Gospel Story Finder

In the fall of 1935 Amelia took a position with Purdue University as counselor in careers for women. The young people loved her and she became the idol of the campus.
Purdue honored Amelia with a variety of special gifts, including a Lockheed Electra, a plane that would seat ten passengers.
“I’m so overwhelmed with all this,” Amelia exclaimed. “It doesn’t seem possible! I’ll have to repay you for all of these gifts.”
Amelia soon decided that the logical way to repay everyone was to make a truly spectacular flight. She began making plans to fly completely around the globe, following an equatorial route. By March of 1937 all was ready. Amelia took off with Captain Manning as navigator. But trouble with the landing gear sent the Lockheed Electra back to California for repairs after the second stop. When the plane was repaired, Amelia and a different navigator, Fred Noonan, flew across the continent to Miami, Florida. Meeting with reporters, she said, “I have a feeling that there is just about one more good flight left in my system, and I hope this is it. After it is over, I plan to give up major long-distance flights.”
At about six o’clock on the morning of June 1, 1937, Amelia climbed into the Electra at Miami Airport. The plane zoomed across South America, over Africa, and on over Asia. Amelia and Noonan were eagerly welcomed everywhere they landed.
Setting down at Lae, New Guinea, Amelia and Noonan prepared for their final long flight. Their route was to take them to Howland Island, twenty-five hundred miles away in the Pacific, back to Honolulu, and then on to California. America was planning a gala homecoming.
The first few hours after takeoff from Lae were ideal. Then trouble began. It seemed as though nature threw all her obstacles at the two fliers—rains, fogs, and squalls pelted the aircraft.
Then, when the Lockheed should have been close to Howland Island, the Coast Guard picked up Amelia’s frantic message. “Cannot hear you. … Please take a bearing on us and answer. …” The small aircraft was having radio trouble and could not hear the Coast Guard. A final message came. “Circling … cannot see island. … Gas is running low … running north and south. …”
Then silence.
A nation mourned the loss of a brave lady and her copilot whose watery grave and its location still remain a mystery. But Amelia would have chuckled at the numerous earthbound monuments built in her honor since her disappearance. For her true monument is the sky.

Twenty one years ago our youngest son was hospitalized with a terrible disease that broke down his red blood cells and shut down his kidneys. He was 3 years old at the time. For 38 days he remained in the hospital, 34 of those days on peritoneal dialysis as his kidneys refused to work. Then, through the fasting and prayers of more people that we can count, and through more miracles and tender mercies from the Lord than we certainly deserved, and to the absolute astonishment and disbelief of his doctors and nurses, his kidneys suddenly started working again. A couple of days later, on the day he was to be discharged from the hospital, it was necessary to surgically remove the dialysis tubing from his abdomen. I walked along side his gurney down to the room where the procedure would be done. His little hand clung tightly to mine right up to the doorway where I had to wait outside the room. Then the door was closed and I stood outside praying for my little boy. He was not completely anesthetized for the procedure, just given a local anesthetic. As the operation began, he started to cry and to sob. He cried out for me, wondering where I was and why his Dad had left him at a time of such great need. I confess that I had to walk down the hall, to a place where I could no longer hear his cries, until the door opened and I knew they were done. I then ran to my son and embraced him "with all the feeling of a tender parent."

In that spirit, Brothers and Sisters, we give praise to a loving Heavenly Father for His part in the Atonement. How difficult it must have been for the Father to hear the cries of His Beloved Son as He said, "Abba, Father, all things are possible unto thee; take away this cup from me." (Mark 14:36) We have often wondered if perhaps, the God of Heaven had to go to a far part of His great universe where He would not have to watch the suffering of His Only Begotten Son. What a marvelous reunion it must have been in those royal courts on high as the Father welcomed Jesus back into His loving arms.

Someday, you young students will have children of your own. If you have children now and have not yet had the experience, someday you will watch as they suffer in body or spirit or both, from the consequences of their own decisions or from the actions of others. Someday your hearts will nearly break as you realize that for them, in that moment, "there is no other way." In that day, you will begin to understand at a very small level, the anguish that we can only imagine the Father felt for His Son. We give praise to the Father for his willingness to sacrifice His Only Begotten Son; that He loved the world enough that "He gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life." (John 3:15)

We also give praise to the Son who sustained us through those and other dark days as we struggled to find ourselves as parents, in demanding church callings and in the everyday trials that comprise life. In retrospect, it is easy to see that in our days of greatest trial, we were blessed beyond measure by the enabling power of the Atonement of Jesus Christ. We thank God for the incomparable gift of His Son.

A friend of ours was hospitalized following an accident. A neighbor remarked, “I’ve got to bake something for Sally’s family,” but she didn’t. Then she said, “I’ve got to visit Sally while she is still in bed.” But she didn’t. On another occasion she told us, “I’ve just got to get a card off to Sally,” but she never did. These are examples of wanting to be a good neighbor but kind of faking it, though there probably were extenuating circumstances and good excuses.

Seminary students in the Medicine Hat Alberta First, Second, and Third wards decided to do something special to better understand the Old Testament.
One morning each week, seminary students and leaders devoted time to building a replica of the tabernacle the Israelites built while they were in the wilderness. The students studied the scriptures carefully to make sure their building was accurate, although they built their tabernacle two-thirds the size of the one described in the scriptures. They also built the structures for the inside of the tabernacle described in the Old Testament.
This project served as a great way to learn a little more about the experiences of the Israelites. The students became very involved in reading the Old Testament as they were better able to see what was a so carefully described in the scriptures.

Then I walk around the lake by myself. I see the eagle snatching another fish. “That’s my grandpa’s fish!” I yell, and realize my heart is beating rapidly just at the sight of the diving eagle. I look up at the sky. It looks bigger than I’ve ever seen it before, and there are pink clouds on the horizon. I say “Thank you” aloud to my grandfather for all he’s taught me.
And I thank my Heavenly Father, for the pink clouds, the eagle, one cousin named Erin, and the big sky that’s whispering “eternity” to me personally. I speak to my grandfather. “You’re right. Computers have pause buttons because you can’t pause life. I should know. I’ve been trying to pause mine.”
My heart is full of so many things, and they all translate to love. I pick some tiny flowers on my way back up the hill. I see Adam on the front deck examining the telescope.
“Think you could find Venus tonight?” I ask.
“I’m gonna try.”
“Let me know if you do.”
Erin looks at me curiously. I hand her the flowers, and she holds them close to her nose. She seems to be pondering deep thoughts for a long time. Then she raises her head and says, “Grandma said I can make chocolate chip cookies for dessert tonight. You wanna help me?”
“Sure.” She holds my hand in one of her small hands, the flowers in the other, and she escorts me to the kitchen, squealing enthusiastically, “Grandma, look at these beautifullest flowers!”
I don’t even flinch.

Back in my home city, I attended my new ward and was even given callings. I tried to remain active, but everything in life felt like it was against me, resulting in my dwindling church attendance.
I continued along on a crazy rollercoaster ride through life but never lost faith in what I believed in. I knew that the Church held the fulness of the gospel of Jesus Christ and everything I needed in life.
I had occasionally attended different wards during those years of being less active and saw the difference between being welcomed and being unnoticed. Fortunately, missionaries bridged the gap and ministered to my needs until I finally came back to church. My home ward truly welcomed me home. I felt like I belonged the moment I stepped through the doors. Because of those welcoming members, I continued to attend and enjoy all the blessings of the gospel.

Many months passed; this man of strong determination to duty had completed his mission and was about to return to his home:

“On the morning when I left Chatburn many were in tears, thinking they should see my face no more. When I left them, my feelings were such as I cannot describe. As I walked down the street I was followed by numbers; the doors were crowded by the inmates of the houses to bid me farewell, who could only give vent to their grief in sobs. … While contemplating this scene I was constrained to take off my hat, for I felt as if the place was holy ground. The Spirit of the Lord rested down upon me and I was constrained to bless that whole region of country. … My heart was like unto theirs, and I thought my head was a fountain of tears, for I wept for several miles after I bid them adieu” (in Life of Heber C. Kimball, p. 187).

Ask Jeff Ryan, 17, about alligators, and he could tell you a lot. One showed up for his younger brother’s baptism. The alligator wasn’t really invited, but Jeff and his family live on a lake shore near the Florida Everglades, and the alligator just happened to live in the same lake.
Actually, Jeff could tell you about a lot of things. Some people have been blessed with the gift of singing, or putting mechanical things together, or playing tennis, or knowing when a friend needs help. Jeff has been blessed with a gift for learning. The more you get to know Jeff, the more you realize he’s got an insatiable curiosity about the things around him—and he works hard to learn as much as he can.
When Jeff was four years old, someone asked him to say the alphabet. “Do you want it backwards or forwards?” responded the pint-sized scholar. He had just tested out in vocabulary skills at a 12th-grade level.
It isn’t always easy being so smart. As a child, he was turned down by three public schools that didn’t have facilities to deal with gifted children. As it ended up, Jeff was taught at home until the third grade.
He started high school at age 12, graduated at 14, then started college. Jeff has really enjoyed going to college and making friends there. Even though he’s younger than the other college students, Jeff is tall for his age and fits right in. He has earned a bachelor’s degree at Nova University in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. His goal is to earn a master’s degree by age 18, then go on a mission when he’s 19.
“I’ve always wanted to go on a mission,” says Jeff. “It would be a nice thing to serve the Lord and other people.”
Although Jeff is gifted academically, he doesn’t keep his nose in books all day. He has friends and lots of hobbies, and he enjoys doing things with his family.
Some families go on picnics together. Jeff’s family goes snake hunting together. Looking out in the Everglades not far from Jeff’s house, with trees scattered here and there in the swampy, spongy land, you figure snakes would like this country. They do.
“I learned about snakes by catching them, watching them, reading books about them, and keeping them as pets for a while,” says Jeff. “I’ve stayed away from the poisonous snakes, though.”
The Ryan family has also gone hunting for panthers—well, panther tracks, actually, which they fill with plaster of paris to make casts. They’ve gone hunting for fossilized seashells too. And Jeff loves to go scuba diving in the warm Florida waters.
“If we lived in the western United States we’d probably be mountain climbers or hikers, but they don’t do that here. So we enjoy what we have around us,” says Jeff’s mother.
Scouting provides a lot of opportunities for Jeff to explore, too. “Our Scoutmaster is really dedicated to helping us learn,” says Jeff. “I like the outdoors and being with the guys, going out and testing our skills and abilities against each other. The troop is second nature now, because I’ve been with them so long and enjoy it so much.”
Jeff is junior assistant Scoutmaster of his troop and recently earned his Eagle Award. For his Eagle project, he and a young woman from his stake planned a three-day stake youth conference.
“I’ve made a lot of good friends at youth conferences,” he says. “Those conferences have probably been the biggest testimony builders in my life. It helps to interact with kids who believe the same things you do and feel the same way, and who you can share good, clean fun with.”
In the evenings, Jeff works at the photography counter of a local drugstore. Photography is his latest hobby, which makes his job fun. He’s saving money for a mission.
“I just realized how much it’s actually going to cost to go on a mission,” says Jeff. “With saving for school books and tuition, it’s not going to be easy.” He’s starting a business of his own so he can earn money. He’ll be matching up students with financial aid that’s available.
The Church is important to Jeff. He was the only Church member in his high school, and the only seminary student in his ward. He graduated from seminary this year. The first year of high school he attended early-morning seminary with two other youth from the stake. “It was a nice way to wake up,” says Jeff. The next year his mom became his home-study teacher. “We’d get into discussions about the scriptures and learn along with each other.
“Ever since I can remember we’ve been studying the scriptures as a family together in the mornings. The scriptures have given me a lot of guidance in my life and helped me with my problems,” says Jeff.
Despite all his accomplishments, Jeff doesn’t seem overly impressed with himself. His mom says that he realized that his ability to learn wasn’t something he could take credit for; it was a gift from Heavenly Father.
“The Church has shown me that you can stay above the world and still enjoy yourself,” says Jeff. “I’ve tried to turn to the Lord and the scriptures to feel good influences in my life. I’m trying to accomplish as much as I can, based on the abilities I’ve been given.”

In the general conference of October 1856, word came to Salt Lake of the plight of the Willey and Martin handcart companies. They had started out late, and had been struck by an early winter storm in the plains of Wyoming. President Brigham Young adjourned the conference and called able-bodied men to quickly gather supplies and organize a rescue party. They left early the next morning to ride to the stranded Saints. Among the many valiant men who rode out of Salt Lake City that day were young men by the names of C. Allen Huntington, George W. Grant, David P. Kimball, and Steven W. Taylor. They could not have known on that day what would be required of them or what contribution they would make to the building of the kingdom.
Arriving at the banks of the ice-filled Sweetwater River with many others who sought to rescue the stranded travelers, they found the handcart companies bogged down in snow 18 inches deep. Men, women, and children among the group were too weak to cross the river. Their energy was spent, their strength was gone, and no doubt they felt the effects of frostbite, hypothermia, and chronic fatigue.
It was then that these strong young men made a sacrifice for others that few are ever called upon to make. They waded into the stream time and time again, carrying almost every member of the company across the icy stream. Back and forth they crossed until every member was safe on the other side and on their way to shelter and finally into the Salt Lake Valley. These young men, by then cold, wet, and suffering themselves, joined the ranks of the heroes that day. They were not perfect—they were probably “regular” young men with faults and shortcomings, with their own problems, fears, and weaknesses. But they answered the call of the prophet—they were where the Lord could find them when they were needed to bless the lives of others.

A few years ago, I created a video to go along with the Light the World Christmas campaign that received over 2.5 million views. I thought, “Should I put a scripture at the end? Or give people a challenge to be baptized? Is it my duty to dedicate my YouTube channel to missionary work?”
I really wrestled with that last question. I’m able to reach more people right now than the early missionaries and early pioneers could have even dreamed of! So I went to the temple with this question, ready and willing for whatever answer I would get.
And the answer that came was, “Do your ministering, and do your calling.”
I realized that Jesus Christ didn’t need me to baptize every one of my subscribers. He needed me to focus on serving the people around me.

The Balancing Girl and Margaret’s Moves Margaret always needs money. In The Balancing Girl, her booth at the school carnival brings in more money for her school than any other. In Margaret’s Moves, she needs money for a sportsmodel wheelchair so that she can move as fast as her brother. By the end of summer, she has earned only $33.30 (the chair costs $1,000) and has learned that even if she had the chair, she still couldn’t keep up with her brother. But in a surprising way, things work out.

I well remember a young couple who started farming in Idaho years ago. They had modest means, but they paid down payment on 40 acres of raw land. They were going into the raising of fruit—peaches particularly. They had leveled the land, brought out the laterals, planted the trees, and then weeded and irrigated and watched until the time had come when they’d have a harvest. This particular spring the orchard was a sea of blossoms, and it looked as though they were going to have a bounteous harvest. Then one night without warning, there came a frost that wiped out practically the entire crop overnight. Well, young John didn’t go to church the next Sunday, nor the next Sunday, nor the next Sunday. Finally his good old bishop came out to see what was wrong. He found John out in the field, and he said, “John, we haven’t seen you in church for several weeks. What’s the matter? Is anything wrong?” John said, “No, bishop, I’m not coming anymore. Do you think I can worship a God who would let this happen to me?” And then he went on to explain to the bishop what had happened. Of course, the bishop felt sorrowful too, and he expressed it to John. And as he looked down at the ground for a moment, he said, “John, I’m sure the Lord knows that you can’t produce the best peaches with frost. But I’m also sure he knows that you can’t produce the best men without frost, and the Lord is interested in producing men, not peaches.” Well, John went to church the next Sunday, and another year a harvest came. He later became a bishop in the Church.

Prior to my appointment at BYU, I had never been a student there. I have always been grateful for my education elsewhere and for my mentors, but I never had thought of them in the way I will now describe. Because I was new, I felt a strong desire to learn all that I could about the history of BYU and its illustrious founders and early day leaders. In virtually everything that I read, the name of Karl G. Maeser appeared. This name was not entirely new to me and I knew that he had been an early president and had a campus building named for him. I began to realize, as I learned more, that I owed him a great deal. This is true not only because of what he did institutionally in getting the great university that I now have the privilege of trying to lead off to a good start, but also because of what it has meant to me personally. You might know some of what I will now share, but some will likely be new.

President Maeser took a keen interest in his students and was personally involved with many. One was a young man who early on demonstrated brilliance but also was a little rough around the edges in terms of his self confidence and also his academic preparation. His name was James E. Talmage, who later became a great teacher and university president himself and lastly a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. Brother Maeser was his mentor and helped him at Brigham Young Academy and then also assisted him in being admitted to Lehigh University and then Johns Hopkins University.

Brother Talmage returned to Utah and in turn became a mentor for J. Reuben Clark, Jr., who had a successful law career and was United States Ambassador to Mexico before being called to the First Presidency of the Church. Among those that President Clark mentored was a young apostle named Harold B. Lee who went on to become the eleventh President of the Church.

President Lee mentored and groomed a young educator by the name of Neal A. Maxwell who became Church Commissioner of Education and a member of the Twelve. Elder Maxwell was one of several who took an interest in me and served as one of my special mentors as he has done for so many over the years.

I have often wondered what might have happened if any of these mentors had failed to do his best for a student needing special attention or guidance. Hopefully, someone else would have emerged. I also wonder what the sad tale might have been if Brother Talmage or Brother Clark or Brother Lee might not have taken advantage of the mentoring and attention offered them by their devoted teachers. In my case and in my current assignment, I express gratitude that none of them failed. I also express gratitude for the service of those who have never known nor thought of me, but have still so enriched my life immeasurably.

A few months after I returned home from my mission, someone who I knew well and who was older and more educated than I was at the time took me aside and tried for hours to fill me with doubts about my faith. The experience left me in a place of spiritual darkness for a period. Though I felt as if I were in a spiritual cloud, I continued my habit of reading the Book of Mormon and praying daily. Though I was struggling spiritually, it didn’t feel right to me to stop these daily habits—even if during this period it was harder to feel heaven’s light—because I knew they had brought answers and blessings to me in the past.

A few weeks after this experience, while reading the Book of Mormon, I had a strong impression to open my mission journal and read some of my mission experiences. This had a profound impact on me during this difficult time. I read about multiple experiences when I had felt enveloped in God’s love during especially difficult times; when I had experienced significant increases in my ability to learn the language of Cantonese; when I had had impressions about where to go and what to say that proved to be inspired after the fact; when I had felt an overwhelming calmness while being threatened with danger; and when I had experienced the powerful spiritual light that flooded the room each time my companion and I testified of the First Vision.

As I read through my record of these past experiences, I felt the spiritual cloud begin to lift. The cumulative effect of reliving these very real experiences was resounding evidence of the hand of a loving God in my life. Great peace and clarity returned as the power of my own witness from my own experiences reaffirmed the truth of the restored gospel as I allowed the Spirit to teach me from what Elder Neal A. Maxwell called “the pulpit of memory.”15

I recently have learned about a Japanese art form called kintsugi, meaning “golden repair,” which consists of repairing broken pottery by mending the cracks with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold. Once completed, beautiful seams of gold become conspicuous in the repaired cracks, giving a unique appearance to each repaired piece. This unique method incorporates the vessel’s fractures—instead of hiding or disguising them. Indeed, kintsugi often makes the repaired piece appear even more beautiful than the original, giving it a new look and a second life.
As I pondered this, I realized that it was what the Lord was doing to me. Many years ago, I was in a situation during which I found myself, as written in Psalms 31:12, “a broken vessel.” After having repeatedly tried in vain to save a relationship that I thought was idyllic, but was actually mired in misunderstandings and complications, I was emotionally, mentally and spiritually broken. It was as if the very thing on which I had focused all of my energy had just suddenly vanished. Only I remained—burdened in my medical studies with the approaching exams. I did not have the mind and strength to pursue such a difficult endeavor—a weakened student as I was at that time. The only thing I could do was to hold fast to the little flame of faith that was starting to burn inside of me by finding peace in reading the set of scriptures that had been just given to me.
And then occurred the magic touch of the Master, demonstrating His infinite love and unfolding His immeasurable redeeming power. Figuratively mending each crack in my heart, mind, and soul with His “golden lacquer of love” and resulting in my becoming far more valuable through the very scars which came from that “experience, and [being] for [my] good.”1 Throughout this repairing process, the Lord operated on me and resulted in my discovering the Book of Mormon, then going through the painful—but at the same time joyful—process of repenting, and later receiving the holy ordinances of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ.

In that spirit Brother Broadbent begins with a personal experience:

My wife and I first met Trudi Hoffman [(not her real name) when I was] spending six months as a guest professor in a German university where she was then working as a secretary. Trudi is a very bright, well-educated, widely traveled, . . . German woman of approximately our own age. She was proud to have been personally, albeit adventitiously, recognized by Hitler in her youth as a model German fraulein, and she was more than a little chauvinistic. Nevertheless, she had married a Jewish-American diplomat and had lived for ten years in the U.S. during her early married years. Life for Trudi had provided its full share of problems: family tragedies during and immediately following World War II; her marriage and divorce; her only child, a son, ungrateful and abusing drugs; and exploitative male friends. Thus she acquired a heavy, protective patina of cynicism and worldliness. A less likely candidate to be touched by the Spirit could scarcely be imagined.

She came to visit us following several weeks spent with her son in San Francisco and with friends there and in Berkeley and Oregon. She didn’t come to visit because of any interest in the Church, although she knew, of course, that we were LDS. She came because she had the typical German love for nature. She knew we lived in the relatively sparsely populated and unspoiled Central Rockies, and we loved nature too. She was amiable, naturally, but she kept her guard up letting us know diplomatically, but firmly, that she really wasn’t interested in our culture or religion. She maintained the barrier essentially intact through nearly a week in spite of attending Sunday services, which puzzled her, and enjoying a Labor Day family reunion with us, complete with a multitude of small grandchildren under foot, which offended her convictions about strict population control, although she was solicitous of the tiny ones, and I think she was secretly envious of our large family.

But all the barriers came tumbling down, precipitously—the worldliness and the cynicism—after her tour of our campus in the company of my wife and under the guidance of the Hosting Center. . . . During lunch [with my wife and me] she decided she wanted to repeat the tour, this time alone. Perhaps she doubted her initial impressions or feared the experience was just a fluke. . . . After all, she wasn’t born yesterday. She had been on many college campuses for extended periods in many places. But the second tour confirmed the first. She was truly impressed, almost against her will. There were several factors: the personable young man at the Hosting Center who happened to speak excellent German, the beautiful campus, the buildings ([she] is something of an authority on architecture and once worked as secretary for Ludwig Mies van der Rohe), the retrospective slideshow, but the overwhelmingly dominant fact was the transparent wholesomeness, love, and goodwill, truly the light of Christ shining through the countenances of the people she encountered. It permeates our environment and conditions every human relationship in work, play, and worship. However imperfect, to a considerable degree it does model those “Zion” societies celebrated in the scriptures, old and new. . . .

It made me half ashamed to realize that I had become so accustomed to it that I had allowed myself to become a little cynical, insensitive, and unappreciative, and that it took a person from “another world” to refocus my attention. It made me proud once more to be a part of BYU. . . .

Let me offer a personal example. Again, my business career was as a retail executive. As such, I was required to attend trade association meetings, business clubs, chamber of commerce meetings, etc. They always started with a cocktail hour. I was always uncomfortable in the setting. Nearly everyone would be holding an alcoholic beverage in their hands as they mingled together. I asked myself, "What could I hold in my hand to represent my standards and the standards of the Church?" I realized that if I didn't hold a glass in my hand someone would always be wanting to buy me a drink.

At first I tried holding 7-Up, but it looked the same as other bubbly, alcoholic drinks. Finally, I decided to walk over to the bartender and request a glass of milk. I thought he might be hard of hearing because he made me repeat my order three times. The final time was loud enough that everyone in the room could hear.

After fumbling around for a few minutes the bartender finally handed me a glass of milk. You can imagine the ribbing I received as I mingled the rest of that evening, but I knew my standards, and I was undeterred. The next month, at the same meeting, I ordered my milk. From then on, the bartender always had a glass of milk for me.

Then a funny thing started to happen. At future meetings more people started ordering milk and drinking it with me. They confided in me that their wives did not like them drinking because it might impair them as they drove home. Instead of feeling awkward during cocktail hour, I soon became the center of conversation. It helped me meet more people and fulfill the purposes for which I attended those gatherings.

I learned an important lesson from this experience. If I kept my promises to the Lord, He would always keep His promises to me. He would always fulfill his end of the bargain--and much, much more--if I fulfilled mine.

This story took place in the USA.
Annie rubbed the fabric of her dress. She tried to listen to the speakers. But she had a nervous, fluttery feeling in her stomach.
Today was the day Annie would start going to Young Women. She’d go to class right after sacrament meeting was over. Everyone told Annie she should be excited, but instead, she was scared.
She looked over at Tami, her older sister. Tami had been in Young Women for three years, and she loved it. She always told Annie how great it was. “You’ll make so many friends,” Tami said. “It’s different from Primary. It’s almost like you’re a grown-up.”
But Annie wasn’t like her sister. Tami liked to meet new people, and it was easy for her to make friends. Annie was quiet and would rather read or draw than talk to others.
Annie also had acne, and she felt shy about how she looked. She used special cream, which helped. But the red bumps on her skin just wouldn’t go away.
After sacrament meeting, Annie dragged her feet in the hallway. “I can’t go to Young Women today,” she told Mom and Tami.
Mom looked worried. “I thought you were excited about going to Young Women. What happened?”
“I don’t know any of the older girls.” Annie touched her face. “And they’ll probably laugh when they see me.”
Mom gave Annie a hug. “Remember that Tami will be there too.”
“I’m not like Tami,” Annie said. She looked at her sister. “You’re good at talking to people.”
“I know it’s hard to go to a new class,” Tami said. “But we’ll do this together. I felt scared when I started Young Women too.”
Annie stared at Tami with wide eyes. Tami always seemed so brave! She’d even tried out for her school musical and gotten the lead part. Annie didn’t do things like that. She just tried not to be noticed.
“But you’re never scared,” Annie said.
Tami smiled. “Of course I get scared! I was scared when I tried out for the musical. You know what I did?”
Annie shook her head.
“I prayed and did my best. And I helped other kids too. It seemed that a lot of them were scared just like me. Helping others be brave helped me be brave.”
Annie thought about that. Could she do what Tami did and help other girls in her class not be scared?
“Do you think you can go to Young Women today?” Mom asked.
Annie breathed deeply. Then she nodded. She could do it.
Annie and Tami walked to the Young Women classroom. Annie looked at the other girls. Some of them looked nervous like she was. Julie twisted a strand of hair around her finger while Erica chewed on her fingernails.
Annie thought about how she could help them. She went over to sit by Julie. “Are you nervous too?” Annie whispered. “It’ll be OK.”
Julie smiled, and Annie smiled back. Annie felt less scared now. Maybe Young Women really could be great.

Now let me continue my dating saga and tell you how I felt when I really did meet the young man I was to marry. When I look back at our courtship, I remember it as if it were yesterday. My older brother told me that he would like to line me up with a fraternity brother of his who had just returned from his mission to Scotland. I was very surprised. My brother hadn't ever done that before, but this time he said, My friend, Steve Wheelwright, is just perfect for you! You need to meet him. Well, we went to a movie on our first date with my brother and his date and then came back to our home for ice cream.

The next day Steve called and asked if I wanted to go sailing with him and some friends. I had never gone sailing in my life, and I must admit that it was white knuckles the entire day. But we laughed and talked and enjoyed ourselves so much that a few days later he called and asked if I wanted to go play tennis with him. I quickly said yes, and then after hanging up the telephone, I sank back in my chair with fear, knowing that I was a terrible tennis player! I remember walking over to my best friend Monetta's house in panic, asking her what I should do. She laughed and said, Oh Margaret, he isn't asking you to go play tennis because he wants to play tennis; he just wants to be with you! I relaxed a little, borrowed her tennis racket, and went back home and waited for him to arrive. Sure enough, he didn't seem to care that I was a lousy tennis player. We played for about an hour and then we spent the rest of the afternoon talking and enjoying each other's company.

When it came time to take our relationship to the next step, neither one of us seemed afraid or nervous committing ourselves to something more serious. The Spirit truly brought peace and comfort to me as we continued getting to know each other better. Neither of us had much money. We both had part time jobs after school, but Steve was about ready to graduate and continue in his graduate studies, and we both knew we were in love. It just was the most comfortable and natural thing in the world to go to the next level of commitment in our relationship. We became engaged in October of 1965. It was so completely different than my first experience that ended in the jewelry store! Steve had all the important characteristics on my list! He was committed to the gospel; he was kind, thoughtful, hard working, happy, respectful, and devoted to me. He made me a better person when I was with him. What more could I ever ask for?

The Primary put together a daylong activity that followed the Churchwide gospel study curriculum, Come, Follow Me.
Mahealani Tetuanui, a leader in the children’s organisation, said, “After six months at home, we wanted to touch on everything that the children have learned about the Book of Mormon since the beginning of the year, whether in Primary or in their homes.”
The activity was called “Walk for Your Faith” and was a two-kilometer hike in Faanui. On their route, each group had to find messages, complete challenges, and answer 20 questions.
Cinthias Shan, Primary president said: “The children really enjoyed being together after such a long time without interaction. And regarding the Book of Mormon, they realized that it was important to have it along the way to solve their problems at every stage of the big race, but also in everyday life.”