Gospel Story Finder

A group of youth in Queen Creek, Arizona, determined to “arise and shine forth” and to lead the youth in their community in living the standards in For the Strength of Youth. They each wrote something that they felt was holding them back or something they wanted to change in their lives in their journals, and then they literally dug a hole. They came together, tore out the journal page, and threw it into the hole in the earth, just like the people of Ammon did in the Book of Mormon with their weapons of war.12 Then they buried those pages, and that day they each made a commitment to change. They repented. They determined to arise!

Some years later I again visited the Grand Junction Colorado Stake. Again I met the same parents. Still the father had not qualified to have his large and beautiful family join mother and father in a sacred sealing ceremony, that this family might be a forever family. I suggested that if the family members would earnestly pray, they could qualify. I indicated that I would be pleased to officiate on that sacred occasion in the temple of God.

Mother pleaded, father strived, children urged, all prayed. The result? Let me share with you a treasured letter that their young son, Todd, placed under Daddy’s pillow on Father’s Day morning.

“Dad,
“I love you for what you are and not for what you aren’t. Why don’t you stop smoking? Millions of people have … why can’t you? It’s harmful to your health, to your lungs, your heart. If you can’t keep the Word of Wisdom you can’t go to heaven with me, Skip, Brad, Marc, Jeff, Jeannie, Pam, and their families. Us kids keep the Word of Wisdom. Why can’t you? You are stronger and you are a man. Dad, I want to see you in heaven. We all do. We want to be a whole family in heaven … not half of one.
“Dad, you and Mom ought to get two old bikes and start riding around the park every night. You are probably laughing right now, but I wouldn’t be. You laugh at those old people, jogging around the park and riding bikes and walking, but they are going to outlive you. Because they are exercising their lungs, their hearts, their muscles. They are going to have the last laugh.
“Come on, Dad, be a good guy—don’t smoke, drink, or anything else against our religion. We want you at our graduation. If you do quit smoking and do good stuff like us, you and Mom can go with Brother Monson and get married and sealed to us in the temple.
“Come on, Dad—Mom and us kids are just waiting for you. We want to live with you forever. We love you. You’re the greatest, Dad.
Love,
Todd
“P.S. And if the rest of us wrote one of these, they’d say the same thing.
“P.P.S. Mr. Newton has quit smoking. So can you. You are closer to God than Mr. Newton!”

That plea, that prayer of faith, was heard and answered. A night I shall ever treasure and long remember was when this entire family assembled in a sacred room in the beautiful temple which graces this square. Father was there. Mother was there. Every child was there. Ordinances eternal in their significance were performed. A humble prayer of gratitude brought to a close this long-awaited evening.

Having lived legally on the East Coast of the United States for a few years, I was acquainted with some of the cities, and they were mostly small.
When I read or heard about the events leading up to the First Vision, crowds of people were mentioned, which did not make sense to me.
Questions began to arise in my mind. Why did the Church have to be restored in the United States and not in Brazil or Italy, the land of my ancestors?
Where were those crowds of people who were involved in the revivals and in the confusion of religions—all of which had happened in such a peaceful and calm place?
I asked a lot of people about it but got no answer. I read everything I could in Portuguese and then in English but found nothing that could calm my heart. I continued to search.
In October 1984, I attended general conference as a counselor in a stake presidency. After, I went to Palmyra, New York, eager to find the answer.
Arriving there, I tried to understand: Why did the Restoration have to be here, and why such a spiritual uproar? Where did all the people mentioned in Joseph’s account come from? Why there?
At that time, the most reasonable answer to me was because the U.S. Constitution guaranteed freedom.
That morning I visited the Grandin Building, where the first edition of the Book of Mormon was printed. I went to the Sacred Grove, where I prayed a lot.
There was hardly anyone on the streets in that small town of Palmyra. Where were the crowds of people that Joseph had mentioned?
That afternoon I decided to go to the Peter Whitmer farm, and when I got there, I found a man at the window of a cabin. He had an intense glow in his eyes. I greeted him and then began to ask those same questions.
He then asked me, “Do you have time?” I said yes.
He explained that Lakes Erie and Ontario and, farther east, the Hudson River are located in that region.
In the early 1800s they decided to build a canal for navigation which would pass through that region, stretching more than 300 miles (480 km) to reach the Hudson River. It was a great enterprise for that time, and they could rely only on human labor and animal power.
Palmyra was a center for some of that construction. Builders needed skilled people, technicians, families, and their friends. Many people began to pour in from the neighboring towns and places farther away, such as Ireland, to work on the canal.
That was such a sacred and spiritual moment because I had finally found the crowd. They brought their customs and their beliefs. When the man mentioned their beliefs, my mind was enlightened and my spiritual eyes were opened by God.
At that moment, I understood how the hand of God our Father, in His immense wisdom, had prepared in His plan a place to bring the young Joseph Smith, putting him in the midst of that religious confusion, because there, in the Hill Cumorah, the precious plates of the Book of Mormon were hidden.
This was the stage of the Restoration, where the Father’s voice would be heard after nearly two millennia in a wonderful vision, talking to the boy Joseph Smith, when he went to the Sacred Grove to pray and heard: “This is My Beloved Son. Hear Him!”
There he saw two personages, whose brightness and glory defy all description. Yes, God revealed Himself to man again. The darkness that covered the earth began to dissipate.
The prophecies regarding the Restoration began to be fulfilled: “And I saw another angel fly in the midst of heaven, having the everlasting gospel to preach unto them that dwell on the earth, and to every nation, and kindred, and tongue, and people.”
In a few short years, Joseph was led to the records of prophecies, covenants, and ordinances left by ancient prophets, our beloved Book of Mormon.
The Church of Jesus Christ could not be restored without the eternal gospel revealed in the Book of Mormon as another testament of Jesus Christ, even the Son of God, the Lamb of God, who took away the sins of the world.
Christ said to His people in Jerusalem:
“And other sheep I have, which are not of this fold.”
“I am the good shepherd, and know my sheep, and am known of mine.”
When leaving the Whitmer farm, I do not remember saying good-bye. I just remember tears running freely down my face. The sun was setting in a beautiful sky.
In my heart an immense joy and peace calmed my soul. I was filled with gratitude.
I now clearly understood why. Once again the Lord had given me knowledge and light.
During my trip home, scriptures continued to flow into my mind: the promises made to Father Abraham that in his seed all families of the earth would be blessed.
And for this, temples would be erected so that the divine power might be conferred upon man once again on the earth so that families could be united, not until death do us part but together for all eternity.
“And it shall come to pass in the last days, that the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established in the top of the mountains, and shall be exalted above the hills; and all nations shall flow unto it.”

It was the first day at my new school. My mother and I were in the office filling out papers when we heard an announcement over the speakers that basketball tryouts would be held that day after school. Since I had played on the team at my old school, I thought I’d go to the tryouts and see what happened. I knew things would be a little different moving from a school where almost everyone was a member of the Church to a school where I might be the only one. But that day I learned things would be really different.
Before school my father had given me a priesthood blessing, which helped me feel a little less worried. Then when we had family prayer, my four-year-old brother prayed that I wouldn’t be scared and that I would be happy at my new school. His prayer really had an effect on me, especially because I’m more of a quiet personality and don’t like drawing attention to myself. At this new school, where my religious beliefs were so unique, I knew I would get a lot of unwanted attention. I was scared and worried, and I already felt like I didn’t fit in.
Basketball tryouts started with drills and shooting baskets and ended with a lot of running. I had tried my best and felt that I had a pretty good chance of making the team. Then it happened.
The coach called everyone over to give some final instructions. As we stood there tired and breathing heavily, the coach asked a question in a loud voice. “Are there any Mormon boys here who can’t practice on Sundays?”
Time seemed to freeze. Did I hear him right? Instantly my mind flashed back to the recent night when I was struggling with living in this new place. I had decided to read For the Strength of Youth and underline what I thought was important in each section. I knew this would help me keep the Lord’s standards and help me feel closer to God. I knew the Lord would be there to help me in my time of need. I could see in my mind the section under “Sabbath Day Observance” where it says, “The Lord has given the Sabbath day for your benefit and has commanded you to keep it holy. … Sunday is not a holiday or a day for recreation or athletic events” (32–33).
Without hesitation I raised my hand. The coach looked at me. All the other boys looked at me. When I looked around I saw that I was the only “Mormon boy” there. What I’d been afraid of was happening. But I didn’t feel embarrassed or scared. I actually felt happy inside.
Talking to my dad on the way home, I remembered my little brother’s prayer; it had been answered. I was happy here. I was happy that I had passed the test and that I’d had the courage to stand up for the truth.
That day had been a tryout. I thought it was only for the basketball team, but it was also a tryout to see if I would stand on the Lord’s side. I was so glad that I had raised my hand to show I wanted to be on His side. When the basketball roster was posted, I was surprised to see my name on it. I made the basketball team and got some good playing time during the season—even though I didn’t go to the practices on Sunday. The coach and the other boys were friendly to me, and the student body would cheer my name when I was on the court. After the season ended, I found out from the missionaries that my coach was taking the missionary lessons. I am grateful for the For the Strength of Youth pamphlet. It really did give me strength that day when I had to stand for the truth alone.

I thought I met the missionaries by accident. When I agreed to hear the first discussion, it was out of curiosity only. Now I realize the Lord led me to them so I could understand many things I did not know before.
The missionaries taught me how to pray. I had never prayed, but I decided to pray with all my heart. When I did, the Lord revealed the truth to me. I know Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and our Redeemer. I know Joseph Smith is the prophet through whom Jesus Christ restored His Church—the only true church on earth. I know the Book of Mormon is the word of God.
Since I joined the Church, my family and I have received many blessings. My heart is full of love and faith. Going to my Sunday meetings and feeling the Holy Ghost make my faith grow even stronger.
I want to share the great gifts my Heavenly Father has given me, gifts which fill my life with joy.
Tatiana Silaeva,Engels Branch, Saratov Russia District

Illustration by Carolyn Vibbert
When I was six or seven years old, I knew I wanted to be an oceanographer. I focused on my goal, worked hard, and got into a good college. I took several courses in zoology and loved it. But as I got further into my studies, I became fascinated with the human body, particularly on the cellular level. I decided to become a pathologist.
I soon met my future husband, and we decided to get married. Having a family was always part of my plan, but while I knew I could be a great doctor and a great mother, I felt that I couldn’t be great at both at the same time. Because family is essential to the Lord’s plan of salvation, I decided to become a mother first. I figured that once my kids got into school, I could go back to school myself.
When my youngest child entered kindergarten, I began the application process for a PhD program in nutritional studies at the University of Texas in Austin. Just before submitting my application, I found out I was unexpectedly pregnant with my seventh child. I was in my 40s, and by the time this child entered school, I would be nearly 50.
“A little late to start a new career that takes extensive schooling,” I thought.
All at once I saw my life’s career dreams crumble around me. As I began to despair, a scripture came to my mind and my heart: “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13). I had always considered this scripture to mean one person dying for another, but now it means so much more.
I realized that the greatest love I could show was to lay down the life I had planned for myself and give my time and energy to raising my children. I felt that for me, this was what the Lord would have me do. Yes, I could have helped a lot of people as a doctor, but I also know that the greatest eternal impact I can have is in the lives of my own children.

It had been a rough freshman year of high school. Jenica B., 17, of Illinois, USA, had ballet training, demanding high school courses, and Church and family responsibilities that were all competing for her attention. She was running on four to five hours of sleep, and it was exhausting. Jenica and her parents all knew something needed to change.
“I would love to have a professional career in ballet,” Jenica says, “but ballet, as many dancers know, is a very fragile world, and it’s very difficult.”
Jenica wanted to keep training her hardest, but she also knew she wanted to make her education a priority. “We’d heard of other dancers who had done online school,” she says. “I knew that we had to find a program that would be perfect for me.”
So her mom found an accredited online school program that would allow Jenica to participate in extracurricular activities, and prepare for college while maintaining a rigorous ballet training schedule. And she’d have time for homework, scripture study, and rest. They jumped on the opportunity.
“That was truly a blessing,” Jenica explained. “That was when I started training [in ballet] in Chicago, and I was still able to attend seminary. And I got so much more time to be with my dad because he also works in the city. I was even blessed with incredible opportunities to share the gospel with friends who were curious. It was a really good experience.”
Jenica and her dad spend time together traveling to the city, sometimes even eating dinner together there.
Some of Jenica’s opportunities to share the gospel have come when dancing has taken her away from home. She has found ways to maintain her standards and even to share her beliefs with friends. One summer, she was able to attend summer ballet trainings in both Arizona and New York City. While in New York City, she posted a picture of the Manhattan New York Temple on social media. She also likes to post dance images on social media with an inspiring quote from a Church leader or an uplifting thought.
“We can all use social media to spread the gospel,” she says. “It doesn’t have to be a big post about everything. It can just be a simple something that sparks interest or hope in somebody.” In the end, she says, “other people will be grateful for our courage to share in such a public space.”
Sharing with her friends and maintaining those friendships has helped Jenica to maintain her standards as well. “They’re very respectful of my beliefs,” she says, “and I’m grateful for that, because it makes it easier for me to live them.”
Even with Jenica’s new schedule and new opportunities, balancing all of her responsibilities isn’t easy. She attends early-morning seminary, catches some time with her dad on the train into Chicago, trains in ballet for the day, and then focuses on homework, scripture reading, and Church activities in the evening.
Attending early-morning seminary is important to Jenica, and her new schedule makes it possible.
So how does she do all of it? “It’s very difficult,” Jenica says. But through all of her scheduling and organizing, she asks a simple question: “What do I want most at the end of the day? Because at the end of the day I want to be the best at ballet that I can be but also maintain my schoolwork and be able and prepared to go to college when the time comes, and so it’s a sacrifice now.”
Photograph courtesy of Jenica B.
She adds, “I had a ballet teacher who stressed that we need to put God and our families and our education first and then ballet, because ordering our priorities that way truly helps us focus on what is most important in this life. Having incredible examples like my ballet teacher and the people who guide the Church has helped me understand how to make this happen.”
Jenica enjoys talking with her friends about anything, including the gospel.
One thing Jenica has decided to keep high on her list of priorities is keeping her standards. Fortunately, most studios she has worked with have asked ballet students to maintain modest dress standards, making it easier for Jenica to uphold her own standards. But outside the studio, she says people notice a difference in what she wears.
“My friends do ask, and I’ve told them what the Church standards are that I hold, and they definitely think that it’s interesting, but they see where I’m coming from and where my beliefs are coming from so it tends not to be a problem.”
Jenica’s friends are very supportive when she talks about her standards.
And people notice differences besides the clothing Jenica chooses to wear.
“People have definitely mentioned to me how they know people in the Church and they’re just very happy—they live happy lives—and they notice the light that we share even if we don’t think that other people are watching. They notice differences. They notice when we choose to not use certain language. They notice when we choose not to use things that would be harmful to us, and for the most part they definitely value our strength to stand for what we believe in.”
Jenica has also found many opportunities to make service a priority in her busy schedule. For her online school’s National Honor Society program, she worked at the bishop’s storehouse and with an international organization to earn service hours. And when she was working toward earning her Young Women Honor Bee, she found a way to incorporate her passion for dancing in her community efforts. She started volunteering for two hours on Saturdays to teach ballet to inner-city children.
“I’ve come to realize my passion for service,” she says. “I love feeling like I can make a difference in the world. Even here in Illinois, when I assemble food packs, I can help someone all the way across the globe—and with my own hands. And it helps me realize—even though I don’t know them—the love that God has for His children.”
Jenica loves having time to enjoy things like ice cream and games with her family.
Through all of her experiences in dancing, finding service opportunities, sharing the gospel, and organizing her responsibilities, Jenica has found a great appreciation for the things that matter most in life.
“There are things that we value in life and that we want to pursue, and I know that Heavenly Father will provide a way for us to do that if we continue to keep our faith in Him,” she says. “Sometimes we can lose our sight on what’s truly important and we lose sight of how much He has helped us in these things that we’ve been trying to achieve.” Jenica says she’s learned that “some things don’t go the way that we planned, but no matter how difficult it is, He has a plan for each and every one of us and if we truly pray and ask Him for help, He will provide a way for us to achieve what we want to if it’s in His plan for us. And we just have to wait and be ready to accept what He wants us to do.”

For many years we have been conducting a home Relief Society once a week in our small town in Spain. Since the majority who attend are women of other faiths, at first we avoided teaching the doctrinal lessons in the Relief Society manuals. But gradually we began including Spiritual Living lessons.
One morning I prayerfully searched for a topic that would inspire the women. “What should the women hear this week, Father?” I prayed.
Then I came across a lesson on prayer and fasting. I felt inspired that this one should be given, but I also wondered how the idea of fasting would come across to those who were not members of the Church. I decided to follow the inspiration, having learned long ago not to question the promptings of the Spirit.
The class went well, and many mistaken ideas and doubts were cleared up. The women began to understand that fasting, used together with prayer, is a powerful tool anyone can use. As I was leaving, a woman who rarely attended our meetings came up to me and asked, “Can I fast, too?”
“Why of course you can, Manoli,” I replied. “Anyone can fast, Heavenly Father makes no distinctions among his children.”
Manoli was visibly upset as she continued. “You see, my mother has been in a mental hospital for two years. She has become worse lately and doesn’t even recognize me or my sister. We feel so helpless going to see her. It hurts me so much to see her like that.”
I told Manoli I would begin a fast with her. We started with a prayer. As we got up from our knees, I explained that Heavenly Father always answers prayers and fasting, but in his time and in his way.
The next day Manoli’s sister told Manoli that the hospital staff had stopped giving their mother her regular sedatives because her condition had markedly improved. She was free from the agony she had experienced previously and was peacefully lying in bed. She died the following day, but Manoli was comforted by the assurance that her mother was still enjoying peace and freedom from pain.
I learned a great deal from this experience. I know that Heavenly Father had Manoli in mind when he inspired me to give a lesson that prepared two sisters for their mother’s death.

After we got baptized, I was eager to have my mother’s temple work done but not my father’s work. The missionaries, however, encouraged me.

"It’s part of doing your part," they said. "Your father is also waiting for you to have his work done."

I told them I didn’t care. I was still upset with him.

"We have found the gospel," my aunt told me. "You need to forgive him and do his work."

Reluctantly, I accepted their counsel. A year after I was baptized, I took my parents’ names to the Guatemala City Guatemala Temple. It was a powerful, emotional experience. I was baptized for my mother and for several other people. Then our branch president prepared to be baptized for my father. I did not want to watch, so I began to leave.

After the branch president entered the font, I heard my father’s name during the ordinance. Immediately afterward, I felt the presence of my father. That experience left me feeling ashamed for not wanting to have his work done.

"Forgive me, Heavenly Father," I prayed as I began to weep. "I have been selfish."

When I returned to Nicaragua, I went to the cemetery where my father was buried. For the first time, I visited his grave and placed flowers on it. I asked him to forgive me, and I told him that I loved him. Then I wept again.

My father, like my mother, had been waiting for me to take his name to the temple, where Heavenly Father allowed me to have a wonderful experience. That experience cleansed my heart. In that moment, all of the pain and anger I had felt toward him went away.

For that, I am eternally grateful.

John Hunter knew that his father, President Howard W. Hunter of the Pasadena (California) Stake, was no sports fan. Still, his father seemed unusually preoccupied that autumn evening in 1959 as he quietly stared at the players, almost unseeing, throughout the Brigham Young University–University of Utah football game. Howard Hunter could not tell his son that he was reflecting on an interview he had had with President David O. McKay a few hours earlier.
President Hunter, visiting in Salt Lake City for general conference, had not been surprised by the message he had received asking him to come to President McKay’s office between sessions that day. He had been working on a project for the First Presidency and assumed that the President wanted a report.
But President McKay’s greeting was astounding: “Oh, I’m glad you’re here, because tomorrow you’re going to be sustained as a member of the Council of the Twelve.”
“I was shocked at the call,” President Hunter remembers, even though he had broad experience in Church leadership positions. He had been a stake president for nearly ten years and had previously served as a bishop for almost seven years. He was also chairman of the regional council of stake presidents in Southern California.
Howard Hunter listened as President McKay told him how much he would enjoy his new calling and how it would change his life. Then President McKay asked him not to share the news with anyone but his wife until his name could be presented for a sustaining vote in conference the next day.
Clara May Hunter [Clairel was seventy-two kilometers away in Provo at that moment, visiting John and his wife, Louine, who had recently given birth to the Hunters’ first grandchild. Elder Hunter telephoned to tell “Claire” the news, but after he got the words out, there was silence on the line as both were overcome by emotion.
“I went to the afternoon session and sat down, and the weight of the responsibility started to rest down on me. I got so nervous I couldn’t sit there, so I got up and started to walk. I don’t know where I went,” President Hunter remembers, but the time was spent thinking about how the new calling would affect him.
It would mean giving up his law practice and the life he and Claire had built in Southern California during nearly thirty years of marriage. But, along with thinking of the sacrifices they would have to make, President and Sister Hunter also thought of the covenants they had made in the temple to serve the Lord at all costs. “We expected to honor the commitment we had given,” he says.

The youth of the Slaterville Second Ward, Ogden Utah Mound Fort Stake, borrowed their fathers’ hammers and set out on an adventure that anticipated Christmas. They contracted to make Christmas tree stands in order to raise money for their youth activities.
The adult leaders were in charge of running the saw, but with an assembly line system and a quality inspector, the youth stayed organized and busy. Each person was assigned a certain number of hours to help, and no one complained as each put in his quota with the help of supportive families.
The project lasted for more than a month until the goal of 24,000 stands was completed. The young people found they enjoyed working together for their mutual benefit and learned something about responsibility. It was also a wonderful opportunity for leaders and youth to work together.

“Ethan,” Dad called, “stay here on the path next to me.”
Five-year-old Ethan frowned. He loved hiking with Dad, but he didn’t want to stay on the boring old trail. There was much more to see alongside the stream.
“Come here,” Dad called again. “You might stumble and fall in those tall weeds.”
Obediently, Ethan bounded toward Dad. But as he walked, his eyes kept wandering off the trail. It wasn’t long before he saw a fallen tree and scampered toward it. Climbing on top of it he cried, “Look at me, Dad!”
Dad shook his head. “Didn’t I tell you to stay on the trail?” Ethan groaned and shuffled back toward Dad.
As they hiked, they soon came to a section of the stream lined by large boulders. Each rock looked as if it had been carefully stacked in place to hold back the soil. Ethan pointed. “Look, Dad!”
Dad nodded. “Interesting rock formation, isn’t it? I guess it wouldn’t hurt to have a look.”
Grinning, Ethan bolted toward the stream and leaped onto a boulder. Dad followed. Ethan hopped from boulder to boulder, as if playing hopscotch, until he was standing on the highest one. He watched the stream swirl and cascade over rocks below, enjoying the sight—until he heard a terrible sound.
Hiss, rattle, rattle, rattle.
There, wedged between two rocks near Ethan’s feet, was a rattlesnake.
“Daddy!” Ethan cried.
Dad was on the other side of the rattlesnake and couldn’t reach Ethan to help him. “Don’t move!” he yelled.
Ethan trembled. The only way back to the trail was to hop down the rocks the way he had come, and he was afraid that the snake could move much faster than he could. What if he startled the snake and it struck him? The snake glared at him, flicking its tongue.
“Jump in the stream,” a voice spoke to his mind. Still watching the snake, he thought about the cold, muddy water and the jagged rocks below. “Jump in the stream!” the voice said again. So Ethan took a flying leap off the boulder and landed with a splash. Dad jumped in right after him, scooped him up, and helped him to shore. Ethan hugged Dad tight, his heart pounding.
“I wanted to tell you to jump, but I didn’t dare because I thought you might get hurt,” Dad said. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”
“The Holy Ghost told me to jump,” Ethan said. “At first I didn’t listen, but then He told me again.”
“Obeying those promptings saved your life, son.” Dad looked at Ethan thoughtfully. “If I had listened to the Holy Ghost in the first place, we wouldn’t have been in danger.”
“What do you mean, Dad?”
“As we walked away from the trail, I saw something move in the grass,” Dad said. “I thought it was a mouse or a chipmunk. Suddenly, I remembered a story I read in the newspaper a few days ago about a man who recently died from a rattlesnake bite. The thought didn’t make sense to me, so I ignored it. If I had been listening, I would have recognized that the Spirit was trying to warn me.”
Ethan hugged Dad tighter, shivering to think what could have happened. “We should have stayed on the trail,” he murmured. “It’s safer.”
Dad nodded. “That’s true in life too. Even when we can’t see danger, Heavenly Father knows where the devil is lying in wait to corner us. The only safe way is to stay on the marked path.”
Ethan silently vowed to always obey. As he followed his parents, the prophets, and the Holy Ghost, he’d be safe from the worst serpent of all.

The Africa Central Area Presidency encouraged all wards and branches in the Area to submit 99+1 Temple Ready names to Family Search in celebration of President Russell M. Nelson’s 100th Birthday.
In the Nairobi 2nd ward, Bishop Kennedy Mukula took the challenge, planning a ward activity for August 31, just 10 days prior to the prophet’s centennial event.
Gathering names would require many computers, and some family history expertise. Eric Onyango, the elder’s quorum president and a professional network engineer, who also served as an Area family history advisor, was asked to provide the technology. A senior missionary couple serving in the ward, Elder and Sister Arrington, were asked to assist members to enter names.
“We wanted to make sure people had a way to gather names and birthdates,” Elder Arrington said, “so we created a simple form that members could take home and use to gather names from their families. We passed the form out at church the two Sundays prior to the activity. And people came prepared!”
“We weren’t sure how many computers we would need, but we brought what we had,” said Bishop Mukula. “The bishopric each brought one, the Arringtons brought three, and Eric brought five more. In the end, we still had people waiting in line to add their names.”
The goal was to meet or exceed 99+1 family names entered into familysearch.org, so keeping track was important to the ward.
“We made up name cards by printing person icons similar to those in family search onto papers about 10 cm square,” said Sister Arrington. “Then we asked members to write one name that they added into FamilySearch on each paper and post them on a white board so we could keep count. We came with 140 blank icon papers, and they were gone well before the activity ended. Members were writing four, five, or six names on a single icon paper!”
“Everyone was working on entering names, and I loved it.” said Beatrice Kiragu, first counselor in the ward Relief Society. “I loved the feeling of putting in names, but mostly I was excited to prepare my ancestors for temple blessings.”
Many of the members in attendance got to take home a special memory. They filled in a special African family tree with their family names, and the ward clerk printed one for each family on photo-quality paper.
Bishop Mukula was delighted by the result. When the activity was near the end, more than 200 new family names had been entered into familysearch.org.
Sister Arrington recalls, “We ended up staying late because people still wanted to put in names. Our last participant was a nonmember. We watched as he added 15 names from his own family. He was so happy to receive his own family tree picture!”
Bishop Mukula expressed the joy so many members felt “as their hearts turned to their fathers! And we loved helping President Nelson celebrate his birthday!”

In our home, when the bells first rang, we would sit at our brightly covered table and listen as Father read about the birth of our Lord. Then, as Mother had taught us, we three children laid our small, homemade gifts under the Christmas tree. Everyone was remembered—grandparents, uncles, and aunts. Even the birds got better food, and the dog got sausage.
As the bells rang on Christmas Eve, we would go for a walk. The snow glistened from the Christmas lights; it seemed as though we were walking in a sea of stars. The pine trees in front of all the homes were covered with candles. Carved wooden miners and angels, each holding a candle, peered at us from windows. Christmas displays depicted scenes surrounding the birth of the Christ child: shepherds in the fields, Wise Men coming to worship Him, Jesus resting in the manger, Mary bending over Him, Joseph protecting the small family, donkeys and sheep and shepherds kneeling.
After our walk, we would come home with eyes lit up by the winter night. Inside, we would be greeted by the smell of pine boughs. Cookies Mother had baked would be waiting for us.

The Lord blesses the guides with many faith-promoting experiences, but a few will go down in youth guide history—the ones that all the guides share whether it was their personal victory or the accomplishments of someone else.
Paul Whetten and Tim Penrod shared such an experience. They saw a man walking around the garden and asked him on a tour. He had been divorced recently and had come to the temple because he missed his family.
The importance of families is stressed in the tour, and the family is compared to the strong root system of the decorative sour orange trees found in the gardens. Tim told the man that the Church is based on the family unit and that we believe families are forever.
“The Church has so much to offer this man,” says Paul. “To see him ask for missionaries and to know that the gospel is something that could totally change his life—it’s hard to describe.”
After watching the youth guides in action, it’s easy to tell that these young people are serving the Lord with all their might, mind, and strength. All their efforts are directed toward their ultimate goal, and they strive every day to live up to the
“There is no greater joy than the joy we feel when we receive the assurance that we’re doing the Lord’s will. Ultimately, the only thing that really counts is to be worthy for him to say, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant.’”

Although David Day of Bristol, England, is just 13, he already has some significant performances to his credit. He was chosen from hundreds of entries to play the piano in Royal Albert Hall in a national music festival organized by the Scout and Guide Association.
“The concert at Royal Albert Hall was the biggest thing I’ve ever done,” said David. “I was nervous.” His nervousness did not show as he performed for a large audience that included his parents, two sisters, brother, and grandparents.
David has also appeared in a Children’s Royal Variety Show, performing before Princess Margaret. David began playing at the age of six. At age eight he was called to be the junior Sunday School pianist. A year later he played the organ in stake conference.
Currently David serves as the ward organist and first counselor in the deacons quorum presidency in the Bristol Fourth Ward.

Several days later, I spied a woman with a “will work for food” sign. Recognizing my second chance to be charitable, I stopped to talk with her.
“I need gas money,” she told me. “My dad’s in Texas, and if only I can get to him, he can help me out.”
“Gee, I don’t have any cash,” I replied. “How long will you be here?”
“Till noon.”
“I’ll be back by 11:00. I promise.” At 10:45 I was back with a gift certificate for gas. She was nowhere in sight.
“Boy,” I thought, as I walked home, “this is not turning out like I expected.” I kicked a pebble. “Helping the needy is going to be tougher than I thought. Is this something I’m supposed to do later in life?”
I kicked the pebble again. “How can I help the needy? Couldn’t I get started now? Isn’t there someone who needs my help? Isn’t there someone who wants my help?”
I arrived home. I heard crying as I walked in. It was Steven, my brother. He’d been teased at school and didn’t want to go back. The words from my patriarchal blessing echoed in my mind: “You may help the needy with your time, effort, and means.” Here was my brother in need.
“Hey Steven, you wanna go get some ice cream? Tell me what happened.”
Steven and I talked about his peers. Maybe I didn’t say anything helpful, but I could tell that my companionship meant a lot to him.
That experience with Steven taught me a lesson: the poor are just as likely to be in your home as on the streets. There are all sorts of needy people in the world—those who need food and shelter, of course—but also those who need love, counsel, and encouragement.
I haven’t given up my dream of ending the world’s social troubles, but for now, whenever I get the itch to seek out the needy, I’m inclined to go knocking at my brother’s bedroom door first.

As we Brethren travel about the world, sometimes we see worrisome scenes. On a recent flight, I sat behind a husband and wife. She obviously loved her husband. As she stroked the back of his neck I could see her wedding ring. She would nestle close to him and rest her head upon his shoulder, seeking his companionship.
In contrast, he seemed totally oblivious to her presence. He was focused solely upon an electronic game player. During the entire flight, his attention was riveted upon that device. Not once did he look at her, speak to her, or acknowledge her yearning for affection.
His inattention made me feel like shouting: “Open your eyes, man! Can’t you see? Pay attention! Your wife loves you! She needs you!”
I don’t know more about them. I haven’t seen them since. Perhaps I was alarmed unduly. And very possibly, if this man knew of my concern for them, he might feel sorry for me in not knowing how to use such an exciting toy.

Marco slowed his already slow walk. Somehow he didn’t feel like going home for lunch. Usually Carlo ran home with him, but Carlo was angry.
“Why can’t you play in the championship?” Carlo had demanded.
“Because it’s on Sunday.”
“If you don’t play, we forfeit!” Carlo had yelled. “With Guiseppe sick, you’re our only goalie. You have to play!”
When Marco reached home, he didn’t really want to go in. But he knew that Mama and Papa were waiting, so he slowly climbed the stairs to their apartment.
Mama was already putting food on the table. “I was beginning to worry,” she said with a smile. “Hurry and wash.”
Marco didn’t feel like eating. But after the blessing he bit into the crisp hot bread. Then he dug into the little dumplings covered with Mama’s salsa. As he savored the spicy goodness, he began to feel better.
“Is anything wrong?” Mama asked. “You’re quiet today.”
“They posted the soccer schedule at school,” he said.
“Oh?”
“I have to play on Sunday.”
Mama and Papa were quiet for a minute. They knew that Marco’s team, the Lightning Bolts, had worked hard for a chance to be the top team in all of Milan, Italy.
Papa looked puzzled. “You mean all the games are on Sunday?”
“No, the quarterfinals and semifinals are on Saturday. The winners on Saturday play the final game on Sunday.”
Marco could see a twinkle start in Papa’s brown eyes.
“Cheer up, Marco!” he said merrily. “Maybe your team will lose on Saturday! Then you won’t have to play on the Sabbath!”
Marco smiled too. But the Lightning Bolts were very good. They had a chance to win both games Saturday. “Giuseppe has the flu, and Tommaso hurt his ankle,” he explained. “If we win Saturday, I have to play on Sunday—or we forfeit. What do I do?”
Mama put her arm around his shoulders. “We’ve taught you what is right. If your team wins, I’m sure you will make the right decision. Now eat or you’ll be late for school.”
At school some of the boys whispered and stared at Marco. Carlo just ignored him. It made Marco hurt inside to lose his best friend.
At practice that night, Carlo finally talked to him. “Have you changed your mind?” he asked angrily.
Marco started to get angry himself. Then he remembered Papa and grinned at Carlo. “I think we’d better work on winning Saturday’s games,” he said. “If you don’t practice kicking, we won’t have to worry about Sunday!”
Friday night Marco felt restless and scared. He wished his parents had told him he couldn’t play. Then the boys would blame them instead of him. Even though he felt sick inside, Marco knelt down to pray. He prayed hard and then waited for an answer. He waited and waited, but nothing happened. He wondered if Heavenly Father hadn’t heard him. But then a warm feeling came to him. He felt very peaceful. All the restless hurts eased. He knew that everything would be all right.
Saturday morning came bright and clear. There were just a few clouds in the sky. The air was sharp and invigorating. It was a perfect day for soccer.
Marco’s team was well prepared and won the first game easily. After lunch, the boys looked at the schedule for the afternoon.
“We play the Tigers!” Carlo groaned. “They’ve got the biggest boys in the tournament.”
“And the fastest,” Marco added. “We’ll really have to play hard to beat them.” Part of Marco wanted to win the game, and part of him wanted to lose—then he wouldn’t have to worry about Sunday.
It was a hard-fought match. The speedy Tigers scored the first goal, but the Lightning Bolts fought back and evened the score. After that the teams traded goals. They were tied 4–4 in the final minutes of the match, when Carlo headed a pass into the net to put the Lightning Bolts on top.
With less than a minute remaining, Carlo had the ball again. He weaved in and out of the Tigers, heading for the goal. Then he tripped and lost the ball! The Tigers brought it back with swift, sure passes straight toward Marco.
Marco stood in front of the goal as the last seconds of the match ticked away. If he could keep the ball out of the net, the Lightning Bolts would win!
A Tiger forward kicked the ball—hard! It was headed for the corner of the net, just beyond Marco’s reach. Marco’s heart seemed to stop beating. He threw himself to the right with all his strength. The ball bounced off his hands just as the whistle blew. He had done it! The Lightning Bolts had won!
Marco’s teammates were jumping and cheering. He picked himself up and brushed off the dirt. He saw his parents walking toward him. They were smiling and waving. The head referee was with them.
“Marco, that was good playing,” Papa said, giving him a hug. Then turning to the referee he said, “I want you to meet Mr. Giovetti.”
“Hello, Mr. Giovetti,” Marco said politely.
“Hello, Marco. That was a fine game. But your father tells me you have a problem.”
“I can’t play tomorrow,” Marco told him. “The team will have to forfeit because we don’t have another goalie.”
“Why can’t you play?”
“Because the game is during my church’s sacrament meeting,” Marco explained, “and I need to be there. But even if the game were later, I still wouldn’t play on the Sabbath.”
“I see.” The referee thought for a moment, then said, “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
The team gathered around. When Mr. Giovetti came back, he had another man with him. “Marco, this is Mr. Luigi. He is the coach of the team you are to play tomorrow.”
“Hello, Marco,” Mr. Luigi said. “It seems that we have the same problem. Two of our best players were injured today. We still have enough boys to play tomorrow, but we wouldn’t be at our best. I would like to postpone the game. Is that all right with the Lightning Bolts?”
Marco looked around at his friends and the coach. They all nodded. “Yes!” Marco said. “When do we play?”
“Next Saturday,” the referee answered. “Bright and early.”
As Marco walked home, he felt tired but good. Even if the Lightning Bolts lost the championship, he would always remember it as a victory.

The morning session was opened by the president with a polished and stirring address. Next we called on his second counselor. He was obviously flustered. … (We had previously indicated that both counselors would probably speak in the afternoon session. We were to go to his home for the noon meal. He had known there would be time to go over his notes, so he had left them at home.)

For want of his notes, he turned to testimony, giving an inspiring account of an administration he had performed during the week. A brother, given up by his doctors, had been called from the very shadows of death by the power of the priesthood. I do not know what was on his notes, but surely it could not have compared in inspiration to the testimony he bore.