We were interviewed for television, radio, and the press by correspondents from many parts of this nation and from across the world. I am told that nearly 4,000 stories about the Church appeared in the German press alone.
Georgie Anne Geyer, prominent syndicated writer whose column appears in many newspapers, wrote as follows: “How on Earth could a largely Mormon state do something so daring as hosting an international celebrity meeting? Would the world come gladly to a state whose dominant religion asks members to abstain from alcohol, tobacco and even caffeine, three staples of international conferences?”
And then she went on to quote Raymond T. Grant, artistic director of the Olympic Arts Festival. He talked of the opening ceremony and said: “‘You know, 98 percent of the entire cast were volunteers, and that’s huge. In fact, most were not paid at all. This is an extraordinary story, and I’d link it directly to Mormon culture. As a Catholic boy from New York, I found it interesting that Brigham Young, the founder of the Utah settlement of the Mormons, built a theater before anything else.’
“He went on to tally up: The state has six dance companies; more pianos and harps are sold in Utah than anywhere in the United States; the Mormon Tabernacle Choir has [360] members; and the oldest Steinway dealership in Utah … was started as early as 1862. In Utah, their per capita spending on students is one of the lowest—yet they boast high test scores. ‘It has been fascinating for me, having to tap into this culture.’”
Miss Geyer concluded her story by writing: “It is simply the mix of a serious and upright religion, of families who foster and insist upon providing the highest levels of culture right along with the highest modern technology, and of generally sensible organizing and governing. In short, it is a modern mix of the old America” (“Salt Lake City and State of Utah Reveal Themselves to the World,” Salt Lake Tribune, 15 Feb. 2002, A15).
If there were time, I could give you many quotations from the seasoned journalists of the world, who wrote in a most laudatory fashion.
Was there anything negative? Of course. But it was minimal. We had private interviews with presidents of nations, with ambassadors, with leaders in business and other fields.
In 1849, two years after our people first arrived here and following the discovery of gold in California, many were discouraged. They had struggled to wrest a living from the arid soil. Crickets had devoured their crops. The winters were cold. Many thought they would go to California and get rich. President Young stood before them and encouraged them to remain, promising that “God will temper the climate, and we shall build a city and a temple to the Most High God in this place. We will extend our settlements to the east and west, to the north and to the south, and we will build towns and cities by the hundreds, and thousands of the Saints will gather in from the nations of the earth. This will become the great highway of the nations. Kings and emperors and the noble and wise of the earth will visit us here” (in Preston Nibley, Brigham Young: The Man and His Work [1936], 128).
We have witnessed the fulfillment of that prophecy in these recent days. Needless to say, I am happy with what has happened. Those visitors tasted the distinctive culture of this community. We believe that culture is worth preserving. I compliment and thank our people who participated in such numbers and so generously, and I compliment and thank all others who worked together to make of this a wonderful and most significant event.
Now I wish to speak rather quickly of one or two other matters.
Speaking of Brigham Young has reminded me of the Perpetual Education Fund which we have established. It was only a year ago that I first spoke of this in our general conference. The contributions of generous Latter-day Saints have come in to assure us that this endeavor is now on a solid foundation. We will need more yet, but already it has been demonstrated that vast good will come of this undertaking. Young men and women in the underprivileged areas of the world, young men and women who for the most part are returned missionaries, will be enabled to get good educations that will lift them out of the slough of poverty in which their forebears for generations have struggled. They will marry and go forward with skills that will qualify them to earn well and take their places in society where they can make a substantial contribution. They will likewise grow in the Church, filling positions of responsibility and rearing families who will continue in the faith.
I have time to read only one testimonial. It comes from a young man who has been blessed by this program.
He says: “It is so wonderful that I do not have to just dream anymore about my education or my future. The Lord has cleared the way, and I am doing it!
“I am currently attending a great technical institute in our country, where I am studying to become a computer technician. … By going to school, I am discovering my abilities. The discipline I developed on my mission helps me to succeed. … Never before has any young man felt more blessed than I do. The PEF has strengthened my faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. Now, more than ever, I feel the responsibility the gospel places upon me to prepare myself to be a better member, a better leader, and a better father. …
“My dear mother, who has sacrificed so much, gets so emotional that she cries when she prays at night because of her gratitude to the Lord. …
“Now, I envision my town being blessed because of me. I envision the Church with leaders who have financial stability and who can support the Lord’s work with all their might, mind, and strength. I see the Church prospering. I am excited to start my own family and teach them that we can be self-sufficient. So I must finish my education. I will then repay the loan quickly to help my fellowmen. … I am grateful for the Savior’s mercy. He truly sustains us with His love.”
And so it goes, my brothers and sisters. As this great work moves across the earth, we are blessing now some 2,400 young people. Others will be blessed.
May the Lord bless you, and each of us, as we rejoice in our opportunity to be a part of this great cause in this wonderful season of the Lord’s work is my humble prayer in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Rose Floyd, his sister-in-law. When I was around sixteen and cars and girls were very important to me, she called me in from the street one day. She was so excited that I could hardly wait to see what she wanted to show me. It was a painting—it cost as much as a new car! Arnold Friberg had painted it. She had me sit in a chair and just look at it. I did for awhile. I returned on several subsequent occasions. I came to conclude that the painting was worth it, worth even more than a new car. She helped me to understand much more about the real priorities in life.

I had been on my mission for little more than a year when I hit a particularly difficult time. We were right in the middle of a dismal, gray season—just coming out of a cold winter and moving into spring. And no matter how hard my companion and I worked, everyone we spoke to rejected our message outright. When we met with other missionaries, we learned that their work was going strong. I couldn’t think of any reasons why we were so unsuccessful. I had been out long enough to speak the language well, my companion and I were good friends, we had established trust with the members, and we tried to follow the Spirit and obey the mission rules with exactness.
But no matter what we did, we faced rejection at every turn. After weeks and weeks of this, I let my sour attitude get the better of me. During one planning session I finally exclaimed, “What’s the point? Nobody will listen to us anyway.” My companion, having a better perspective than I did, simply said, “We set goals to show our faith. We follow up on goals to count our blessings.”
As I pondered her insight, I realized that I had been using the wrong measuring stick to judge my success as a missionary. Preach My Gospel: A Guide to Missionary Service provides a list of behaviors of successful missionaries,1 and I realized that all those behaviors are within the missionary’s control. I could not control whether or not the people in my mission would accept the gospel message, but I could control the type of missionary I chose to be. My companion showed me that greater faith in Jesus Christ and gratitude for His blessings would allow me to recognize the ways I already was a successful missionary.
It was humbling to realize that my faith was lacking. I looked for areas where I could strengthen my faith and found that when things hadn’t gone according to plan, I had let myself become discouraged. Preach My Gospel says: “Discouragement will weaken your faith. If you lower your expectations, your effectiveness will decrease, your desire will weaken, and you will have greater difficulty following the Spirit.”2 I realized that I had allowed our setbacks to weaken my faith.
I began by praying for a change of heart and more faith. I also relied on the promise given in Mormon 9:21: “Whoso believeth in Christ, doubting nothing, whatsoever he shall ask the Father in the name of Christ it shall be granted him; and this promise is unto all, even unto the ends of the earth.” This promise led me to pray more fervently for the blessings and miracles my companion and I felt we needed, always adding, “Thy will be done.” These prayers helped me to accept changed plans and setbacks with greater faith, knowing that Heavenly Father always answers prayers of faith—even when the answers come in ways we don’t anticipate. I became more able to recognize the ways the Lord was guiding us throughout our day.
As I worked on strengthening my faith, I found the positive form of the statement from Preach My Gospel to be true: if you raise your expectations, your effectiveness will increase, your desire will grow, and you will be able to follow the Spirit better. Additionally, I was more optimistic about missionary work and my missionary service when I could recognize and appreciate the miracles that happened daily.
The Lord began to show me that He worked miracles for us each day—but I had been unable to recognize them until I made a conscious effort to be genuinely grateful. Expressing gratitude is more than just a good habit or nice manners. When I expressed gratitude to the Lord and to others, I was empowered. I found myself being excited for other missionaries when they had success instead of being jealous (see Alma 29:14, 16). I was more able to focus on what I had and what went right rather than what I lacked and what went wrong.
I learned that gratitude is the antidote to comparing ourselves to others. Those times when I didn’t feel like a successful missionary usually came because I told myself, “I’m not doing as well as they are,” or, “They are better at this than I am.” I also learned that while it is the Lord’s pattern to give us righteous examples to emulate and follow, it is Satan’s counterfeit to tempt us to compare ourselves with them in order to determine our worth or success. But Preach My Gospel is clear on this: “Avoid comparing yourself to other missionaries and measuring the outward results of your efforts against theirs.”3 Ultimately, gratitude helped me avoid pride and reminded me that the Lord is in charge of His work. I did not need to be jealous because my fellow missionaries appeared to be having more success.4
Before I had this change in perspective, I had been so focused on a specific type of blessing that I had forgotten to leave my eyes open to the other ways the Lord was answering our prayers and blessing our missionary work. Eventually, the Lord began blessing the missionary work in our area in beautiful and unexpected ways. We did find people willing to accept our message, but I had learned by that time not to measure my success by the choices of others.
President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) shared one mission president’s counsel about missionary work: “Do your best, your very, very best. Say your prayers and work hard and leave the harvest to the Lord.”5 Preach My Gospel teaches something similar about successful missionaries: “Do your very best to bring souls to Christ, and seek earnestly to learn and improve.”6
As long as I was willing to repent, as long as I could honestly account to the Lord that I was doing my best, I could feel confident that I was a successful missionary—regardless of whether people accepted our message. In many ways, the measure of my success as a missionary could be judged by my willingness to repent and my determination to keep working.
I have many miracles recorded in my journal from this time of my mission. As I strove to be more faithful and grateful, I had a better perspective, I avoided discouragement, and I felt the Spirit more abundantly in the work. I found that what Preach My Gospel teaches is true: “When you have done your very best, you may still experience disappointments, but you will not be disappointed in yourself. You can feel certain that the Lord is pleased when you feel the Spirit working through you.”7 And when I felt the Lord was pleased with me, I could endure any trial.

Years ago when we moved from one ward to another, I was given a class of Primary boys to teach. As I asked about each boy on my roll card, my adviser answered about one, “Oh, you can’t interest that family. They have never been active!”
Young, full of hope, and idealistic, I made personal visits to each home on the list prior to the first class. Upon visiting the home of the “inactive” boy, I discovered two other children of Primary age. After explaining the activities I had planned for the summer, I said that I would be happy to pick him up each week since my children wouldn’t fill up the car. In fact there would be room for all of them if they would like to go with me.
I was treated very kindly and made to feel that they were happy I had come, regardless of the boy’s decision. “You give it some thought,” I said, “and I’ll drive by, just in case you decide to join us, okay?”
The following week when I drove hopefully into their yard, my happiness knew no bounds, for not only was he all dressed up and ready to go, but the other two children as well!
Many months later, during a cold winter when I found myself too ill to teach my Young Women class, in fact too ill to even take my children, my daughter’s new teacher offered to take them all with her for several weeks.
This thoughtful teacher was the mother of my little Primary boy. She was not only active now, but one of my children’s teachers and a wonderful blessing to me and my family.

One autumn day during my shift as a worker in the Salt Lake Temple, a young man and his friends, clearly not dressed for temple worship, arrived.
“We’re here to see the temple,” the young man said.
“Do you have a recommend?” I asked.
The young man thought for a moment. Then he said, “Yes. My mother has a Mormon friend in Minnesota. She recommended that we come see the temple.”
I felt impressed to pull the young people aside and talk to them. The young man’s name was Lars. I explained to him that not only could he come to the temple but also that Heavenly Father wanted him to come. I told Lars that he first had to prepare, and I explained how.
The following spring, Lars wrote me a letter, thanking me for explaining the real meaning of a temple recommend. “I did learn more about a temple recommend,” he wrote. “Actually, I was baptized and received a recommend of my own last January!” My eyes filled with tears as I looked at the photograph he had enclosed of himself in his white baptismal clothes and of the missionaries who had taught him.
My journey back to the temple was remarkable, and learning of Lars’s journey was a wonderful blessing that reminded me how we can all touch lives for good.

Let me share an experience from a noble Latter-day Saint in São Paulo, Brazil. She tells of her struggle between paying her tithing or her tuition. Here are her words:
“The university … prohibited the students that were in debt [or who had not paid their tuition] from taking tests.
“I remember a time when I … faced serious financial difficulties. It was a Thursday when I received my salary. When I figured the monthly budget, I noticed that there wouldn’t be enough to pay [both] my tithing and my university. I would have to choose between them. The bimonthly tests would start the following week, and if I didn’t take them, I could lose the school year. I felt great agony. … My heart ached.”
I return to her story. First, she paid her tithing on Sunday. The following Monday she recounted what happened:
“The working period was ending when my employer approached and gave the last orders of the day. … Suddenly, he halted, and asked, ‘How is your college?’ [She described him as a harsh man, and all she could say was:] ‘Everything is all right!’”
He then left. Suddenly the secretary entered the room. She said, “The employer has just said that from today on, the company is going to pay fully for your college and your books. Before you leave, stop at my desk and inform me of the costs so that tomorrow I can give you the check.”7

A BYU football player sat on the bench every game for nearly three years. I was especially interested because his father and I had been missionaries together and I knew the boy. Commitment and patience paid off when this young man, Brandon Doman, found himself as the starting quarterback in the final game of the season against the University of Utah. Some of you may have seen the game.
With less than a minute to go BYU was behind. After a sack it was 4th down and 13. The Cougars had 83 yards to go for a winning touchdown.
That seemed an impossible situation: a new quarterback, the team back against a wall, too little time, and only one down left for long yardage to keep even a remote chance of winning alive.
Think of the pressure. Think of the opportunity. Brandon stepped into a dejected huddle and said, “Alright you guys, this is what it is all about! Everyone do his job and let’s win this game!”
The team left the huddle focused and resolute, empowered by renewed vision and by someone they trusted. Brandon called the play and completed a very difficult 34 yard pass on the sideline. First down. Then, another pass for 36 yards. On fourth down Brandon plunged through the Ute defenses for a touchdown to send Coach Edwards into retirement a winner.

Gage stared at the empty old bottle and turned it over in his hands. It was small and misty green, with a cork stopper in the top. Grandpa Russell had given it to him after his baptism.
“What is it?” Gage asked. “I know it’s a bottle—but there’s nothing in it.”
“Oh, it’s full,” Grandpa said.
Gage shook the bottle. “Well, it looks empty to me.”
Grandpa laughed. He pulled out the cork and held the little bottle near Gage’s ear. “Can you hear it?” he whispered.
“Hear what?” Gage whispered back.
Grandpa smiled. “Silence,” he said. Then he put the cork back in the bottle. “In today’s world, silence is pretty hard to find. It’s like medicine, and each drop is as precious as gold.”
Gage said thank you and took Grandpa’s strange gift home. But he didn’t think about it much.
A few weeks later, Gage’s uncle Vince passed away. After the funeral, lots of relatives crowded into the front room at Gage’s house to visit. Gage escaped to his bedroom and closed the door. He could hear the muffled voices of his parents and relatives down the hall.
Gage saw the old green bottle sitting on his desk and picked it up. He turned it over in his hands. Grandpa had said silence was like medicine. Gage needed to find some peace and comfort after Uncle Vince’s funeral.
Gage pulled the cork loose from the bottle and tipped it over his head, pretending to let a little silence pour out. He knew the bottle wasn’t really full of silence. But he knew he needed some quiet time to feel close to God.
He felt tears build up in his eyes. Uncle Vince wouldn’t be there anymore—no more silly jokes, no more wrestling with him. Gage’s heart hurt from missing him.
Then in the silence, Gage felt something warm grow in his heart and soften the pain. He remembered that Uncle Vince wasn’t gone forever; he had just moved on to the next world. Because of Jesus Christ and the plan of salvation, everyone would live forever. Gage knew that someday he could see his Uncle Vince again.
As he held the bottle in his hands, Gage felt peaceful inside. He knew it was because of the Holy Ghost and not the bottle. The bottle had just reminded him to be quiet so he could feel the Holy Ghost. He corked the bottle and set it down.
Then he went back to the front room to be with his family. He could carry the peace and comfort of the Holy Ghost inside of him even outside his quiet room.

I first met Latter-day Saint missionaries at a train station when I was 19. I could tell that there was something special about these young women, and I felt an urge to talk to them. So I approached and asked what they were doing in Taiwan. They told me they were missionaries and began to talk about the gospel. Over the course of several meetings, I learned about Jesus Christ, His restored gospel, and the Book of Mormon. It was the last of these topics—the Book of Mormon—that caused me to join the Church.

“Growing up in Queens, New York, I sometimes felt lost in the crowds of people living in the inner city. At times I felt quite isolated and lonely, even though I was surrounded by so many people.
“When I was introduced to the gospel of Jesus Christ, I started to experience the Light of Christ coming into my life. As I accepted invitations to read the scriptures, to pray, and to ponder, the light inside of me started to grow. I felt very known to God, where I previously felt unknown to everyone else.
“As a teenager, I leaned into that light early, and I stay leaned in to this day. President Russell M. Nelson teaches that it’s ‘vital’ to experience the love of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ—especially in our present day and age. I’m grateful for that critical experience in my youth and that Their love and light continue to propel me forward today.
“God’s love and light keep my divine identity as a beloved daughter of God in the forefront and is how I choose to present myself and navigate my way in my daily life. It has also allowed me to see the divinity of all of God’s children—my brothers and sisters. God’s love can pierce the very center of the hearts of His children. When we feel it—when we experience it for ourselves—we come to know why ‘it is the most desirable above all things … and the most joyous to the soul’ (1 Nephi 11:22–23).”

President Joseph F. Smith, who took part in the westward trek and in the first 70 years of hardship in this valley, shared this precious overview of the Lord’s protective hand over His Latter-day Saints:
“Our good friends from the east used to come out here in the early days and upbraid us. They said, ‘Why, it is the fulfillment of the curse of God upon you. You have been driven away from the rich lands of Illinois and Missouri, into a desert, into a salt land.’ I said, ‘Yes, we have salt enough here to save the world, thank God, and we may find use for it by and by.’” There was a time when there wasn’t feed for livestock and the beef was so lean there wasn’t enough fat to even make decent soap. “Just then the Lord sent a handful of alfalfa seed into the valley, and Christopher Layton planted it, watered it, and it matured; and from that little beginning, Utah can now produce a richer crop of hay than Illinois or Missouri can do.”

Building anything in Alaska in the winter can prove quite a challenge, and constructing a temple is no exception. When work on the Anchorage Temple had to be delayed because of the weather, the youth in the area decided to give themselves a preview of what having a temple in their city would be like.
So they built a scale replica of the temple out of snow bricks, complete with an Angel Moroni statue on top. With a little help from the temple’s architect, who gave a youth fireside prior to the project, they came up with a pretty good likeness. The snow replica is about one-fifth the size of the real thing, which the youth can hardly wait to see.

My sister danced around the kitchen in her lion costume, with black whiskers stuck on her face.
“Come on!” I hollered at her. “You’re supposed to help me set the table.”
“I’m practicing,” she said, spinning around perfectly on the linoleum floor. “My stomach is too wiggly to eat, anyhow.”
“It’s only a skating show,” I said. “It’s no big deal.”
“It’s the ‘Wizard of Oz,’” Laura declared, “and I’m going to be the lion. Come and see me.”
“I have plans,” I told her. I knew that the guys were going bowling, and there was no way that I was going to sit and freeze just to watch a bunch of seven-year-old kids skate. I finished setting the table by myself, and everybody sat down to eat.
“What’s for supper,” I asked Mom as she set a pot on the table.
“Mystery casserole,” she replied with a wink.
“Oh, great,” I mumbled. Mystery casserole was what Mom made when she was in a hurry and threw leftovers into a dish and baked it.
“We have to hurry tonight,” Dad said. “Laura has to be at the ice show in an hour. Are you coming with us, Son?”
“No,” I answered. “I already have other plans.”
“Fine,” Mom said. “You do what you think is important.”
I hate it when my mom says stuff like that. She makes me feel like I’m doing the wrong thing at the same time that she says to go ahead and do what I want. Besides, I’ve already spent the best years of my life watching Laura.
It all started when Mom began working part-time and I had to begin baby-sitting full-time. I gave Laura her snacks when I got home from school and her breakfast early Saturday morning, a real sacrifice on my part. I helped her put on her clothes and carted her around on my bicycle to baseball games. I even took her to one of my Boy Scout meetings. Then there had been that summer when Roger had invited me to go camping at the lake with his family for two whole weeks! Did I get to go? No! I had to watch Laura because Mom couldn’t find anyone else to do it. I had to stay home and build baby puzzles with Laura and help her tie her shoes. I had definitely gone above and beyond the call of duty as far as Laura was concerned.
Of course, I had been reimbursed for baby-sitting, and I liked Laura—most of the time. She was OK for a sister, but enough was enough.
The first game I bowled was lousy; I didn’t even break one hundred. The guys razzed me and asked me if I needed a handicap. I blamed it on the bowling ball and went to pick out a different one. I didn’t do much better the next game. I couldn’t seem to concentrate. Instead, I kept watching the clock. I knew that the skating show would be starting in thirty minutes, and I wondered if Laura would be skating first.
“Come on, Michael,” Roger said. “You’re up.”
I picked up my ball and carefully stood in our lane, mentally counting my steps: One, two, three. I stepped forward and rolled the ball—right into the gutter.
The guys laughed. They thought that it was hilarious, and I knew that I’d be hearing about this game for the next week, at least. I looked up at the clock again. The ice show started in fifteen minutes. I tried to tell myself that I didn’t care and that I was just having an off night bowling. Then I told the guys that I had to leave and go to my sister’s ice show.
They said that I was lucky that I didn’t have to finish my game, because I’d set a new world record for the worst game ever bowled.
The ice arena was cold. I pulled my hat over my ears and stuffed my hands into my pockets. The place was packed, and I gave up looking for Mom and Dad. I found an empty seat by the door where all the skaters stepped out onto the ice.
Laura was easy to pick out in her tawny lion costume. I cheered extra loudly for her and held my breath while she did her loops and one last spin. She had almost finished when her skate tip caught the ice and she went down in a heap. She leaped up quickly and kept going like a real trooper, but I could see that her shoulders were sagging.
I waited by the dressing room door after the show, and she came out with her skates draped over her shoulder and her lion whiskers dangling crookedly.
“Did you see me?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “You did a great job.”
“I fell.”
“You got back up,” I told her, “and that’s what counts. Just wait till next year—you’ll be leaping through the air! I can tell.”
“I’m glad that you came,” Laura said, and she grabbed my hand.
“Of course I came,” I told her. “I couldn’t let you skate without your own private cheering section.”

Photograph provided by the author
When President Russell M. Nelson described a home-centered Church during general conference in 2018, and when the Children and Youth program was announced in 2019, our family was excited.
As 2020 approached, however, we met a significant obstacle. Beginning in January, I had to leave home for a six-month deployment. I knew that my wife and I had a sacred responsibility to center gospel learning in our home for our five children, but I wondered how I could do my part while away from home.
Our children began brainstorming goals that would help them increase “in wisdom and stature, and in favour with God and man” (Luke 2:52), just as the Savior did. My eight-year-old daughter told me one of her goals was to learn to cook with Daddy. With a broken heart, I had to redirect her goal toward something she could do for a while without my help. My sons wanted to become better at basketball and running—two things we love to do together. I encouraged them in their goal, knowing I would miss opportunities to help them. As a family, we prepared the best we could.
Family separation is always a trial, but the combination of technology and the direction of a living prophet allowed me to take part in our family’s gospel learning after all.
We felt united, even when we were 10 time zones apart, as we studied Come, Follow Me. When time allowed, I would get on an early-morning video chat during my family’s evening scripture study and talk about the Book of Mormon chapters we had been studying. Over the phone, I would talk to my children about the Book of Mormon videos, and my wife and I would discuss ideas for family home evening.
Wanting to help my children with Children and Youth, I set my own goals and sent the children handwritten notes every week sharing my progress and asking them about their goals. Through regular phone calls, I could even join in family prayer at times.
During my separation from my family, I quickly saw the blessings of following the guidance of the prophet. I also found that creating a home of gospel learning is possible even when I was half a world away!

The smell of warm bread greeted Aiden as she walked through the door after school. She sat down, eager for a slice of bread with butter.
“Before you eat, will you please take this over to Brother and Sister Brown?” Mom asked, pointing to a small loaf she had just wrapped.
Aiden sighed, grabbed the loaf, and headed out the door. Sometimes she wished her mom would only make bread for her family. She trudged through the backyard and around the corner, slowing down when she saw the Browns’ house.
Brother Brown was in his eighties, but he still took great care of his lawn. Aiden and her brother, Patrick, would often see him mowing the lawn or trimming the hedges and bushes. He always waved when he saw them and usually talked with them over his white picket fence.
But Sister Brown was never outside. She had osteoporosis, which meant that her bones were very fragile and could break easily. She couldn’t walk very well, and it was painful for her to leave the house.
Today, Aiden didn’t want to visit with them. But even though she wanted to go back home for some of Mom’s yummy bread, Aiden tried to be happy as she opened the screen door and rang the doorbell.
Brother Brown opened the door, and a big smile lit up his face. “Why, hello! Come on in, Aiden!” he said.
Aiden felt a little better already. The Browns were always so nice and so happy to have company. Brother Brown dug into the candy jar and gave her a piece of butterscotch candy as he asked her questions about school.
Sister Brown looked like she was in a lot of pain. Her small body hunched over in her armchair as she wrote something down. Sister Brown was always writing in her journal, writing poems and letters, or making cards to send to her friends. Today she was writing a birthday card very slowly. Sometimes her hands shook, and it was difficult for her to print the words.
“Why do you write so many cards and letters?” Aiden asked.
“It gives me something to do,” Sister Brown said. “I can’t see my friends very often since I can’t leave the house, so I like to write to them to show I care about them.” She finished writing the card.
Aiden chatted a bit more with Brother and Sister Brown and then walked home. She thought about Sister Brown and how much pain she was in. She felt ashamed about not wanting to visit the Browns. “If Sister Brown can serve others, I can serve her too,” Aiden thought.
So whenever Mom made bread or cinnamon rolls, Aiden took some over to the Browns, often with Patrick or her sister, Emma. She and her family sang for the Browns, especially around Christmas. Dad even recorded Aiden, Patrick, and Emma singing so Sister Brown could listen to it.
A few years after Aiden graduated from Primary, Sister Brown passed away. Aiden and her family attended the funeral.
At the end of the service, the bishop surprised Aiden by asking the members of the congregation to stand up if they had received a card from Sister Brown on their birthday. Nearly every person stood up.
As she looked around at all the people that Sister Brown had remembered on their birthdays, Aiden smiled. She thought that she and her family had been serving Sister Brown, but she was wrong. Sister Brown had served them and so many others each day of her life.