Gospel Story Finder

When I was getting married, I felt anxious. My family still chuckles at how I tapped my fingers on my knee (a nervous tick of mine) as the temple sealer spoke to us. I wasn’t afraid to marry my husband—I loved him! But I was worried about the future because I was making such an important covenant. I silently prayed when I entered the temple to know what I could do to keep our marriage strong in a world that was growing increasingly turbulent.
A few moments later, the temple sealer told my husband and me to remember that every ordinance in the temple points us to Jesus Christ. The Spirit helped me recognize this message as an answer from Heavenly Father, and the temple sealer’s words deepened my testimony that as my husband and I consistently turned to the Savior, especially through temple work, we could strengthen our marriage through eternity.
This experience reminded me that Heavenly Father cares about the questions in our hearts and can provide comforting wisdom to us in the temple in personal ways. As President Ezra Taft Benson (1899–1994) taught: “When I have been weighed down by a problem or a difficulty, I have gone to the House of the Lord with a prayer in my heart for answers. These answers have come in clear and unmistakable ways.”3

I’m grateful for a teacher who invited me to be a better learner. When I began college, I mistakenly thought of school as something to endure in order to be allowed to play sports. One day, after reading a paper I had written, my professor told me she thought I was a gifted analytical thinker. I didn’t even know what that meant. She said that with more focused effort, I could be a good student. That thought had never crossed my mind. Her interest, encouragement, and invitations changed the course of my education and greatly blessed my life.

It was during one of these fishing trips, in late December, that Wilford’s life changed in an unexpected way. Azmon’s wife, Elizabeth, answered a knock on the door of their home. Two missionaries stood on the front step. Wilford and Azmon weren’t home, so the two elders asked Elizabeth to tell the brothers that they would love to have the Woodruffs come that night to the schoolhouse and listen to their message about a newly restored Church and gospel.
When Wilford arrived home and heard about the missionaries, he was eager to hear them preach. He had spent many hours as a boy reading the scriptures and praying, searching for the truth.
Without even waiting for supper, Wilford raced out to his horse and galloped to the schoolhouse. When he arrived, the room was already packed with people. He eased his way through the crowd and finally got a seat at a front desk.
What he saw and heard that night filled his soul with the Spirit of God. “I felt that I had just heard the first true gospel sermon in my life,” he later said. It was exactly what Wilford had been looking for—prophets, apostles, revelation, spiritual gifts. These were things Wilford knew about from studying the Bible, and he knew that they were important. He was so excited that he jumped to his feet at the end of the sermon, turned to the crowd, and said, “Friends and neighbors, I feel to tell you not to oppose these men. They are true servants of God. They have preached to us the pure gospel of Jesus Christ. I witness to you it is true!”

Twenty-six years after the experience with my father, I continued to learn important lessons through a father-and-son relationship. The exterior woodwork of our home was in need of redecoration. I cleaned and prepared the surface and applied an undercoat. In my mind I could visualize the flawless gloss finish that would be the product of my labors. Our five-year-old son, Kevin, watched as I prepared to apply the final gloss covering. He asked if he could help me. I hesitated before responding, considering what effect this would have on the fulfillment of my dream, or alternatively how he would feel if I declined his offer. It was almost as if I heard someone else say, “That would be a great help. Thank you.”
After I provided him with an old shirt of mine that covered him completely, almost touching the floor and with sleeves rolled back several times, we went to work on the door that secured the main entrance to our home. He was applying paint to the bottom panel as I worked on the top section. I noticed that because of his age and physical stature, he wasn’t able to spread the paint evenly and that beads of paint were resulting. Each time he bent down to recharge his brush, I would hastily smooth out the paint on the bottom panel, returning to my assigned area so that he would not realize what I was doing. After a while I decided that more important than a first-class paint job was the opportunity to work with my son. On reflection I realized how well he was doing. Thereafter, every time I approached the door and saw the distinctive style of decoration, I was reminded of what is really important in our lives.

When it was announced in 2002 that missionary work would become the responsibility of the bishops, I marveled. I’d been one. It seemed to me they were already carrying a load close to their limits in ministering to the members and directing the organizations in the ward.

One bishop I knew saw it not as an added duty but as an opportunity to draw the ward together in a great cause where every member became a missionary. He called a ward mission leader. He met with the missionaries himself every Saturday to learn about their work, to encourage them, and to learn about the progress of their investigators. The ward council found ways for organizations and quorums to use service experiences as missionary preparation. And as a judge in Israel, he helped young people feel the blessings of the Atonement to keep them pure.

Recently I asked how he explained the surge of convert baptisms in his ward and the increase in the number of young people ready and eager to take the gospel of Jesus Christ out to the world. He said it seemed to him that it was not so much the duty anyone performed but the way they all became one in their enthusiasm to bring people into the community of Saints that had brought them such happiness.

It was impossible to look off to where the horizon met the sky because there was no horizon. Storm clouds hovered so low and thick and were so close to the same color as the snow that the sky and the earth seemed frozen into a single sheet of ice. Even the shadows disappeared because the sun couldn’t break through to form them. The whole world was white—white on white on white—except for the occasional faded-charcoal spot of a fence post or the ghostly outline of a distant tree.
Luckily for the group of snowmobilers, they were with an experienced guide. Not only did he know the trails, he also knew the group wasn’t far from town and that they could afford to wait awhile for the weather to clear. He’d seen whiteout before, and he knew it wasn’t the best condition to travel in because anyone straying from the trail could slam unaware into holes, rivers, or buried stumps.
For the young men on the trail, LDS Explorer Scouts heading home after a full day of scenic delights and races out in open meadows, the lesson of the moment wasn’t lost. They were tired and eager to move on, but their guide and their leaders were also priesthood holders, and the young men were used to obeying their counsel. Soon the clouds thinned, and the path appeared clearly. The group moved on.

When I was about your age, I learned the importance of a straight and narrow path and how difficult it was to be focused and stay on it. I grew up in a very small town in the foothills of the Canadian Rockies. My dad was a farmer, and I learned to work! Every summer I drove the tractor for him, mowing and raking hay, hauling hay bales, and plowing fields. I remember when I first started to learn to plow and cultivate a field. Dad explained the importance of plowing a straight furrow or a straight line. If you went crooked, there would be spots missed in the field and the weeds would take over. He said: “If you will keep your eye focused on the fence post across the field and let that be your goal, you will plow a straight furrow. Don’t let the bumpy terrain throw you off. It’s when you start looking at the end of the tractor that the holes and bumps take you off course and you begin to go crooked.” Then he left me to do the job.
I remembered about the fence post across the field for several rounds, then I started singing songs to make the time pass. I sang every song and hymn I knew, and those I didn’t know I made up. I was singing at the top of my lungs and having a good time when I noticed my dad walking through the field towards me. I stopped the tractor and he said, “Can you tell what has happened to the straight lines?”
I said, “What do you mean?”
He said: “Look at the line. Your first few rounds are straight, but evidently you quit paying attention to where you were plowing. You must have quit looking at the fence post across the field—your goal. Can you see that gradually each time you’ve gone around, you’ve just gone a little crooked until now there are big spots in the field?” He got on the tractor and drove a few rotations to straighten out the lines. As he got off to let me try again, he said, “Sharon, always pay attention to where you are going.”

When the elders visited our home for the second lesson, we immediately asked them if we could be baptized. They looked at each other and started to cry with happiness, knowing that we had received an answer directly from God. Two weeks later we both got baptized. What a wonderful blessing that a co-worker and his wife opened their mouth to preach the gospel of Jesus Christ and helped us to find the Church of God on earth. They also personally taught us about the temple and were present for our sealing day one year later in the Dominican Republic, Santo Domingo Temple. Preaching the gospel is everyone’s duty. The Lord said, “Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost” (Matthew 28:19).

When I was 20 years old and investigating the Church in Ulan-Ude, Russia, my brother and I sang in a music competition. I prayed that our music would touch the judges’ hearts. My prayer was answered when two of the judges were touched in such a way that they cried during our performance. And I was thrilled when we won second place and received a cash prize.
After my brother and I had divided the prize money, I remembered what I had learned about tithing—that the Lord’s 10 percent should be paid to the branch president. My family was having financial problems, and they argued that I shouldn’t pay 10 percent to God.
But one of the branch members showed me how to put my money in a tithing envelope. And I felt happy when I gave my first tithing to the branch president, believing that Heavenly Father would not let my family die for lack of money to buy food.
That evening, a friend of my mother’s came to our home. She wanted to help us and gave us more money than I had paid. That experience helped me very much. I was baptized six weeks later and am now serving a full-time mission.
I know that our happiness and well-being are influenced by how honest we are in paying our tithing. And my family now has the same opinion too!
Sister Marita Ivanova, Russia Samara Mission

Promised blessings vary from person to person according to need. Sometimes it may even seem that the blessings promised could not ever be fulfilled, but we need to remember that our Heavenly Father sees things from a different perspective than we do. For example, Elder Thomas S. Monson, Second Counselor in the First Presidency, tells this story:
“Several years ago a patriarch gave a blessing to a teenage girl … who lived in Poland. In the blessing he felt impressed to promise her that she would marry in a temple of the Lord. He hesitated to give that promise, for there was absolutely no way for her to leave Poland allowing her to marry in a temple. But he responded to the whisperings of the Spirit and gave the girl the promise.
“After giving the blessing, the patriarch came to my office and asked, ‘Did I do the right thing?’ I indicated that a man always does the right thing when he responds to the whisperings of the Holy Spirit. He said, ‘But I have bestowed a promise which cannot be fulfilled.’ I replied, ‘Let us trust in the Lord with all our hearts …’ Within a period of two years, a pact was signed between Poland and Germany that permitted those of Germanic origin to return to West Germany. That lovely teenage girl moved to Germany where she would be free to go to the temple of the Lord when the time came for her marriage.” (Scandinavian Area Conference, August 1976, page 10.)

As Adam Harrop walks the sidewalks of Ricks College, very few students or faculty would be able to single him out of the crowd. After all, his worn jeans, fresh haircut, and navy blue shirt are common sights at the LDS Church-owned junior college in Rexburg, Idaho.
However, beneath his common appearance, Adam is different. Not many male sophomores at Ricks are only 18 years old. Most second-year male students are 21 and returned missionaries. In addition to Adam’s unique age situation, he also holds the top student leadership position, overseeing 8,500 students at the largest private junior college in the United States.
Being student body president of Ricks College doesn’t come stress free. Especially when you’re taking a full load of classes, planning towards a degree in law or medicine. Especially when you’re also preparing for a full-time mission. Especially when you’re younger than most of the people you are leading.
But Adam Harrop knows that everything “IS OK.” The Harrop family has a saying back in Quincy, Illinois, where Adam grew up. If you’re In Scriptures and On Knees (IS OK), everything will turn out the way the Lord intended.
Adam doesn’t see his age as a disadvantage. “I still have my youthful spirit,” he says. “I want to work hard and play hard.”
It wasn’t easy from the start, however. Adam didn’t come to Ricks with a lot of leadership experience. Once he got to Ricks, he knew he wanted to develop his leadership skills. “There are a lot of people older than I am on my committees,” Adam says. “But there is a feeling of trust that has grown among the officers that has allowed me to lead them and to accomplish our goals.”
In fact, Adam’s campaign slogan last spring emphasized his energy. His signs read, “Thumbs up, step it up with Adam Harrop.” The voters said thumbs up to his ideas and elected him to the office. Adam is quick to give a thumbs up to his sister Heidi, also a Ricks student, who did “all of the campaigning,” he says. Adam has five older sisters, including Heidi.
His support of other students and leaders and, in turn, their support of him make him an approachable leader. He hopes his experience at Ricks will be a springboard toward a successful career. “Being the president has taught me time management, communication, patience, and how to get along with others,” Adam says. “It has been a big character builder for me.”
Adam spends more than 20 hours a week completing duties for his office, including attending 18 meetings each week. “I have to make good use of my time so I can study. None of us has time to waste. We all have to prioritize and know what is the most important to us.”
“If I could give advice to high school students,” says Adam, “I would say to push yourself harder and find areas in which to improve. Participate in something that will help you grow—physically, spiritually, and academically. Find out what the Lord wants you to do, not just what you want to do.”
Adam is pushing himself hard in his office and his schooling as he tries to do what the Lord would have him do. At times it seems overwhelming, but he reads his scriptures and prays. So he knows, everything IS OK.

It was a cold, blustery Sunday afternoon. I was away from home serving in the South African army, and the 10 men of our section had gathered in our tent to visit and relax after having just completed some chores. Unfortunately, much of the conversation became crude, as often happens among young men in such circumstances.
I was uncomfortable and thought about leaving. My eyes turned toward the tent door, which was flapping wildly in the wind and failing to hold back the chill of winter. The sight immediately convinced me it would be foolish to leave, so I decided to remain inside and read my scriptures. Although it had not been uncommon for me to read from them in the presence of these men, on this day it would prove to be difficult. The discussion soon took a turn for the worse as my friend, something of a ringleader in the group, began telling some dirty stories.
My immediate impulse was to object out loud. However, I was checked by the thought that others might consider me self-righteous and accuse me of trying to spoil their fun. After a few troubling moments, I decided to do the only thing I thought possible under the circumstances: shut my ears and concentrate on my reading. This approach worked somewhat. Yet I could not shrug off a feeling of uneasiness.
Time has a way of clouding our memories, and within a few weeks I forgot about the experience. Then, two years later, my friend did something that brought the memory of that day back into focus. We were in the presence of a number of soldiers who were drinking beer. In the group was a man I didn’t know. He began teasing me for not joining them in drinking a little alcohol. My friend rose to my defense and added with an earnestness that surprised me, “Chris Golden is the only true Christian in our group.” Others who knew me joined my friend in defending me, which silenced my critic.
Later, as my friend and I walked back toward our foxhole on a gray, half-moonlit night, he suddenly stopped and looked at me with a seriousness I had not been accustomed to during our friendship. He recalled the event of earlier that evening and said, “I meant what I said. In fact, I have never met an individual who has been more true to his faith in God than you, Chris!”
This was unexpected. Even though I had always tried to live the gospel, I felt I had not done more than many Latter-day Saints would have done in similar circumstances, and I had always tried to do it without drawing attention to myself.
Still, he had more to say: “You have let me down only once.” My shock at his matter-of-fact accusation was matched only by the speed with which my mind raced through all of the events we had shared together. I finally remembered that blustery, cold Sunday two years earlier. My friend’s words exposed painful memories of a day I would rather have forgotten.
He continued, “Do you remember that cold Sunday afternoon when we were sitting inside our tent and telling stories, some of which I frankly now feel quite embarrassed about?”
I nodded a little numbly in acknowledgment. Standing opposite him, I hoped that the shadows of the night hid my discomfort.
He said, “While I was talking, I had been silently praying that you would ask me to stop telling those dirty stories—but you did nothing.”
During the long silence that followed his stinging condemnation, a deep sense of disappointment welled up within me. I had let not only him down, but I had failed the Lord—and myself.
Ever since that day, I have tried not to make the same mistake. I was taught an important lesson about the true meaning of the Lord’s command to “let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven” (Matt. 5:16). Observing that “no man can serve two masters” (Matt. 6:24), the Savior counseled us, “Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness” (Matt. 6:33).

My friend, Marcia, had moved several times in her young years as her father’s work required it. She was now ten years old and facing another new school. Marcia’s mother could see the concern on her daughter’s face and sat down with her to discuss what was bothering her.
Marcia talked about the challenge of joining classes at midterm and trying to get in step with the subject matter, teacher, and other students. Mother pledged her support to help Marcia make the adjustment. Then tears welled up in Marcia’s eyes. In all honesty, she shared with her mother, “I can overcome the difficulties with the academics and the new teachers. But, Mother,” she said, with tears trickling over her freckled cheeks, “I just hate eating my lunch alone.”
Marcia needed someone to recognize her situation and invite her to join a group and get acquainted. The Savior told us: “And be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ’s sake hath forgiven you.” (Eph. 4:32.)

Michelle discovered that she was of infinite worth to another person. As a popular high-school student, she received a letter from a former neighbor, a girl she termed “unfortunate.” The girl asked for some tips on how to make boys like her. Part of Michelle’s reply was, “Just be yourself, and people—not just boys—will like you for what you are.” Later Michelle received a letter from “her new friend.” (Isn’t that interesting? When she helped this girl, Michelle found a new friend—not an unfortunate neighbor.)

Michelle said: “In her writing and words I could feel the excitement. From a few kind words, I seemed to change another person’s life. I guess I know I can do anything I put my mind to.”

I am reminded of the year our high school basketball team took the state championship. During the practice period before the final game, to avoid even the slightest adjustment, there was an attempt to make every detail, as nearly as possible, like the situation the team would face. The playing floor would be different, but every other possible detail that could be controlled was considered—diet, uniforms, position on the floor, rest, etc. As I recall now, even the coach was encouraged to wear his familiar green argyle socks because everyone was used to them, and the team wanted every imaginable advantage with minimal adjustment or difference when it really counted. They wanted the coveted award, and no detail was too minor to consider during the preparation time.

Adjacent to the bird-of-prey sanctuary, the location of my main assignment as a service missionary, there is a large fishing pond where many wild ducks live. Every morning and evening the ducks come to the sanctuary, as we throw grain out for them to eat. One morning we noticed a small American wood duck (what it is doing in England, we still don’t know) that was tangled in a fishing line, with a sharp triple-hook caught to its left leg and wing. We tried to catch and help it, but it kept on escaping.
Finally, one afternoon, we managed to catch the duck using a large net. As we took it out, the duck put up quite a fight, but we were able to restrain it. Then, we carefully tried to remove the sharp fishing hook. The duck panicked and cried out in pain. It thought that we were trying to harm it but, we were trying to help. Eventually, the fishing hook and line were removed, and we released the duck back into the pond. As it ran away from us, I thought to myself, “That poor animal will never know that all along we were just trying to help it.”

When Shawn was 15, he and a friend attended a prestigious national basketball camp with 120 of the best high school players in the United States. A new friend talking with the two Utah players had some pretty wild misconceptions about Mormons.
“He asked me, ‘There are Mormons where you’re from, right? Do you see them? Do you live by them?’
“I answered him,” says Shawn. “Yeah, we go to school with them. We see them all the time. Mormons are like you and me. They are normal people. They look like us. They dress like us. They act like us. They talk like us.
“He didn’t believe me until I said, ‘I can prove to you that Mormons are just normal people.’ He said, ‘How?’ I said, ‘We’re both Mormons.’ It really shook him up. A few days later, that kid started asking more about the Church and our ideals. He couldn’t believe we wouldn’t have sex until after we were married, and that we wouldn’t drink and stuff. It was a heavy-duty discussion for 15-year-olds.
“I ended up bearing my testimony to him. That is the best missionary tool in the world. I just couldn’t find a way of explaining everything I knew. But I knew it was true. It was an excellent feeling to know something is really true.”

Joseph cherished the faithfulness and constant support of his beloved parents, as seen by his tender pleading with the Lord concerning his father’s failing health in 1835: “I waited on him all this day with my heart raised to God in the name of Jesus Christ, that He would restore him to health, that I might be blessed with his company and advice, esteeming it one of the greatest earthly blessings to be blessed with the society of parents, whose mature years and experience render them capable of administering the most wholesome advice” (History of the Church, 2:289).
Even when Joseph was most busy with his responsibilities as prophet and President of the Church, his concern for his family and parents came to the fore. His diary for 8–11 October 1835—when he had just commenced again to translate the writings of Abraham—records his concern for his father. No other business was more pressing or important.
“Thursday, 8.—At home. I attended on my father with great anxiety.
“Friday, 9.—At home. Waited on my father.
“Saturday, 10.—At home, and visited the house of my father, found him failing very fast.
“Sunday, 11.—Waited on my father again, who was very sick. In secret prayer in the morning, the Lord said, ‘My servant, thy father shall live.’ …
“At evening Brother David Whitmer came in. We called on the Lord in mighty prayer in the name of Jesus Christ, and laid our hands on [my father], and rebuked the disease. And God heard and answered our prayers—to the great joy and satisfaction of our souls” (History of the Church, 2:289).

New Era
Express your love for your family by doing what they appreciate.
Show your love in ways that “speak” to your family members: a note, service, a hug, time spent with them, and so on.
The more you show your love, out of love, the better your relationships will be.
True story: Two 14-year-old friends, Scott and Mark, left Scott’s house. They hopped on their bikes and started rolling down the driveway. Scott’s little sister opened the front door and called to her brother, “I love you.” Scott stopped and called back, “I love you too. See you later.”
With practice, it had become easy for Scott to tell his family he loved them. Other teens find it hard to express their love. Fortunately for them, there are plenty of ways to say “I love you” without even speaking a word.
Say It So They Can See It
One of the best ways to share your love is to do something your family member appreciates. Maybe your mom would appreciate it if you vacuumed the carpets. Maybe it would mean a lot to your dad if you helped him clean the yard. Or maybe your younger brother would love it if you played soccer with him.
Get to know—by asking or noticing—how your family members would like to receive your expressions of love. Some people like to see that they are loved. If so, maybe a gift or act of service—things they can see—would convey your love. Some people like to hear that they are loved. If so, give them a sincere compliment, tell them you love them, or remember to speak to them in a kind tone of voice. Others like to feel that they are loved. For them a hug might be best.
The idea is to show your love in a way that’s meaningful to your family members.
Say It out of Love
Even though you feel embarrassed to tell your family you love them, do it anyway—because you love them. That effort will show how much you truly care. Plus, the more you tell your family you love them, with or without words, the easier it will become and the more love you will feel for them.
Another true story: Ashley had been at college and away from home for a month. As she sat in her dorm room, feeling lonely, her roommate brought in the mail and tossed Ashley a package. In it was a hand-written note and Ashley’s favorite candy bar. The note, from Ashley’s younger sister, said, “I hope you will enjoy your present. This is a short letter, but I miss you. Love, Maria.” (See Ashley Eggers, “Love, Anonymous,” New Era, Feb. 2001, 26.)
That gift helped Ashley realize that even though she was far from home, her family loved and remembered her. It made Ashley’s day because her sister wasn’t embarrassed to express her love.
Your most important friendships should be with your own brothers and sisters and with your father and mother. Love your family. Be loyal to them. Have a genuine concern for your brothers and sisters.”—President Ezra Taft Benson (1899–1994), “To the Youth of the Noble Birthright,” Ensign, May 1986, 43.
Readers
Sometimes just a simple “I love you” will do the job. I’ve found it’s easiest said by writing a note to a family member and leaving it somewhere they will find it. As I’ve done that I’ve noticed any tension or friction is eased, and the Spirit dwells stronger in our home.Heather Vawdrey, 17, Marysville First Ward, Marysville Washington Stake
Telling someone you love them doesn’t mean you have to say it. By caring and doing kind things for them, you can show your love. After a while, you’ll feel more comfortable speaking it instead of just showing you care.Natalie Thomas, 14, Rochester First Ward, Rochester Minnesota Stake
It was very difficult for me to tell my family I love them, even though they would say it to me. I decided I needed to fix this problem by showing them through my actions that I love them, and the words would follow. The more you serve someone, the easier it is to express your feelings and love to them.Elder Doug Atkinson, 19, Washington Everett Mission
You can show your family how much you love them by appreciating them or by doing service for them. Jesus gave service to everyone. They could feel His love through His actions. Your family knows that you love them and can tell by what you do for them and by the small hugs you give them.Rachael Guinn, 15, Del Mar Park Ward, Aurora Colorado Stake
As a new member and the only member of the Church in my family, I’m trying to tell my parents I love them, but I’m having a hard time. Now that I am a full-time missionary, the only way to tell them that I love them is by writing a letter with my testimony, saying how much I love them, thanking them with all my heart, and telling them how grateful I am to our Heavenly Father for giving me my parents.Elder Angelito C. Ong, 21, California Carlsbad Mission
You don’t have to say “I love you” to show someone that you love them. Show your family that you care for them. Help them and be kind to them. You can leave a small note on your parents’ bedside, saying simply, “I love you” and sign it. They will know that you mean it.Tamanna Kalra, 15, Goa Branch, India Bangalore Mission
You could say “I love you” every day, or before you go to bed you could hug or kiss them. If someone is having a bad day at work or school, you could leave a note on their bed. You could help your brothers and sisters with their homework or chores. You could listen to their problems. If you need more suggestions, ask your Young Men or Young Women leaders.Britanie Ames, 14, Benson Ward, St David Arizona Stake
I find it hard to express my love vocally, especially to family members. However, I love my family very much, and I express it through my actions, for example, by listening to and obeying my parents’ counsel. Small things—like praising my mother for her fine cooking or expressing appreciation when my sisters make something beautiful—are my ways of telling my family I love them. Actions speak louder than words, although loving words don’t hurt either!Keshia Lai, 17, Woodlands Ward, Singapore Singapore Stake
I have a hard time telling my four brothers I love them. So when I want my brothers to know I love them, I will usually show it, instead of saying it. I will make their beds for them, play a game with them, or stand up for them when they need it. We also have a mailbox in the house that we put notes or surprises in, telling how we love each other. I love my family a lot.Kyle Niebergall, 13, Roosevelt Eighth Ward, Roosevelt Utah West Stake

As I entered the home for old people, my thoughts were not really on grandma, even though she was dying. I love her, and it made me sad to realize she would soon be leaving, but she had been waiting so long to be with grandpa again that it seemed like her dying would be a blessing, a long-awaited reward for her faithfulness. My own mind longed for such assurance of what the future would hold. I was wrestling with an important decision and was filled with confusion; I found myself pleading with the Lord for peace of mind. That’s why I was so surprised when such a feeling of calmness came over me when I walked into grandma’s room. She was weeping. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and told me softly that as she looked back at her life, she was overcome with the blessings the Lord had given her. Her quiet reflection and gratitude totally removed me from my earthly worries. I hardly realized I was standing there, listening to her in the darkness. She was radiant, thin and dying, but glowing.
Any unappreciative thought I’d ever had about her was erased from my mind, and I was so humbled that I can’t find words to explain it. Why don’t those times stay with us forever? I put my unwrinkled hand over her wrinkled one and held it. I asked her what she was thinking. She said something I’ve often felt but could never quite express. She shook her head and said, “Oh, dear, if you knew all I think about.” Then she told me I looked different. I told her it was because I had no eye makeup on and she probably couldn’t recognize me. But she hadn’t even looked at me. She’d been looking out the window and then she said, “No, you are different than when you came in. You’re seeing your future laid out in front of you, and you wonder what will happen to you.” Tears came to my eyes. She was right. “Don’t be impatient, my dear. The Lord has many good things in store for you, and he loves you very much. But you are impatient like me. You want to tell the Lord when you’re ready and when you’re not.”
The she smiled. “I have been a trial to my Lord all my life because of my impatience, and now I see my life closing, and I realize he still loves me—he loves me.” When she had finished, tears fell down her cheeks. I wasn’t crying outwardly, but when I saw her tears, mine came, too. At that moment we were sharing something together as children of God, not as an old lady and her granddaughter. That is how I will remember Grandma Windsor, and when my time comes to join her, I hope she will be proud of me.
I walked down the steps of the home for old people with one more testimony that there really is one greater than ourselves, and that he loves me far more than I can even imagine. He has blessed me so much! Knowing that, I can’t be anything less than my best. When I fail, I punish myself. He is a God of abounding love, not hate or resentment. I do so many things wrong, and yet he still loves me. Looking at grandma’s face that day, I could see that love. I could see wisdom, humility, and peace—an overwhelming peace. I wish I could have written on stone plates that would last forever the feeling I had then.