Gospel Story Finder

A passage from the novel Les misérables illustrates how priesthood holders can treat those individuals viewed as strangers. Jean Valjean had just been released as a prisoner. Exhausted by a long voyage and dying of hunger and thirst, he arrives in a small town seeking a place to find food and shelter for the night. When the news of his arrival spreads, one by one all the inhabitants close their doors to him. Not the hotel, not the inn, not even the prison would invite him in. He is rejected, driven away, banished. Finally, with no strength left, he collapses at the front door of the town’s bishop.
The good clergyman is entirely aware of Valjean’s background, but he invites the vagabond into his home with these compassionate words:
“‘This is not my house; it is the house of Jesus Christ. This door does not demand of him who enters whether he has a name, but whether he has a grief. You suffer, you are hungry and thirsty; you are welcome. … What need have I to know your name? Besides, before you told me [your name], you had one which I knew.’
“[Valjean] opened his eyes in astonishment.
“‘Really? You knew what I was called?’
“‘Yes,’ replied the Bishop, ‘you are called my brother.’”

“Jared, do you smell smoke?” Mom asked.
“No,” I replied groggily, still a little weary after just waking up from a nap.
“It’s probably Courtney’s cookies burning in the oven,” yelled somebody from the living room.
My brother Tyler had three friends over working on a psychology project in the dining room. Dad, Kim, Travis, and Devin were watching TV. Courtney and I were in the kitchen. All of us were downstairs on the main floor of our old, two-story farmhouse. Mom continued to ask everyone if they smelled smoke.
“Tyler, go check upstairs, please.”
As Tyler opened the door to the stairwell, smoke began to roll into the downstairs living room.
“Call 911! And everybody out of the house!” exclaimed my dad. I sat and watched as my mom made the phone call. I never really thought a 911 emergency phone call would have to be made from our kitchen phone.
“Jared, grab some shoes and a coat and get out.” It was good advice from my mother. As I did, I thought about getting my money out of the drawer, but I didn’t. The fire can’t be that bad, I thought.
I felt quite calm as I walked out into the chilly December air. I knew everybody was safe, and that was the main thing. Just then, I came out from underneath the porch and looked up to see flames billowing out of my sister’s second-story bedroom window.
My heart began to beat faster. My two little brothers were crying as they escaped to our barn to watch the horrible spectacle. My father stretched a garden hose around the side of the house and Tyler and I joined him in a futile effort to fight the flames from below. The fire was spreading. I heard windows in the old farmhouse shatter from the intense heat. My mom was worried and yelled at us to get away.
“Jared, go down and direct the truck when it comes,” I heard my dad say.
I ran away from the house to the spot in the road where our driveway separates from the main road, a deceptive fork to those who have never traveled it. Standing there alone, I watched bright, orange flames stream from several upstairs windows. The place where I had lived my entire life was being destroyed without mercy. A feeling of helplessness overcame me. I wanted to stop the disaster but knew it was impossible. The flames cut into the dark night. In that instant, the sight was calm, silent, scary, and awesome all at the same time.
I began to hear the whine of sirens approaching as the fire engines made their way through northwest Corvallis, Oregon. It seemed they were extremely slow.
The headlights of an engine came into view down the road. It had taken ten minutes for the trucks to arrive, but it had seemed more like an hour. By now the flames lit up the house, and the engines kept coming. Four trucks were on the scene.
I ran back to the house as the firefighters mapped out the entire house before entering, identifying from my mother the location of pictures and valuables. To our relief, most of these were saved.
The fire was confined to the upper story of the house because we had shut the door to the stairwell. It looked as if the house might not be a total loss. I looked at my dad staring at his burning home. “Well, we always wanted to do some remodeling up there anyway,” he said.
Ward members and other friends began arriving rapidly. I didn’t notice them come, but suddenly the place was filled with people eager to help and give comfort. As the firefighters brought things from the house, everybody helped in transporting them to the barn. Some of the people there I didn’t even recognize. I had never realized the kind of support and friendship our family has. I think sometimes I have taken for granted our many friends. I realized then, and in the ensuing months, that friends are truly a blessing that should be cherished.
It was difficult to sleep that night. My brother and I slept at a friend’s house, and the rest of my family stayed at various ward members’ homes. All I could think about was the fire. I wasn’t heartbroken about all the possessions I might have lost; those were not important. I realized the things that matter most in life are not clothes, stereos, or computers, but friends and family. The materialistic pleasures we have in life are nice, but definitely not important. I felt more sorrow for our dilapidated farmhouse that had weathered the years since 1918.
The relief effort put forth by Church members, the city, and other friends was truly amazing. We were showered with presents, food, and especially love. I almost felt guilty for all the gifts and acts of kindness that we were receiving from so many. All this did not stop after a few weeks or months.
As I look back on the experience today, I regard the fire as a blessing for our family. We ended up tearing our house the rest of the way down, and we have spent more than two years working to build a new one. The project of building a new house has been an opportunity for our family to learn new skills and has taught us to better refine how we deal with each other. Most of all, however, the fire taught us the importance of giving service and loving our neighbors.
Sometimes it seems that life throws us a curve ball. The important thing is how we deal with it. Every experience in life can be used for growth and learning. I thank my Father in Heaven for loving me enough to teach me the things I need to know.

“A puppy?” I asked, excited. “Sister North wants to give us a puppy?”
“That’s what she said,” Mom assured me. “But we have to check with Dad when he gets home from work before we say we’ll take him.”
How can Dad say anything but yes? I wondered. We were finally living in a house. All the other times we’d asked him for a puppy, he had said, “Not while we’re in an apartment. A dog needs a yard to run in.” Now we had a yard, and we had the chance for a puppy. He just had to say yes.
When Dad came home that night, my three brothers and I jumped all over him, shouting, “Can we have it? Can we have the puppy from Sister North?”
“Whoa,” Dad said. “A puppy is a lot of responsibility. Who’s going to feed and water it?”
“We will,” we promised.
“I guess it’s about time we had a puppy.”
“Hurray!” we yelled.
That night Mom took a box to Sister North’s house. When she brought it home, squeaking noises were coming from it. Mom reached in and gently took out a brown and black puppy and placed him in my arms. He licked my hand and wagged his tail.
We tried calling him all kinds of names to see which one fit the best. “Why do we call him a dog?” I asked Mom.
“Because that’s what Heavenly Father told us to call him,” Malcolm answered.
“Not quite,” Mom said. “The Bible tells us that Heavenly Father had Adam name the animals. Let’s read it.”
I got the Bible off the shelf in the living room. Mom turned to Genesis 2:19 [Gen. 2:19] and read, “‘And out of the ground the Lord God formed every beast of the field, and every fowl of the air; and brought them unto Adam to see what he would call them: and whatsoever Adam called every living creature, that was the name thereof.’”
“Wow!” I said. “How did Adam think of all those names?”
“Yeah,” Gabriel said, “we’re having a hard time thinking of a name for just one animal.”
“Maybe the name book will help,” Mom suggested. She got the book she uses when we name new babies. After reading for a few minutes, she pointed to one and said, “Here’s one that fits him—Caleb.”
“What does it mean?” we asked.
“It means ‘as fearless as a dog,’” Mom said.
And that’s how Caleb got his name. About six weeks later, Caleb acted real tired all day. He hung his head. He didn’t wag his tail. While we were eating dinner, he got off his blanket in the kitchen and walked on shaking legs over to the table. Then he started to throw up. Dad put him back on his blanket, cleaned the floor, then called the vet. After he talked on the phone for a while, he wrapped Caleb up in a large towel and took him to the dog hospital.
Dad came home alone. “Caleb’s very sick,” he told us. “I had to leave him there so the vet can find out what’s wrong with him.”
“Is someone petting him there?” I asked.
“No,” Dad said, “they have him in a cage.”
I hated to think about our Christmas puppy in a cage with no one to hold him and talk softly to him when he cried. “Mom,” I asked, “does Heavenly Father love puppies?”
“I’m sure that he does, honey,” she said. “He must love everything that He created.”
“Then it’s OK if I pray for Caleb, isn’t it?”
“Remember when we talked about Adam naming the animals?” Mom asked.
I nodded.
“Well even before Heavenly Father created Adam, He planned that it would be man’s job to care for the animals. Let’s read it from the Bible.” I got it from the shelf, and she read Genesis 1:26 [Gen. 1:26]: “‘And God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness: and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth.’”
“What’s dominion?”
“That’s a way of saying Heavenly Father gave Adam the job of seeing that all the animals were protected and taken care of. Heavenly Father wants us to have dominion over our animals too. I think it would make Him very happy to know that you love Caleb enough to pray for him.”
That night I asked Heavenly Father to help Caleb get well so that he could come home to the people who love him.
The next morning the vet said that we could visit Caleb in the afternoon. When we got there, a lady in a white coat took us into a little room, then brought Caleb in. He wagged his tail but didn’t even try to get up. They had shaved a patch of hair off one of his front legs. Dad said that that was so that they could put a special kind of needle called an IV into his veins and put fluid into them because he wouldn’t eat or drink anything. We held him and talked to him for about ten minutes. Then the lady came back and said that it was time for Caleb to go get his medicine. As soon as she picked him up, he started to whine. I could tell that he wanted to stay with us and not go back to that cage.
The next night Dad brought Caleb home. We were to shoot water into his mouth with a syringe and feed him little bits of food so that he wouldn’t need an IV anymore. But we could do even more—we could love him and pray for him.
That night Dad slept on the kitchen floor in a sleeping bag with Caleb next to him. The next morning we folded a blanket and placed it in the sunshine in the living room. Caleb spent hours sleeping in the sun. Every time the sun moved, we moved the blanket. When he woke up and cried, someone picked him up and loved him. Every morning and every night we prayed for him.
One morning when we woke up, Caleb was gone from his blanket. We found him in the kitchen, wandering around under the table. He was getting well enough to go exploring. Before long he was his old self again.
Now Caleb is a full-grown dog. He loves to play soccer. He can flip the ball up in the air with his nose. He jumps as high as my bike to get it when Dad kicks it to him. I think that we’re doing a pretty good job of having dominion over Caleb. And I think that Adam would have liked our dog.

Sam tiptoed on stocking feet to the front door. Setting her ice skates gently on the floor so as not to make a sound, she reached for her heavy winter boots. She hadn’t bothered to clean them when she came in yesterday, and they were caked with grime.
No matter. Sam had something more important to think about—getting to the rink the moment it opened. That’s when the skating was best—before the crowds arrived and the ice was still like glass. Tugging on her boots over thick wool socks, she pretended to not notice the mess they’d left on the floor.
“Samantha, is that you?” Mom must have heard her, after all.
Sam stood with her hand on the doorknob, debating whether to answer or slip out quietly. She was tempted to pretend she hadn’t heard her mother’s voice. On the other hand, maybe she could persuade her mother to let her help with the housework later in the day. The dirty floor wasn’t going anywhere, was it?
“Coming, Mom,” she called before yanking off her boots and trudging to the kitchen.
Mom was sitting at the kitchen table, her head cradled in her hands. When she glanced up, Sam noticed how pale her mother looked. “Mom,” she blurted before her mother could say a word, “would you mind if I clean the floor later? I promised Judy I’d meet her at the rink first thing this morning.”
Sam thought she detected a flicker of disappointment in her mother’s eyes, but she just smiled. “No, that’s fine, Sam. But would you mind picking up some orange juice and cold medicine at the market? I think I’ve come down with the flu, and I just don’t feel up to going out today.”
“Sure, Mom.” Sam tried to ignore the dark circles etched under her mother’s eyes. “Will it be OK, though, if I pick them up after I’m through skating? Otherwise, I’ll be late getting to the rink.”
“That’ll be fine,” her mother said agreeably.
Sam pocketed the money her mother gave her, then raced to put her boots back on. She’d have to run all the way to the rink if she didn’t want to be late.
Sam arrived at the rink just as it was opening. Judy stood at the door, waiting for her. “Guess what—we’re the only ones here!” she exclaimed gleefully. “We’ll have the whole place to ourselves for a while.”
As they laced up their skates in silence, Sam found herself reliving the moments with her mother in the kitchen. Suddenly it struck her—Mom always worked on Saturdays! Obviously, she wasn’t going in today. Sam knew how hard her mother tried to never miss work. She was paid by the hour, so every day missed, she said, meant a smaller paycheck that week.
“Hey, slowpoke,” Judy teased as she stood up on her skates and clomped over to the ice, “if you don’t hurry up, they’ll be closing this place for the night!”
Sam had grown so absorbed in her own thoughts that she hadn’t finished lacing up her first skate yet. Giving Judy a sheepish grin, she bent over her skates and tried to concentrate.
At last she made it onto the ice. Judy chattered gaily as they glided along. It was a perfect day for skating. The ice was smooth, with barely a nick in it, and there were still only a few other skaters. The subzero temperatures outdoors must have kept the usual crowd at home.
Still, Sam found herself straining to be cheerful. Her enthusiasm for skating seemed to have deserted her this morning. Images of her mother’s pale face kept floating before her eyes.
“Are you OK, Sam?” Judy was tugging at her sleeve.
“Mom’s sick, and I’m worried about her,” Sam confessed.
Judy looked at her in surprise. Sam wasn’t one to worry, and she seldom allowed anything to interfere with having fun. “Do you want to go home?”
“Maybe I’d better. Do you mind?”
“It’s OK with me,” her friend said, smiling at her. “I’m getting cold, anyhow.”
Sam suddenly felt closer to Judy than she’d ever felt before.
When she got home, Sam put the medicine on the table and the juice in the refrigerator. Then she peeked in at her mother, who lay sleeping in her bed, her tired-looking bedspread pulled up under her chin. Sam quietly got the puffy new comforter from her own bed and gently put it over her mother.
She tiptoed from the room, careful not to awaken her mother. If she hurried and worked quietly, maybe she could get the housework done before Mom woke up. Her mother had asked only that Sam tidy up her own room and sweep the floors, but why couldn’t she do all the cleaning today? Glancing at the kitchen clock, she set herself the task of getting as much accomplished as she could in an hour.
The minutes flew by as she dusted, swept, and scrubbed. The pungent scent of lemon oil polish announced the last task being done. Already the kitchen floor glistened and the countertop shone.
Mom walked in just as Sam was putting away the furniture polish. “I thought I heard feet padding down the hall.”
“Look, Mom,” Sam said, taking her mother by the hand and leading her through the apartment. As she showed off her handiwork, she stole a look at her mother’s face. She wasn’t sure which of them was happier.

For the first 18 years of my life, I followed my parents and grandparents to church every Sunday. Witnessing their joy instilled in my heart the desire for own children to find joy in attending church and communicating with Heavenly Father. Growing up in the Free Church of Tonga, I saw how committed the ministers were in teaching us to always put God first in our lives. This brought great blessings to me. We migrated to Auckland, New Zealand, seeking a better life, unaware that God was preparing us for a greater purpose.

In 2019, one of the missionaries who found and invited us to follow our Saviour, Jesus Christ, told my wife, Lupe, and me a story. He said that in 1990, he and his companion knelt in prayer, seeking to know the will of the Lord. They were led to a particular street where they knocked on every door, but no one wanted to hear their message.

As they were about to leave, he felt impressed to go back and try again. Obedient, they began knocking on the same doors they had knocked on before, and when they got to the sixth house, I was sitting outside. So began my knowledge of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

These two beautiful missionaries taught me about Heavenly Father’s plan of happiness, about The First Vision, and the Book of Mormon. They taught how Joseph Smith, seeking to know what church he should join, read the book of James and prayed to God with faith his prayer would be answered.

The missionaries bore testimony that in answer to his prayer, God the Father and His beloved Son Jesus Christ appeared to Joseph Smith, that he was called to be a prophet, and that the gospel of Jesus Christ was restored through him.

This was all new to me, but they promised that I could know for myself if this did happen. They gave me a Book of Mormon, with an invitation to read, ponder, and apply Moroni’s invitation to ask God if the book is true.

When they returned two days later, I explained that after reading the introduction, the testimony of the witnesses, and the account of Christ visiting the people in 3 Nephi, I pled with God to know if it was true. I felt warmth all over me but didn’t understand what that was. The elders then taught me that the Holy Ghost was bearing witness to my spirit, which brought excitement to my heart. My mother and three younger brothers joined our next lesson, and we all got baptised into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.

With tears of joy, this former missionary, Tomasi Takau, shared his experience from over 30 years ago, blessed now to witness the fruit of his labour. Because of the prayers, faith, and courage of Elder Tomasi Takau and his companion, Elder Johnson, I served my own mission in Wellington, New Zealand, from 1991 to 1993, then met and married my wife, Lupe, in the Hamilton New Zealand Temple, and we now have four sons and a daughter, with two grandchildren and a third due later this year.

What a joy it was for Lupe and me to cross paths with Tomasi Takau’s son, who is now serving a mission in the Kingdom of Tonga. Looking into the younger Elder Takau’s eyes, I thank his father for bringing the joy of the gospel into my life and praying sincerely with his companion to know God’s will all those years ago, and I also thank this young man for answering the invitation from President Russell M. Nelson for every young man to serve a mission. “The worth of souls is great in the sight of God” (Doctrine and Covenants 18:10).

My life changed because two missionaries had the courage to submit to the will of the Lord and to knock a second time. I know Heavenly Father hears and answers the prayers of His children. I’m grateful for my membership in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, and I know we are led by a living prophet of God. Jesus Christ is the Saviour and Redeemer of the world. May we bind ourselves to Him who has all the power to heal, forgive, and bless our lives.

When I read the article “Darrell, His Mission, and Me” (May 1993), it made me do a lot of thinking. My brother left to go on his mission to North Carolina on July 28. I’ve never really gotten along with him because we’re five years apart. But I started writing him letters, and I feel a lot better about our relationship because he knows a lot more about my feelings. I’m really grateful for the article.
Becky BeldenColumbia, Tennessee

We, too, can choose whether to forgive those who have hurt or offended us, or to remain angry with them. Eight-year-old Nils Evensen from South Jordan, Utah, has learned to follow Nephi’s example of being forgiving. When Nils turned eight, he saved all his birthday money and bought a toy that he really wanted. He was always very careful to put it away after playing with it so that it would not get broken. One day, a friend accidentally sat on the toy and broke it. Nils’ eleven-year-old sister, Linnea, said that instead of getting angry with his friend, Nils told him, “It’s OK—we can glue the pieces back on.” Because Nils chose to be forgiving, he was able to keep a friendship that might have been badly hurt if he had chosen to get angry.

Sister Gilbert: This is my Aunt Janet. She is separately pictured as a young girl with her parents and my father. Janet never married, though she sought that blessing. She lived a remarkable life and stayed true to her covenants. She was a star student and eventually became the executive assistant to five consecutive BYU presidents, including President Oaks and President Holland. Here’s a picture of President Holland with Aunt Janet at my husband’s BYU-Idaho inauguration. When Janet passed away, all five of those presidents came to pay tribute to her life. She lived without the companionship of marriage, but because of temple covenants and ordinances that bind us to Christ as families, she is sealed to my grandparents and will always be part of our family. I love my Aunt Janet and I take comfort in President Nelson’s profound statement: “In the Lord’s own way and time, no blessing will be withheld from His faithful Saints. The Lord will judge and reward each individual according to heartfelt desire as well as deed.” [18]

“Hey, Willard, we’ve got a favor to ask of you,” I mentioned one afternoon as we were changing the oil in Brad’s car. “We’re in charge of a dinner over at the church this weekend.” I shrugged and felt my cheeks turn red. “The kids in the ward are putting on a dinner for some senior citizens. Now I don’t mean that we think you’re a senior citizen or anything like that,” I quickly added, “but we wanted you there. Will you come?”
Willard looked up. His eyes went to each one of us, and then he stared down into the car’s engine. For a long time he didn’t speak. Slowly he pulled a rag from his back pocket and wiped his hands. A feeble smile on his lips. “The last time I was in church was when my wife died. That’s been more than three years. And it was a lot longer before that. There have been times when I wanted to go back, but I couldn’t think of a good enough reason. And there’s nobody there I know.”
“You’ve got an excuse now. We’re having good food. And you know us. We’ll be there,” I pointed out.
“Why would you want me to go to a nice, fancy dinner with you?” he asked without looking at us.
For a moment I didn’t answer, pondering the question. “Because you’re our friend,” I answered simply.
He shook his head. “I don’t know if I could. People would stare. They’d wonder why—”
“You’ll be with us,” Brad spoke up. “The whole time. We promise.”
We all waited, holding our breath. Willard thought for a long time. Finally his face softened into a smile and he said, “Well, I’ll think about it.”
The night of the dinner I was nervous. Brad had promised to bring Willard while Chris and I helped get things ready at the church.
“Did you invite anyone tonight?” Brother Loder asked as I was carrying food from the kitchen to the serving table in the cultural hall.
“Willard Watts.”
Brother Loder sighed. “When are you going to get over this Willard Watts idea?” He smiled and shook his head. “The day you get old Willard inside this church I’ll buy you the biggest meal you’ve ever had in your life.”
Just then Chris and Brad came through the doors on the far side of the cultural hall with Willard between them. Brother Loder had his back to them so he didn’t see them approach until they were right behind him. When he turned around, his jaw almost dropped to the floor he was so surprised.
“Brother Loder,” I started out, “I’d like you to meet a good friend of ours, Brother Watts.”
For a moment Brother Loder could hardly speak. Then he held out his hand and greeted Willard. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” he stammered. “The boys here have talked about you a lot.” He looked at the three of us and then back to Willard. “I guess I can believe everything they’ve told me.”
Willard nodded his head. “They’re good boys. I think you can believe what they say.”
As Brad and Chris led Willard away, Brother Loder turned to me and muttered, “I would have never believed it. I guess I owe you a big dinner.”
I shook my head and struggled to control my emotions. “Forget it,” I smiled. “Some things you don’t do to win a meal.”

This reminds me of another incident that happened in the life of my husband’s mother. Just a couple of years before her passing, she was a worker in the Provo Temple. She loved attending the temple and working there. She had the early morning shift, and she usually left her home around five in the morning and, at age 80, drove to Provo from her Orem home.

One January morning her car would not start. It was snowing and very cold. She tried a few times to get the engine going, but to no avail. She was determined to fulfill her calling and to not disturb anyone at that early hour. After a short prayer to the Lord, she didn’t lose courage and started walking, at age 80, at five in the morning, in January, while it was snowing hard. I assure you, I am not making this up; it is true in every detail.

This modern pioneer woman walked half a block, and a car stopped next to her. An older gentleman was driving and asked her if he could be of assistance. Sister Noble did not want to bother him too much and asked him where he was going, to see if their two destinations were nearby. Well, he was also going to the temple and offered her a ride.

When that afternoon she called us to take her back home and told us this story, we gently scolded her for not calling us that morning and urged her to promise us not to do it again.

Then, with her usual sweetness and calm, she answered back and said: “Okay, I’ll call you next time, and I won’t do it again. But you kids, you don’t have enough faith. I knew that I would be all right.” She said this simply, almost unbelieving of our concern. She was on the Lord’s business, and He was going to help her. What were we worried about?

“There, it’s all done!” Jeff said as he knotted the bridle line to his kite. Jeff felt proud as he held up the kite to check the glued tissue paper edges. He was sure he would win the Highest Flyer Award in the kite tournament to be held the next afternoon.
As Jeff picked up scraps of paper and sticks from the porch floor, he heard the creak of rusty hinges. “Oh, no,” he groaned. “Robin Hood has escaped again!”
With a sick feeling, Jeff remembered his father’s words, “If that dog steals something just once more, Jeff, he’ll have to go!”
Hurdling the porch steps in one leap, Jeff raced to the alley and whistled. He hoped that maybe this time Robin Hood hadn’t picked up anything belonging to someone else, but his hope faded as Robin Hood came around the corner dragging a big paper fish. With his tail wagging, the dog dropped his gift at Jeff’s feet.
“Bad dog!” Jeff scolded. Robin Hood retreated to the farthest corner of the yard. Jeff remembered to close the gate this time, but he felt guilty that he had let his dog get loose.
The paper fish was ripped, but Jeff could see that it had been skillfully painted with loops to look like fish scales. Turning it over, he saw the broken basswood and knew it had been a kite. Someone had probably made this strange-looking kite to enter in the tournament, and Robin Hood had stolen it.
Jeff knew what he had to do. He started walking toward Mr. Peterson’s fruit market, taking the broken fish kite with him. Mr. Peterson knew just about everybody, and many times before he had helped Jeff find the owner of Robin Hood’s other gifts.
“Has Robin Hood been at it again?” Mr. Peterson asked Jeff as he polished an apple. “That carp kite’s in pretty bad shape.”
“Do you know who it belongs to?” Jeff asked.
“Wouldn’t take much to figure out,” answered Mr. Peterson. “A new boy about your age has been coming into the store a lot lately. His name is Jimu, and he’s talked to me about carp kites. The carp stands for courage, you know.”
“No, I didn’t know,” said Jeff.
“Japanese boys fly carp kites every year on Boys’ Festival Day,” said Mr. Peterson. “It’s supposed to remind them to be courageous.”
“Do you know where Jimu lives?” Jeff asked.
“No,” said Mr. Peterson, “but he usually goes toward Miller Street.”
Jeff thanked Mr. Peterson and went back home. His shoulders drooped as he climbed the steps. Robin Hood, stretched out by the lilac bush, opened his eyes and watched.
“Come on,” Jeff called as he picked up both kites. “We have a job to do.”
Jeff and Robin Hood walked up and down Miller Street, but they couldn’t find anyone who knew of a boy named Jimu.
“Sorry I can’t help you,” said a lady who was watering her lawn. “Why don’t you ask your dog?” she joked.
“Why didn’t I think of that!” said Jeff. He gave the carp kite to Robin Hood to carry in his mouth.
“Take it back!” Jeff commanded.
Robin Hood seemed to understand. He held the kite tightly between his teeth and led Jeff to the corner, turned right, and then disappeared down an alley. Jeff followed the dog down the alley and through an opening in a high wooden fence, where Robin Hood stopped.
This must be the house, Jeff thought as he walked into a strange garden. There were dwarf trees in low vases sitting in raked white sand.
“Ohayo (good morning),” said a voice, and a short black-haired boy came around the corner of the house.
“You must be Jimu,” Jeff said. “I’m Jeff.”
The Japanese boy bowed. His dark eyes looked from Robin Hood to the carp kite and back to Jeff.
Jeff didn’t know what to say at first, but once he got started, the story came tumbling out.
“Sumimasen (very sorry),” Jimu said after Jeff finished. “Perhaps you should try a cardboard collar.”
“I don’t understand,” said Jeff.
“I have a friend who had a dog with a sore ear,” Jimu explained. “He cut a big wheel-shaped piece of cardboard and then cut a hole in the middle. He put it around the dog’s neck so the dog couldn’t scratch its ear. His dog also had difficulty picking up objects with his mouth.”
“That sounds like a great idea,” Jeff said. “I’ll try it. But that won’t help you fix your kite, so I want you to have mine instead.”
Jeff held his kite out to Jimu, who took it and looked at it carefully.
“Very nice,” Jimu said at last. “But please come with me.”
He led Jeff to a sliding door at the back of the house. They both removed their shoes and went inside.
“Please sit on the tatami,” Jimu told Jeff as he pointed to the straw mat on the porch floor. He put Jeff’s kite on a low table covered with jars of paint and a brush.
Jimu picked up the brush and asked, “May I?”
Jeff nodded. He watched Jimu swiftly paint an outline of a fish on the kite Jeff had given him. Soon a carp filled the kite as Jimu painted half-hoop scales all over.
“Now you’ll have a kite to fly today,” said Jeff.
Jimu smiled mysteriously as he excused himself and disappeared behind a screen.
When Jimu returned, he said, “I already have a kite.” He held up a paper fish. “The first one I made broke, and Robin Hood must have found it in the trash.”
“But why did you paint this beautiful fish on my kite?” Jeff asked.
“Because it took much courage for you to come to me,” Jimu answered. “And the carp stands for courage. You would honor me to fly your kite with me today,” he added.
“That would be great,” Jeff answered. And the two boys, with Robin Hood tagging along behind, picked up their kites and ran out into the field together.

My daughter-in-law’s mother, Susan, was a wonderful seamstress. President Kimball lived in their ward. One Sunday, Susan noticed that he had a new suit. Her father had recently returned from a trip to New York and had brought her some exquisite silk fabric. Susan thought that fabric would make a handsome tie to go with President Kimball’s new suit. So on Monday she made the tie. She wrapped it in tissue paper and walked up the block to President Kimball’s home.
On her way to the front door, she suddenly stopped and thought, “Who am I to make a tie for the prophet? He probably has plenty of them.” Deciding she had made a mistake, she turned to leave.
Just then Sister Kimball opened the front door and said, “Oh, Susan!”
Stumbling all over herself, Susan said, “I saw President Kimball in his new suit on Sunday. Dad just brought me some silk from New York . . . and so I made him a tie.”
Before Susan could continue, Sister Kimball stopped her, took hold of her shoulders, and said: “Susan, never suppress a generous thought.”
Susan didn’t have an assignment to make that tie. She wasn’t hired to do so. Despite feeling a bit hesitant, she did it because it felt right. Susan had a quiet sense of mission to serve others. I was also the beneficiary of such service. Her service went beyond any calling because it lasted throughout her life. Never suppressing a generous thought became a part of her personal ministry.

Imagine graduating from Young Women and a few months later being called as Relief Society president. Impossible, you say? Mallory Higginson and Macie Murphy could tell you otherwise.
Both 18-year-old freshmen at BYU–Idaho, Macie and Mallory are serving as presidents of the Relief Society groups in their student wards. They had hardly even attended Relief Society before they were each called to serve as president.
They smile confidently as they talk about their callings, but each admits being surprised and overwhelmed after her first meeting with the bishop. Neither of them had been attending Relief Society for very long before arriving at school. Now all of a sudden they were in charge. Despite their initial doubts and fears, Macie and Mallory have quickly come to see that they are not on their own. Their mothers, who have both served as Relief Society presidents, are only a phone call away with comfort and advice. Their bishop is also there to support them, and, of course, so is the Lord.
Although from very different parts of the country—Macie is from Columbus, Georgia, and Mallory is from Mesa, Arizona—they are both learning together that Relief Society is about women being united in the gospel.
Macie and Mallory are each responsible for about 60 young women, and they have learned a lot from it. Living in the dorms at BYU–Idaho as they experience being away from home, the girls in each Relief Society group have become especially close-knit.
From her apartment Macie can see all the apartments in her Relief Society, which she likes because she can see the people she’s looking after. When they come back from dates, she likes to go chat with them, or if she notices that someone is sad or lonely, she invites her over to talk and have fun.
This dorm setting helps to foster a sisterhood, and Macie has learned that sisterhood is what Relief Society is about. “I think it’s really important to rely on each other,” she says. “I know lots of these girls come from places where they don’t have LDS friends, and it’s cool that we can all be one, united in the gospel.”
That is why things like visiting teaching are so important. Just before Mallory left for college, her mom asked her if she wanted to go visiting teaching. Mallory brushed off the offer by rolling her eyes and asking, “How hard could it be?” She admits that she didn’t take it very seriously, but now she understands what a wonderful support system it is. “It is so important for women to check up on each other and to support each other,” she says.
Macie agrees and says she is encouraging her Relief Society sisters to reach out and serve each other, even if it’s as simple as talking to someone who seems to be having a bad day. “It makes you feel better about yourself if you’re serving others,” she says. “We’re all a little homesick and lonely, and this is a great strength.” Away from their homes, the girls have become like family and look after each other, sharing cookies and conversations with neighbors.
“The moment I got this calling, I had this great love for the girls, and I didn’t even know them,” says Macie. She had heard other people say similar things about their callings but had never experienced it before. She compares this feeling to a small taste of what the Lord feels for us all. “He loves us all; we’re His children,” she says. “I feel a responsibility to help take care of the Lord’s children.”
Their bishop encourages this feeling of responsibility, and although he helps them and gives them guidelines, he encourages Macie and Mallory to pray for inspiration.
One way in particular that Mallory and Macie had to rely on the Lord was in recommending their counselors and others for callings in Relief Society. It was a rather daunting task at first, considering they were as new to the ward as they were to the calling and thus hardly knew anyone. Each of them prayed and then went door-to-door trying to get to know the girls in her Relief Society. Mallory says, “I asked the Lord to help me seek those who would be able to grow in the callings and also be able to help the other girls grow.” After that it was a matter of being in tune with the Spirit to know who felt right for the position. She was grateful to be able to counsel with her bishop, who holds the keys to approve callings in the ward.
Through her prayers, Macie has been able to touch the life of at least one girl through inspiration. “One of the girls I had recommended for a calling came up to me and was in tears. She told me that she had been praying for something and felt like she needed to get involved. This calling was what she needed. I know the Lord was the one who called her, but it made me feel good that I could help her out.”
“One of my favorite things to do during Relief Society is to sit up at the front during the opening hymn and look at each girl’s face,” says Mallory. “It’s a different perspective. You see them all as equal—they are all great people. And I’ve learned that everyone has something to offer, which is a perspective that I have often prayed for.”
Mallory considers being able to see the girls through the Lord’s eyes as one of the biggest blessings of her calling. But she says that you don’t need to be the Relief Society president to feel that. Anyone can pray and ask Heavenly Father for the ability to see people as children of God and appreciate what they have to offer.
“It’s been really humbling,” says Mallory of receiving this calling. “I look around and see so many great girls, and I realize any of them could be a Relief Society president with the Lord’s help, because we are instruments in His hands.”
After all, you never know just when the Lord might call on you to lead, whether it be in your Young Women class presidency or as president of the Relief Society. Macie and Mallory admit they were surprised, but that hasn’t stopped them from accepting the opportunity to serve.
And now both of them also have a new perspective on Relief Society.
When she first moved into Relief Society at home, Macie thought it was a challenge to fit in with the older women. Mallory’s home ward tried to ease the transition by periodically inviting the Laurels to Relief Society lessons and activities, so she had a taste of what it was like, but in the back of her mind she still had a fear that they were going to spend a lot of time sewing. However, both Mallory and Macie now understand the reasons for programs like home, family, and personal enrichment and are able to gear them toward the women their age.
“I have a greater appreciation for Relief Society now,” Macie says. “I don’t think it’s just an old ladies society anymore.”
And just as both girls turned to their mothers for words of advice and comfort in their new callings, Mallory says that with the right attitude, the younger women can learn from the older women. Then, that sisterhood she and Macie have come to embrace can be extended across the generations.
For help with the transition to Relief Society, go to www.lds.org and click on Serving in the Church, Relief Society, and then Transitioning into Womanhood.

Jackie:
Being a newlywed has been a change. Honestly speaking, God is super important within our relationship. Without God, we might have broken up!

Jason:
In the beginning of our marriage, I used to be on my phone using social media or checking emails. It was easy for me to get stuck in the phone or computer.

We realized that we needed to spend more time together. So now we do housework together. This helps us get it done, and we are able to be with each other.

Jackie:
We try to squeeze some time in the mornings to be together, but mornings can get busy.

We also try to take time in the evenings to talk about our day; then we pray and read the scriptures before we sleep. Living the gospel has blessed our marriage.

Jason and Jackie know it’s important to stay connected as spouses. They also know it’s essential to stay connected to God. Regular prayer has strengthened and blessed their marriage.

Despite their busy schedules, Jason and Jackie make sure they take time in the evenings to read the scriptures together.

Recently one summer I traveled with my family to the East Coast to visit Palmyra, New York. Ever since I was little, I loved listening to the story of Joseph Smith. My family and I went through the visitors’ center near the Hill Cumorah, Grandin’s Print Shop in Palmyra, the Sacred Grove, and the Smith homes. We watched a video about Joseph Smith and the First Vision. While watching, I felt the Spirit telling me that the Church was indeed true. I more strongly came to realize that when Joseph prayed in the Sacred Grove, he wasn’t the prophet yet. He was just a farm boy who knew nothing about talking with angels or the writings of the inhabitants of ancient America. If more people only knew that Joseph Smith started as a confused person in this world, then maybe they would understand the power of the First Vision and Joseph’s seed of faith that turned into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I know that these things are true and that with faith like that of Joseph Smith, we can receive powerful revelation and answers to our prayers. If we just “ask of God … it shall be given [us]” (James 1:5). I love the gospel, and I love the story of Joseph Smith, who had the courage to ask a simple question.

I was recently asked to speak about what our family is doing to become a celestial family. My father suggested I speak on how to serve ice cream in a society made up of righteous families. Now maybe you are like me. I didn’t know there was any special way to serve ice cream in such a society until my dad explained it to me.
He first told me to research the subject in the scriptures. But, after failing to find anything about ice cream in the Bible or Doctrine and Covenants, I gave up. I didn’t even look in the Book of Mormon. That was a big mistake, for that is where you find the best discourse on serving ice cream in a truly righteous family. Actually it doesn’t talk much about ice cream. It hits that very lightly. But it does teach you a lot about proper technique in serving ice cream.
Maybe you could understand better if I told you how I used to serve ice cream and then explain the difference.
Since I am a teenager, when dad or mom would ask me to serve everyone some ice cream, the first thing I would do was find me a cereal bowl and stack the ice cream to the teenager level, which is about two inches above the rim. Then I would dish up the ice cream for the rest of my family. However, my brother and sisters are smaller than I, so of course the small ice cream dishes are just about right for them. Rachelle, my 11-year-old sister, thinks she should get a cereal bowl too, which is ridiculous because she isn’t even a teenager yet.
Well, my dad showed me in the Book of Mormon where it explains that my method wouldn’t have made the grade.
In 4 Nephi it tells what it was like after the Savior visited the people in America following his resurrection. After his visit, the people really lived righteous lives. And the way they lived can help us understand how to develop celestial families. It even teaches us how to serve ice cream.
The Book of Mormon, in 4 Nephi, [4 Ne. 1] says that the people had no jealousies, they were not envious, and they had no contentions or disputations among them. They had all things in common, and there were no rich or poor, and there was peace in the land. They went to sacrament and priesthood meetings to hear the word of the Lord, and they continued to fast and pray.
But let’s get back to ice cream! My dad gently explained to me that when I have the standard teenager’s portion, it makes Rachelle and Kristi, my number two sister, jealous and envious. When they get like that, they start giving me all kinds of reasons why they should have as much as I do. Of course, I have to explain to them, loud enough for them to understand, that teenagers need more nourishment than “little girls.” Then they always have a response for that. And I have to reply—in a slightly louder tone, of course.
Well, when I read 4 Nephi, I could see that we were having one of those “disputations” that Nephi was talking about; and the disputation had been caused by a “contention;” and the contention was caused by “envying.”
So you can see that there is a certain way that you have to serve ice cream in a family desiring to be more righteous.
Mom also pointed out something else. If everyone is allowed to have a fair share, according to their needs, then there are really no rich ice cream eaters and no poor ice cream eaters. Having no rich or poor means that everyone has as much as he needs, but he does not have so much more than someone else that they get envious and cause contentions which lead to disputations.
When these disputations are avoided, there really is “peace in the land.” At least there is peace in the family room, and everyone is happier!
When you think about it, this idea has some interesting applications when it comes to who is going to sit where in the car, or who is going to do what in family home evening, or which TV show to watch.
My serving of ice cream has changed since I read 4 Nephi, and I have discovered that to live like they did after Christ’s visit, we have to concentrate on the little things we do day to day and the way we treat each other or think of each other. And you know, it helps me to think of my brother and sisters as much as myself. Mom says there is something about that in the scriptures, too. I suppose I should find that scripture as well.

Laura was excited to start kindergarten. She couldn’t wait to go to school with her big brother, Sam. Sam was going to be in third grade.
A few weeks before school started, Mom and Dad talked to Sam and Laura. “Laura,” Dad said, “the schools have made a change. Kindergarteners will go to their own school now.”
Laura chewed on her lip. “Can I still ride the bus with Sam?”
Mom shook her head. “I’m sorry, Laura, but your school is on the other side of town. You’ll ride a different bus.”
Laura tried to be brave, but her lower lip trembled. How could she go to school without her big brother? She and Sam were best friends.
Sam put his arm around Laura’s shoulder. “It’ll be all right,” he said.
That night Sam came into Laura’s room. “Let’s say a special prayer,” he said.
Sam and Laura knelt down.
“Heavenly Father,” Sam prayed, “please bless Laura that she will feel happy about starting school. Help her learn things and make new friends.” Sam closed the prayer in the name of Jesus Christ.
Laura threw her arms around Sam’s neck. She felt better already.
When it came time to start school, Laura was still a little nervous, but she thought about Sam’s prayer. That morning, Dad gave Laura a blessing.
Laura waved goodbye to Mom, Dad, and Sam. She climbed onto the school bus. She knew Heavenly Father would help her.

The story of the train is one of Brian’s favorites. One explanation of the drawing is that many years ago an important chief of the tribes who lived near Storybook Canyon was invited by the big chief of the white men (the president of the United States) to visit Washington, D.C. The Indian chief and many important leaders from nearby tribes traveled by steam train to the East. There they spent several weeks as the honored guests of the president.
When the Indians returned from Washington, the chief climbed onto the ledges of Storybook Canyon and there, like his people had done for many generations before him, he carefully carved into the soft rock the story of that important event. The train that the chief drew on the ledge is over ten feet long.

I have always learned in Primary and at home that we should be honest. We should not keep what does not belong to us. We should return change when we receive too much at a store, and we should always tell the truth, even though we may be punished.
When I was nine, I was waiting at the school for my mother when I saw a wallet on a bench. The wallet had money in it.
I thought about what I should do. My mother works very hard to care for my two sisters and me, but things weren’t going very well at home. I thought about what I could buy.
Then I started to worry about the person who had lost the wallet. I sat down and waited, knowing that she would come to look for it. After a while, a very upset woman came by. She asked me if I had found a wallet.
I answered, “Is this it?”
Her joy was so great that she hugged me. She thanked me again and again.
At the time, I did not even think about why I had decided to be honest. But when I told my mother about it later, she said that the Holy Ghost had whispered to me and that I had listened to the still, small voice.
I am grateful for having learned to be honest.
Rudinei Antonio Fernandes Filho, age 11São Paulo, Brazil

As we develop these necessary attributes, how do we still keep our own personality? As I mentioned, I have not completely developed the Christlike attribute of patience, especially on the road. I do not usually cut people off or yell, but as I pass, you may see me saying to myself, “Come on, people, let’s go!” I don’t think my frustration makes me a horrible person, but it definitely is not Christlike.

A while ago I decided to start listening to Spanish teaching podcasts while driving to help with my impatience. Now if you see me talking in my car, I am no longer asking you to go faster. Instead, I am practicing very important phrases, such as, “¿Dónde está el queso?”

This practice of trying to become more patient has also taught me to learn by listening and repeating. I have always been the type of person who needs to see things in addition to hearing them. Now I have the capability of learning in a new way. Thus, in the process of becoming more Christlike in patience, I have developed a new personality trait that defines who I am, and it is one that I am much more proud of than road rage.