Gospel Story Finder

Nestled on the southern edge of New Jersey are several small towns. Many of the families here earn their living from the sea. The Cape May Lighthouse guides the fishing boats and ferries around the dangerous rocks and shoals. Just as the lighthouse leads boats to safety, Chandler and Michael Altieri trust the gospel light to guide them past spiritual rocks and shoals.
Sister Christine Altieri joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints when she was ten years old. Although she did not marry a Church member, her husband, John, supported her in her beliefs. One by one their children were born: Corie (15), Lauren (13), Brittany (12), Michael (10), Chandler (7), Ty (5), Abigail (2), and Drew (11 months). Their family shared a lot of happiness and love. But one thing was missing: Dad had never joined the Church. He attended regularly and participated as fully as he could without being a member. But his family wanted him to become a member so that they could be sealed together as an eternal family.
Michael was going on eight. His dad had never had the opportunity to give a name and a priesthood blessing to or baptize any of his children. A few months before his birthday, Michael decided that, “All I want for my birthday is for Dad to baptize me.” Michael, his mother, brother, and sisters fasted and prayed harder than ever that their father would decide to join the Church and be able to baptize Michael.
Weeks passed, then months. “We kept praying and praying and praying,” Michael recalled. The week before he turned eight, his mother said, “It didn’t work. We need to talk to the branch president about your baptism and who will perform it.”
“But Mom, we’re praying, we’re praying.”
The next Sunday Brother Altieri volunteered to talk to the branch president about Michael getting baptized and to take care of all the details.
In sacrament meeting, the family was stunned with joy when the branch president announced an upcoming baptism—not Michael’s, but his father’s! The family’s prayers had been answered! Brother Altieri was baptized that week, and the following week, Michael’s dream was realized when his father baptized him. Michael said, “I had really wanted him to baptize me, and it finally happened. It felt really good.”
Chandler had also prayed that her dad would be baptized. She is now looking forward to her own baptism. “I want to be baptized so that the Holy Ghost will be with me.” She is preparing to be baptized by listening to President Gordon B. Hinckley and following his counsel. “I try to choose the right and to be kind to others.”
The Altieri family was later sealed together in the Washington D.C. Temple. “When we were sealed, Mom and Dad had to go somewhere for about three hours,” Michael remembered. “We stayed in this nursery place. We picked out white clothes and put them on. A temple lady showed us a movie that explained what being sealed was all about. At first she put in the wrong film. It was in Spanish. I thought maybe we needed to learn to speak Spanish. But then she put in the film in English. After the film, we went into the sealing room. Some other people were there, even the stake president. Then we were sealed, and I was so happy!”
Chandler still has the white ribbon she wore in her hair that day in the temple. “We were sealed so that we can be together for all eternity.”
Besides seeing his family sealed together, Michael has another hope—of becoming a champion wrestler. He’s been undefeated for three years in his weight and age division in the South New Jersey Wrestling Association. But sometimes he has to make tough choices between two things he loves—wrestling and the Church.
A few years ago, a very important tournament was coming up. Michael’s parents thought that the tournament was on a Saturday, and he signed up to go. When they found out it was on a Sunday, his father asked him if he still wanted to be in the tournament. Although he knew that his team was counting on him to score some team points for it, he said, “Well then, I can’t go.” He explained, “It’s hard not to go to Sunday tournaments, but I don’t, because it’s against a commandment. And I’ve had a lot of blessings.” Since making that decision the first time, not competing on Sundays has been easier. And his decision has showed others that he lives what he believes.
Chandler also lives what she believes. Not long ago her family was fostering a dog they called Puppy. Puppy had been mistreated the first nine months of his life, then was taken away from the people who mistreated him. But he was now skittish and frightened of people. Before he could be adopted, he had to learn to trust people and to get along with children. Teaching him that was what the Altieri family volunteered to do.
One day, he got loose and ran away. “We looked and looked for him,” Sister Altieri said, “but we couldn’t find him. Some of us got in the car to go looking for him. As I was driving, Chandler said a prayer, asking Heavenly Father to help us find Puppy. We had driven miles, and I thought that we’d never see the dog again. We turned down a road that ran along railroad tracks. Beside the tracks were thick woods. And by the railroad track, we could just see this head sticking up—it was Puppy! I’ll never forget it.”
Mom said how amazed she was that they found Puppy. “But we said a prayer, Mom,” was Chandler’s simple reply. She knows that Heavenly Father answers her prayers. Eventually Puppy learned to trust people and to play with children, and he was adopted by a good family.
Michael tries to be like Jesus by staying out of bad situations. “Sometimes my friends go back into the woods, but I don’t go. They do things back in there that I don’t want to do, like shooting off firecrackers (which is illegal), starting fires, and smoking.” One fire that was started in the woods came right up to the back of the Altieri property before it could be put out. “I tell my friends, ‘Let’s not go.’ Sometimes they listen to me, and sometimes they don’t. But I won’t go.”
Both Michael and Chandler strive to follow the gospel light as they make their way through life’s sea of choices. And by their examples they try to help others find the way, too.

A proper perspective of our young men is absolutely essential for those called to serve them. They are young, pliable, eager, and filled with unlimited energy. Sometimes they make mistakes. I remember a meeting where we of the First Presidency and the Twelve were reviewing a youthful mistake made by a missionary. The tone was serious and rather critical when Elder LeGrand Richards said: “Now, brethren, if the good Lord wanted to put a forty-year-old head on a nineteen-year-old body, He would have done so. But He didn’t. He placed a nineteen-year-old head on a nineteen-year-old body, and we should be a bit more understanding.” The mood of the group changed, the problem was solved, and we moved on with the meeting.

The bishop of a twelve-year-old confined to a wheel chair came to the boy’s home with a measuring tape. Since the young man was not able to walk or carry anything, this sensitive priesthood leader measured his wheelchair and made a wooden shelf that could hold a sacrament tray. Now ward members witness a beautiful example of charity in action each week as other priesthood holders take turns pushing his wheelchair so he can pass the sacred emblems to the congregation.

Every day we make choices. Some aren’t a big deal—what color backpack we carry, for example. Other choices are a big deal—for instance, how we treat other people or whether we obey a commandment. Read the story below and pretend that you are the main character. What choices would you make?
Your mom says that you may invite two friends over after school tomorrow. First you call Julie, who lives a few miles away. She is in your Primary class as well as in your class at school. Her parents say yes! She will walk home with you; her parents will pick her up before supper.
Next you call Tasha, a nonmember who lives just a few houses away. She can come too. Before she hangs up the phone, though, she asks if anyone else is coming. When you tell her that Julie is also coming, Tasha says, “Yuk! Then I don’t want to come, after all.”
If you say, “Julie is my friend too. Why don’t you come and get to know her better?” go to A. If you say, “OK, I’ll tell Julie that something came up with my mom and that I can’t have anybody over,” go to F.
A. Tasha says, “Well, I guess I’ll still come, but don’t expect me to make friends with Julie.” After school, Tasha and Julie walk home with you. When Julie stoops to tie her shoelace, Tasha makes an ugly face at her behind her back.
If you say, “Julie, Tasha’s making faces at you. She didn’t want you to come,” go to J. If you say nothing but give Tasha a look of disappointment, go to E.
E. When you get to your house, punch and cookies are on the table. They turn out to be the favorite treats of both Tasha and Julie. As the afternoon goes on, you see that Tasha is actually being friendly with Julie. Tasha says, “Hey, Julie, I didn’t know you were such fun! You never say anything in school.”
If you suddenly feel jealous and try to discourage their growing friendship, go to B. If you try to help them become better friends, go to I.
I. You suggest that you all play on the tire swing. Tasha has the first turn swinging. As Julie climbs on the tire for her turn, a car full of teenagers zips by. One of them flips a cigarette on the curb. Tasha runs to pick it up. “It’s still lit!” She turns to you and says, “I dare you to try it!”
If you say, “No, I don’t do that kind of stuff, and I hope you don’t either, ‘cause it’s bad for you,” go to D. If you say, “Well, maybe just one puff—but you’d better not tell anyone!” go to H.
D. Tasha hides the cigarette as her mother drives past, then starts to put it in her mouth. You yell, “Stop! It really is bad for you.” She says, “Once won’t hurt. I want to know what it tastes like.” She takes a puff and starts to cough. When she throws the cigarette down, you stomp on it and say, “I wish you hadn’t done that. Heavenly Father doesn’t want us to hurt our bodies.” Tasha asks, “Is Heavenly Father the same person as God? How do you know that He doesn’t want us to smoke?”
If you say, “I just do, that’s all. Come on—it’s Julie’s turn on the swing,” go to C. If you say, “Because he told us so in a scripture we call the Word of Wisdom,” go to G.
G. “What’s the Word of Wisdom?” Tasha asks. “It’s kind of like a health code,” you say. “It teaches us to not smoke, drink coffee, tea, beer, or wine—stuff like that. And to not do drugs.”
Julie pipes up, “It teaches us to eat fruits and vegetables and grains—you know, healthy things.”
“So do you two go to the same church?” Tasha asks. When you both nod, she looks down. “I don’t go to church, except when I visit my grandma. What do you do at your church?”
“Well,” you answer, “we have Primary every Sunday. It’s kind of like Sunday School in other churches. We have a lesson and learn about Jesus Christ. We sing songs, too, and have a lot of fun. Oh, and we have special activity days every so often.”
“Yeah,” Julie chimes in, “it’s all really neat! Would you like to come with us this Sunday?”
“Do I have to wear a dress?”
“We always do,” you tell her. “I’m always glad I do—it just feels right, somehow.”
Tasha shrugs. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt me to dress up. Sure—I’ll ask Mom if I can go.” (The End)

From Idaho comes a story of Jonathan, who went to school in the cold weather wearing his warm hat. When he got to school, he noticed another boy’s ears were frostbitten because he had had to wait so long in the cold for the school bus to pick him up. On his own, Jonathan went to the telephone, called his mother, and asked if it would be all right to give the younger boy his hat because he needed it more. As we bear on another’s burdens, as Jonathan did, we are fulfilling the covenant we made at baptism.

The Ryer family of the East Coast Bays Ward also appreciates the temple day care. With six children, Alby and Lisa Ryer have not been able to attend the temple together in 12 years. Thanks to the hard work of the youth in their stake, things have changed.

“We used to try to take the children to the temple with us and take turns attending the sessions, but everybody would be tired and grumpy afterward. Now, we go to the temple together, and while we travel home, the kids are all nice and happy and telling us about their temple experiences,” says Sister Ryer.

When André Green of Folcroft, Pennsylvania, became a deacon, the bishop advised him to do good works beyond the usual duties of a deacon. André took the bishop seriously and at school asked his teacher and principal if he could use the New Testament as his next major reading assignment. At first, he was denied permission, but by proving that he was already doing other large reading projects, he was given permission to do an oral and written book report. Besides receiving an A+, the report was displayed before the entire school.

As a publisher and printer, I had the opportunity to assist President J. Reuben Clark in the preparation of his manuscript which became the monumental book Our Lord of the Gospels. What a blessing was mine to learn daily at the feet of such a master teacher and principle architect of the welfare program. Knowing that I was a newly appointed bishop presiding over a difficult ward, he emphasized the need for me to know my people, to understand their circumstances, and to minister to their needs. One day he recounted the example of the Savior as recorded in the Gospel of Luke:
“And it came to pass … that he went into a city called Nain; and many of his disciples went with him. …
“When he came nigh to the gate of the city, behold, there was a dead man carried out, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow. …
“And when the Lord saw her, he had compassion on her, and said unto her, Weep not.
“And he came and touched the bier. … And he said, Young man, I say unto thee, Arise.
“And he that was dead sat up, and began to speak. And he delivered him to his mother.” (Luke 7:11–15.)
When President Clark closed the Bible, I noticed that he was weeping. In a quiet voice, he said, “Tom, be kind to the widow and look after the poor.”

In February 2016, the full-time missionaries began visiting us. At first Pat thought they were coming over to help on the farm. When we accepted an invitation for them to teach us, he thought the lessons were just for the children.
As the missionaries were preparing to teach us their first lesson, Pat went out to work on the tractor. After about 20 minutes, I could see that they—two sisters and two elders—were deflated. At that moment, I felt that I should get Pat and ask him to come listen for a couple of minutes.
Later the missionaries told me that they had been praying that that’s what I would do. They knew that Pat needed to hear what they were teaching.
After the missionaries had taught us for several weeks, Jesse, Bo, and Frank wanted to be baptized. Pat thought that was great, but he felt that he was “beyond salvation.” That was before he met Von and Glenda Memory and heard Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles speak during general conference.
When we saw Brother Memory at church, I recognized him from when I was a child. He was now serving as the ward mission leader. Pat introduced himself, telling Brother Memory that he really wanted the Church for our children.
“That sounds good,” Brother Memory said with a twinkle in his eye. “We’ll do it for the children.”
A few weeks later, after a lesson from the missionaries on the plan of salvation, Brother Memory said, “Boys, we’re going to talk about your baptism.” Then he added, “And then we’re going to talk about your dad’s baptism.”
Pat said OK, but his doubts about his readiness and worthiness persisted until general conference that April.
“You may be afraid, angry, grieving, or tortured by doubt,” Elder Uchtdorf said in his talk. “But just as the Good Shepherd finds His lost sheep, if you will only lift up your heart to the Savior of the world, He will find you.”1
Pat said: “Before then, it hadn’t occurred to me that I really could be a part of this, that I was worthy of salvation. But after listening to Elder Uchtdorf, it hit me that it wasn’t too late for me. I actually have a shot to get to heaven. I had never felt anything like that. From then on I knew. This is the Savior’s Church. We found it. I got baptized and received the priesthood. A week later I baptized my boys. When our girls were old enough, I baptized them.”
A year later, we were sealed in the Birmingham Alabama Temple.

In one of our conversations, I asked her, “What is your secret? How do you share the gospel with others?”

She told me, “It is very simple. Every day before I leave my house, I pray, asking Heavenly Father to direct me to someone who needs the gospel in their life. I sometimes take a Book of Mormon to share with them or pass-along cards from the missionaries—and when I start talking to someone, I simply ask them if they have heard about the Church.”

Susana also said, “Other times I just smile while I am waiting for the train. One day a man looked at me and said, ‘What are you smiling about?’ He kind of caught me off guard.

“I replied, ‘I’m smiling because I’m happy!’

“He then said, ‘And what are you so happy about?’

“I answered, ‘I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and that makes me happy. Have you heard about it?’”

When he said no, she gave him a pass-along card and invited him to attend the upcoming Sunday services. The following Sunday, she greeted him at the door.

But Joseph did more than use soft words guided by the Spirit to show love and compassion for his enemies. His kind treatment of two spiteful persecutors is one example.
On order from the governor of Missouri, two agents, Reynolds and Wilson, arrested Joseph in Nauvoo in June 1843. They cruelly abused their prisoner, punching his sides with their pistols, threatening his life, and taking him away before he could see his family.
The tables were soon turned on the two officers when they were forced to return to Nauvoo to be tried for threatening the lives of Joseph and another Church member. Joseph had a feast prepared in celebration of his safe return, and among his guests were Reynolds and Wilson.12 That afternoon, in a speech to Nauvoo’s citizens, Joseph reported, speaking of Reynolds and Wilson:
“I have brought these men to Nauvoo, and committed them to her from whom I was torn, not as prisoners in chains, but as prisoners of kindness. I have treated them kindly. I have had the privilege of rewarding them good for evil. They took me unlawfully, treated me rigorously, strove to deprive me of my rights, and would have run with me into Missouri to have been murdered, if Providence had not interposed. But now they are in my hands; and I have taken them into my house, set them at the head of my table, and placed before them the best which my house afforded; and they were waited upon by my wife, whom they deprived of seeing me when I was taken.”13

With the encouragement of Sharon Hintze, FamilySearch specialist in London, Midland Ancestors invited volunteer missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to give a presentation to their staff about FamilySearch. Midland Ancestors is a three-county genealogical organisation in Birmingham.
Phil Lamb, chairman of Midland Ancestors, wanted staff to be knowledgeable about the different features of FamilySearch so they could better help their patrons.
Elder Dan Hull and Sister Martha Hull volunteered their time teaching two-hour classes on Saturdays in February and completed an additional six hours of instruction in March. The classes were so well-received that several requests were made to present to the subchapters of Midland Ancestors. The Hulls recently gave a presentation on FamilySearch in Wolverhampton.
Phil Lamb expressed his gratitude for the classes. He said, “Our library volunteers will now be so much more confident when they have visitors to our facility in Birmingham. We will now be able to all make better use of the website which adds so much to what we offer in our family history centre.”

They were twins, but they really didn’t look alike. Josy was taller than Kelsey. She had bright blue eyes, bouncy hair, and dimples that danced on her cheeks whenever she giggled. Kelsey, on the other hand, had a long golden ponytail that went swish, swish when she walked. Kelsey loved to tease. Her deep brown eyes would sparkle when she told a joke.
The people in Littleton loved them. Mr. Brooks, at the supermarket, said it was because of their smiles. “No,” Mrs. Applebee said. “It’s because they always say hello to everyone.” Little Max liked them because they played games. Jim, the delivery boy, said the girls were just plain fun to be around. Whatever it was, everyone agreed that the twins made people happy. Everyone, that is, except Sister Crane and Sister Goodwin.
“What are we going to do about them?” Sister Crane said. “I try to teach a new song in Primary, and they sing too loudly. Kelsey sings off-key, which makes Josy laugh. Soon the whole Primary is laughing. They need to learn to sing quietly.”
“What are we going to do about them?” Sister Goodwin asked. “I try to tell a story about Jesus. At first the girls listen, but then Kelsey finds something funny in the story, and Josy starts to laugh. Soon the whole class is laughing. They need to learn to listen.”
“The girls were twirling down the hallway last Sunday.”
“They don’t always sit on the bench.”
“Sometimes they take their shoes off in class.”
“They giggle in the middle of the quiet song.”
“We need to tell their parents.”
“No, we need to send them to their parents.”
“Break them up. Don’t let them be in the same class.”
Sister Turner, the Primary President, listened quietly. The twins weren’t bad children. They were just a little disruptively happy. “I think that maybe I should have a talk with Josy and Kelsey. Maybe I can make a difference.”
The next day, Sister Turner backed her bright yellow van out of her driveway. She chugged down the street, over the bridge, and across the park to the twins’ house. Josy came running out of the house. “Hi, Sister Turner,” she called. “Look at our new puppy!”
Just then Kelsey came out of the house, chasing a black and white puppy. Kelsey giggled as the puppy darted back and forth just out of her reach. Josy joined in chasing the puppy around in circles. Round and round they went, until the girls gave up and dropped to their knees on the grass. The little puppy pranced up to them and sat on Josy’s lap.
Sister Turner started to laugh. Suddenly she had an idea. “Girls, would you like to go to the zoo with me to see the new butterfly house?” Josy giggled. Kelsey grinned. They loved the zoo. After getting permission from their mother, they were on their way in Sister Turner’s bright yellow van.
A butterfly fluttered by Josy’s face as she opened the door of the butterfly house. “Wow,” she giggled as clouds of colorful butterflies flew over her head. She grabbed at a pink one, but it flitted away. “Let’s catch one,” Kelsey yelled, running to the other side of the room. Yellow, blue, pink, and white butterflies flew gracefully over her head.
Some of the butterflies landed on tree branches. Josy cupped her hands and crept up behind a black and orange butterfly. It flew quickly away. Kelsey turned round and round surveying the room. The beautiful butterflies were everywhere. They hovered over the pond, covered the trees like blossoms, and even dotted the path. Laughing and giggling, the twins chased the butterflies everywhere. But the beautiful insects always stayed just out of reach.
Finally Josy and Kelsey became tired and sat on a bench by Sister Turner to rest. “I guess you just can’t catch a butterfly,” Kelsey said.
“You can, if you know how,” Sister Turner replied. Josy and Kelsey looked at Sister Turner with interest. Sister Turner smiled. “Girls, do you know what reverent means?”
“Sure,” Josy answered. “It means fold your arms and don’t talk.”
Sister Turner chuckled. “Well, being quiet is part of it, but that’s not really reverence. Reverence is a feeling. It’s hard to explain, but maybe I can show you. Do you want me to?”
Kelsey grinned. She didn’t know what this had to do with butterflies, but Sister Turner knew just about everything.
“You need to sit very still and be quiet,” Sister Turner continued. “That’s the part about reverence that you already know. But if you’ll do that part, I think you’ll be surprised by the rest.” She took each girls’ hands and dipped them in the pool of water. For several minutes they just sat there with their hands cupped in front of them.
Kelsey listened. It was very quiet in the butterfly house. All you could hear was the drip, drip of the water tap.
Josy watched as the butterflies flew in the trees and hovered over the pool. They were very close. Slowly, slowly a butterfly fluttered toward her, dipped down, and landed on the palm of her hand. Josy started to giggle, but Sister Turner shook her head. Josy sat very still, watching the butterfly sip at the water on her fingers.
Sister Turner took Kelsey’s hand and placed it next to a butterfly on a nearby flower. The butterfly gracefully walked onto her hand to drink the water. A warm glow filled the girls. They had tried hard to catch a butterfly, and now, just by being quiet, each was holding one in her hand.
As the girls held their butterflies, Sister Turner whispered softly, “Reverence is a lot like these butterflies. You don’t catch a butterfly. You let it come to you. You don’t catch a reverent feeling, either. It just comes to you when you are quiet. It’s the warm feeling you are feeling right now. You can also feel it when you think about Jesus Christ or anything else wonderful. When you are in Primary next Sunday, think about how quiet you had to be to have these butterflies in your hands. Then think about Jesus, and see if you get that same reverent feeling.”
The next Sunday the twins hurried to Primary. Sister Turner greeted them at the door. She smiled and pinned a small paper butterfly on each of their dresses. “Now remember, girls, don’t scare your butterflies.”
Josy smiled. Kelsey grinned. Reverently they walked to their chairs and sat down. It was quiet in the Primary room. Kelsey listened to the soft music Sister Crane was playing. Josy closed her eyes and thought about Jesus. Slowly the girls felt a warm feeling come to them.
“Look at the twins,” Sister Goodwin whispered. “They are being reverent. What did you do?”
Sister Turner smiled. “It was easy,” she whispered back. “I just showed them how to catch a butterfly.”

Another faithful missionary was Carl A. Carlquist, born near Vänersborg in 1857. At age 17, he felt a strong desire to preach the gospel and was called to distribute Church tracts around Jönköping. He was poor, so members of his branch, seven widows and their children, obtained a suit coat and boots for him. Carl didn’t own an overcoat when the winter season came, but he was allowed to borrow one a few hours every day from some of the members when they didn’t need theirs.5

Carl later emigrated to Utah and married Hulda Östergren, a Swedish immigrant. He returned to Sweden two more times on missions, including as mission president of the Scandinavian Mission. Much of his last mission was spent correcting false reports published about the Church by Reverend P. E. Åslev, a pastor who had lived in Salt Lake City and was hired to promote anti-Mormon sentiment in Sweden. For instance, in 1912, Åslev wrote an article in the newspaper Svenska Dagbladet in which he claimed that Brother Carlquist was a polygamist.6 Carl’s efforts included meeting with King Gustaf V and refuting Åslev’s claims in public meetings.7

“The rector’s not too pleased,” Mr. Crofton added and smiled. “It seems this preacher is baptizing just about everybody in these parts.”
“You don’t say.”
“Rector sent a constable to arrest the preacher right there at the Benbows’. When Mr. Woodruff stood up to preach, the constable stopped him. Told him he was under arrest for preaching.”
Mr. Weston leaned forward to hear the rest.
“Woodruff looked him calmly in the eye and said that he had a license to preach, same as the rector. But he promised to talk to the constable about it after he’d finished his sermon.”
“That sounds reasonable,” Father said and nodded.
“The constable sat down beside him. Then Mr. Woodruff began to preach a sermon like I’ve never heard before. He taught about Jesus Christ like he really knew him. He taught faith, repentance, and baptism. He taught about the Holy Ghost and laying on of hands to receive that gift. It was powerful!”
Father shifted in his chair and studied his friend. “You sound like you believed this preacher.”
“Let me finish my story,” Mr. Crofton replied, “and you’ll see. Well, at the end of the meeting, he invited anyone who desired it to come and be baptized, and four United Brethren preachers walked up and asked to be baptized. Then the constable stood up and everyone quieted down.
“‘Mr. Woodruff,’ he said, ‘I would like to be baptized.’ Well, you could have heard a pin drop! Now, Mr. Woodruff wasted no time. He took the constable down to a pond right then and there at the Benbows’ and baptized him with the others. He baptized seven people that night.”
Charity counted up in her head. If there were four preachers and the constable, then who else had joined this new religion?
Her father stood up and poked the fire. Then he turned to his friend and softly asked, “You were one of those seven, weren’t you?”
Mr. Weston nodded. “I surely was. I want you to come hear him, Benjamin. He preaches a good sermon, and I could just feel the spirit of truth testifying to what he said.”

There are also other people you can follow to find happiness. When I was eleven years old, my Primary teacher was Sister Esther Geis. The boys in our class knew Sister Geis loved us because she made us behave. In those days, we had Primary on a weekday after school. Across the street from our ward was a big empty field. We boys liked to play marbles in that field, and sometimes we forgot when it was time for Primary. Sister Geis would walk across the street and get us. Once she told my father, “Your son should shape up.” My father talked to me, and I did start behaving better.

Samu, a ten-year-old African boy, walked slowly down the village farm road. He smacked at the hedge with every step, trying to spear a leaf on the pointed tip of his msasa stick.
When he finally reached the gate in the hedge, he paused hopefully. Then he reached out and swung the gate open and shut, open and shut. The gate was badly in need of oil and squeaked loudly as Samu swung it backward and forward.
Soon Samu heard the same loud squeak come from the old woman’s front porch. It was the bird—the clever talking bird!
“Squeeeeeeeeek, squeeeeeeeeek! Naughty boy! Who’s there?” called the bird in the yellow cage. Then it barked shrilly like the old lady’s Pekinese dog.
Samu clutched the gate and giggled. “Hello, hello!” called Samu.
“Hello, hello!” replied the bird.
Samu felt very clever. He ran to his home in the village and told his mother that he was teaching a bird to speak. His mother laughed, because she knew nothing of talking birds.
“I will show you, Mother,” Samu said excitedly. “As soon as I get a bird of my own, I will teach it to talk!”
Mother was busy pounding corn into mealie, and she just laughed at Samu’s promise and told him to run away and play.
Samu asked some of his friends to help him catch a bird. “I will teach it to talk,” he told them. But his friends only laughed, for they had never heard of a talking bird.
Next Samu spoke to Old Mwanza, who sat all day by his hut warming his old bones in the sun.
“Birds do not talk. Men talk—and they talk too much,” said the old man, shaking his grizzled head at Samu. “Why teach birds to add to the chatter?”
Samu wandered off into the bush by himself, wondering how he could catch a bird and train it to talk as the old woman’s bird did. He had almost given up hope when he saw a black crow sitting in the branches of a msasa tree hoarsely croaking about nothing in particular.
Why don’t I try to make friends with this bird by feeding it? he thought. I will bring it some of mother’s cooked mealie every day at the same time until it knows me.
Samu quickly ran home and begged for some hard-cooked porridge. His mother gave him a handful, and back he ran to the msasa tree and spread lumps of mealie on the ground. Then he hid in the bushes. After a lot of surprised scraaaking, the crow hopped down and began to peck at the mealie.
Every day for three weeks Samu took a handful of porridge and fed the crow. It no longer flew up into the tree with a scraaaaak of fright when Samu arrived. Now it hopped up close to him and jumped up and down in the dust, waiting for Samu to spread the porridge.
At first when Samu tried touching its feathered back, it hopped out of reach and looked at him with bright beady eyes as it scolded, “Quraaaaaaack?”
But in another week Samu could stroke the crow’s back gently while it pecked up the food.
Now! he decided triumphantly. Now I can teach it to talk.
“Say hello,” Samu told the crow. “Hello, hello, hello.”
“Scraaaaaaaak!” replied the crow.
“You will have to do better than that,” Samu said patiently. “Now try again. Say hello. Hello, hello, hello.”
“Scraaaaaaaaak?” repeated the crow, putting its head to one side and blinking at Samu with curious eyes.
“Look,” scolded Samu. “If the other bird can say it, so can you. You’re not trying.”
“Crraasquk,” squawked the crow as it flew up to the lowest branch of the msasa tree.
Samu walked home through the bush, dragging his bare feet and feeling miserable. Why wouldn’t his bird even try to talk?
He went back to see Old Mwanza and told him that the crow refused to learn to talk.
“This bird that talks with many voices and barks like a dog and squeaks like a gate,” said the old man, “must have two tongues. Perhaps your bird only has one tongue.”
I guess my crow does have only one tongue Samu thought sadly. But I will try once more! So back he went to the msasa tree with a handful of mealie. He fed his crow and then squatted down in the dust beside it. “Hello!” he said loudly. The crow danced sideways for a moment and then hopped on to Samu’s knee.
“Squaaaaako!” said the crow, and again it flew up into the tree.
Samu felt quite sorry for himself. All of his work for nothing!
Behind him the old man chuckled. He had followed Samu to see how he was getting along with teaching his bird to talk. “Samu,” he said, “it’s good to try hard to do something. But it is foolish to try to do the impossible. Would you try to teach a hen to swim like a duck or a dog to crow like a rooster?”
“No,” said Samu sheepishly. “But the old woman’s bird talks. Why shouldn’t mine?”
“I have found out about the old woman’s bird,” explained Old Mwanza. “It is a parrot—a talking bird. Your crow will make a fine pet. Why don’t you teach it to come when you call and to hop after you when you go for walks. Then you will be teaching it something it is able to learn.”
“One day I will get a talking bird,” said Samu. Then he started to laugh. “Teaching a crow to talk is like teaching a dog to crow!” he said.
The crow looked at him with its bright beady eyes and said, “Squarrrrrrrrk!”

My bishop and I sat in his small, organized office. He peered at me through his glasses. “A patriarchal blessing is like a blessing from Heavenly Father. And as you go through life, little by little, more of your blessing will make sense.”
I got up from the small wooden chair and shook the bishop’s hand. He then gave me a patriarchal blessing recommend. I thanked him and left the office.
Lately I had been pondering some questions. Does Heavenly Father really love me? Does he really know who I am? Does he know me individually and love me for who I am, not just because I’m one of his daughters?
I would try to come up with as many answers as I possibly could. “God loves you because you’re his daughter,” my teachers would tell our class during Young Women lessons.
“You should feel special because you’re a child of God,” my Primary teachers had told me.
I knew those things were true. I knew he loved me. I knew I was a child of God. But would Heavenly Father be able to point me out among all of his children? Did he love me for my qualities, my personality?
I rode to the church house with my mother and walked briskly to that small office where the patriarch was waiting. He was an elderly man with a smile and soft, kind eyes.
He gave us a quick review of what a patriarchal blessing is and how sacred it is. He then put his hands on my head and began talking for my Heavenly Father.
I listened closely to every word he said. I felt the Spirit so strongly at times I couldn’t help crying. I received the answer my heart had wanted to hear: “I assure you that your Heavenly Father knows you well and loves you.” The patriarch also mentioned several things only my Heavenly Father knew. I felt a complete feeling of love and caring.
I know now that my Heavenly Father loves me and knows me, just as he does each of you. He loves you for who you are.

Occasionally bad weather would interrupt those outdoor services, and both the speakers and congregation were uncomfortable. President Joseph F. Smith, who remembered well the discomfort of those outdoor meetings held near the temple in Nauvoo, said:
“My first recollection of a place of worship was in Nauvoo. It was in a little grove of trees near the site of the temple. In company with my mother I listened here to such men as Brigham Young, Heber C. Kimball, Orson Hyde, Parley P. Pratt, Orson Pratt, the Prophet Joseph and the Patriarch Hyrum. I remember quite well attending one meeting in this grove, that a wagon had been drawn up in front of the audience and the Prophet Joseph stood in the box speaking, when it began to rain. Some one or two persons got up and held umbrellas over him, to shield him from the wet. Many of the people had no umbrellas, and it was very annoying and disagreeable to sit there, but I remember very well, though but a little boy, that there was no one went away from the ground while he spoke.”

As a sophomore in high school, I felt like I was starting to understand who I was and who I wanted to be. I felt pretty good about myself. I had friends and participated in several activities. Even in gym—a class I usually dreaded—we were playing volleyball, something I wasn’t half bad at.
One day we were playing an intense game of volleyball. My team was doing OK, but sometimes my teammates would run into each other because no one called for the ball. I tried to encourage them by saying, “Call it!”
One girl on my team got annoyed and told me to stop. I told her I was just trying to help the team, but she still wasn’t happy. And she started finding ways to make me miserable.
She spent the next several months openly criticizing me, saying mean things, and bumping into me in the hallway. My emerging self-esteem quickly took a tumble. And because this young woman didn’t hang out with a good crowd, I was scared of what she and her friends might do to me. I didn’t know what to do except to avoid her when possible.
One night I was in my room alone, crying and praying about what to do. I felt like I should read my scriptures. I opened up to Matthew 5:44: “Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you.” That night I prayed for the strength to be kind and that her heart would be softened.
After my prayer, I noticed the Valentine’s Day candies I’d purchased to give to my friends. I immediately knew what to do.
The next day, I went to class with my bag of valentines. I handed a few to my friends and then walked over to the young woman, placed one on her desk, said, “Happy Valentine’s Day,” and walked away. My heart was racing as I sat down at my desk.
She never did say thank you, and we did not become best friends. But the teasing stopped. With the help of the scriptures, my prayer had been answered.
I know that as we strive to love, serve, and pray for our enemies, the Lord will bless us.