Gospel Story Finder

I pored over my patriarchal blessing once more. One part caught my eye: “You may help the needy with your time, effort, and means.” I imagined myself establishing homeless shelters, starting literacy programs, eradicating unemployment, ending starvation. I should have talked to my parents about my plans first, but I was eager to get started. So I headed out the front door determined that the sullen old beggar at the mall would be my first “project.”
I imagined that first we’d have lunch together. He’d tell me his tragic story. I’d weep. We’d eventually become good friends. I’d buy him a suit, find him a job, witness his baptism, change his life forever. It was all so simple.
I spotted the man outside the mall’s entrance, leaning on the rusted shopping cart he pushed around town. I could see his cart was filled with … onions? He picked up an onion, whacked it in half on the cart, then bit into it like it was an apple. I was taken aback but undaunted. “Would you like to join me for lunch?” I asked, wide-eyed and tentative. “I have a few dollars and …”
Suddenly, loud, unintelligible jabber poured out of the man’s mouth. He shook his fist at me and toward the sky. His gestures were wild and frantic. Was he sane? He seemed upset with me and was definitely not interested in lunch, so I turned with an apologetic grimace and went home.

As a youngster of eighteen, a pretty young model found her dreams shattered by an automobile accident that confined her to a wheelchair with partially paralyzed legs. Because of the accident, she learned to play the piano.
Because of what the accident had done to her budding career, she learned to develop a sense of humor and to find that there is a funny viewpoint to almost any subject. And, in time, her legs regained their strength, and she became an actress gifted with a sense of humor that made her one of the outstanding comediennes of our day. You have seen her in motion pictures but particularly on television, and you have heard her on the radio, and you know that Lucille Ball was not stopped by adversity. On the contrary, it was the plus sign that made her grow in stature.

Really for us? I honestly thought that President Hinckley must be talking to those who weren’t reading. After all, we had nightly scripture study, family home evening, and family councils; we prayed together. We thought we would just continue reading a few verses a night.It was a few days later that it hit me: a prophet of the Lord asked us to read the Book of Mormon by the end of the year, and I’m going to ignore it? That night we met as a family, and I was astonished at the resounding “Yes” I received as a commitment to meeting the goal. I told the kids that we would have to read on vacations, birthdays, nights when we were tired. “No problem” was the response.It didn’t take long for the spirit of that great book to take over. We started to understand gospel principles, to communicate more as a family. My wife and I felt our testimonies were strengthened, and I heard the kids explaining scripture stories as if they had served missions and taught the gospel for years! Taking this challenge has changed our lives forever. Shawn O’Leary, Poulsbo, Washington, USA

I was never involved in any fights in high school. I’m glad I wasn’t. I’m not very big, and I don’t find great joy in cuts and bruises.
But one time I got into a fight walking home from school that lasted a few weeks. My opponent was only 28 centimeters tall, but this was one of the toughest battles I’d ever fought. This battle was with a magazine.
My high school was within view of our front porch, so I walked to and from class every day. One afternoon, as I stepped across the thin ribbon of green lawn that divided the school’s sidewalk from the road, I noticed an open magazine by the curb. I couldn’t tell what it was at first; then I realized it was pornographic. I quickly lifted my eyes from the gutter and kept walking toward home.
This is how the battle began. Every day as I went to school, and every day as I came home, I had to face the temptation that lay in the gutter.
As I think about it now, I wonder why I didn’t just pick up the magazine and throw it away. But I didn’t even want to touch it. What if someone saw me with it? Or what if my dad saw it in our garbage can? Or what if I picked it up and saw more than I wanted to see?
Each day my mind could come up with some pretty good rationalizations: “It might be good for you to know what’s in there, so you’ll know what’s going on in today’s world,” or “You don’t want to be a sheltered, naive little boy, do you? What’s it going to hurt, anyway? Just repent later. Who’s going to know?”
One day in seminary, our teacher pointed out that Jesus answered each of his temptations with a scripture. That sounded like a good idea.
Looking through my scriptures, I found a verse about battling temptation: “Humble yourselves before the Lord, and call on his holy name, and watch and pray continually, that ye may not be tempted above that which ye can bear” (Alma 13:28).
Another helpful verse came from the New Testament: “There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it” (1 Cor. 10:13).
This was a formula I could use: humble myself, watch and pray continually, and trust that God would help me find a way to escape the temptation. I began to cross the street in a different place, and these two verses of scripture helped me as the days passed with the magazine still sitting there in the gutter.
One afternoon, as I stepped off the curb, I noticed that the magazine was gone. I could tell by the appearance of the gutters that a street cleaner had recently passed by. A street cleaner—how appropriate, I thought.
God did make a way for me to escape, and together we won the fight. Curiosity, rationalization, and laziness are no match against courage, self-control, and mental toughness.
Victory in physical battles requires strength, muscles, and skill; but the fight is never tougher and the victory is never sweeter than in the battles with temptation. No, I never got into any fights in high school; but with some help from the scriptures, I defeated a 28-centimeter magazine.

When aged 16, some missionaries came to see us. They came because my younger brother was going to what was then known in the Church as the Mutual Improvement Association. They started teaching us the gospel. Though my parents were traditional Sikhs they gave permission for us to be taught. I will always remember the missionaries asking my brothers and me to pray about Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon. I remember the warm feeling that I had that it was true. We were baptised in June 1966.

A sister shares this story of learning to see a neighbor with Christlike eyes:
“Julia (name has been changed) lived by me and seemed to not have any friends. She always looked upset and angry. Despite that, I decided to be a friend to her. Not just a casual friend in passing, but a true friend. I spoke to her whenever I saw her and showed interest in whatever she was doing. Slowly, I created a bond of friendship with her, bringing joy in my heart.
“One day, I decided to visit Julia and ask her about her decision to not attend church.
“I learned that she has no family or relatives nearby. Her only sibling, a brother who lives far away, communicates with her only once a year by phone. As I listened to her pour out her bitterness, anger, and frustrations about her family and the Church, an undeniable feeling of compassion and love for this sister came over me so strongly. I felt her pain and frustrations. I realized just how lonely her life was. It was as though I heard a quiet phrase behind me: ‘I love her too. Love and respect her.’
“I sat and listened until she had no more to say. I felt love and compassion for her. This is a sister who has never known what it is like to be loved. Suddenly I understood her more deeply. I thanked her for allowing me to visit with her, and I left her with a hug and with my love and respect for her. She will never know how much she touched me with that visit. Heavenly Father has opened my eyes and taught me that I had a capacity to love with increased compassion. I am determined in my resolve to not only be a friend to her but also to be family to her.”

I was impressed with the remarks of a stake president at a recent stake conference as he was released from his assignment. His remarks were of thankfulness for the opportunity to serve his stake and for the way the people served each other. He said:

My service has been out . . . for all to see. But think of the many auxiliary and other leaders and individual members of the Church who have at the same time quietly done their duty and been faithful to the Lord. Some of the greatest service rendered while I have been your president has been done silently out of great sacrifice by individual members. Theirs is the widow’s mite. Theirs is the blessing of true service.

The president remembered his ancestry, his parents, his children, his business partner, his professional secretaries, members of his high council, stake clerks, and secretaries. And then he stated: “I would not have been able to serve a single week without the help, love, and support of my dear wife.”

In tribute to the bishops, branch presidents, and other leaders, he said, “They serve where the tire hits the road. They have been faithful and loyal to me, as well as to the Lord.”

The president expressed appreciation for his counselors, and for one in particular who declared to him, “You may not wear the hair shirt”—meaning the stake president was never to feel guilty. He had been called by the Lord and was not to feel guilty for difficult decisions that only he could make.

He told of looking in the mirror the day after October general conference and seeing in his mind’s eye the hands of God, kneading the bread dough of his kingdom, and folding him (the stake president) back into the general loaf of the kingdom of God. “Mine,” he said, “was a time to rise for a moment, but now I would become part of the general membership again, as a brother in the gospel of Jesus Christ. And so other lives will now be blessed and raised, for the good of the loaf of God.”

What a wonderful attitude!—a stake president demonstrating and teaching how we believe and pray and study the scriptures, earn our livelihood, and serve our God with love. His life’s stream is right on course.

I share with you an account of one family which was able to find blessings in the midst of serious challenges. This is an account I read many years ago and have kept because of the message it conveys. It was written by Gordon Green and appeared in an American magazine over 50 years ago.
Gordon tells how he grew up on a farm in Canada, where he and his siblings had to hurry home from school while the other children played ball and went swimming. Their father, however, had the capacity to help them understand that their work amounted to something. This was especially true after harvesttime when the family celebrated Thanksgiving, for on that day their father gave them a great gift. He took an inventory of everything they had.
On Thanksgiving morning he would take them to the cellar with its barrels of apples, bins of beets, carrots packed in sand, and mountains of sacked potatoes as well as peas, corn, string beans, jellies, strawberries, and other preserves which filled their shelves. He had the children count everything carefully. Then they went out to the barn and figured how many tons of hay there were and how many bushels of grain in the granary. They counted the cows, pigs, chickens, turkeys, and geese. Their father said he wanted to see how they stood, but they knew he really wanted them to realize on that feast day how richly God had blessed them and had smiled upon all their hours of work. Finally, when they sat down to the feast their mother had prepared, the blessings were something they felt.
Gordon indicated, however, that the Thanksgiving he remembered most thankfully was the year they seemed to have nothing for which to be grateful.
The year started off well: they had leftover hay, lots of seed, four litters of pigs, and their father had a little money set aside so that someday he could afford to buy a hay loader—a wonderful machine most farmers just dreamed of owning. It was also the year that electricity came to their town—although not to them because they couldn’t afford it.
One night when Gordon’s mother was doing her big wash, his father stepped in and took his turn over the washboard and asked his wife to rest and do her knitting. He said, “You spend more time doing the wash than sleeping. Do you think we should break down and get electricity?” Although elated at the prospect, she shed a tear or two as she thought of the hay loader that wouldn’t be bought.
So the electrical line went up their lane that year. Although it was nothing fancy, they acquired a washing machine that worked all day by itself and brilliant lightbulbs that dangled from each ceiling. There were no more lamps to fill with oil, no more wicks to cut, no more sooty chimneys to wash. The lamps went quietly off to the attic.
The coming of electricity to their farm was almost the last good thing that happened to them that year. Just as their crops were starting to come through the ground, the rains started. When the water finally receded, there wasn’t a plant left anywhere. They planted again, but more rains beat the crops into the earth. Their potatoes rotted in the mud. They sold a couple of cows and all the pigs and other livestock they had intended to keep, getting very low prices for them because everybody else had to do the same thing. All they harvested that year was a patch of turnips which had somehow weathered the storms.
Then it was Thanksgiving again. Their mother said, “Maybe we’d better forget it this year. We haven’t even got a goose left.”
On Thanksgiving morning, however, Gordon’s father showed up with a jackrabbit and asked his wife to cook it. Grudgingly she started the job, indicating it would take a long time to cook that tough old thing. When it was finally on the table with some of the turnips that had survived, the children refused to eat. Gordon’s mother cried, and then his father did a strange thing. He went up to the attic, got an oil lamp, took it back to the table, and lighted it. He told the children to turn out the electric lights. When there was only the lamp again, they could hardly believe that it had been that dark before. They wondered how they had ever seen anything without the bright lights made possible by electricity.
The food was blessed, and everyone ate. When dinner was over, they all sat quietly. Wrote Gordon:
“In the humble dimness of the old lamp we were beginning to see clearly again. …
“It [was] a lovely meal. The jack rabbit tasted like turkey and the turnips were the mildest we could recall. …
“… [Our] home … , for all its want, was so rich [to] us.”13

The Europe Rising Generation summer Reach and Rise programme was planned to compensate across the UK and Ireland, for cancelled For the Strength of Youth sessions, due to the COVID-19 pandemic. Heavenly Father truly guided it.
I volunteered to be a young adult counsellor to the youth in my stake. My responsibility was to go through the scheduled lesson plans with the youth in my assigned group every morning for an hour. Each lesson followed a theme inviting young adults and youth to get themselves mentally, physically, and spiritually to the temple, even though at home.
The youth and young adults each had a physical distance goal, equivalent to the number of miles from Cheltenham Stake centre to the London Temple. The miles completed, through local walking, running or other exercises, were recorded each day to help stay motivated. I’m proud to say that my group collectively covered the 129 miles to the London Temple.
The mental and spiritual goals were more personal—the intention for each person being to increase their mental and spiritual efforts so that, by the end of the week, they felt they carried the same spirit that they would have felt if they had visited the temple.
At the end of the Reach and Rise week the youth were invited to a socially distanced event to gather and celebrate. I know, for at least a few, it was the highlight of their summer.
The summer of 2020 was generally dull and lonely, but it was made brighter through the Reach and Rise programme. Just as intended, I benefited from it mentally, spiritually, and physically. I was also blessed socially. I loved seeing so many of my young adult friends jump at the opportunity to get involved. I took comfort in the fact that we were doing this to support one another, to have fun together and to edify one another as the rising generation in God’s kingdom.
In July 2021, I hope we follow the patterns set by Heavenly Father and the leaders of this programme, as we young adults serve each other in uplifting ways.

“It was fifty years ago tomorrow that I arrived in this wonderful, free land.” She wiped away a tear and began to chuckle. “I was only twelve years old, and just as I got off the boat, all these splendid fireworks started exploding. I thought they were welcoming me. I didn’t know it was Canada Day. I also didn’t know what a great blessing Heavenly Father had given me by letting me come here, because here I found the gospel of Jesus Christ. My testimony of Jesus Christ and His gospel is my most precious possession.”
…
“We watched the fireworks, and I thought about your seeing them when you first came to Canada.”
“Yes, it was quite a sight for a twelve year old.”

One of the darkest periods in the history of the Church was the winter of 1838–39. The Saints had been persecuted, robbed, and murdered. The Prophet and his associates had been betrayed and were imprisoned in Liberty Jail. Dissention and apostasy were rampant, and the Church appeared to be faced with disintegration and ruin. But emerging from this dark period were the men who led the Church through trying experiences as well as amazing growth and development. But this was not all: It was during these dark days that the Lord revealed to the Prophet Joseph Smith, while in Liberty Jail, a great revelation. Liberty Jail for a time became a center of instruction.

Elder B. H. Roberts, in the Comprehensive History of the Church, had this to say:

The eyes of the saints were turned to it [Liberty Jail] as the place whence would come encouragement, counsel—the word of the Lord. It was more temple than prison, so long as the Prophet was there. It was a place of meditation and prayer. A temple, first of all, is a place of prayer; and prayer is communion with God. It is the “infinite in man seeking the infinite in God.” Where they find each other, there is holy sanctuary—a temple. Joseph Smith sought God in this rude prison, and found him. Out of the midst of his tribulations he called upon God in passionate earnestness. [HC, 1:526]

The answer came as God replied:

My son, peace be unto thy soul; thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment;

And then, if thou endure it well, God shall exalt thee on high. [D&C 121:7–8; emphasis added]

The Prophet Joseph Smith was told that if great tribulation should beset him and even if

the very jaws of hell shall gape open the mouth wide after thee, know thou, my son, that all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good.
The Son of Man hath descended below them all. Art thou great than he? [D&C 122:7–8]

Taking to heart the theme of their youth conference, Be Thou an Example—Strength through Service, youth from the Reno Nevada North Stake showed a lot of strength. One day of the conference was spent on a spring cleanup project at the Rancho San Rafael Regional Park. More than 134 youth were grouped in “families” and worked a total of 670 hours and filled 225 large garden bags with leaves and debris.
That evening youth-conference “families” performed cultural presentations from various countries or regions around the world to reflect the theme of being an example to all the world. The conference concluded with a testimony meeting.

My wife, Brenda, and I have had the privilege of living in foreign lands for more than eleven years, including London, Tokyo and Hong Kong. While living in Tokyo we came to know Ted and Ramona Price. Brenda was particularly drawn to them, as her mother was a Price and thought they might be distant cousins.

Brother Price was born in 1925 in Idaho and, when he was only nine, lost his father to a mining accident. His family struggled and in 1943, at age seventeen, Ted joined the Marine Corp. He was immediately thrown into several of the most bloody and intense battles in the Pacific theater of World War II. He fought through Tarawa, Saipan and was severely wounded on Tinian Island in the Marianas.

He returned home, a decorated war veteran, and put in his papers to go on a mission. To his shock and dismay, he was called to be one of the first nine missionaries assigned to Japan after the war. Bitterness from his war experiences resulted in his rejection of the mission call. Put simply, he hated the Japanese.

However, as with Jonah in the Bible, God was not to be denied. He had a reason for having Ted go to Japan and it went far beyond the goal of proselyting, the bigger purpose was to change Ted’s bitter heart.

He was called to meet with an Apostle who admonished him, though perhaps with gentle words, that God wanted him to go to Japan and, as he put it, “learn to love those people.”

That’s exactly what he did. Through his service he came away with a deep and life-long love for the Japanese people. In 1976, he returned to Japan with Ramona to be the Tokyo Mission President.

In 1987, when we came to know them, he was again serving as Mission President of the Tokyo Missionary Training Center. Subsequently, they again served in the Tokyo Temple Presidency. They also served in the Manila, Philippines temple and in New Zealand.

Ted died two years ago at age eighty-four. Only God knows whose “calling and election” is sure, but I’d being willing to bet that Ted is among the select number.

Illustration by Mark Robison
Before Christmas my parents bought a box full of copies of the Book of Mormon to give to people. That was when I had the idea to take some to school and give them as presents to three of my teachers.
When I got to the music classroom, I saw my music teacher and thought, “Go ahead, Sophia. Give one to her!” I walked slowly up to my teacher. But I didn’t have the courage to give her the book.
I went to a corner of the room and prayed very quietly. “Heavenly Father, I ask Thee to help me give this book to my teacher.” When I finished my prayer, I felt very strongly that I should give the book to her. Suddenly I had courage.
I went up to her. She looked at me, and I gave her the Book of Mormon and said, “Teacher, I love you from the bottom of my heart, and I want to give you this Book of Mormon!”
She took it and looked at the cover. “Look inside!” I said. She saw that I had written a few words.
She hugged me and said, “Oh, Sophia, thank you for giving this to me!”
After I sat down, she said to the class, “Look what Sophia gave me. I am going to read it during the holidays!”
When I got home, I ran to my mother and said, “Guess what! I gave my teacher a Book of Mormon.”
She smiled and said, “That’s wonderful! You’re a great example to me, Sophia.”
We decided to pray to thank Heavenly Father for giving me the courage to give my teacher the Book of Mormon.

In 1989 there was a terrible earthquake in Armenia that killed over 30,000 people in four minutes. A distraught father went in frantic search of his son. He reached his son’s school only to find that it had been reduced to a pile of rubble. But he was driven by his promise to his son, “No matter what, I’ll always be there for you!” He visualized the corner where his son’s classroom would be, rushed there, and started to dig through the debris, brick by brick.

Others came on the scene—the fire chief, then the police—warning him of fires and explosions, and urging him to leave the search to the emergency crews. But he tenaciously carried on digging. Night came and went, and then, in the 38th hour of digging, he thought he heard his son’s voice. “Armand!” he called out. Then he heard, “Dad!?! It’s me, Dad! I told the other kids not to worry. I told ’em that if you were alive, you’d save me and when you saved me, they’d be saved. …

“There are 14 of us left out of 33. … When the building collapsed, it made a wedge, like a triangle, and it saved us.”

“Come on out, boy!”

“No, Dad! Let the other kids out first, ’cause I know you’ll get me! No matter what, I know you’ll be there for me!”

I should like to read portions of one received only a few days ago. I do so with the consent of the writer. I have deleted anything that might lead to disclosure of the parties concerned. I have exercised limited editorial liberty in the interest of clarity and flow of language.
I quote now:
“Dear President Hinckley,
“My husband of 35 years died recently. … He had visited with our good bishop as quickly as he could after his most recent surgery. Then he came to me on that same evening to tell me he had been addicted to pornography. He needed me to forgive him [before he died]. He further said that he had grown tired of living a double life. [He had served in many important] Church callings while knowing [at the same time] that he was in the grips of this ‘other master.’
“I was stunned, hurt, felt betrayed and violated. I could not promise him forgiveness at that moment but pleaded for time. … I was able to review my married life [and how] pornography had … put a stranglehold on our marriage from early on. We had only been married a couple of months when he brought home a [pornographic] magazine. I locked him out of the car because I was so hurt and angry. …
“For many years in our marriage … he was most cruel in many of his demands. I was never good enough for him. … I felt incredibly beaten down at that time to a point of deep depression. … I know now that I was being compared to the latest ‘porn queen.’ …
“We went to counseling one time and … my husband proceeded to rip me apart with his criticism and disdain of me. …
“I could not even get into the car with him after that but walked around the town … for hours, contemplating suicide. [I thought,] ‘Why go on if this is all that my “eternal companion” feels for me?’
“I did go on, but zipped a protective shield around myself. I existed for other reasons than my husband and found joy in my children, in projects and accomplishments that I could do totally on my own. …
“After his ‘deathbed confession’ and [after taking time] to search through my life, I [said] to him, ‘Don’t you know what you have done?’ … I told him I had brought a pure heart into our marriage, kept it pure during that marriage, and intended to keep it pure ever after. Why could he not do the same for me? All I ever wanted was to feel cherished and treated with the smallest of pleasantries … instead of being treated like some kind of chattel. …
“I am now left to grieve not only for his being gone but also for a relationship that could have been [beautiful, but was not]. …
“Please warn the brethren (and sisters). Pornography is not some titillating feast for the eyes that gives a momentary rush of excitement. [Rather] it has the effect of damaging hearts and souls to their very depths, strangling the life out of relationships that should be sacred, hurting to the very core those you should love the most.”
And she signs the letter.
What a pathetic and tragic story. I have omitted some of the detail but have read enough that you can sense her depth of feeling. And what of her husband? He has died a painful death from cancer, his final words a confession of a life laced with sin.

I am inspired by students who demonstrate empathy for people who committed serious crimes and for those they formerly feared or dismissed. Working with refugees, I have witnessed rage, need, and resignation. One late weekend night, I brought a young Burmese client home from the hospital for a short visit before he returned for an additional lengthy stay. He had already been hospitalized for months, and it was difficult for his family to visit regularly due to limited public transportation access and busy work schedules. Seeing the way that family embraced their brief time together and showed love for their son was profoundly humbling. To be present with others during moments of vulnerability allows us to feel God’s grace for them and for us.

Like Viktor, Kira Gulko learned of Heavenly Father’s love for each of His children when she learned about the Church. But the decision to be baptized didn’t come easily to Kira. At first when her parents decided to join the Church, Kira remembers, “I questioned their sanity.” Fortunately, instead of criticizing or rebelling, she decided to find out for herself if their new religion was true.
“We weren’t practicing Jews,” explains Kira, “but we were of Jewish origin. In our family, talking about Jesus Christ was forbidden. But when perestroika began, allowing greater freedom to look at new ideas, my parents started to explore different religions and philosophies. My mother was president of the international friendship club at the school where she teaches English. She found a letter from a teacher in Riverton, Utah, who was looking for pen pals. My mother’s class responded, and in return they got a big box of maybe 100 letters. Many of the students mentioned they were members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints; my mother didn’t know what that was.
“Then we were passing by the bridge near our house, and we saw a notice inviting people to attend The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints! My parents decided to go, first so Mom could answer her students’ questions, but also because they were looking for another religion themselves.
“That was in October 1991. After that, the missionaries started coming to our apartment. Soon my parents understood that Jesus Christ is their Savior. They also loved the doctrine of eternal families. We have a wonderful family, and that was an important principle to us. They also went to a baptism and felt the Spirit. In December they decided to be baptized themselves.
“I listened to all of the discussions, but I couldn’t understand why my parents decided to join the Church. I was afraid they were crazy, that something had happened to their minds. But as I read the Book of Mormon, my testimony of its truthfulness grew stronger and stronger. The key to my conversion was that I came to realize I am truly loved by my Heavenly Father. I could feel this big love that’s around me and see it in my parents and in the members of the Church. That’s why I was baptized in February 1992. I knew it was right.”
Since then, Kira has helped bring her friend Lena into the Church and has watched three of her four grandparents embrace the gospel. She has seen her mother help with the translation of the Book of Mormon into Ukrainian and has witnessed her father serve as a district president. And Kira has served as a Relief Society president, contributing her own time and talents to the growth of the Church.

The family then began preparing for additional covenants and ordinances in the temple. “We knew that baptism was just the first step,” says Sister Calderón. “We set a goal to continue to progress, including going to the temple and being sealed as a family so that we can someday live with our Heavenly Father.”
In preparation for their temple sealing, the whole family spent time praying and fasting. Jared also participated several times in performing baptisms for the dead. Then on May 10, 2008, the family was sealed in the San José Costa Rica Temple.
Jared remembers what he felt that day. “When I entered the sealing room, the Spirit was so powerful. It felt so right to be there with my family,” he says.
His brother, James, recalls having to wait for a long time before he could enter the sealing room, but, he says, it was worth it: “I felt a lot of joy and happiness. I continue to feel happy knowing that I can be with my family forever.”

The boys in the back of the bus chanted mean words as Amanda and her brother Hyrum stood to leave. The chanting wasn’t loud enough for the bus driver to hear, but the other kids heard and started to laugh and point.
Amanda’s face reddened. She could feel the anger rise within her. Those older boys were always making trouble. She turned around and told them to stop it, but they laughed and continued saying mean things. Hyrum nudged her to keep moving toward the exit.
When Amanda and her brother finally got off the bus, Amanda thought the teasing would stop. Instead the older boys kept yelling through the windows. Amanda wanted to yell mean things back, but Hyrum whispered, “Just keep walking.”
When the bus was finally out of sight, Amanda turned to her brother and exploded. “Didn’t those boys make you mad?”
“Of course they made me mad,” Hyrum said. “But they act worse if we show how much it bugs us.”
“It does bug me. We should tell Mom and Dad,” Amanda said.
“We will as soon as we get home,” promised her brother. “Did you know this sort of thing happened to me last year? When I was in middle school and you were still in fourth grade, some boys at school were saying rude things to me. Mom told me to hear the hidden message.”
Amanda wrinkled her face. “What hidden message?”
“Those boys are saying one thing with their mouths and hands, but Mom says the real message they’re sending is they don’t feel good about themselves. So they try to feel more powerful by being mean to others. My teacher said the same thing. She said people who bully others are really insecure.”
“I guess those guys are really, really insecure then!”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Hyrum said. “They announced it to the whole bus!”
Amanda thought about Hyrum’s words as they turned onto their street. Hearing the hidden message may not have changed the situation, but it helped her not feel so angry about it. “Come on, I’ll race you to the house!” she challenged her brother, and she sprinted down the sidewalk. She wasn’t going to let the boys ruin the rest of her day.