Gospel Story Finder

“Try to hurry,” Mother told Andy, who was just leaving for school.
“I’ll try,” Andy promised, waving good-bye. It was only two blocks to school. Andy was never late, but he always arrived just as the tardy bell rang. If Andy hurried, he wouldn’t have any fun at all.
As soon as Andy started for school, he saw something high up in the maple tree on the corner. It looked like an orange parrot on a branch, hopping up and down whenever the wind blew.
“Wake up, slowpoke, or you’ll be late,” Karen called as she passed him. She was skipping and swinging her lunch pail with every step.
As Andy came closer to the maple tree he could see that the patch of orange was just a piece of torn kite caught in the branches.
When he started walking again, he looked up and noticed that one big cloud seemed to be racing another across the sky. They looked like two sailboats with their white sails puffed out in the wind.
“C’mon, turtle, or you’ll never make it on time,” Billy called, dashing by.
It bothered Andy that everyone was always trying to hurry him. If they would slow down a little I could show them some of the interesting things I see every day. My friends are missing a lot by rushing to school so fast, Andy thought.
It was getting late now and Andy started to walk faster. He tried not to look at anything but the sidewalk in front of him. But something bright glinted under a bush next to the sidewalk. It was shiny and yellow and he imagined that it was a beady eye of a snake watching him.
Andy bent down for a closer look and scooped something up and put it into his pocket.
When Andy slipped into his seat at school, the tardy bell was ringing. Mrs. Rogers was sitting at her desk and had her arm around Karen. Karen’s face was red, and her cheeks were wet with tears.
“What happened?” someone asked.
“Karen lost her birthday present on the way to school,” Mrs. Rogers explained.
“It was a gold bracelet,” Karen said. “My father gave it to me yesterday, and I brought it today to show everyone.”
Andy walked up to Mrs. Rogers’ desk. “Is this your bracelet, Karen?” he asked, pulling a sparkling chain with a tiny gold heart on it out of his pocket.
Karen reached for it and said, “Where did you find it?”
“I found it under a bush on my way to school,” Andy explained.
“I didn’t see it when I came by,” Billy said.
“That’s because you were in a hurry,” Andy told him.
“You’re always slow,” Karen told Andy, “but I guess you notice more things than the rest of us.”
“You can see a lot of things if you take the time to look,” Andy said, smiling.
After school Billy and Karen walked with Andy while he told them about some of the interesting things that can be found every day. And not once did they call him a slowpoke.

“One time I invited a sports club friend to the English class that the missionaries were teaching at the church,” Kosei explains. “He and the missionaries became good friends with each other while he was learning English.”
However, the conversations didn’t stop at English lessons.
“My friend started to think about why these missionaries, who were almost his same age, were doing volunteer work and serving as missionaries in Japan. His next question was to ask what drives missionaries to serve. He’s now heard the missionary lessons and still has a correspondence with missionaries through video chat.”

When I was a teenager, I decided to invite the Savior into my life by being baptized and becoming a member of the Church. My friends were good examples to me. So was my grandmother. She was a temple worker in the Los Angeles California Temple. She would leave our house at 4:00 in the morning to serve the Lord in the temple.
Just two years after I was baptized, I decided I wanted to serve the Lord as a full-time missionary. On my mission, I helped many people learn about the Savior so that they could invite Him into their lives.

“I was excited about going on the Hole-in-the-Rock trip with our stake so I could see for myself the places that have been talked about,” said Cheyenne Johnson. “Walter Joshua and Elizabeth Kinney Stevens, my great-great-grandparents on my father’s side, were newlyweds. That trip was their honeymoon, and I think it must have been more honeymoon than they wanted since it was supposed to last six weeks and it lasted six months.
“Grandpa Stevens drove the first wagon down through the Hole. Also on my mother’s side of the family, great-great-grandparents Benjamin and Sarah Perkins were on that trip. Grandpa Perkins and his brother Hyrum had been miners in Wales and they were responsible for blasting out some of the places where they needed to build roadways down through the Hole. One place known as ‘Uncle Ben’s Dugway,’ was named after Grandpa Perkins. Platte D. Lyman, another great-great-grandfather on my mother’s side, was also on the trip. His wife Adelia stayed in Fillmore to have a baby who was born while the group was at the top of the Hole. He was carried through the Hole-in-the-Rock a few months later. That baby was my great-grandfather, Albert R. Lyman, who later married Mary Ellen Perkins, and they were the first settlers in what is now Blanding. They had 15 children, my grandmother being the 15th. Grandpa always kept a journal and wrote many stories and books. I was anxious to see the country where he had been a cowpuncher and to see his name carved in the rock at Lake Canyon. I felt a special closeness to him there.”

In addition to so many other responsibilities, the President of the Church receives a great deal of correspondence each day. I am reminded of one such letter and share it with you. I have changed the name of the young man who wrote the letter. It begins:
“Dear President,
“Hi. My name is David Smith. I live in an area where the starlings are very bad, and they are making nests in my step-grandpa’s boat and in my dad’s barn and all over the place. My step-grandpa and my dad both think I should shoot them, but my mom doesn’t. I know the law says it is okay, but I am not asking your opinion as a hunter. I am asking your opinion as a Church leader.
“Sincerely, David Smith
“P.S. A starling is a black bird that eats other bird’s eggs and other bad things.”
Each letter which comes in is answered. A response to this particular letter was sent by the secretary to the First Presidency, F. Michael Watson.
“Dear David:
“I have been asked to acknowledge your letter of April 30 addressed to the President of the Church about the problems you have been having with starlings.
“The Church does not have an official policy on this matter. The Brethren feel it should be left up to your parents to give you appropriate guidance.
“I hope this information is helpful to you.
“Sincerely yours, F. Michael Watson”

The young women around the world have taught me so much about seeking Christ and gaining a daily, personal witness of Him. Let me share the wisdom of two of them:
Livvy has watched general conference her entire life. In fact, in her home they traditionally watch all five sessions as a family. In the past, conference for Livvy had meant doodling or drifting into the occasional unintended nap. But this past October general conference was different. It became personal.
This time, Livvy decided to be an active recipient. She silenced notifications on her phone and took notes of impressions from the Spirit. She was amazed as she felt specific things God wanted her to hear and do. This decision made a difference in her life almost immediately.
Just days later her friends invited her to an inappropriate movie. She reflected, “I felt the words and spirit of conference return into my heart, and I heard myself declining their invitation.” She also had the courage to share her testimony of the Savior in her ward.
After these events she stated, “The amazing thing is, when I heard myself testify that Jesus is the Christ, I felt the Holy Ghost confirm it again for me.”
Livvy did not skip like a stone over the surface of conference weekend; she dove in, mind and spirit, and found the Savior there.

Another story involves Ruth, a seminary student, who felt she had no occasion to exercise her free agency. At home she was a servant to her inactive and very demanding mother and stepfather. At school she had been placed in a specific seminary class without any choice on her own part. She decided to drop the seminary class as part of her decision to use her free agency. After two weeks away from the class, she returned—she had made a decision with her agency, and it was a decision she felt good about.

Rachel loved her Sunbeam class. Her teacher, Sister Monson, had something special for them each Sunday to take home to help them remember what she had taught them. Once it was a picture of Jesus praying. Once it was a tiny mirror with “I am a child of God” printed around it. Last Sunday it had been a kitten puppet with a soft tummy for helping Mommy do the dusting. Rachel had named her dustcloth Ditty.
Every day when Mommy did the dusting, Rachel would get Ditty from the cleaning shelf and help. She liked to dust the rocking chair the best. It would gently rock to and fro as she dusted from the very top to the very bottom.
But today Ditty was lost. It wasn’t on the shelf when Mommy started dusting. Rachel had looked everywhere she could think of. But still no Ditty.
Mommy was just finishing the last shelf on the bookshelf when Rachel came into the living room and asked, “Mommy, does Heavenly Father have time for little answers?”
Mommy stopped her dusting and took Rachel’s hand. Together they walked to the couch, and Mommy lifted Rachel up onto her lap. “That sounds like a pretty serious question,” Mommy said. “Do you want to tell me what the problem is?”
“Ditty’s lost,” Rachel explained, “and I’ve looked everywhere. Sister Monson said that Heavenly Father has time to listen to big and little people about important things. I know that He helped when Daddy was looking for a job. And He helped Grandma when she fell and broke her hip. But does Heavenly Father have time to help me find Ditty?”
“Ditty is pretty important to you, isn’t it?” Rachel nodded sadly. Mommy stroked Rachel’s hair and wiped a tear from her cheek. “Well, anything that’s really important to you is important to Him, too,” Mommy assured her. “Would you like me to pray with you about Ditty?”
Rachel nodded, and they knelt together beside the couch.
“Do you want me to say it?” Mommy asked.
“No,” Rachel answered. “It’s my Ditty, so it should be my prayer.”
Mommy nodded and bowed her head. Rachel began.
“Heavenly Father, I thank Thee for Mommy and Daddy and all our nice things. Please help me to find Ditty. It’s important to me because Sister Monson gave it to me and because it helps me help Mommy. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Rachel and Mommy stayed kneeling quietly for a few minutes. Then Rachel smiled and reached for Mommy’s hand. “I just remembered where Ditty is!” Rachel said. “I was using it when I hid behind the couch to surprise Daddy yesterday.” She jumped up and looked behind the couch. Sure enough, there was Ditty. Rachel got it and crawled out to Mommy’s waiting arms. “He really did have time for a little answer, didn’t He?”
“Yes, Rachel,” Mommy reassured her, “and He always will.”

My friend Joshua and his family are not members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. One night Joshua came over to my house. While we played, he used the names of Heavenly Father and Jesus in vain. I told him that he was not supposed to say that because it was breaking a commandment. Joshua didn’t know that. We talked about something different he could say instead. He appreciated my help.

This stone plaque with the photo and narrative of the life of Charles Callis, sits in St Audoen’s park near the centre of Dublin. Elder Callis is the only person born in the Emerald Isle to become a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles in this dispensation. His service in the apostleship lasted from 1933 until his death in 1947.
The plaque tells of some of the events of his early life. The second child of John Callis and Susannah Charlotte Quilliam. At the death of his Father, and while Charles was still a small boy, his mother moved the family to Liverpool, where they became Latter-day Saints. In 1875, the family emigrated and joined the main body of the Church in Utah.
The plaque goes on to describe Charles Callis’ “distinguished professional life, practising law and serving in several political positions, including… city councilman and county attorney in Coalville, Utah.”
However, his formal working life began in the coal mines at age 16, and his later success was due to the determined course of self-education undertaken in his spare time, focusing particularly on the law.
From 1893 he served for two years in the British Mission, spending most of his time as president of the Irish Conference. In 1902 he married Grace Pack, and four years later she accompanied him when he was called to serve in the southern United States. He would serve as mission president there for twenty-five years. The Church was still very unpopular in the southern states at the time, but through his eloquence and knowledge of the law, Callis was able to win great respect for the Church in that region.
Charles Callis testified: “From my earliest recollections to the present time I have always had an abiding and intense love for my Savior. I cannot read the story of His sufferings and crucifixion without shedding tears.”
The memorial plaque in Dublin was dedicated by Elder Neal A. Maxwell in 1989.

When I began high school, I was a shy and timid teenager. I set goals to combat my shyness and even decided to run for class president.
Running for office represented everything that frightened me, including speaking in front of my peers and setting myself up for possible failure. But after I survived the primary elections and became a final candidate, my confidence began to grow and I found myself actually enjoying the experience. What I didn’t know was that I was about to experience a much different challenge.
The day before the final elections I stayed after school to hang up a few campaign posters. As I rounded a corner, I was shocked and hurt to see one of my election opponents and her friend tearing down my posters and leaving them strewn on the floor. In anger I reached up to tear down one of her posters. But then I remembered another goal I had set for myself, a goal to be more like the Savior. What would He want me to do?
I dropped my hands and strode up to my opponent. She tensed and was ready for a confrontation. I surprised her by wishing her luck in the election. Blushing, she whispered, “Thank you” as I walked away.
Looking back on that incident now, I’m glad I didn’t follow my first impulse to retaliate. Tearing down my opponent’s posters would only have caused contention and cost me my self-respect. Christ’s example isn’t always easy to follow, but if we strive to do so we can avoid painful mistakes.
I did end up winning that election. But even if I hadn’t, I would still be able to look back on the choice I made that day in the hallway without regret.

After the end of the war, I returned to New York, where I met an old friend, a pastor of my former church. He interceded for me with the synod, and I was finally admitted to the congregation as a lay member. As an experiment, it was agreed that I should accompany one of the pastors on a mission to New Zealand and Australia.
In Australia, we met some Italian immigrants who asked questions about the errors in some Bible translations. They were not satisfied with my companion’s answers. When they asked me about it, I once again told the story of Christ’s appearance to the people of America. When they asked me where I had learned such teachings, I told them of the book I had found. The story was good to them but bad for my colleague. He reported me to the synod, and once again they cut me off from the church.

Let me share with you my own experience with respect to race issues. As I indicated, I grew up in Logan, Utah, which at the time had very little racial diversity. My initial interaction with Blacks was through athletic competitions and Boys Nation.

In the summer of 1957, when I was almost seventeen years old, I was elected from Utah Boys State to be one of the two senators to attend Boys Nation in Washington, DC.28 Our accommodations were at the University of Maryland at College Park. At breakfast on the first morning, suddenly most of the young men from the South stood on their chairs and sang the song “Dixie.” I did not have a clue what was going on, but I could see that the one African American from the Northeast was visibly uncomfortable. This concerted action seemed very inappropriate, but I did not understand all the implications. One of the reasons I was surprised is because in my home, kindness and fairness for all Heavenly Father’s children were emphasized, particularly by my mother.

The second-generation Church members in the Kreiberg family are solid evidence of President Andersen’s assessment of the fortification that comes through temple marriages. For Inge Kreiberg the strongest proof of this is in their third child, Caroline.

“We wouldn’t even have Caroline if we hadn’t joined the Church,” Inge explains. Like most Danish women, Inge felt she was through with having children—“I thought two kids and a job were enough. Then one evening as I prepared to teach an institute class on women’s role in giving birth, I stopped abruptly. I knew I wasn’t practicing what the lesson taught.”

She recalls believing the lesson was teaching the truth. She knew she needed to study and pray about motherhood, and her study became intense and personal. She decided that, for her, having another child was right—a choice of no small significance in Denmark. Now Finn, Inge, and Caroline, eleven, live in Odense, in a sturdy house with lots of leaded windows, converted from a derelict railway station where Finn had played as a boy.

The Clothesline: Let me share another story about the growing up years in Shelley and my friend Mike. The city blocks that surrounded our homes were very large but also generally did not have many fences to create undue obstacles. This made for some great open spaces in and around many of the homes and provided a very efficient way to get through the block often without detection. I have heard that some of the local youth would use this as a means of running away, perhaps after pelting a passing car with snowballs or leaving the front porch of a home where the doorbell had just been pressed. I am not sure what possessed these youth to do such things since of course Mike and I primarily used these backyard areas as forms of exercise to relax our minds in between studying for upcoming chemistry or physics tests.
On once such studious occasion, we were moving at a high rate of speed through the dark center of the city block. I happened to be in front on this occasion when all of a sudden I heard this crazy noise that I don’t really know how to describe, associated with a thud, and followed by the moaning of a wounded soul. As I returned, making sure that no man was left behind, I found Mike crumpled on the ground in a heap and clearly in pain. Upon further review of the situation, I realized that we had run directly toward a clothesline. I had passed successfully under it without even knowing it was there. Mike on the other hand… well, not so much! The clothesline had caught him just above the eye and had planted him ever so harshly upon the ground.
I have had two primary thoughts on this experience over the years. First, we need to ever be conscious of those that we may be leading – either knowingly or not – and the paths upon which we might take them, with the second observation really being the polar opposite – we need to be conscious of those we might be following and the paths upon which they might lead us. Now, I was leading in good faith but without all the information or awareness of forces that surrounded us, and Mike was exerting the same faith in his following.

It was not a good time. Questions swirled in my head that seemingly didn’t have answers. For months I had been struggling with who I was and what direction my life was taking. To remedy this problem I began attending many different churches, searching for the truth. But it seemed I always ended up at the church my family went to. Somehow, though, it never felt quite right. As I thought about my feelings, I just assumed I felt this way because my life was so mixed up. I was also associating with the wrong crowd and allowing these people to influence my life, which didn’t help matters. Deep inside, all I felt was utter loneliness.
I realized I needed to change my life. I stopped hanging around with people who were a bad influence on me, and I stopped putting myself in situations that would force me to choose between God and my friends. Even with these changes, I didn’t feel like I was receiving any answers or encouragement from God, and I sometimes wondered if He really was there.
In December I graduated from college, and I decided to move back in with my family in Utah. Those plans changed when my dad took a job in another state. Since I had already accepted an internship in St. George, Utah, I decided to stay. In St. George, I began going to my church, but once again felt alone and desolate. It was as if part of me were dead or missing.
One night in my room, I cried out to the Lord and asked Him for guidance and direction. I started to tremble and cry because I so desired to have Him in my life.
At that moment, I heard something or someone say, “Read the Book of Mormon.” It wasn’t a booming voice; it was gentle, quiet, and peaceful. This prompting confused me. I had been exposed to the LDS Church before and had no desire to learn about it. In fact, a high school friend had given me a copy of the Book of Mormon, and I had given it away.
I tried to brush off the voice, but it came again: “Read the Book of Mormon.”
“Why would I want to read the Book of Mormon?” I thought. The prompting came again. “It’s the perfect time. You’re on your own now.” As crazy as this seemed, I suddenly felt a strong desire to get a copy of this book, and I figured the visitors’ center at the St. George Utah Temple was a good place to start. I went on a tour with Sister Pang, a missionary serving in the center, and afterward we watched a movie and talked. The feeling of a presence—a holy presence—was so apparent that I had to fight back tears. It was like I was on the verge of discovering something wonderful. Sister Pang gave me a Book of Mormon as I left.
I went straight home and immediately began reading. As I studied 2 Nephi 27, I began to feel very tired. I almost closed the book, but again I knew I had to press on. I said a prayer that I would be able to understand what I was reading, and I continued. As I re-read the passage I decided to compare it to Isaiah 29 and 30. For me, these scriptures were the key that unlocked knowledge and understanding of the gospel. I knew then without a doubt that the words in the Book of Mormon were true. They were another testimony of Jesus Christ.
I rushed out of my room and told my roommates the Book of Mormon was true. To see the shock and excitement on their faces was great. I rushed to the visitors’ center, but Sister Pang wasn’t there. So I met Sister Taylor, and we talked for hours about the gospel. I asked the missionaries to teach me the discussions, and I set a baptism date after the first discussion.
It wasn’t all easy after that. For the next couple of weeks I received letters and phone calls from my family and friends telling me what to do—and what not to do. I didn’t mind giving up my friends and my lifestyle. But my family’s dislike of my decision made this time in my life very difficult. I decided to stop taking the discussions, to stop praying, and to stop reading. For a week I turned away from everything. I felt so alone and confused. Then one day I called my dad and told him I was determined to be baptized. He told me he loved me and then he hung up the phone.
The joy and peace I felt at that moment cast out everything else. I immediately prayed that Heavenly Father would comfort my family. I began the discussions again, and soon I received a letter from my father. He again told me he loved me no matter what, and I would always be his daughter.
The Lord had taken care of my family and led me to a new life. I’m so thankful for the missionaries, and I’m thankful for my friends who strived to live the gospel principles. Mostly, though, I’m grateful to be a child of God. Every day I’m amazed at the love and the comfort the Lord brings to me. To be recognized by Heavenly Father is so precious.

When Peter brought the sheep off the hillside that evening, he saw the king’s messenger riding away from Pleasant Valley. To have a messenger come to their small town was unusual. Peter chased the sheep into the cote and raced indoors to see what had happened. His two older brothers were dressed in their best clothing, and their mother was hurrying back and forth between the fireplace and the table.
“What’s going on?” Peter asked. “I saw the king’s messenger ride away from—”
“It doesn’t concern you,” Dominic broke in rudely. “Wise old Trebor is retiring, and our king needs a new advisor.”
Richard shoved his empty plate aside. “The messenger announced that all young men between the ages of fourteen and thirty would be interviewed by Trebor. Dominic and I are going to the castle in hopes that one of us will be chosen.”
“You must go, too, Peter,” his mother urged, placing her hands on his shoulders and frowning when her two older sons grumbled about being nursemaids.
“But,” Peter said. “I’ll not be fourteen until tomorrow. And I’m surely not wise.”
“But you’ll be fourteen by the time you arrive at the castle,” his mother reminded him.
Two mornings later it looked to Peter as though every young man from the small country of Meritania stood shoulder to shoulder in the castle’s courtyard. A stillness fell over the group when old Trebor hobbled onto a balcony.
“Young sires, tomorrow I will choose someone who shall be trained to take my place,” he said, his voice cracking with age. He clasped the balcony railing for support. “Today I will speak with each of you personally. And tomorrow there will be a final test to help me decide my successor.”
Early the next morning Trebor appeared on the balcony. “After interviewing all you young men, I will dismiss all but three.”
Peter’s heart pounded when he heard his name announced as one of the contenders.
“The old man must be slipping!” Dominic fumed. “Imagine choosing an inexperienced stripling like you, Peter, over a smart fellow like me!”
Richard laughed. “Our mother pleaded with you to finish school, Dominic, and to get an education, but you dropped out,” he said, “and it shows.”
“I’ll admit you have more schooling than I have,” Dominic agreed as he scowled at his brother. “But old Trebor didn’t miss much during those interviews, and I’m sure he noticed how soft your hands are from lack of hard work.”
“He probably also noticed that you talk so much you never hear anyone but yourself!” Richard’s voice rose in anger.
Peter hid his calloused hands behind his back and moved away from his brothers while the argument continued. He wondered what Trebor’s final test would be.
At ten o’clock Peter and two other young men approached Trebor in the castle’s great hall. The old man leaned on a cane, and peered at them from watery eyes.
“You have an hour to complete this test,” he quavered. “Go into the city and bring to me whatever you consider most important for a wise man to have. You are not to speak to each other about this, and you must travel alone.” Trebor waved his gnarled hand toward the castle’s drawbridge and shuffled over to sit down on a bench.
Peter and the other contestants hurried off toward the city. And, within five minutes of the hour, all three of them had returned. Trebor motioned for them to lay what they’d brought on a table near where he sat. “What is in that large package?” he asked.
“A bolt of precious material, sire,” replied one of the young men and unwrapped his package. “Clothes make the man,” he declared with a look of satisfaction on his face. “And one is accepted anywhere if he is well dressed.”
Hardly glancing at the elegant fabric, Trebor pointed a finger at a small leather pouch. “What does that contain?” he asked.
The second young man bowed confidently and said, “Sire, it is filled with gold dust. Gold will buy anything—fame, fortune, friends, shelter. A wise man needs all these things.”
Trebor’s expression didn’t change by one wrinkle as he pointed to Peter’s package. “Your package looks as though it came from the meat seller’s stall in the market,” he commented.
Peter’s face reddened when the other two young men snickered. “Yes, sire. It is a tongue, but more than that it is a reminder.”
“Explain, please,” Trebor said and sat forward interestedly, cupping a hand behind his ear.
“A tongue can do much harm or much good,” Peter said. “Harsh, untrue, or thoughtless words can hurt. Soft words, intelligent words, considerate words should fall from a wise man’s tongue.”
“You’re right, Peter!” declared Trebor, and he reached across the table to clasp Peter’s hands. “And since you shall be our king’s new adviser, I pray you will never forget the wisdom of your words.”

On another Sunday, Roslyn had written, “Yesterday when Shelly and I finished our morning chores, we fixed sack lunches and went exploring on the cliff by our house. Chips went with us. It was kind of scary because Chips kept running between us and the cliff. He’s a very protective dog. I said a silent prayer that we would be safe—I didn’t want to fall into all those spiky trees and bushes below us! My prayer was answered, and Chips helped Shelly and me eat our picnic lunch as we sat on our hillside ’thrones’ (the big ‘chairs’ we carved in the dirt).”

When Rebecca, 17, sits down to play the piano, she isn’t alone for long. Pretty soon her brother Michael, 19, joins in on the guitar or saxophone. And younger sister and brother, Alesha, 14, and Logan, 10, might sing or dance.

For the Raymond Maire family in Silverdale, New Zealand, music is something that brings a special harmony to their home. And it is a connection they have with their aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents.

“I play six instruments,” said Michael. “I like to jam with my friends. I listen to a lot of old jazz.”

“We all play something,” said Rebecca.

The Maires get their musical ability from their grandfather. Their mom, Raewyn, explains, “Michael learned the guitar first from his grandad. He spent a lot of time with Michael and helped him understand the basics of music. Once he picked that up everything else was easy.”

Family, including their extended family, is very important to the Maires. Michael explains, “We are lucky because pretty much our whole extended family is just around the corner. Our grandparents are just down the road.”

“My best friends are my cousins,” said Rebecca. “We are so close that when we see each other, even if it is just the next day, it’s a really joyful reunion. We all support each other through everything we’ve had to go through. It’s a neat feeling.”

One of the things that brothers and sisters and cousins can support each other in is their commitment to living the gospel. “The word gets around that we won’t do certain things,” said Rebecca. “We don’t realize that people watch us all the time until someone says, ‘You’re a Mormon, aren’t you?’ Or they say, ‘I saw some missionaries from your church. Is that what your brother is going to be?’”

When Michael is serving, he’ll know that there are a lot of folks at home supporting him. And maybe Grandpa will be teaching yet another grandchild about music.

When we began dating, I learned how strongly Kathy felt about keeping the Sabbath Day holy. Because of her devotion, our family has always tried hard to make Sunday a special day. We don’t watch TV on Sunday or go to sporting events. We listen to sacred music, write letters, and spend lots of time talking together. Our younger children liked to read stories from the Friend and from scripture readers. As a result, we have enjoyed a spirit of peace in our home on the Sabbath.