Gospel Story Finder

Aurelia squeezed George’s hand and pointed to show him the temple across the river. Even on this cold, gray day, the tall building seemed to shine on the hill. She remembered when its roof had caught fire one day. She lived only a block away and had run with a bucket of water to help fight the fire. It had been put out, and work on the temple had continued. Just two months ago, Mama and Papa had gone to the temple to be sealed together. Mama said that that was the hardest part of leaving Nauvoo—leaving the temple they’d worked so hard to build. It still wasn’t quite finished. “Heaven only knows when we’ll have a temple again,” Mama had said. “We’ve been blessed to have this one.”

Braden and Dad carried heavy buckets of alligator pellets toward the feeding dock. The tops of the alligators’ heads came to the surface and glided toward them. When Braden and Dad reached the feeding spot, some of the alligators had their mouths open.
But Braden wasn’t scared. Working with Dad on the alligator farm was the best.
“Feeding time!” Braden said. He picked up a scoop of pellets and tossed them into the water.
Chomp. Chomp. Splash.
Some of the alligators caught the pellets in the air. Others snapped at them when they hit the water. Braden and Dad kept tossing the food until their buckets were empty.
“Thanks for helping me,” Dad said. “Let’s go. The missionaries will be coming soon.”
Braden and his family had started talking with the missionaries a few months ago. He liked the missionaries! And he liked learning about the Church. Dad was a member of the Church, but he hadn’t been going to church very much. Mom and Braden had never been baptized.
“Last week you set a goal to read Mosiah 18,” Sister Cox said that evening. “How did that go?”
Mom and Dad looked at each other and were quiet for a moment. “We were busy this week,” Mom said.
“I read it!” Braden said.
“Great job!” Sister Blood said, reaching over for a high five. “How did you feel after you read it?”
Braden gave a big smile. “Really good. And I prayed about being baptized. I really want to.”
“That’s great! I know that makes Heavenly Father very happy,” Sister Cox said. She turned to Braden’s mom. “How are you feeling about it?”
“I’m still not sure. I think I need a little more time,” Mom said.
Braden felt a little sad during the rest of the lesson. He wished both his parents were members of the Church. And he wanted to be a member of the Church too!
When the missionaries left, he told his parents that he meant what he said earlier. “I really want to be baptized. And …” Braden took a deep breath. “I really want Dad to baptize me.”
After a moment, Dad spoke up. “I really want that too.”
Mom was quiet. “Let’s pray about it.”
Braden knelt down with his family and asked Heavenly Father if he and Mom should be baptized. He felt warm and loved.
For the next few weeks, Braden read the scriptures and prayed every day. At first, he was always the one asking his parents if they would pray and read with him. But soon, they started asking him. When he and Dad fed the alligators, they would talk about the scriptures or what they learned at church. He and Mom would talk about the missionary lessons. Every day, Mom and Dad seemed a little happier.
One day during a lesson with the missionaries, Mom said the words Braden had been waiting for: “I want to be baptized.”
For the next few weeks, Braden felt like he was floating on clouds.
Finally, it was the day of Mom and Braden’s baptism. When Braden came up out of the water, he felt Heavenly Father’s love for him and his family. He gave Dad a big hug.
Dad held Braden close and whispered, “Thank you for being a good example and helping us. I love you.”

Even though Father was deaf, he understood his daughter Alice. She pronounced her words carefully and looked right at him so he could read her lips easily. So Father kept her with him whenever he could. When he was doing business, she helped him understand what other people said. When he was working on the farm, Alice was good company.
Alice and Father tended grapevines and peach orchards, harvested honey from beehives, and cut ice from the pond. Alice gathered eggs from their chickens. Whatever they cut or gathered or harvested, Father and Alice took one-tenth to the tithing office.
They didn’t pay their tithing with money, most of the time. If they harvested thirty bushels of peaches, three bushels went to the Church. If ten jars of honey came from the beehives, one jar went for tithing. It was the same with grapes and eggs and whatever else they had. Even chickens and cows sometimes went along to the tithing office in the farm wagon!
One Monday morning early in the summer, Alice and Father were mending a fence where the farm bordered the roadside. Alice heard the thudding sound of horses’ hooves on the dirt road and the rumbling of a farm wagon. She looked up and saw Brother Johnson driving with children in the back. Father looked up too.
“Good morning, Brother Ashdown!” Brother Johnson called. “My peas are ready for harvest. I’m paying the children twenty-five cents a bushel to pick them. Does Alice want to come?”
Father looked down at Alice.
“He wants me to pick peas for a quarter a bushel,” Alice repeated. “May I go?”
Father nodded. Alice climbed into Brother Johnson’s wagon. Father waved and smiled as she rode away.
Alice worked hard all day long and picked two full bushels of peas. Before she left at the end of the day, Brother Johnson dropped two shiny quarters into her hand. Fifty cents could easily buy enough candy to last a month, or ribbons in every color of the rainbow for Alice’s hair, or maybe even a toy! She ran all the way home and bounded into the kitchen where the family was just sitting down around the table for supper.
“Look!” she said. “Fifty cents of my very own!”
“Those are good earnings for a day, Alice, for a girl your size,” Mother said. “Now please wash up before you sit down and eat.” Alice obeyed, then settled in for a plate of stew, new potatoes, and sweet green peas from the family’s garden.
“I’m pleased you’re a hard worker, Alice,” Father said from across the table. “Do you want to pay your tithing on that money?”
Alice nodded yes.
“You’ll owe five cents tithing then. Should I give you change?”
Alice looked at the two coins next to her plate. Five cents less and she wouldn’t have two quarters anymore—only one quarter and two dimes. Five cents suddenly seemed like a lot of money.
“Maybe you’ll make some more money in a day or two,” Father said. “I believe Doctor Stringham has a field of peas that needs picking.”
“Think about it overnight, Alice,” Mother suggested. “You need to decide if you want to pay tithing.”
Lying in bed that night, Alice tossed and turned. She wanted to do the right thing. But it seemed so hard to let go of five whole cents. She thought about her last trip to the tithing office with Father. On their way home, Alice and Father had met a man Father knew, Mr. Singer, who wasn’t a member of the Church.
“Alice, ask your father for me where he’s been today,” Mr. Singer instructed. Alice did.
“We’ve been down to the tithing office,” Father said.
“Well, William,” Mr. Singer said, “you’re surely devoted to that Church. I’m always amazed to see you going by my place on your way to meeting every Sunday. Especially when you can’t even hear what’s being said.”
Alice gulped and repeated Mr. Singer’s words slowly to Father. She worried that his feelings would be hurt, but she knew it was important to let him know exactly what was being said.
Father straightened his back and looked hard at Mr. Singer. “Well, I do sometimes understand what’s said, but even if I don’t, I get the spirit of the meeting by being there. And I teach my children that we’re a Latter-day Saint family that goes to our meetings every Sunday. Same with taking Alice down to the tithing office. You have to teach children by example.”
Mr. Singer nodded. “You’re a good man, William Ashdown,” he said. “You take care now!”
As Alice lay in bed and remembered what Father had told Mr. Singer, she thought about all the other times she’d gone to the tithing office with Father. She always felt warm inside when she heard him say, “That’s a full tithe.” She knew it was one way he showed how much he believed in the gospel. She remembered Mother telling her that if they paid tithing, the Lord would open the windows of heaven and send down more blessings than they had room to receive. She thought about how the grapes and peaches and eggs all went to help people who needed food. And she knew her own five cents would help someone too.
Alice crept out of bed quietly and made her way downstairs where Father and Mother were sitting.
“Father, I want to pay my tithing. Will you figure the change for me?” Alice asked.
“I certainly will, Alice,” Father said.
Alice traded Father one quarter for two dimes and a nickel. She put the nickel in the pocket of her pinafore that she would wear on Sunday so she could give it to the bishop. But before then, she picked peas for Doctor Stringham. Alice earned forty-five more cents to keep—and another nickel for her tithing!

I used to think my mom didn’t understand me. It seemed all she cared about were her rules. How could she understand me? She had never done anything wrong in her life.
I decided I could do better without her rules, so I started to define myself in opposition to her. She always wore nice skirts and dresses; I always wore big, shabby jeans. She followed rules of etiquette meticulously; I ignored them. She did everything she could to invite the Spirit into our home; I listened to counterculture music. She worked to avoid even the appearance of evil; I hung out with kids who were in trouble. Even though I wasn’t participating in serious transgressions, Mom knew I was on the edge.
Mom spent many rough nights worrying about me. One night she got up to check on me and found under my covers a pile of pillows shaped like a sleeping form. She spent a long night calling my friends, the police, and anyone else she could think of. When I got home, she told me I was grounded until further notice.
Soon after, feeling angry and rebellious, I found myself in the principal’s office at school. Knowing I could identify the culprits of a recent prank, he explained to me that if I didn’t tell him who the guilty parties were, he would suspend me instead of them. I defiantly kept silent. So he called my mom and told her I would be staying home the next day.
This time she was really angry. As she considered appropriate punishments while waiting for me to come home, she went to get a box out of our unfinished attic. Distracted, she took a wrong step between the beams and suddenly came crashing through the insulation, drywall, and plaster of the ceiling, landing on the floor below. Still gathering her bearings in that painful pile of rubble, she had the thought come to her: Your relationship with Michelle right now is as fragile as the ceiling. One wrong step and the relationship will collapse from under you and will be permanently damaged.
When I got home from school, I expected a lecture. Instead, when Mom greeted me, she explained what had happened and gently expressed her love for me. She said she had been prompted to take special care of our relationship and needed my help. I looked at her legs, black and blue from the ankles up and covered with some bad scrapes. All I could think was how amazing it was that as the ceiling gave way beneath her, her first thought was for me. Even I was humbled. We prayed together for help in learning to love and accept.
It wasn’t easy. I really had to work to change my attitude. Looking back, I realize that all along Mom had my welfare in mind. I eventually discovered she was really fun to be with. We looked for ways to spend time together in positive situations, doing things we both enjoyed. I learned to see her as something other than a disciplinarian. And most importantly, I changed my perspective. Instead of being embarrassed by our “old-fashioned” home, I came to love bringing friends over. I finally realized that I was equally responsible for the success of our relationship.
I guess I’m the one who should have fallen through the ceiling, but I doubt I would have heard the Spirit at that crucial moment. I’ll always be grateful for a mother willing to love me even while I learned to love her.

A reporter for the Washington Post visited one of our Church meetings in Nigeria. The reporter interviewed one new member and told of his conversion. The reporter states:
“[He] said … he jumped off a city bus and walked into the [LDS Church building]. … He immediately liked what he heard inside [the chapel], especially that no one preached that people of other faiths were going to hell.”28 This echoes the feeling of numerous converts to the Church since its organization.

In France, it isn’t unusual to see sleek sports cars whizzing around the streets. But it is unusual to see a large family van driving down the road—with a father, a mother, and seven children squeezed into it.
Many families in France have only one or two children. People are often surprised to learn that Michel and Pascale Küsseling have seven.
The Küsselings live in Gournay, a beautiful town of about 6,000 people on the outskirts of Paris. They are members of the Torcy Ward, Paris France East Stake. There’s a row of child-sized bicycles in their driveway. In the backyard are trees to climb and a slide to play on.
There are four boys and three girls in the family. Julien, age 14, is a teacher and likes to swim. Jérome, age 13, is a deacon and likes to swim and play the piano. Next come twin girls, age 10—Claire, who plays the flute and likes ballet, and Laurence, who also plays the flute but prefers swimming to dancing. Marie, a 9-year-old girl, is next; she likes to dance and play the piano. The youngest two are boys—Christophe, age 6, who is learning to swim, and Nicolas, age 4, who likes to play ball.
“I always wanted to have a large family, even before I was a member of the Church,” says Sister Küsseling. “I love children.”
“The most difficult time,” laughs Brother Küsseling, “was when Marie was born and the twins were only a year old. We suddenly had three girls nearly the same age. They became a little jealous of each other, because I had three girls to hold and only two knees to hold them on!”
Large families can have lots of challenges—but also lots of blessings. On the challenging side, sometimes the children need to have patience when Mom and Dad are busy with the others. And sometimes brothers and sisters tease one another.
On the positive side, there’s always somebody to play with—or to work alongside. “I’ve always had lots of brothers and sisters,” says Laurence. “For me, it seems normal. It’s nice to have older children and younger children in the family. That way, we all learn from each other and help each other.”
And there are plenty of family members to share assignments for family home evening. “We try to give each child a responsibility every Monday evening,” says Sister Küsseling. “Someone leads the music; somebody tries to find something for the lesson; somebody makes a treat for refreshments. They all try to participate.” Family home evening is also a time to share things the children have learned or made in Primary.
They love to go to Primary. “I learn about Jesus, about His life and what He did,” says Laurence. “And we learn about Joseph Smith. He translated the Book of Mormon and organized the Church when it was restored. I believe he was a prophet.”
The children enjoy reading stories from L’Étoile, the Church magazine in French. They also read the scriptures together and have family prayer. And they love to sing. Laurence’s favorite song is “Love One Another” (Hymns, number 308). Claire’s favorite is “Silent Night” (Hymns, number 204). “I love Christmas,” she says, “because we remember the birth of Jesus and can all be together. That’s important to me.”
Brother Küsseling has been a member of the Church all his life; as a young man he served a mission in New Caledonia, an island in the South Pacific. He currently serves as a counselor in the mission presidency in Paris. Sister Küsseling, a Primary teacher, was baptized 16 years ago and is the only member of the Church in her family. Brother and Sister Küsseling were married in the Swiss Temple. Claire says it’s a wonderful feeling to know that their family can be together forever.
Claire is also thankful for many other blessings that come with being a member of the Church. When she was three years old, she became extremely sick and began having seizures. “We were very frightened,” says Sister Küsseling. “Her dad gave her a blessing, and then we took her to the hospital. The next day, Claire was well. She hasn’t had any seizures since.”
Claire can’t remember that incident, but she knows she was healed through the power of the priesthood. She does remember another time when the priesthood was especially important in her life. She clearly recalls when her father baptized her. “It made me happier than before,” she says. “I knew Jesus would forgive all my sins.
“I have seen my father bless and baptize the children of our family. And when he was bishop, he also blessed other people in the ward who were sick or needed a blessing,” says Claire. “He gives us blessings when we start a new year at school. When he does, I know I will have a good year.”
Her twin sister, Laurence, says: “I believe Heavenly Father hears me when I pray. He has answered my prayers. When our father lost his job four months ago, we all prayed for him to get a new job. And he got a new job in two weeks!” Brother Küsseling now works as a financial adviser for a British company in Versailles.
Both Claire and Laurence like to study math, and both are good students. Although they are the only Latter-day Saints in their school, they have learned to choose friends with similar standards and values, and they have talked with some of them about the Church. “Since my parents and relatives are not members of the Church,” says Sister Küsseling, “the children often bear their testimonies to their uncles, aunts, cousins, and grandparents.”
And they try to show by their actions that they are followers of Jesus Christ. For example, they often help their neighbor, an 87-year-old man who lives alone. They help carry his groceries into his house because they are worried he might fall. And they help feed his dog. In return, he lets the children eat cherries off the branches of his tree that reach over the fence into the Küsselings’ backyard.
“I’ve learned in church to be more polite,” says Laurence. “The gospel teaches me to be kinder to people around me, including my family.”
Most of all, Claire and Laurence each want to be the kind of mother their own mother is. They are glad to be part of a family that people notice. Some may notice the Küsselings because of the size of their family or the size of their car. But more important, people notice them for their love for one another and for their efforts to live the gospel.

The activities of June Conference meant the end of a year’s work on the Mia Maid youth ad hoc committee for Margaret Anderson of the Salt Lake Foothill Stake. She and other committee members served as a sounding board by filling out questionnaires on activities and lessons and then passing surveys out to friends. “I’ve really learned about the needs of others this past year, especially the needs of other Mia Maids. June Conference gave me the opportunity to present a skit about really getting involved in the Young Women program. It’s also been a lot of fun meeting new people from all over.”

This tendency to wrongfully identify ourselves was again brought to my attention the other day during an interview with a troubled wife. Her marriage is in great difficulty. She has tried earnestly to correct the communication blocks with her husband but with little success. She is grateful for the time her bishop has spent in counseling. Her stake president has also been most patient and understanding in his willingness to try and help.
All of her problems are not resolved, but she is making progress. Her many contacts with properly channeled priesthood direction have left her not only grateful, but somewhat amazed. Her concluding observation the other day was, “I just don’t understand all of you people giving so much time and showing so much concern. After all, I’m really ‘nobody.’”

In 2015, in the state of Pernambuco, Brazil, 62 members of the J. Reuben Clark Law Society cooperated with the state Prosecutor’s Office in investigating the legal challenges of residents in four different nursing homes. For five hours one Saturday, these attorneys interviewed over 200 residents one by one, each of whom had been functionally forgotten by society.
During their interviews, they discovered several crimes that had been committed against the elderly residents, such as abandonment, mistreatment, and misappropriation of funds. A key pillar of this law society is to care for the poor and in need. Just two months later, the prosecutor successfully filed charges against the responsible parties.
Their assistance is a perfect example of King Benjamin’s teaching “that when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God.”

Illustrations by Kevin Keele
It was a windy day. Nine-year-old Batbayar was walking home from the bus stop after school. He hugged his coat tighter in the wind. Luckily, it wasn’t far to his grandparents’ house, where he lived in Mongolia.
“Hi!” Batbayar said as he came inside.
“Welcome home,” Grandma said. “I made some khuushuur for a snack.”
“Thank you!” Batbayar reached for one of the warm, spicy Mongolian meat pies.
“Wait! Don’t eat any until the missionaries get here,” Grandpa said. “They’ll be coming any minute.”
Batbayar loved it when the missionaries from Grandma and Grandpa’s church came to visit. He always learned a lot from them. But there was just one problem.
“Will they ask me to read from the Book of Mormon again?” Batbayar asked. “Reading is hard for me.”
“That’s why they’re bringing another book today,” Grandma said.
“What book?” Batbayar said.
“You’ll see,” Grandpa said.
Soon the missionaries arrived. They ate Grandma’s delicious meat pies together. Then Batbayar said, “Grandma says you brought me a book.”
“I think you’ll like this book,” Sister Heitz said. “It has lots of pictures.”
Batbayar looked at the cover. Book of Mormon Stories, it said. A picture on the cover showed people building a boat.
“I remember that story,” Batbayar said. “The man didn’t know how to build a boat. So he prayed. And God helped him.”
“That’s right,” Sister Enkhtuya said. “Will you try reading this book? Then you can pray and ask God if what it teaches is true.”
“I will,” Batbayar promised.
That night he read from the book with pictures. He read the story about the boat. Then he prayed. He fell asleep thinking about the man who built the boat and how God helped him.
From then on, each night Batbayar read a story. Then he prayed. And each night, he fell asleep thinking about what he read.
When the sister missionaries came again, they taught Batbayar more about Jesus Christ. Batbayar learned about prophets. He learned about God’s commandments. He kept going to church with Grandma and Grandpa. And he kept reading and praying.
One day Batbayar had something important to tell his grandparents. “When I read the stories in the book with pictures, my heart feels good,” he said. “When I pray, I feel they are true. I think I should be baptized.”
Today, Batbayar is a member of the Church. He has gotten better and better at reading. And he still reads the Book of Mormon every night!

On that November day in 1972 when I got on the bus to go to school, I had no idea this day was going to be one of the most important in my life.
I was 13 and an ordinary student. I mainly tried to have a good time at school, and I had many friends who were like I was. Óscar Italia was not like the other boys. He really did study and, as a result, was on the honor roll. But I didn’t know him well. He was a quiet fellow.
When I entered the classroom that day, he was wearing a button on his lapel that read, “I Care. What about You?” At that time the Church in our area had a program to help members share the gospel. They wore this button so when people asked about it, they could explain about family home evening and the family.
I asked Óscar, “What’s that?” He explained that he had been baptized three months before and was the only Latter-day Saint in his family.
During the breaks that day he noticed my interest and explained the plan of salvation, and he gave me a copy of the Book of Mormon. He read me the promise in Moroni 10:3–5 and told me that if I prayed, I would feel a burning in my heart that would confirm to me that the Book of Mormon was true. Óscar was a great member missionary, and I believed him.
The next morning, while my mother was doing her shopping at the neighborhood market, I decided to read the Book of Mormon. When I was almost finished with the first page, I had a desire to pray. I went to my room and knelt beside my bed. I had never prayed before, but I remembered I had to ask God in the name of Christ. I asked if the Book of Mormon was true, and I asked God to tell me if He existed. I expected to feel what my classmate had testified I would feel. After some minutes I heard my mother coming home and was afraid she would find me praying, so I stood up and got ready for school.
As I rode to school a real battle of ideas was going on in my head. “Is it true or not? Nothing happened,” I thought. I had a lot of doubts.
I can’t explain why, but no sooner had I stepped from the bus onto the sidewalk at school than the doubts disappeared, and I knew it was true. It was extremely simple.
Óscar came up to speak with me at the classroom door. I said, “I will be a member of your church.” He couldn’t believe it. A friend of mine was listening, and he told my other friends what was happening. Soon they were all around me, asking me why I was going to change religions. They told me I was crazy. I couldn’t answer their questions and started to cry. They finally went away, and I was left alone with Óscar. Suddenly I had an overwhelming feeling of joy. I had never felt anything like it before. It was the burning my friend had said I would feel, and it came as a confirmation of the decision I had made.
The next day Óscar brought me a button, and we wore them proudly.

Andrew stood in front of the mirror and scowled at himself. He decided he looked stupid. Who wanted to wear a tie anyway? “I feel like I’m choking,” he said to his dad.
“Loosen your tie,” said Dad. “Maybe you have it on too tight.”
Andrew slid his finger between his collar and the knot of the tie and pulled. He still felt like he was choking. “How come Amanda has to get married, anyway?”
“Because that’s what little girls do when they grow up,” Dad said. “Come on, Sport, it’s time to go. We don’t want to be late for your sister’s wedding. You look fine.”
In the car, Andrew slumped down in the seat until his chin was nearly resting on his chest, and stared straight ahead. This morning Amanda had been in the bathroom for what seemed like nine hours. He had heard her singing “Families Can Be Together Forever,” and when she got to the part that goes “I want to marry in God’s temple for all eternity,” she sang really loud.
Andrew tugged at his tie again, and a mean, mad feeling settled in his chest. If families are supposed to be together forever, why did Amanda want to leave them and marry Brad? She wasn’t even riding to the temple with the family. Brad had come earlier to get her, and she had gone with him. She hadn’t even waved good-bye.
“Here we are,” Dad said, stopping the car. Andrew got out slowly. He could see a carpet of grass a little way up the hill, then flowers, and at the top, the Jordan River Temple. The statue of the Angel Moroni on the spire shone golden in the sunlight.
“Andrew,” Mom said, “let’s go. Do you have your Friend to read?”
“Yes,” he said. They walked together up the sidewalk, and the temple seemed to get taller and whiter with every step. He wished that Amanda was with them. She would’ve been holding his hand or fixing his collar or pointing to the ducks that were waddling across the lawn.
The temple doors opened silently, and they stepped inside. A woman in a long white dress was standing there smiling. “Welcome,” she said quietly.
“Good morning, Sister,” said Dad. “We’re here for the Smithton–Peters wedding. Is it all right if my son sits in the waiting room? His cousin will be here soon to sit with him.”
“Yes,” said the woman. “I’ll get him settled while you go on in.” She put her hand on Andrew’s shoulder and led him to a glassed-in room full of chairs and sofas. “Here we are,” she said. “We have lots of chairs, so choose any one you want. Change chairs every five minutes if you like. I’ve sat in all of them myself, and they’re all comfortable.” She told him that if he needed anything, to let her know, then went back to the door to greet people.
“Great,” Andrew grumbled quietly. “Here I am by myself. I’m just the little brother, and no one cares, anyway.” He plopped himself on a soft chair. He didn’t even want to read. He just felt left out and sorry for himself. He closed his eyes.
The door to the waiting room opened, and he heard someone come in and sit down on the chair next to him. “Hey, Andy,” his cousin Ernie whispered.
Andrew opened his eyes. “You look funny in a suit.”
“Thanks.” Ernie looked at Andrew for a minute. “What’s the matter, man?”
“How come we don’t get to go in?” Andrew scowled, looking through the glass wall at men in white suits, sitting at a desk and checking people’s recommends.
“We’re not old enough yet.”
“How come we have to be old enough?”
“For the same reason you have to be eight to be baptized and twelve to get the priesthood and nineteen to go on a mission. You have to be old enough to understand things.”
That made sense. Andrew didn’t understand lots of things—like why Amanda wanted to leave their family. He still felt mad. “I don’t know why Amanda wants to get married at all,” he said. “She never even talks to me anymore.”
Ernie grinned. “Jealous, huh? Think she won’t love you anymore?”
Andrew shrugged, but he did think that a little bit. She hadn’t had time to take him to the library or out for ice cream or anything lately because she was always with Brad or doing something for the wedding.
Ernie picked up a copy of the Book of Mormon that was on a table and started to read. Andrew knew that he was trying to get ready for his mission, so he didn’t bother him. Instead, he watched the second hand sweep around and around the face of a wall clock. When he watched the seconds, the minutes seemed to go faster.
He wondered what his sister was doing. He wondered if she would even think about him at all.
Next he watched people coming into the temple, all of them dressed in Church clothes and most of them carrying little suitcases. His dad had told him that the suitcases had white clothes in them because everyone wears white in the temple, like the lady by the door. She was still smiling at everyone who came in.
Andrew had never been in such a quiet place. It was even quieter than church because there were no babies crying or loud talking. People even seemed to walk more quietly. The longer he listened to the stillness, the quieter he felt. His tie didn’t choke him anymore, and he let his shoulders relax against the back of the chair. It was nice to not feel mad for a while. The second hand on the clock kept sweeping around.
“Ernie,” he whispered, “why is it so quiet? Why do I feel good in here?”
Ernie looked up from the scriptures and smiled. “Remember how you felt after you got baptized and confirmed?” Andrew nodded. “How you felt warm and good and quiet because the Holy Ghost was there?” Andrew nodded again. “Well, since this is Heavenly Father’s house, His Spirit is here all the time. That’s why it feels good.”
“I like it,” whispered Andrew.
“So do I.” Ernie bent his head over his book again.
Andrew closed his eyes. He wondered if the feeling was even stronger inside the temple than it was by the front door.
“Hey, Andy,” Ernie said, bumping his shoulder against Andrew’s, “they’re coming out.”
Andrew opened his eyes. The foyer was filled with people he knew—aunts and uncles, his grandparents, his mom and dad. Brad’s mom and dad—but he couldn’t see Amanda.
“Let’s go outside and wait for them, OK?” said Ernie.
In the bright sunshine, Andrew looked at the water fountain in front of the temple. He stood on one foot, then the other and wondered if Amanda would ever come out. Maybe she’d forgotten all about him.
He looked up and saw her coming. Brad was holding her hand, and in her other hand, she had a bunch of pink flowers. She was still dressed in white, and they both looked so happy that they almost glowed.
“Andrew,” Amanda called. Pulling Brad over to where Andrew stood, she bent down and hugged him. Andrew just stood there for a moment. Then he put his arms around her and hugged back. Her hair tickled his nose.
“I love you,” Amanda said.
“You do? I thought you loved Brad more than me.”
Amanda looked surprised. “I do love Brad,” she said. “But you’re still the only little brother I have.”
Brad reached out and messed up Andrew’s hair. “Guess you’re my brother now too.”
Andrew squinted up at Brad. “You’re part of my family now?” He hadn’t thought about it that way.
“Sure,” laughed Brad, “and since families are forever, I hope you like me. Think I’ll make a good big brother?”
Andrew had never had a big brother before. It might be fun. “Sure!” He wanted to laugh and sing and dance. Instead, he stepped back, looked up to where the statue of Moroni was, and smiled.

Sometimes even those of us who think we practice inclusion can be unintentionally exclusionary. For example, when I served as a nursery leader, I often missed announcements that were shared during the second hour of Church meetings. When I told a leader about this concern, he said, “But doesn’t your wife hear the announcements in Relief Society?”

At the time, I just laughed. But this good man’s response represented a mindset that excluded me. Do we view our fellow Church members as part of a “family ward,” made up of married men and women with children? Or do we view one another as part of a “ward family,” made up of individuals who care for and strengthen one another? Both views are important. While remaining aware of families in our ward, we can also get to know people individually—their circumstances, interests, needs—and perhaps prevent unintentional exclusion.

Mom laughed. “Well, we don’t have any of those. But we do have other awesome ancestors who did pioneering things. Like your Great-Grandma Luisa.”
Gabby smiled. “I love hearing stories about your grandma! She grew up on a farm in Spain, right?”
Mom nodded. “Then she moved to Argentina and started her own business. Even though she never had a chance to finish school, she made sure her children got a good education.”
As the sauce simmered, they sat at the kitchen table, and Mom told Gabby more stories about Grandma Luisa. She was a gardener and talked to her flowers. Whenever she went on a trip, the flowers would wilt a little, just because they missed her.
“And the most important thing to remember about Grandma Luisa is her faith,” Mom said. “She would pray out loud as she did dishes, as she cooked, as she gardened … she loved talking to God!”

When her husband passed away after 25 years of marriage, my friend Susan thought she was too old ever to consider getting married again. “I was content to be a widow for the rest of my life,” she said.
But—surprisingly—two years later, she remarried. Her husband, George, was also a widower. Today they live a happy life together, sharing common interests such as historical research and service in the Church and community.
That may sound like a happily-ever-after story. But Susan and George are quick to agree that remarrying at any age can create both joys and challenges. This may be particularly true for those who were sealed in the temple for their first marriage. My own life is a case in point.
I loved my wife Raelene and treasure our temple marriage. When she passed away unexpectedly after 42 years of marriage, I was distraught. I wallowed in self-pity for almost a year. Eventually I found a new job in a new city. I felt ready to start over. I wondered about dating. But would that mean I was being disloyal?
I counseled with a friend who had remarried. “It’s a personal decision,” he said. “You know your deceased wife. What would she think? You know your family and how they may react. It’s like any other decision—it should be approached with humility and prayer.”
Another friend who had remarried said, “It’s not about moving on. It’s about moving forward with faith regardless of marrying again or remaining single.”
So I searched the scriptures, often reading the story of Ruth, a widow, and her mother-in-law, Naomi, who felt “the Almighty hath dealt very bitterly with me” (Ruth 1:20) because of the death of her husband and two sons. Boaz eventually married Ruth after being moved by “all that thou hast done unto thy mother in law since the death of thine husband” (Ruth 2:11). This scriptural “love story” between Ruth and Boaz reminded me that God is always near, even in our darkest moments, and can guide us in our life decisions.
I did start dating again, and I eventually met my wife Stephanie. When we married, we decided that expecting everything to be the same as our first marriages or making comparisons to former spouses or circumstances was a recipe for disaster. We needed to create our own “bonus family” by including all of our children in important decisions and all of our grandchildren in new traditions.
The scriptures have many examples of righteous persons who remained single following the passing of a spouse. The widow of Zarephath is celebrated for her faithfulness and generosity (see 1 Kings 17:8–16). The widow who cast two mites into the treasury was commended by the Savior for casting in “all that she had, even all her living” (Mark 12:44). The psalmist notes that the Lord “relieveth the fatherless and widow” (Psalm 146:9). These examples remind us that the Lord is very much aware of those who have lost a spouse. Elder Gerrit W. Gong of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles has taught, “Our standing before the Lord and in His Church is not a matter of our marital status but of our becoming faithful and valiant disciples of Jesus Christ.”
President Dallin H. Oaks, First Counselor in the First Presidency, was only seven years old when his father passed away from tuberculosis. His mother remained single the rest of her life while accomplishing much in Church and community service, including serving as mayor of the city of Provo.
“I was blessed with an extraordinary mother,” President Oaks recalled. “She surely was one of the many noble women who have lived in the latter days.”
While serving as a member of the Seventy, Elder Randy D. Funk noted “some causes of unhappiness: … sadness and loneliness from the death of a loved one, and fear from the uncertainty of what happens when we die.” As an antidote, he suggested that “the inward peace of being securely within the fold of God” can bridge such loneliness and uncertainty.
Elder Gong noted that faith and covenant-keeping and rich blessings are very much available for those who choose not to remarry after the loss of a spouse. He tells about one of his family’s progenitors who “was left with five young children when her husband and oldest son both died suddenly just days apart. A widow for 47 years, Gram raised her family with sustaining love from local leaders and members. During those many years, Gram promised the Lord if He would help her, she would never complain. The Lord helped her. She never complained.”
The blending of families is a consideration in many marriages, and it can be particularly challenging when children are involved, no matter their age. One of the greatest challenges, in fact, may be helping children to accept new relationships.
Children are often the forgotten mourners when a parent passes away. They may feel lost in the shuffle—or at least feel a desire to counsel together about decisions that affect the family. They may have memories they no longer feel they can share. “Remember the time when we …” could feel incomplete and perhaps even unwanted. They may find it challenging to adjust to their living parent’s new relationship, including finding it difficult to give their love and loyalty to a stepparent.
In the best of circumstances, a new spouse may feel like an outsider. “Even when family members go out of their way to welcome you, you can still feel like you’re on the outside a lot of the time,” says a woman who remarried. Her advice? “Remember you’re not replacing anyone; you’re just adding to the family. Give it lots of time and love.”
Sometimes it’s not so much the planned or deliberate activities but rather the simple and spontaneous experiences that promote this new relationship. These three things seem to help:
Showing up for sports, music, and other personal interests that matter to each child.
Practicing deep listening without giving too much advice.
Sharing personal experiences and vulnerabilities.
Instead of retreating from extended family interaction and sticking to the sidelines, “bonus” parents and grandparents can search for common interests with individual family members and discover new ideas and approaches together. In our bonus family, we share text messages on topics ranging from parenting to politics, business ventures to exercise tips, cooking to historical fiction. We began meeting separately online with each of the two extended families during the pandemic to study Come, Follow Me together and have continued it ever since then.
Balancing leisure time preferences, household chores, and especially family finances in a new marriage later in life can be challenging and complex. It requires empathy, tenderness, and “the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit” (1 Peter 3:4) to navigate new and sometimes conflicting demands.
Each couple will find their own answers in navigating chores, leisure time, and finances. If preferences are openly discussed together, most differences can be resolved over time. As a helpful guideline for such discussions, consider this advice about goal setting given by President M. Russell Ballard (1928–2023), Acting President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles: “Set short-term goals that you can reach. Set goals that are well balanced—not too many nor too few, and not too high nor too low. Write down your attainable goals and work on them according to their importance. Pray for divine guidance in your goal setting.”
A second marriage, just like a first marriage, can be satisfying and fulfilling or stressful and difficult. Much depends on the ability of the couple to address common issues together. Many who marry again in later life find that life can be richer with someone to talk to, laugh with, and even share tears with when needed. Like any act of faith, remarriage requires exercising such Christlike attributes as patience, forbearance, forgiveness, kindness, and love.

One time my teacher was saying a word that my parents told me not to say. I prayed and talked with my parents so that I would have enough courage to tell her that I didn’t like her using that word. Finally, after several days of praying and talking with my parents, I gained the strength to tell my teacher what I thought. It worked! I did not hear her say that word for the rest of the year. I know it was the right thing to do.

While I was stationed at an air base in Wyoming during World War II, it was announced in our branch sacrament meeting that the following week a branch conference would be held and that there was a good possibility that the mission president would bring a visiting authority from Salt Lake City with him. As we came to branch conference the following Sunday morning, we were introduced to that visiting authority—a man whom none of us had ever seen before. It was Elder Spencer W. Kimball, the newest member of the Twelve out on one of his very first assignments. His manner was kindly, his testimony so sure, but he expressed concern that such a high calling should come to one such as he.
Then with renewed confidence, he said in effect, “Brothers and Sisters: I don’t know exactly why the Lord has called me, but I do have one talent to offer. My father taught me how to work; and if the Lord can use a worker, I’m available.” Yes, the Lord could use a worker! In fact he needed a hard worker who might possibly be ready to assume prime responsibility at a most significant time.

Each July nearly a thousand volunteers gather at Hill Cumorah, New York, where the Prophet Joseph Smith received the gold plates. After only a week of rehearsals, they put on the Hill Cumorah Pageant, which tells the story of the Book of Mormon and of the Restoration of the gospel. Tens of thousands of people see the pageant each year. There is nothing else Brittany (11) and Tishna (10) Campbell would rather do for their family’s vacation than be in the pageant. The girls bake and sell chocolate chip and peanut butter cookies and brownies year round to raise money for the trip.
The Campbells didn’t have as far to travel as many volunteers. Their home is in Gowanda, New York, about a two-and-a-half-hour drive away. They arrived on a Friday. The next morning began with breakfast and a devotional. Then casting (choosing people for parts in the pageant) started.
There are ten major scenes in the pageant. Each scene has a director. Each director chose the people for their scene and what part each person would play. Brittany and Tishna’s little brother Montgomery (5) was given the part of Jesus Christ as a young child. Their mother and other brother, Christian (2), were assigned to the scene where Christ visits the Americas. Their father didn’t have an acting part. He’s served as a pageant choreographer (someone who plans out everyone’s movements on stage) for ten years.
The girls’ favorite scene to be in is the “Voyage to Ancient America.” When Tishna and Brittany went to the tryout, there were more children than parts. Three years earlier, Brittany had played a child on Nephi’s ship in the voyage scene. She’d had fun being tossed into the air on a blanket by other actors. She decided that it was someone else’s turn this year and tried out for another scene.
When the tryouts were over and the parts had all been assigned, the directors started blocking the scenes. Brittany and Tishna learned where to stand, what to do during the scene, and how to get on and off the stage. The speaking parts, music, and sound effects for the pageant were all prerecorded, but the actors had to learn to move and react in time with the tape. The first practices were held on the big lawn in front of the stage. Later, rehearsals were held on stage.
Tishna was cast as one of Lemuel’s daughters in the voyage scene. Wondering if and when she’ll get splashed by the water during the scene added excitement. Usually she did get wet. After the scene was over, she had to be especially careful to hang up her costume neatly so that it would dry before the next performance.
“The boat scene is the most fun,” Tishna said, “because you get to run and play during the scene.” The tricky part of her scene was opening the floor hatches so that Nephi’s ship could be raised onto the stage. “It can be hard to do it quickly enough,” she added.
Rehearsing wasn’t always easy. Brittany was cast in the “Burning of the Prophet Abinadi” scene. She played a page in King Noah’s court. It was an important part because she was responsible for handing fans to all of King Noah’s courtiers as they came onstage. But once she herself was onstage, she didn’t have much to do but stand beside King Noah’s throne. Rehearsals lasted up to three hours and sometimes were hot and boring, but she still wouldn’t trade being in the pageant for any other vacation.
Although they weren’t in it, Tishna and Brittany’s favorite part of the pageant was the harvest dance. “That’s when the Book of Mormon people were righteous and they prospered,” Tishna said. “It’s a happy scene—very colorful, and everyone is dancing.”
When Tishna and Brittany weren’t practicing their scenes, they met in small groups they were assigned to. They had leaders who prepared lessons, stories, and activities for them.
“I like working on our journals,” Brittany said. “We write things down, and the leaders give us stickers and stamps we can use to decorate the pages.”
One year each child drew a picture on a quilt block. The group leader sewed the blocks into a quilt. The child who picked up the most garbage from the grounds during the pageant would win the quilt. Brittany won it.
Tishna’s favorite group activity was stamping designs on fabric.
Montgomery liked making a little garden, and one day his group went out and looked at the trees and leaves through magnifying glasses.
Everyone involved with the pageant attended three 35-to-45-minute devotionals each day. Sitting quietly through the devotionals was the hardest part of the pageant for Montgomery and Christian, but Tishna and Brittany enjoyed them. On performance days, the actors didn’t have to arrive at the grounds until noon. The Campbells used this time to sleep a little longer, get pizza or ice cream together, or visit some of the Church historical sites in the area.
With all the work and practices, why do the Campbells keep coming? “I have been to the Hill Comorah Pageant every year since I was three years old,” Brother Campbell said. “It’s a family tradition.”
“At the pageant, people are so nice to you,” Brittany said. “You make a lot of friends here. When we get home, we run to the mailbox each day, looking for letters from our new friends.”
“Everyone plays with my little brothers, and there’s no fighting here,” Tishna added. “It’s exciting because it’s for the Church, and it helps you understand the Book of Mormon. It’s our favorite vacation in the whole world.”

Let me encourage you faithful married couples without children at home to go on missions. The Lord needs you out in the mission field. Forget your fears. We don’t expect you to do everything the young missionaries do. In fact, I was in Idaho trying to eliminate the fears of some high priests, and I said, “You retired couples don’t have to memorize scriptures like the young missionaries, you don’t have to memorize any presentations unless you want to.” I told them, “You don’t have to get up early in the morning like the young missionaries do to study, and if it is raining or snowing, you don’t have to go outside until you feel up to it. …” At that point a fellow down in the middle shot up his hand and said, “When can I go? That’s a better life than I’ve got now!”

While I was growing up, our family lived across the street from the ninth green of a public golf course. We spent hours sitting on the slope of our front lawn watching golfers complete their rounds. Once in a while a golfer would hit a poorly directed shot, and the ball would find its way into our yard. I would immediately try to find the errant ball and, if successful, carefully cross the busy street and stand at the golf course fence ready to return it for a small fee, usually a nickel and on occasion a whole dime. With my newfound wealth, I was then off to the corner grocery store to invest in the confectionery rage of the day, Double Bubble bubble gum. The comics, which were part of the gum’s wrapping, were the best.
By the time of my baptism I wanted to hit and putt golf balls rather than find them for others. The Scottish-born golf professional at the course was kind enough to allow some of us to play a few holes late in the evening after the paying customers stopped coming. In exchange for the privilege, we were expected to perform some chore like picking up papers around the clubhouse, bagging tees, or pulling a few weeds from the flower garden. Many times we played until it was so dark we could not see where we had hit our balls.
Over the next few years, golf became one of the great passions of my young life. I well remember the day my uncle gave me my first matched set of clubs. It didn’t matter that the shafts of each club bore the inscription “Property of the United States Government.” My uncle had purchased the clubs while he was in the military during World War II. I endured a lot of good-natured kidding about my military clubs, but I really appreciated the wonderful gift.