Gospel Story Finder

George didn’t know what to do. But he did know who to ask for help. His Heavenly Father! When George was a young man, he didn’t really believe in God. He lied and stole money from his friends and family and only read the scriptures because he had to for school. Then one day George met some people who loved God and tried to follow Him. George began to pray every day. He learned that God was real and would answer the prayers of His children.
When George Müller opened his first orphanage in 1836, he wanted to provide a home for children who didn’t have parents. He also wanted to share his testimony of God’s love. So George decided to trust that God would help him. When George needed money or food or even jobs for the orphans who had grown up and were ready to leave, he would get on his knees and pray. George had faith that if he prayed to know God’s will and then asked for help, God would help him. And God did! Donations and help always came just in time. The children in the orphanages had what they needed, and George helped them see that God loved them.
As George looked at the broken heater, he knew this time would be no different. George had faith that God would help. He called workmen to come and fix the heater, but before they could come, a freezing north wind began to blow. George was worried. How would the children stay warm until the heater was fixed?
Then George remembered a story from the Bible where the walls of Jerusalem were built quickly because the builders had a “mind to work” (Nehemiah 4:6). George got on his knees and began to pray. “Lord,” said George, “would you be pleased to change the north wind to a south wind? And would you give the workmen a mind to work?”
When George woke on the morning of the repairs, the weather had changed! Even though it was December, a warm south wind was blowing. The children would be warm and wouldn’t need a fire while the heater was being fixed. The repairs could begin!
The workmen spent all day trying to fix the heater. But there was too much work to finish in one day. At the end of the day, George went down to the cellar of the orphanage. The man in charge of the workers told George, “The men will work late this evening and come very early again tomorrow.”
George nodded. He hoped the weather would stay good until then.
Then one of the workers spoke up. “We would rather, sir, work all night,” he said.
George smiled. He remembered how he had prayed that the men would have a mind to work hard and finish the repairs as quickly as possible. By morning, the heater was fixed and the orphanage was warm and snug before the winter winds returned. George knew that God had answered his prayer.

From this point forward, I began to experience mixed emotions about becoming a member of the Church. I was concerned about my father’s opinion and his reaction to my decision. The night of the sixth discussion was a very eventful night.
During the sixth discussion, I received the message that I had an incoming call from my father. The phone rang. I picked it up, and it was indeed my dad.
He said, “Your mother informed me that you’ve made a decision to join the Latter-day Saints.”
I said yes.
He said, “I’m here to prevent that from happening.”
And I said, “You know what, Dad? I love you, and you’ll always be my dad. You’ve done a great job with me. But I’m 22. I’m a man now, and these decisions are for my family and my future. I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for me and that you will continue to do for me, but this is my decision. I’m going to do it, and I know that the Lord wants me to do this.”
My dad wasn’t too happy when he hung up the phone. Immediately I got on my knees in the kitchen and asked the Lord to help me see and understand that what I was going to do was correct. I was thousands of miles away from home. I was all alone, and nothing was going right. Only when I was with the missionaries did I feel good. At that moment the Spirit testified to me that it was the Lord’s will and that the Lord wanted me to be baptized. It was a very clear voice that just said, “You’re to do the Lord’s will. You are to follow His example.” Then I knew. I never looked back after that. I was baptized on October 12, 1995.

As Remembrance Day 2022 approached, a young missionary serving in England Manchester Mission expressed honour at being able to attend Remembrance Day services, in memory of his great-grandfather.
William Inkley (pictured left), who served in the 91st division, U.S. Army, during World War I, witnessed the signing of the armistice. 19-year-old Taylor Inkley (pictured right) told his ancestors story.
“Great-grandad Bill, having spent the voyage on deck due to seasickness, arrived in Liverpool, England, July 17, 1918, with his regiment of mainly Utah boys. He was receiving training in France by July 29 and quickly saw action on September 29, in the Meuse-Argonne offensive. Recording the terror of the trenches, barbed wire and thick French forest undergrowth, the operation degraded Germany’s war efforts. William described being a sniper, hiding in trees to fire at the enemy, then spending hours up to his neck in mud, camouflaged, with only his head visible to breathe. He wondered if he would ever get out alive.”
William was born in 1890 in Salt Lake City. His patriarchal blessing said, “Be ye careful and wise and the missiles of death will pass you by and you will be able to return to your mountain home.” Taylor retells how this was fulfilled.
“While on guard patrol, William stopped to talk to soldiers at their post. They could hear the roar of battle from the front line. My great-grandfather felt a distinct impression to continue on his route. He heeded the prompting and immediately a shell flew overhead, exploding nearby, killing his two comrades. On Nov. 11, 1918, on duty in Belgium, he witnessed the signing of the armistice. In America, Nov. 11 is Veterans Day, but poppies aren’t worn, so I feel honoured to wear one at a service, for those who gave their lives so we could be free.”

They are both members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and have known each other since they attended Church College of New Zealand (CCNZ).
“I lived in Dinsdale, Hamilton . . . so I was a day student since 1977,” Gordon recalls. Brandt, who is a year older, enrolled in 1978. “That’s when we first got to know each other.”
It was a teacher at CCNZ, Brother Jim Kingi, who first planted the seed in Gordon’s mind that law could be a career for him. He didn’t know then that Brandt would eventually choose a similar path.
In his final year, each was elected CCNZ’s student body president, Brandt in 1980 and Gordon in 1981. They went on to serve full-time missions for the Church in Australia—Brandt in Perth and Gordon in Brisbane.
After his mission, Brandt enrolled at Waikato University to study social sciences. When Gordon returned, he signed up for pre-law at Waikato, where he and Brandt did a Maori paper together.
From there, Brandt gained a law degree at Victoria University, and Gordon finished his studies at the University of Auckland. They reunited in Hamilton in the early stages of their respective law careers.
The parallels continued.
In 1996, Gordon became the first Maori coroner in New Zealand, and a decade later, he was appointed full-time coroner for both the Waikato and Bay of Plenty regions. That same year, 2007, Brandt left a thriving law practice in Hamilton to accept his own full-time coroners’ role in the Te Tai Tokerau (Northland) region.
As coroners, they’ve each had to “manage the impact of dealing with death on a daily basis,” Brandt says. “On top of that . . . dealing with grieving whanau (families) in the rawest of times is a tough ask.” He coped by keeping himself physically fit and attending church regularly. “I have been lucky,” he adds, “with a whanau that keep my feet on the ground.”
Gordon remembers a difficult call regarding a 3-year-old who had drowned in a paddling pool. “I immediately went outside, emptied out [my own child’s] paddling pool and put it away.” But Gordon says it was only when the details of a case mirrored his own life somehow that it could affect him this way. “Otherwise, I didn’t find it that difficult . . . because of our knowledge of the plan of salvation. I knew that death is a part of life.”
Over the years, both have also served in various Church leadership roles. When they became district court judges, each had to be released as the first counsellor in his respective stake presidency.
“Everyone is entitled to be equal before the law,” says Gordon, “. . . to be represented.” Brandt says it’s about balancing human compassion with the requirements of the law. “I’d like to be remembered for being fair and respectful to all who appeared in front of me.”
These days, the friends don’t get to see each other as often as they’d like, but they continue to appreciate and support each other from afar. “Brandt has an uncanny ability. . .to remember people’s names,” Gordon says, “and he can talk to anyone . . . people warm to him. I admire that because it’s not one of my strengths.”
“[Gordon] has always been calm and measured in . . . all that he does,” Brandt says. “He has been a faithful servant. He has outlasted the trials that should have taken his life.” On top of all that, Brandt adds, “He is a great musician who loves to sing.”

When I was growing up, we had a buckskin mare that got loose and ran with the wild horses in Skull Valley. Sometime later, a man who caught and sold wild horses called us. He had recognized the mare, and he returned her to us. After we got the mare back, we noticed that she ran with her head down—a horse can only survive in the desert by running with its head down, watching for gopher holes and barbed wire. If a horse stepped into a gopher hole and broke its leg, then predators would get it. There is a lesson in this experience. The Lord has arranged for you to have parents and leaders who can see the pitfalls and difficulties that can create problems for you. They can see the problems that you will be facing as you grow up. If you are willing to listen to their advice, you can avoid harm.

One morning during a windy snowstorm, we were riding in the car. Two sister missionaries were walking in the storm, and we offered them a ride. One was from Samoa. We asked them if they needed anything. The other missionary said her companion’s gloves weren’t warm enough. We had an extra pair of gloves in the car, and they fit the sister from Samoa. It warmed our hearts that we were able to do something for the missionaries who are serving the Lord.
Garrison and Kempton M., ages 10 and 8, Idaho

There is a word in Japanese, mui, that, for me, captures this more faith-filled, contemplative sense of what it means to be still. It is comprised of two characters (??). The one on the left means “nothing” or “nothingness,” and the one on the right means “to do.” Together they mean “non-doing.” Taken literally, the word could be misinterpreted to mean “to do nothing” in the same way “to be still” can be misinterpreted as “not talking or moving.” However, like the phrase “to be still,” it has a higher meaning; for me it is a reminder to slow down and to live with greater spiritual awareness.
While serving in the Asia North Area Presidency with Elder Takashi Wada, I learned that his wife, Sister Naomi Wada, is an accomplished Japanese calligrapher. I asked Sister Wada if she would draw for me the Japanese characters for the word mui. I wanted to hang the calligraphy on my wall as a reminder to be still and to focus on the Savior. I was surprised when she did not readily agree to this seemingly simple request.
The next day, knowing that I had likely misunderstood her hesitance, Elder Wada explained that writing those characters would require a significant effort. She would need to ponder and meditate on the concept and the characters until she understood the meaning deeply in her soul and could give expression to these heartfelt impressions with each stroke of her brush. I was embarrassed that I had so casually asked her to do something so demanding. I asked him to convey my apologies to her for my ignorance and to let her know that I was withdrawing my request.
You can imagine my surprise and gratitude when upon my leaving Japan, Sister Wada, unsolicited, gifted to me this beautiful piece of calligraphy featuring the Japanese characters for the word mui. It now hangs prominently on the wall of my office, reminding me to be still and to seek the Lord every day with all my heart, might, mind, and strength. She had captured, in this selfless act, the meaning of mui, or stillness, better than any words could. Rather than mindlessly and dutifully drawing the characters, she approached her calligraphy with full purpose of heart and real intent.

The world today is dangerous and filled with temptations. After reading President Hinckley’s talk, I felt more strongly than ever that I must obey the teachings of the Church. The B that is especially important for me right now is “Be true.”
When school started this year, I made some new friends. One day I had the opportunity to talk about the gospel. I remembered the video I saw at church about the six B’s. While watching that video I was filled with a spirit of peace that assured me, “You can talk about the Church with confidence.” When the opportunity came, I was able to do so. I am thankful for that chance.
Reading the talk in the Liahona (Japanese) later, I noticed the well-known phrase “To thine own self be true.” When some sort of big decision needs to be made, these words lead me to the correct path. The other B’s are also important, but most of all I want to be true to myself.
Sakura Kajihara, age 15,Izumi Ward, Sendai Japan Stake

One of my favorite sports stories has to do with Roger Bannister, who many years ago participated in the Olympic Games as a champion in the one-mile race. He was supposed to win, but he wound up finishing in fourth place. He went home from the Olympics discouraged, disillusioned, and embarrassed.
He had his mind set on giving up running. He was a medical student at the time, and his studies were so demanding. He decided that he’d better get on with life and devote all of his time in preparing for medicine and forget his hopes about running the world’s record in the four-minute mile. He went to his coach and told him, “Coach, I’m through. I’m going to devote all my time to studying.” His coach said, “Roger, I think you are the man who can break the four-minute mile. I wish you’d give it one last try before you quit.”
Roger didn’t answer him. He went home knowing not what to say or to do. But before the night was over, he had convinced himself that he would develop an iron will before he quit running. He was going to break the four-minute mile.
He knew what this meant. He would have to set a pattern and live by it. He realized he would have to study seven, eight, or even nine hours a day to get through medical school. He would have to train for at least four hours a day.
Also involved was running continually to build up his body to the peak of perfection. He knew he would have to eat the best foods. He knew he would have to go to bed early every night and sleep nine or ten hours, to let his body recuperate and constantly build up for the great day. He determined within himself that he was going to follow the rigid pattern he and the coach knew was necessary for victory and achievement.
On May 6, 1954, the four-minute-mile barrier was broken by Roger Bannister—a tall, stooped Englishman with a big-boned, angular face and a ruddy complexion—a man committed to a winning pattern which would bring him recognition worldwide.
On a dreary, cold, wet, and windy day, he went to the Oxford University track to put his theories and skill to the acid test. His parents and a few hundred others were present. The rest is history. Running strictly according to his charts and pattern, he ran the miracle mile in 3:59.4. He became the first man in recorded history to speed across this distance in less than four minutes. He had proven that man could run faster than was thought possible. He paid the price and reaped the rewards of following the proper pattern. Today in England he is a doctor in his own right. At the time of his victory over the one-mile barrier, he became an international hero in all the record books. The four-minute-mile barrier is broken constantly these days, but Roger Bannister set the pattern many years ago and followed it with total commitment, self-discipline, and a will of iron.

This summer, our family went on a two-month cross-country road trip from North Carolina to California! We stopped at many places on the way. We read the Friend all along the way and liked taking pictures with it.
Before the trip, Spencer asked the missionaries for 10 copies of the Book of Mormon and some pass-along cards to hand out. We gave them to people like hotel employees and tollbooth attendants. Once Kylie got to take a Book of Mormon to the clerk at a gas station. He said he already had a Bible, so Kylie explained why the Book of Mormon is special. He said he would try to read it! Kylie says, “I loved traveling with my family, visiting relatives, seeing God’s beautiful creations, and being a missionary too!”

When President Kimball died, we were living in Arizona. President Kimball had been in our home. We had knelt with him in family prayer, and he had eaten bread and milk with us. We knew he was a prophet of God.
I wanted a witness of the Spirit that President Benson was God’s chosen prophet. I wanted to know more than that he was just a good person and next in line after President Kimball. The Lord was kind to me, and, after fasting and prayer, I received, by the Spirit, the witness that President Benson was indeed God’s chosen prophet for this time, with a special calling and a special message for our day.

One day while taking a math test, I couldn’t remember how to solve one of the problems. I had prepared for this test, but I could not remember what I had reviewed at home. I did, however, have faith that I could ask my Father in Heaven for help.
I decided I would accept the first prompting I felt. After the prayer, I had the feeling that I could solve the problem in a specific way. But I began to doubt because it seemed like an odd way to work the problem. So I went ahead and did it on my own as well as I could.
Once all the tests had been handed in, our teacher went over the test with us. I found that the feeling I had had after the prayer would have led to the right answer, but I had not listened.
Later, during final exams, I found once again that I could not solve one of the problems, even though I had practiced this problem at home.
I wanted to ask Heavenly Father for help, but I remembered when I had bluntly rejected His help. Now I felt ashamed to ask. But because I couldn’t think of any other solution, I prayed for help anyway.
Once again I doubted when the prompting came; I was even more confused than I had been before. But I had promised the Lord that I would listen. So I suppressed the doubts and did exactly what the prompting said I should do.
After correcting the tests, our teacher announced our grades. She made it exciting by starting with the worst grades and working up to the best ones. When she did not call my name among the 3s—a low grade—I was pleased that I would have a 2, the best grade I had ever gotten in math. But when she didn’t call my name among the 2s, I felt quite differently. I was absolutely certain that I could not have gotten a 1, so I began to fear that I had done the very worst in the whole class.
But then my name was called among the 1s. A lump appeared in my throat when I recognized the hand of the Lord in this and knew of His love for and patience with me. When some of my classmates said, “You did great!” I could only shake my head. I succeeded only when I followed the prompting.

In my profession as a farmer and a rancher, I’ve had a front-row seat to observe how a mother’s natural affection manifests itself even in nature. Each spring we take a herd of cows and their new calves up along Idaho’s Snake River, where they graze in the foothills for a month or so. Then we round them up and bring them down a road that leads to the corral. From there they are loaded onto trucks that carry them to their summer pastures in Montana.
On one particularly hot spring day, I was helping with the roundup by riding at the back of the herd as it moved down the dusty road toward the corral. My job was to gather any calves that had wandered from the road. The pace was slow and provided me some time to think.
Because it was so hot, the little calves kept running off into the trees to find shade. My thoughts turned to the youth of the Church who are sometimes distracted from the strait and narrow path. I also thought about those who have left the Church or who may feel that the Church has left their hearts while they were distracted. I thought to myself that a distraction doesn’t have to be evil to be effective—sometimes it can just be shade.
After several hours of gathering up stray calves and with sweat running down my face, I yelled to the calves in frustration, “Just follow your mothers! They know where they’re going! They’ve been down this road before!” Their mothers knew that even though the road was hot and dusty now, the end would be better than the beginning.
As soon as we got the herd into the corral, we noticed that three of the cows were pacing nervously at the gate. They could not find their calves and seemed to sense they were back on the road somewhere. One of the cowboys asked me what we should do. I said, “I bet I know where those calves are. Back a quarter of a mile [0.4 km] or so, there’s a stand of trees. I’m sure we’ll find them there.”
Sure enough, just as I had suspected, we found our lost calves taking a nap in the shade. Our approach startled them, and they resisted our efforts to round them up. They were frightened because we were not their mothers! The more we tried to push them toward the corral, the more stubborn they became. Finally I said to the cowboys, “I’m sorry. I know better than this. Let’s ride back and let their mothers out of the corral. The cows will come and get their calves, and the calves will follow their mothers.” I was right. The mother cows knew exactly where to go to find their calves, and they led them back to the corral, as I had expected.

Once our young son was jumping on his bed. He was jumping so hard that I thought his bed might break! I felt frustrated. I went over and grabbed him by his shoulders. I lifted him up to where our eyes met.
Then in my mind I heard the quiet voice of the Holy Ghost say, “You are holding a great person.” Those words went deep into my heart. I gently set my son back on his bed and apologized.
Now my son has become a great man. I am eternally grateful that the Holy Ghost helped me see him as Heavenly Father sees him—as His child.

President Marion G. Romney was talking about the work which involved our parents. The other day we heard a story in our council meeting that I saw raise the ire of the brethren. It was all righteous ire because of the things that had happened. A father who had been very careful in his investments and in his service had saved hundreds of thousands of dollars for his sweet little wife who had helped him to gather it. But unfortunately he died first and was laid away. His wife became a little older, and somewhat senile. She was put in a rest home. The money went to the children’s bank accounts, and she went on suffering. Maybe she didn’t fully understand all the suffering that came to her; but maybe she did. With inadequate clothes and with inadequate treatment and training, the poor woman is still living in a rest home. As far as we know her children never see her.
It must be a little bit difficult to visit a mother who gave her life for her children, who spent many, many years rearing and training and saving for them. It must be very difficult for them to show their interest when she is in a position where she needs some comfort from those whom she has loved.

You’re going to say I should have arranged housing in advance. But if I had, where would I be now?
After filling out a mountain of forms at registration, I drove around Provo looking for a place to stay. Finally I picked out one of the new apartment units near the campus. The office girl told me they had a vacancy in number 33.
The apartment complex is in the shape of a big C, with a swimming pool and frisby field in the middle. I walked across the lawn to number 33 and knocked on the screen door. Nobody came, although I could hear voices inside. I knocked again.
...
We finished the dishes and sat down around the kitchen table. I took out a sheet of notebook paper and wrote at the top "Operation Engagement."
"We’ll make a list of the things a fellow looks for in an LDS girl. First: testimony. Second: a nice face, a good figure. Third: common interests. Fourth: sense of humor. Fifth: a supporting attitude."
"Let’s go down the list," Cher said. "Testimony. I’ve got one, Tony. I really do."
"Okay," I said. putting down a check on the paper.
"Face." She held out her hand, rotating it to the right and then to the left in a gesture familiar to Easterners. "I don’t know. What do you think?"
"It’s very good. Like a Greek goddess. Do you have many cavities?"
"Our water had fluoride—53% fewer cavities."
I put a check beside "Face."
"Wait," she said, "except for the glasses."
"You have to see."
"I’ll get contact lenses."
"I like you the way you are."
"It’s not you we’re trying to impress," she said coolly. Then, quickly, "I’m sorry, that wasn’t kind."
"No problem."
"Figure?"
I cleared my throat. "Fine."
"You don’t think I’m too skinny?"
"No, ma’am."
"Aren’t you going to say anything more about the figure?"
"No, ma’am."
"Do I dress modestly enough?"
"You dress like a lady."
"Maybe I should dress less modestly to get B.J.’s attention."
"If he noticed you that way, I’d punch him out."
"Okay. Common interests." she said.
"I think B.J.’s biggest interest is himself. So you have a common interest."
"You don’t know him very well. Be constructive."
"Okay," I replied. "Boys from the West are crazy about deer hunting. Do you know anything about deer hunting?"
"What’s there to know?" she asked.
"Do you know how to clean a deer?"
"Do they get dirty?"
"I will ignore that. Probably your biggest common interest is the Church. Maybe that’s enough. Let’s see, sense of humor."
"I don’t think B. J. has a sense of humor."
"If you marry him, you’re going to need one. A supporting attitude. That means you help him on his campaigns. Or you try to do nice things for him, like cooking his favorite food to show him that he’s special to you. You’re doing fine, Cher."
"Tony, there’s one other thing. I have some of that Eastern cynicism. I’m not like your average coed. Maybe I seem too cynical. I need to be more sincere." She wrote down another word at the bottom of the list, sincerity.
The next afternoon when I came in after my lab, she was already working on supper.
"Tony, look what I picked up in the bookstore today. You’re not going to believe this. It’s perfume in a time-release capsule. You just open this little pill and scatter the tiny beads on your hair with this little can. The beads are programmed. The aroma starts out kind of mild, but in about three hours it’s really something. I’m going to put some on."
She applied the contents of one of the small capsules.
"Do you want to smell?"
"In the interests of science," I said.
"Let’s see. It’s 4:30 now. We’ll eat at 6:00. So if I can get around B. J. by 7:00, I’ll give him the full dose."
She started peeling potatoes. I sat at the table and thumbed through a book I was supposed to be reading. The perfume did change aroma as time went on.
"I pick up my contact lenses on Monday, Tony. And I’ve really worked at being sincere. Look at me."
She was standing with her head up, looking at the ceiling.
"What are you looking at the ceiling for?"
"I’m looking at the clouds as the sun breaks through."
"We’re in a room. There are no clouds," I said.
"I know. But you’ve seen those movies where they close with someone looking at the clouds. Now that’s a sincere look, right? Well, I’ve got it, right?"
I stood up, grabbed a dish towel, and draped it over her sincere face.
...
"That’s really great, B.J.," Cher said as she leaned down by him, ostensibly to look at his appointment book but really to allow him a whiff of "T + Three Hours and Counting" perfume.
It was at that moment I realized I loved Cher and didn’t want her to be around B.J.
Monday when I came in, Cher had her contact lenses.
"So how do you like me now?"
"You can really see me?"
"Sure."
"But why are you crying?" I asked.
"My eyes are just watering a little. It’ll clear up once I get used to the lenses."
"I can’t even see them on you. Let me get a little closer." I moved very close to her and looked into her eyes.
"How’s that?" she asked.
"Fine."
"I mean, can you see them now?"
"I’ll have to get closer."
"That’s close enough," she said, moving away.
"Are they hard to take out?"
"Not at all. You just put your finger here on the corner of your eye and blink." She put her other hand below her eye, but the lens missed her hand and fell to the floor.
"Just stay there, Cher. I’ll look for it." I got down on my hands and knees and started looking for it. I soon found the small, green, plastic lens. "Cher, can you see anything?"
"No. Why?"
"Nothing." I put the lens in my shirt pocket.
"Cher, maybe if you get down and help look for it."
She got down on her hands and knees also. "I think we should both concentrate our efforts over here where you were when you dropped it." I moved over by her.
We looked and looked. Finally we decided to take it one tile at a time.
"Tony? You have your hand on top of my hand," she said, looking down at our hands.
"Oh, I do. Do you want me to move it, Cher?"
"I don’t know. I can’t decide."
"Cher, you are really good looking."
"With contacts, I’ll look better. Maybe that’s been my trouble all along."
"No, I mean with glasses, and without the time-release perfume, and without the forced sincere look. You are beautiful. You don’t need any improvement."
"No, I’m not beautiful."
"Yes, you are."
"No, I’m not," she insisted.
"Yes, you are."
"No, I’m not."
"Well, maybe not beautiful. But definitely pretty."
"So you don’t think I’m beautiful!"
"Yes, I do. But you wouldn’t accept it, so I figured I’d compromise. And Cher, you are sincere. In fact, you are just about the most sincere person I’ve ever met. Truly."
"Thank you. I try to be sincere. And Tony, you’re the only person I’ve ever been able to talk to without wondering what I’m supposed to say. With you I’m just myself."
"Cher, you have a nice hand."
"We shouldn’t be here alone like this."
"We’re not alone, Cher. Boris is on the couch, and Enrico is looking at the chalkboard."
"I know," she whispered, "but it’s like being alone."
"Cher, you are very special to me."
"I don’t want to hurt you, Tony."
"Who’s hurting? My knees are a little sore, that’s all."
"That’s not what I meant. I don’t want you to fall in love with me."
"It’s too late. I already have. I want to marry you, and I’m asking you."
She started crying.
"If you want to wait before you give me an answer, that’s okay."
I got up to get her a box of tissues. When I returned, she was sitting on the chair in the kitchen. She wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and sat there.
"Tony, I really like you, but I’ve been thinking about B. J. for so long there’s no more room for anyone else in my heart. Can we be good friends?"
The next day I paid a visit to B.J.’s office in the Wilkinson Center. "B.J., I want to talk to you."
I told him about Cher and the way she felt about him. "The poor girl," he said. "I had no idea she felt so strongly about me."
"What are you going to do about it?" I asked him.
"I guess I’ll have to take my shirts to the cleaners and tell her to buzz off."
I slammed my hand down on his desk, breaking his plastic, desk name plate. "No, B.J., that’s not what you’re going to do. You’re going to take that girl out and try to fall in love with her. You are going to treat her like a queen, or some morning you’re going to wake up with your head shaved."
"Perhaps I should go out with her," he said quietly.
For the next several weeks, I stayed clear of Cher. I spent my late afternoons watching the Foucault pendulum swing, or listening to music, or taking long walks. Then I would go home around 8:00 and eat whatever was left. Cher was cooking for B. J. now. She made homemade wheat bread, beef stew, meatloaf—the things that B. J. liked.
It was especially bad when I knew they were going out, and I stayed away from campus for fear I’d see them together. Every couple seen from a distance looked like them. Every time I saw a girl with her head on some boy’s shoulder, I got cold chills. I wished I had never met her.
One weekend B. J. took Cher home with him to meet the family. That was the Saturday I ran. I got up early and put on sweat pants and sweat shirt and drove out to a country road. After parking the car I started running. Soon there was just the road, the pain in my side, and the crunch of my feet against the gravel. But the pain in my mind diminished as the pain in my side increased. So I kept on. Finally I collapsed on the side of the road. It was a long time before I could make myself get up and walk back to the car.
A couple of weeks later B. J. had to go to a conference of student leaders in New Mexico. That Tuesday night I entered the apartment at 8:00 expecting to see the usual empty kitchen with a plate of food in the refrigerator.
Cher was in the kitchen cooking. "I thought you were never coming," she said. "Sit down and get started."
She sat down across from me, and we said the blessing.
We got through the salad in silence. Removing the salad plate, she replaced it with a plate of lasagna and garlic bread.
"Why are you cooking with B. J. gone?"
"I get paid to cook here, remember?"
"But why did you wait for me? I’m two hours late."
"Your name Tony Versalino? Of Italian ancestry? You like Italian food?"
"Yes."
"That’s what it means."
"Cher?"
"Item five, a supporting attitude. ‘Like cooking his favorite food.’"
I put down my fork and held her hand. "What about B.J.?"
"He was a dream in my mind for all those years, but a dream with no reality. Besides, it finally occurred to me that it wasn’t necessary for all members of the Church to walk and talk and live like they came from Panguitch, Provo, or Parowan. I can’t fit the Utah-Mormon mold. I like the East, and I want to go back and help the Church grow there."
"You mean, the West is a nice place to visit, but you wouldn’t want to live there?" I caught the aroma of her perfume in the last stages of its time-release cycle. "Lady, what you need is a nice Mormon boy from Pennsylvania."
"I don’t want to push you, Tony."
"I’m your man."
"You know what Daddy is going to say?" Cher said. "‘Queens? He’s from Queens? I send you by plane across the country, you live in a desert for years, and you find a husband from Queens? For Queens, I could pay subway fare. Now you tell me you want to get married in a temple in Utah? We got plenty of temples in New York, and I know a rabbi …’"
For dessert we had a dish of Italian ice.

Laresa had new shoes. They were not just ordinary new shoes. They were shiny black with gold buckles, but what was special about them was that they made music whenever she walked. “Squeak, squeakity, squeak, squeak,” they sang out wherever she went.
Laresa smiled and sang “La, la-ti-de, la, la,” as she walked down the sidewalk, up the stairs, and into the library.
Miss Page was sitting at the front desk reading. “Quiet, please!” she whispered, peeking over her horn-rimmed glasses.
Laresa had forgotten to be quiet in the library. She stopped singing and tiptoed over to the picture book shelf. But her shoes kept on singing, “Squeak, squeakity, squeak, squeak.”
Miss Page put down her book and stared. Two freckle-faced boys at the reading table stared. A lady in a green hat peeked around the bookshelf.
Laresa smiled. “It’s my new shoes,” she whispered.
Laresa quickly found a book and hurried to the front desk. “Squeak, squeakity, squeak, squeak,” the shoes sang.
“My, my,” Miss Page sighed, still looking over her glasses, “you really must get those shoes fixed. They are just too noisy.”
“Yes, Miss Page,” Laresa answered. But inside she felt sad that Miss Page could only hear the noise and not the music.
Laresa opened the door and left. “Squeak, squeakity, squeak, squeak,” the shoes sang. “La, la-ti-de, la, la,” Laresa sang all the way home.
“Hello, Mother,” she called out as she entered the kitchen.
“Hello, Laresa,” Mother answered.
“Squeak, squeakity, squeak, squeak,” the shoes sang as Laresa walked over to the cookie jar.
“My, but your new shoes certainly are noisy,” Mother said.
“It’s not noise; it’s music. Can’t you hear it?” Laresa walked around in a circle singing along with the music of her shoes.
“Singing shoes!” Mother exclaimed. “Well, well!” And she shook her head.
Laresa smiled. “Aren’t they nice?”
“They certainly are, but I think we’d better get them fixed. They are just a wee bit loud.”
Laresa looked at the shiny black shoes. “Do we have to?” she asked.
“I’m afraid so,” Mother answered. “Musical shoes aren’t very good for church and school.”
“And the library!” Laresa sighed.
“I have to do some errands,” Mother told Laresa. “Come with me now and we’ll stop at the shoe repair shop.”
Soon Laresa and Mother were at the shoe repair shop. Mr. Sole was a fat little man with a happy twinkle in his blue eyes. Mother explained the problem to the shoe repair man.
“Walk over to the mirror, Laresa,” Mr. Sole instructed.
Laresa walked as carefully as she could, but the music still rang out loud, “Squeak, squeakity, squeak, squeak.”
“Oh, my,” Mr. Sole said. “In all my years I’ve never heard a pair of musical shoes!”
Laresa smiled. “Can you hear the music too?”
“Of course. La, la-ti-de, la, la,” Mr. Sole sang.
“Oh, yes! That’s it exactly!” Laresa cried.
“But,” Mr. Sole interrupted, “I know what your mother means. Musical shoes just aren’t wanted in some places.”
Sadly Laresa took off the shoes and gave them to Mr. Sole.
“It will only take a minute,” he said.
And that’s all it took. Soon Mr. Sole was back with the shoes in his hand. “Here,” he said. Then leaning down so that only Laresa could hear, he whispered, “I couldn’t ruin such beautiful shoes. I just made their music a little softer.”
Laresa smiled and Mr. Sole winked back. Mother and Laresa left the shop and walked to the car.
“That’s much better,” Mother said.
Laresa smiled and then she listened carefully. The music was very, very, very soft, but she could hear it whenever she wanted to listen.
“Squeak, squeakity, squeak, squeak,” the singing shoes softly sang all the way to the car. And Laresa happily sang along with them, “La, la-ti-de, la, la.”

Sometimes Joby forgot things—like the time he forgot not to laugh when his brother fell down the stairs. Another time he forgot to walk straight home after school so he wouldn’t miss his four o’clock dentist appointment. But he’d had more important things on his mind that day—like stopping to catch catfish at the canal with Toby Baxter.

But what Joby didn’t forget was something he did every night before he went to bed. Something besides saying his prayers and giving Agatha, his hamster, a good-night kiss. It was something he had heard the prophet, President Spencer W. Kimball, talk about many times during general conferences. That something was keeping a daily journal.

One particular family home evening, Joby shared some of his recorded thoughts and feelings with his family. I was so touched by what we heard (even though it was the second time for me) that I asked Joby if he would share some of his thoughts and feelings with children all over the world.

Joby’s eyes grew as round as July melons. “Wow!” he exclaimed.

Here are a few entries from Joby’s daily journal:
March 8 I ran around the block with my dad. He got tired. Old people do that.
March 14 I like a girl named Jessica.
March 18 I sang in sacrament meeting on a Primary program.
March 23 My girl friend said I could chase her around.
March 27 I was sick today.
April 2 We watched a television show about Jesus, and I saw my dad crying when they hung Jesus on the cross.
April 11 I got angry feelings when my girl friend said she liked some other boy better than me. Then I gave her one of my best marbles, and she let me sit by by her. I gave her another of my best marbles, and she said she likes me best. My dad said, “That’s using your marbles.”
April 17 I did the family home evening lesson. Mom and Dad helped me.
April 18 I made a new friend. His name is Chad. He has lots of trucks and cool stuff like that.
April 26 Mom’s real busy with her new Church job. I saw her praying about it.
April 27 It isn’t the same when the baby-sitter tucks me in.
May 16 I can’t remember any stuff that happened today.
May 17 My dad pulled me around the block in the wagon. It was tied to his old bike. I love my dad.
May 22 I got hit in the head with a rock and had to have four stitches. A girl at school did it. Not my girl friend. If it had been her, I would have taken my marbles back.
May 23 Today was hot and windy.
May 24 I passed kindergarten. I guess I’m sort of getting grown-up. But I still like marbles and stuff.
June 1 I played and played and played.
June 2 I played cowboys and got shot lots of times.
June 10 Today we went to church. Sometimes I think I don’t want to go, but I know that is where Heavenly Father wants me to be. I just know.
June 12 We went to a cabin in the mountains. We fed the birds and squirrels and ran around a lot. It got dark, and we heard strange sounds, but that was OK because Mom said Heavenly Father was close-by.
June 14 The new grass in the backyard is starting to come out of the ground and be green.
June 16 I don’t know about today.
June 18 I’m glad school doesn’t mess up summer.
June 19 I played and then I got tired, so night came.
June 20 We went to the canal. The water was going by. The big spider was still there, and I almost caught a water bug.
June 21 Dad paid me a penny for each grasshopper I took out of the garden because he doesn’t want to hurt them. He says all of God’s creatures have feelings.
June 22 I rode on Nathan’s Big Wheel because I still can’t ride my bike. I just fall off better than I stay on.
June 23 My dad says I’m getting big too fast. I can’t help it. Mom makes me eat all my asparagus and stuff.
June 24 Church day. And so that was what it was.
June 26 We went to Uncle David’s and played on the trampoline, and then we came home because you can’t jump on it very well in the dark.
June 27 I let my grasshoppers go. I think they were homesick.
June 30 I watched my red ants making tunnels. Heavenly Father must have good eyes to make such tiny things. I can’t even see how their legs go on.
July 1 I’m still watching my ants.
July 5 Great-Grandma’s birthday. She’s real old today.
July 6 I learned how to ride my bike. Hurray!
July 8 Church day. So that is where we were.
July 12 Went to the mountains with Dad. We got rocks and slept up there. It got real dark and cold.
July 24 We went to a big parade. It was about the Mormon pioneers. A clown painted my nose red. I guess maybe he needed a friend.
July 27 My hamster’s leg broke.
July 31 I rode my bike. I like the way the wind feels on me.
Aug. 13 We put some pretty flowers on Grandpa’s grave. I miss him.
Aug. 14 I like the woods at Grandma’s. There are shadows and quiet places. Today I saw a squirrel there and thought about Grandpa.
Aug. 18 I lost my hamster. She’s in our house someplace.
Aug. 20 I prayed I would get my hamster back, and I did.
Aug. 26 Dad gave me a father’s blessing because I went into first grade today. It made me feel good.
Aug. 29 I kind of like school—kind of.
Aug. 30 I guess I like to play best.
Aug. 31 I got home early today. It feels good at home.
Sept. 10 I caught a spider. It likes dead flies best, so that is what it got.
Sept. 14 Some things I don’t like are cauliflower and asparagus and naps and kids who push me around. All of them happened today, so I’m glad today is over. Oh! I almost forgot to kiss Agatha goodnight.
Sept. 24 My dad told us a story about a robot named Mister Green and a kid who made him and some fun stuff they did. Then he talked about some things the prophet does. Dad said he is one of the most special people and that we should read his words because he talks for Jesus. I would like to meet him someday and shake his hand and always do the things he says.
Joby is ready to start a second journal. “One day,” he said, “I’m going to have a lot of neat stuff to show my children, and maybe someday even Heavenly Father might like to read it. I know He’s real busy, but if He has time, He can just come over, because I’ll be living close to where He is.”

Jennifer and Melissa Peterson and Shawn Edwards, of the Council Bluffs Iowa Ward, Papillon Nebraska Stake were in the mood to win a contest, so they produced a video called “Glenn Miller: A Master Showperson and Arranger.” It won first place in their division of the International Student Media Festival.
Jennifer, Melissa, and Shawn wrote the narration for the video, mixed the music and narration, recorded still photos and film on video, and combined the video and sound. Glenn Miller might seem like an unusual subject for teenagers to pick, but they explained it this way: “We picked Glenn Miller because he was from Iowa and we like his music.” Their film won them the right to attend the International Student Media Festival Awards Conference in Orlando, Florida.

I always wanted to retire young from my job and I did that in March 2018. I am a professional agronomist, and I loved my job. After retirement, I thought the fatigue caused by my work would be improved and I would be more relaxed, as my job was very demanding. After a few months of retirement, my fatigue got worse, and I only wanted to be in bed sleeping. Following the advice of my husband, I visited a doctor who helped me learn the reason for my exhaustion.
After undergoing different tests as advised by the doctor, they found the reason for my fatigue. I had a colonoscopy, and I was diagnosed with a malignant stage 3 colon tumor. I had cancer! When I received the news, I wasn’t scared at that moment, but I did become a bit anxious. I asked the doctor, “Am I going to die?” She replied with a smile, saying she didn’t think that would happen for now, but I needed to hurry to have the tumor removed.
I underwent an operation on September 24, 2018, and had many people by my side taking care of me. A few days after the operation and being discharged, while at home, I felt a lot of fever inside me. I visited the clinic again, and after several tests, they found that during the surgery to remove the colon tumor, they had left a small hole causing the fever. I developed sepsis because no hole was supposed to remain after the operation. I had to stay in the clinic for one more week.
On the third day of being hospitalized, I felt extremely sad. I prayed to Heavenly Father and asked many questions. After finishing my prayer and shedding many tears, there was a knock on the door of my room, and to my surprise, it was the two missionaries who were attending my ward at that time. Seeing me crying, they prayed with and encouraged me. I told them about the prayer I had made and how the Lord had sent these two messengers to me.
Thanks to my Heavenly Father, I overcame the sepsis and moved on to the next stage, which, although difficult, was a true miracle. I had to undergo chemotherapy, and when I received the first treatment, I suffered another health setback. A port was inserted to administer the chemotherapy, and the doctor who placed it put it in too high, causing me to have four embolisms and two pulmonary infarctions. My oncologist couldn’t explain how I had survived the embolisms and infarctions. I told her that I believed God was keeping me alive because I still had important work to do for Him.
During my chemotherapy, which was the most painful part of my treatment, I dedicated myself fully to my calling as the Young Women president of my ward, and that helped me a lot. I also did service, which kept negative thoughts about my health from my mind. I am extremely grateful to my Heavenly Father for everything He does in my life.
During a check-up in 2019, I was found to have a tumor the size of a softball in one of my ovaries. My oncologist thought the colon cancer had metastasized to the ovary. On November 14, 2020, I underwent a hysterectomy and, thankfully, the tumor in the ovary turned out to be benign.
I have been cancer-free for six years, and I hope to enjoy good health for many more years to come. I always had Heavenly Father by my side taking care of me, and I value life more. I enjoy many hobbies with my husband and have since accomplished some big educational and career goals. I also enjoy serving in my callings.
I no longer fear death because I know without a doubt that it is part of the plan of salvation that our Heavenly Father created for His children. If you ever find yourself in a situation like mine, never lose faith. Hold strong, and you will see that miracles do exist.