Gospel Story Finder

Shortly before our wedding, forty years ago, Valérie and I experienced something we will never forget. We were briefly taken hostage during an armed robbery attempt near Paris, France.

We had just pulled into in the parking lot of a local post office when, suddenly, a car blocked our way. Four men armed with sawed-off shotguns came over and forced us out of our vehicle.

Within moments, we were lying face down on the ground, our heads pressed into the grass, with a gun pointed at us while the gangsters attempted to break into the post office. What felt like an eternity passed. Fortunately, they were unable to force their way inside and eventually fled. Valérie and I were left shaken—but safe.

I have often reflected on this key moment, when our lives seemed to hang by a thread. What was going through my mind?

My thoughts and all my energy were focused on one thing: our temple sealing that was just a few months away. During those long minutes, I pleaded with God to spare our lives so that we could be united in His Holy House and sealed together for eternity—that nothing would ever separate us.

I realized more than ever the truth that President M. Russell Ballard taught when he said: “What matters most is what lasts longest.” [9]

“What’s wrong?” Carol’s mother asked as they cleared away the dinner dishes. “Your birthday is just a week away and I thought you’d be happy and excited. It’s always been such fun to have your birthday in December. Your father and I named you Carol because having you for a daughter makes it seem like Christmas all year round.”
“I’ve always been excited before, but this year is different,” Carol answered.
Her mother looked puzzled. “What’s different about this year?”
“Well,” Carol began, “today at school Julie, Kay, and Krista decided to have a birthday party for me and they want it to be a caroling birthday party.”
“That sounds fun!” her mother exclaimed. “And I’ll make some hot chocolate for everyone. But why aren’t you happy about the party?”
“Mom, you don’t understand. You know I can’t sing. All that comes out when I try is a squeaky and embarrassing sound, especially when compared to the beautiful sounds Julie and Krista make when they sing. I love to hear them,” Carol explained.
“Everyone can sing,” declared her mother. “And I’ve always enjoyed listening to your singing.”
“That’s just because you’re my mother and so it doesn’t count,” Carol said. “You love me anyway, no matter how I sound.”
“Indeed I do,” Carol’s mother answered as she finished washing the last dish. “And I hope you won’t let the party plans spoil your birthday.”
For the next two days Carol thought about her problem. How could she go on a caroling party and not let everyone hear her squeaky voice?
She suggested that the party be changed to a sleigh ride, but the girls said they’d rather go caroling.
I wonder if I could learn to sing before the party, she thought, trying to be a better sport.
Every time she was alone she would practice “Oh Come, All Ye Faithful,” and “Joy to the World,” but the songs didn’t sound at all the way Julie or Krista sang them. Her voice squeaked and cracked and she couldn’t reach the high notes.
“Why does my birthday have to be in December?” she grumbled. “But the party’s for me so I have to go.”
John, her little brother, poked his head into her room and teased, “If I were you, I’d just mouth the words!” Then he laughed and hurried to shut the door before she could answer.
“Very funny,” Carol called after him and threw a pillow toward the closed door.
Sitting glumly on the edge of the bed, Carol suddenly beamed, “That’s just what I’ll do,” she said. “I’ll mouth the words. No one will even hear my squeaking.”
That night as she and her mother were doing the dishes, she confided. “I’ve figured out how to have fun at my party.”
“I’m glad,” her mother answered. “I’m sure you’ll have a good time.”
The night of the party, Carol bundled up in her warmest clothes and left with a big smile on her face.
“Happy birthday,” Julie and Krista greeted.
“We’ve never been caroling before. We can hardly wait,” several other girls said.
“We’re all here,” Kay shouted. “Let’s go.”
The group stopped first at Mrs. Caulder’s house where strains of “O Little Town of Bethlehem” floated onto the crisp night air. Carol moved her mouth with each word but didn’t make a sound.
This is great, Carol thought, as they walked on. I’m going to have a good birthday party after all.
“Do you have a cold or something?” Kay asked Carol. “You haven’t been singing.”
Carol was embarrassed. “I didn’t think anyone would notice.”
“What do you mean?” Kay persisted.
Carol tried to laugh. “I wasn’t singing because I can’t.”
“Neither can I,” Kay admitted.
“But you were singing!” Carol said.
“Sure! Anybody can sing Christmas carols. They’re so beautiful they make you forget everything else!”
“Not if you have a squeaky voice like mine!” Carol argued.
“Mine’s funny too. But I just think about the words,” Kay explained. “I could never sing a solo, but in a group like this it’s great.”
Think about the words, Carol reminded herself as the girls began singing “Silent Night” at the Langstons.
Carol listened carefully to Kay—“Round yon virgin mother and Child, Holy Infant, so tender and mild.”
Kay’s voice strained at the notes and squeaked almost as much as Carol’s, but the words came out loud and clear and full of meaning.
Carol joined in the third verse, but the squeaks and high notes were still there. She strained and tried harder, but nothing helped. She was sure Krista was staring at her out of the corner of her eye.
“I can’t do it,” Carol said to Kay as they walked on.
“You’re still worrying about the notes,” Kay said. “Think about the words instead.”
“I’ll try,” Carol promised.
The crisp winter air became colder as the girls moved on to the next house and started singing.
Carol took a deep breath and joined in, “Hark! the herald angels sing.” At first the words came softly and reluctantly, but as she thought about their meaning, Carol sang with enthusiasm. “With th’ angelic host proclaim Christ is born in Bethlehem!” Her heart suddenly took over and she felt as if she just had to let the whole world hear those beautiful words.
“Wow,” Krista whispered to Carol as they walked on. “You really sing with feeling. Everyone is sure to get the Christmas spirit when you’re around.”
“But I don’t have a beautiful voice like yours,” Carol protested.
“That doesn’t matter,” Krista said. “It’s the enthusiasm that counts.”
“That’s right,” Kay agreed, and winked at Carol.
“Let’s sing ‘Carol’s carol’ again,” Julie called as the group stopped before the next house. “That sounded great.”
Carol’s heart was filled with happiness as she thought of the meaning of the words and then sang out with the other girls, “Glory to the newborn King!”

Several years ago I was visiting a friend. In the morning, she was trying to get her baby’s food ready. I watched the baby cry, oblivious to the fact that her mom was getting her exactly what she wanted and needed. Certainly, this is what a baby should be doing—crying to communicate her needs. However, I have thought of that moment several times since when I have been impatiently waiting. How often when I am waiting do I recognize or look for the pieces that are falling into place exactly as I need them to? Or how often am I unaware of others or my Heavenly Parents working on my behalf?

I’d like to share a bit of my story with you.

In a way, it began in my college days at Brigham Young University in Provo. Like many of you, I struggled with choosing a major. My dilemma, if one can call this a dilemma, was that I loved too many subjects – Math, English, History, Biology, Home Economics, Accounting, even Horticulture. Everything was fun and fascinating to me. So narrowing it down to a single major – that was tough. Like many of you, I changed my mind, more than once! After much prayer and careful thought, I eventually chose to pursue a Bachelor of Science degree in Geography with an emphasis in Travel and Tourism.

Did the Lord guide me in my decision? I believe so. The world of travel was an exotic choice of major for this small town girl. I come from a family of educators – parents, grandparents, aunties and uncles. Most of them teachers. I thought I too would be a teacher. So you may all chuckle, but back then for me, choosing a degree in Travel and Tourism was going out on a limb! However, as it turned out, the Lord guided me to choose a degree which would eventually help supplement my family’s income in a place where tourism was the number one industry – Hawaii.

The Lord continued to guide me in a way that would lead me here to Brigham Young University–-Hawaii. On September 11, 2001, the tragic bombing of the twin towers in New York City had a drastic effect on the tourism industry. Air travel almost ground to a stop for a time. Within a month of that tragedy, the agency for which I worked made the decision to shut its doors.

Now a year previous to this event, my husband’s employment seemed shaky for a time and so I sought out another part-time job and interviewed for the position of an academic advisor here on this campus. However, my husband’s job stabilized and I was prompted by the Spirit to withdraw my application. Months later, when I was facing unemployment in the travel industry, I admit that I questioned that earlier prompting I had received to withdraw that application! Why had the Lord told me to let that opportunity pass by? My ability to help sustain our young family was now uncertain.

I should not have questioned. The Lord was still mindful of me and helped me immediately secure part-time employment at a local elementary school. I say immediately because this new job opportunity came the week before my last day of employment at the travel agency. Upon the kind recommendation of a friend, I applied for an opening at the elementary school and was hired. The Lord does work in mysterious ways because the principal later told me that he had seen me working with his grandchildren in the Primary organization and that was one of the things which prompted him to hire me. So this is a testimony to everyone here that all experience is to our benefit. Every calling you receive from the Lord will add to your skills and help you develop into the person the Lord knows you can be.

So right now you are all thinking, “Wait, that can’t be the end of the story because Sister Ching is not yet here at BYU–Hawaii!” Almost a year passed when I once again saw an opening for the same position for an academic advisor that I had interviewed for 18 months previously. I immediately felt a confirmation of “now is the time” and fortunately, was offered the position when I applied. I knew that I was where the Lord wanted me to be. Part of my testimony that confirms this to me comes from my patriarchal blessing. I’ll share just a small part of it in which the Lord tells me that men and women will come to me for counsel and advice in the activities of their lives. To the shy, young girl who received this blessing, this sentence from my patriarchal blessing was almost unimaginable at the time. Now, this sentence of my blessing is clearer to me.

I haven’t shared this experience widely with a lot of people previously because it is very personal and sacred to me. Perhaps to others, my story may seem insignificant when you look at the big plan. It’s true, my story is a miniscule piece of the Lord’s larger plan. But to me, this is further testimony that He truly cares for each one of us individually and will guide our path if we allow Him to.

The Hansen family creates a conference concession stand every year. The children earn conference coins by being ready on time, cleaning the breakfast table, and being kind. During the first session of conference, they earn coins by listening to speakers and completing quiet conference activities. Before the second session, the conference concession stand opens, and they can purchase goodies with the coins they earned. This tradition has become a family favorite!

“Seven, six, five, four, three two, one—eight!” Carrie lifted her finger from her zoo-animal calendar and once more silently counted down the days before she’d be baptized. Today was Sunday, and in just seven more days she’d be eight years old and ready for baptism.
Today was really, really important, too, though, and maybe just a little bit scary because today she would have her baptism interview with the branch president. President Stevenson wasn’t unfriendly, but Carrie was worried he’d give her a test about the Articles of Faith or the Ten Commandments or something.
“Carrie,” Mom called, “it’s time to get up. Remember, your interview is right after sacrament meeting.”
Carrie slipped out of bed and onto her knees. During her prayer, a warm feeling came over her that everything would be OK. She remembered that it was the sort of calm feeling that Sister Cowan, her CTR-A teacher, had taught her could come to her through the Holy Ghost.
“Get out of my way,” Nathan growled later as he shoved past Carrie into the bathroom.
Wow! she thought, I hope he’s not going to be a real grump all day.
But Nathan was still scowling as he, Carrie, and Mom and Dad left for church.
“Good morning, Carrie. Big day coming up next week, right?” Carrie felt a familiar arm around her shoulder as Sister Cowan gave her a hug. “Your interview with President Stevenson is today, isn’t it? You’re really ready for baptism—I know you are.”
Sister Cowan always made Carrie feel special. But that warm feeling disappeared as “Nathan the Grump” came toward her.
Just then President Stevenson came out of the chapel. “I’ll be seeing you right after church, won’t I, Carrie?” he said with a big, warm smile.
Carrie nodded and smiled back. Maybe our visit will be OK, she thought.
Then President Stevenson smiled at Nathan. When Nathan didn’t smile back—as she had predicted, he was being a dedicated grump today—the branch president simply said, “Nathan, remember?”
Miracles really do happen, Carrie thought as Nathan’s face started to crinkle, then break into a full-fledged smile!
“I remember.” Nathan’s smile grew and lasted as he ambled off down the hall.
Did I see a miracle? Carrie wondered. And what did Nathan “remember”?
During sacrament meeting, Carrie glanced over at Judy, a Merrie Miss. Carrie thought that she always looked sort of sad. But now, as Judy looked up from her hymnbook, she broke into a smile! Following Judy’s gaze, Carrie saw President Stevenson smiling at Judy from the stand.
How can he make “Nathan the Grump” and “Sad Judy” smile when nobody else can? Carrie asked herself.
Soon the closing prayer had been given and everyone was milling around the foyer, visiting with each other.
“Carrie.” She felt a light hand on her shoulder. “Are you ready for our interview?”
Nodding, she followed the branch president to his office.
“I’m really glad we can visit today about your baptism,” President Stevenson told her. “Would it be OK if we started with a prayer?”
When he finished the prayer, he opened his scriptures and asked, “Do you remember when the Prophet Abinadi tried to teach King Noah about God? The only one in the king’s court who believed Abinadi was Alma. Upon his conversion, he gathered others and taught them the gospel. He said that for people to be ready for baptism, they should ‘mourn with those that mourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort, and to stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places.’”*
As they talked about all that Alma had written, Carrie felt glad that Sister Cowan had discussed it all in her class.
When President Stevenson asked Carrie if she would be willing to do all that Alma said, she answered yes and really meant it.
“The next verses talk about a covenant between the people being baptized and God. Do you know what a covenant is?” President Stevenson asked.
Covenant? Oh no! This is the test, and I can’t remember what it is! “Well, uh, not really,” was all she could mumble.
“That’s OK, Carrie. Lots of people don’t really know. A covenant is an agreement, or promise, between two people. They agree, or covenant, that as long as one of them does what’s been agreed upon, the other is bound to do what he promised. Alma spoke of baptism as a covenant between us and God. If we agree to be baptized and always remember the Savior and keep His commandments, He agrees to send His spirit to always be with us. Do you understand this?”
“I guess so, sort of.”
The branch president smiled. “Maybe it’ll be easier to understand if you and I make a simple agreement, OK? Here’s our agreement: Whenever I see you, whether it’s here at church or someplace else, I promise that I will smile at you, even if I’m not feeling happy. But if I do that, then you have to promise that you’ll smile back at me, even if you’re not feeling like smiling. Do you think we can make that agreement?”
“OK. I can do that.”
“Good. Now, as a symbol of our agreement to smile, let’s shake hands.” Her small hand was smothered by his, but it felt warm and firm, not scary.
“Now just as our handshake was a symbol of our agreement, your baptism will be a symbol of the covenant—a very sacred agreement—that you are making with God. He’ll send you His Spirit if you take the name of Jesus Christ upon you by being baptized and remembering Him and obeying His commandments. The sacrament prayers will help you remember this sacred covenant that you are making with Heavenly Father. Do you understand better now?”
“Yes, President Stevenson.” Carrie beamed.
“I think that you’re prepared for your baptism, Carrie. Tell your parents I’d like to talk with them about arrangements for your baptismal service.”
She got up to leave, then turned back with a grin. “President Stevenson, have you made the smile agreement with the other kids who have been baptized?”
“Yes, I have. Everyone—even adults—who have been baptized in our branch since I’ve been branch president have made the same agreement with me. I think it helps everyone understand better what a covenant is, and every time we smile at each other, we remember just how sacred our baptism covenant is—their smiles show that they are happy to have made their covenants with Heavenly Father. Don’t you think so?”
Remembering Nathan and Judy, Carrie thought so too. She smiled as she hurried to find her parents.

“Way to go, everyone! Great job on our presentation!” Nathan smiled as he held up their first-place ribbon. The other members of the farming club high-fived each other. “We’d better head out so we won’t get home too late,” Nathan said. He was the club president. The group had a two-hour drive ahead of them, and after leading his team to victory, Nathan was looking forward to getting home in time for Sunday.
“We talked to Mr. Wimple, and he said we could stay another night and go back tomorrow,” Rand said.
Nathan looked at Mr. Wimple, one of the group advisers. “But we’re supposed to be back before Sunday.”
Mr. Wimple shrugged. “Well, everyone seemed to want to stay, so I thought it would be OK this time. I’ll call parents for permission.”
“What’s the big deal, Nathan?” Rand asked. “We can stay and have fun tonight and go home later tomorrow.”
The other club members had gathered around to listen. They looked at Nathan to see what he would say.
“But … we were supposed to go home tonight,” Nathan said. “And I need to be back for church tomorrow.” Nathan liked going to church with his family. Plus, tomorrow he was going to pass the sacrament for the first time! He couldn’t do that if he was stuck here with the club.
“Come on, Nathan, you’re going to ruin it for all of us,” Abby complained. “There’s stuff we wanted to do tonight.”
“Well, maybe not this time,” Mr. Wimple said. “I guess we’d better head home.”
The kids all groaned as Mr. Wimple and his wife led them outside.
On the bus ride home, Nathan sat alone. The others had pushed past him and said some rude things as they headed to the back of the bus. Nathan felt hurt and sad. But he was still glad they were going home.
As Nathan walked into the chapel the next morning, he thought about what had happened yesterday. It felt good to be at church. The Holy Ghost was telling him that he was in the right place on the Sabbath. And he was excited to pass the sacrament!
On Monday, Nathan felt a little nervous going to school. The farming club was meeting early to talk about their next competition. Would they still be mad about what happened on Saturday?
“You’re late, Nathan,” Rand called out from the front of the room.
Nathan looked at the clock. Actually, he was five minutes early.
“We changed the meeting time,” Rand said. “And we changed the president. I’m the president now, and I’ll actually listen to what the rest of the club wants.”
Nathan almost dropped his bag. He couldn’t believe it! He knew the others had been angry, but he hadn’t thought they would find a new president. At least they hadn’t tried to kick him out of the club.
“I wish you’d waited for me so I could at least be part of the vote,” Nathan said as he found a chair and sat down.
“Too late,” Rand said as he turned to the other kids.
Maybe too late to make a choice on the vote, Nathan thought. But he could always choose how to act. Even though he felt sad, he felt peaceful inside too. When it came to choosing where to be on the Sabbath, Nathan knew he’d made the right choice.

All of us at various times in our lives struggle with choosing whether or not to become offended. Some years ago, before I came to BYU-Idaho, I was experiencing some turbulence in my life largely because of how I chose to react in regard to others. I wasn’t happy and was quick to point out faults in others. I didn’t do it publicly or out loud, but it was something I did in my heart and under my breath. It took me a while to admit that I wasn’t happy and for the most part, I was someone who could become offended easily.
It was at this point in my life that I decided to do some searching and pleading with the Lord for an improvement in attitude. I was attracted to conference talks as never before and I read and re-read some selected talks a number of times over a period of months. After a time, I decided I was willing to do about anything to become happier and I needed God’s help.
In the process of all this, I came up with a saying that I would rehearse under my breath whenever I felt I was approaching the weakness to be easily offended. I would stop and say to myself: “I’m probably wrong in my assumptions about so and so, and Troy, you need to work on your own weaknesses.”
What lead me to develop such a little phrase? Perhaps it was from these two insights from the foremost conference talk that I read several times during this period. It was President Ezra Taft Benson’s talk “Beware of Pride.” Two lines that I discovered from this talk penetrated my heart and caused me to examine myself like I had never done before. Here they are:
Think on this. Here’s the second:
The part about “withholding gratitude and praise that might lift another” really struck me. It was then that I decided to try something: to give compliments to others instead of harboring an incorrect assumption—a judgement, if you will. I noticed a difference right away and I started improving and feeling better at a rate I didn’t expect. And the responses I received back from those whom I gave a simple word of encouragement to built my confidence, in that their compliments to me in return gave me something more than what I had anticipated.

It’s a little different growing up in the Middle East. In Saudi Arabia there’s not a big Young Women program, because the foreign families who make up the branch often send their high-school-age girls off to boarding schools in Europe or the U.S.
But thanks to a special project, the girls will never forget that they are to “stand for truth and righteousness.” Before each girl leaves, she receives a quilt. Each square has been made by one of her classmates and has something to do with the Young Women values. Mothers and daughters worked together for hours to piece and sew the quilts together.
“Our prayers and encouragement have gone off with these quilts and girls,” says Debby Gibson, a YW adviser. They’ve got the girls covered.

“As small boys, my brothers and I used to wear our hair short, as short as the clippers would cut it. I think Uncle George was about the only one who had enough money to buy a pair of clippers in those days. So we’d always go up to Uncle George’s to get our hair cut, and Ezra T. was the biggest boy, so he’d always cut our hair. He’d start at the back and come right over to the front. Then he’d go by one ear over to the other ear. Then he’d get the mirror and show us how we looked, and we had four patches of hair. He’d say, “Is that the way you wanted it?” We’d tell him no, and then he’d always discover that the clippers wouldn’t cut anymore. He’d tease us for a long while, and then finally the clippers would start working and he’d finish our hair.

It seemed like any other early school morning for the Pleasant Grove (Utah) High School security guard, until he noticed a group of boys crowded around a small car in the student parking lot. It looked awfully suspicious. They must be trying to break in, he thought. But as he neared the scene to investigate, he recognized the boys and knew they were good guys, even though they were searching for a way to break into the empty car. The owner of the car had left the radio blaring, and the boys were trying to get in to turn it off.
Why did these popular guys take the time to rescue the little car? That Volkswagen belonged to 17-year-old Shellee Lundgren, a varsity stunt cheerleader.
Why had she left her radio on? Wouldn’t the loud music have been too much to overlook? Not for Shellee—she’s deaf. But even so, sometimes she likes to feel the vibrations of the music on the radio.
It may not be common for a cheerleader to be deaf, but with hard work and the support of others, Shellee is able to accomplish most everything she wants to. And even though Shellee’s hearing loss is not typical of most teenagers, she sure is. Without talking to her, you’d never even guess she has a hearing disability. She’s usually with friends or talking on the phone, she dates, and her long hair covers the hearing aid she wears behind her left ear. She reads lips, so she can usually understand you, but it can be hard to understand her until you get used to the way she talks. But what strikes you most about her is that she hasn’t let her hearing problem slow her down. She’s outgoing and not afraid to try whatever she wants to do. Her philosophy is “Never say I can’t.”
Shellee wanted to dance, so in grade school she started dance and gymnastics classes. She has been competing and performing ever since. Someone signals Shellee when to begin, and then she counts through the rest of the piece. As a child, oftentimes she was more on beat than the rest of the children because she counted. “Most judges never even know I’m deaf,” she says.
Because Shellee is always trying, people are drawn to her. For example, in ninth grade Shellee wanted to be a cheerleader. When it came time for tryout practices, she went but struggled trying to understand all the instructions. Luckily, her bubbly personality and eagerness to learn won her the admiration of the other girls and one varsity cheerleader in particular.
Michelle Shoell, then a junior, took Shellee home with her every night that week to practice with her. Shellee could do the moves; she just needed help combining the moves with the words. “She is one of the most sparkling people I’ve ever met,” Michelle says, “and I wanted to see her make it.”
Before the final tryouts, Michelle even told the coach, “I don’t really care if I make it as long as Shellee does.” Both girls made the squad.
In no way is this kindness towards Shellee a one-way street. Shellee makes it easy to become her friend. Melissa Despain, a former fellow cheerleader, says when she first met Shellee she was afraid they wouldn’t be able to communicate. “But she was really nice about it,” she says. Shellee is more than willing to talk slower, repeat herself, and she always smiles to encourage you to continue trying.
Raychellene Jasper, Shellee’s best friend and fellow cheerleader, can hear, and the two have been known to be inseparable. Raychellene helps Shellee understand all the instructions at their practices. Raychellene says, “She makes me feel unique and special and like I’m needed and wanted. It’s a mutual dependency.”
Shellee is a friend as well as an example. “A lot of people didn’t think I could make the cheerleading team,” Shellee says. But when she did, some kids took it to heart. They thought, If she did it, maybe I could too.
It may seem like Shellee’s got it made. Being deaf hasn’t kept her from dancing, doing well in school, or making friends. However, it has made the gospel harder for her to understand than it is for most teenagers.
Only in the last year has Shellee attended a deaf ward, so until then she had to fend for herself at church. “I never knew how much she was actually getting,” says Janell Frost, one of Shellee’s Primary and Young Women teachers.
Fortunately, Pleasant Grove High School has a deaf seminary teacher whose class Shellee can attend. “Seminary has helped me a lot,” she says. “For example, I didn’t know I would live again after I die. I was so happy because then I knew I would see Grandma again.” Shellee hadn’t been able to grasp that concept until then, although she has always been an active member of the Church.
Reading the scriptures is hard for Shellee because of the vocabulary. She doesn’t recognize words from having heard them in conversation; she has to learn each word individually by looking it up. Words like nevertheless are hard enough to understand when you’ve heard other people use them. How is a deaf person to understand it without help?
Shellee’s seminary teacher is helping to solve this problem with drawings. She has her students draw pictures in their scriptures that go along with the stories so they can have a better idea of what is going on. “It helps a lot,” Shellee says.
In part, Shellee wants to go on a mission because she has had a difficult time understanding the gospel principles. “I want to go on a deaf mission so I can learn more. I want to help those who are lost.”
Whether they are obvious or not, we all have our barriers to overcome—even smart, outgoing, cheerleaders who accidentally leave their radios blaring. But when we work together and keep on trying, those barriers come crumbling down.

Robbie buttoned his jacket to the top and stuck his hands deep into his pockets as he turned to leave.
“Do you have enough money for your valentines?” his mother asked.
Robbie nodded, making the coins in his left pocket jingle.
“Remember to get enough for everyone in your class,” Mother cautioned. “And don’t forget your new teacher.”
Should I get a valentine for Miss Evers? he wondered. She’s just a substitute teacher.
Robbie was choosing some valentines from the drugstore card rack when two of his school friends came in.
“Hi, Steve, Rick,” Robbie greeted them.
“Any good ones left?” Steve asked.
“Lots of them,” Robbie answered.
“Maybe I’ll just get this package,” Rick decided, picking up a cellophane bag and reading: “Forty valentines with envelopes, plus one for Teacher.”
“I wish we knew Mrs. Davis’s address,” Robbie spoke up. “I bet she’d like to get some valentines from the class.”
“I have an idea!” Steve said excitedly. “We could all put cards in the valentine box for Mrs. Davis and ask the principal to take them to her.”
“That’s a great idea,” Rick agreed. “And we don’t have to worry about giving Miss Evers a valentine.”
Robbie frowned. He didn’t like Miss Evers very much, but he wondered if she’d be hurt when no one gave her a valentine.
“I might get one for both of them,” Robbie announced.
“How come?” Rick wanted to know. “Miss Evers isn’t really our teacher and it’s no fun being in her class.”
“I know,” Robbie admitted. “And I’ll be glad when Mrs. Davis is back, but—”
“But what?” Steve interrupted.
“Well, if I were a substitute teacher, I’d feel kind of bad if all the children brought valentines for the regular teacher and nobody gave one to me,” Robbie explained. “After all, Miss Evers has been our teacher for almost two weeks now.”
“But it’s her own fault that nobody likes her!” Rick argued. “She could at least smile once in a while.”
I wish she would smile, Robbie thought. Miss Evers is strict, all right, but at least she keeps the room quiet and makes sure we do our work.
When Robbie got home, he showed his mother the valentines he had picked out.
“Your friends at school will like these,” she said. “And I’m glad you bought one for each of your teachers. I know they’ll both appreciate them.”
After supper that night, Robbie signed and addressed his valentines. On Mrs. Davis’s card he added, “Get well soon!”
He wasn’t sure what he should put on Miss Evers’s card or even if he should sign his name. Finally he wrote, “I hope you have a happy Valentine’s Day!” and then he signed his name “Guess Who.”
The next afternoon Miss Evers placed the large red and white box on a table at the front of the room and removed the top. “We’ve finished our work for the day, and now it’s time to pass out valentines,” she announced.
Robbie’s heartbeat quickened as Miss Evers began to read off the names on each valentine. “Here’s one for Mrs. Davis,” she said. “I’ll see that she gets it. And here’s another one for her!” Soon there was a little stack of cards for Mrs. Davis.
“Marcia, Steve, Johnny, …” Miss Evers called as she passed out the valentines. Everyone seemed to be getting nearly an equal number—all but Miss Evers; she didn’t have any.
“Sharon, Robbie, Miss Evers—
Suddenly she stopped passing them out. “Miss Evers?” she echoed, a surprised look on her face. “How nice!”
Everyone was quiet as she opened the envelope. Robbie watched her expectantly.
“What a lovely valentine,” she said, smiling and holding it up. “And it’s from somebody named ‘Guess Who!’”
Robbie blushed as Steve and Rick looked at him.
“This is the nicest valentine I’ve received during all the years I’ve been a substitute teacher,” Miss Evers continued. She looked at the card again. “Thank you, ‘Guess Who,’ whoever you are!”
Miss Evers smiled a beautiful smile and it seemed to Robbie as though she were smiling right at him.

Jana B. from Baden-Württemberg, Germany, also loves to spread Christmas joy through simple acts of service.
“At first, we’d give our neighbors handmade gifts like soap, candles, or cookies,” Jana says. “Then, little by little, the neighbors started giving out Christmas gifts too. Now it’s a tradition. This year we baked the cookies for our neighbors with the missionaries and talked to our neighbors to bring them peace and joy. We don’t always do things with our neighbors and sometimes forget that they’re always there for us. When we give them Christmas gifts, it’s like a thank-you for helping us all year.”

I remember when I found information about my great-great-grandmother. While pregnant, she came to Argentina on a ship. During the voyage, she buried her son at sea. She was just a story until I found her name in a record. I became even closer to my grandparents, and I came to know my ancestors as if I had lived with them. I found information about my ancestors, shared the glad tidings of eternal sealing, and helped bless many generations.

I have a nephew named Seth. When he was born, it was discovered that he had an extra chromosome, and that has made some aspects of life challenging. I remember his father wondering shortly after this discovery if he would be Seth’s only friend in life. Today, Seth has more friends than all of our family combined.
A few years ago as I arrived home from work, Laurie, my wife, met me at the front door to let me know that Seth, then our five-year-old nephew, was missing. Family and friends gathered nearby to search the neighborhood. Driving the speed limit was a real test that day; every stoplight seemed to turn red. Sitting at one stoplight, I glanced out the window and noticed golfers on the course. I remembered thinking how silly golf seemed at this moment in time, when I was desperately driving to join the search for Seth. I thought, “Wouldn’t everyone in Rexburg be willing to stop what they were doing and join the search if they just knew what was happening?” What was happening? Was Seth lost? Kidnapped? Hurt?
Shortly after I arrived and joined others in the search, I heard a joyful cheer come from down the road. Seth had been found in a neighbor’s home when the children living in that home had returned from school. What a tender sight to see my brother and his wife reunited with their son. Seth’s brief, dramatic disappearance (and life for that matter) has caused me to frequently reflect upon the worth of a soul and what really matters in life.

Recently, a friend working on her Ph.D. received an impression during a Relief Society conference to shift the focus of her dissertation. She also felt prompted to go directly to the temple to ask the Lord further questions. She said, "While there, I was told how to make [this new focus] work...[and] how I could be both academically unbiased and spiritually honest. I occasionally receive clear words from the Spirit, but never have I been given such clear instructions....The task ahead feels incredibly difficult, but I know what direction to go and that the Lord expects it of me, and that makes all the difference."

Let me share a sweet, related story. I am currently serving as priest quorum advisor in our ward, and one of our priests related the following: he and a group of his friends had purchased their tickets and were going into a movie. As they were waiting, this young priest texted a friend and asked him to come down to the theater and join the group. His friend texted back that his parents had walked out of that particular movie the evening before and that he was not interested in seeing it.

Our young priest told his friends of this text from his friend, but they did not think it was a problem, and besides, they already had their tickets. Nevertheless, he tore up his ticket and went to work at his nearby place of employment. He understands threats to virtuous thoughts.

Min-Yo and the Moon Dragon In this modern Chinese fairy tale about a time almost before time, the moon is about to crash into the earth. The moon dragon might help, but the gossamer ladder to it will only support the lightest person. Min-Yo is that person. She gets to the moon and finds the dragon, which agrees to help—but how? The solution to the problem creates serendipity (a happy, unexpected side effect).Elizabeth Hillman6–9 years

Some years ago we stopped at a small restaurant. The young woman who served our meal was courteous but very sober. When she handed me the check, I said, “Can you tell us which road we take to get out of town?” Suddenly she burst into tears and said, “Mister, I don’t even know how I got into this town.”
I have wished more than once that we could have gone to a table in the corner and talked. Perhaps we could have helped her.

Garret W., 18, North Carolina, USA
When I was set apart to serve in the California San Bernardino Mission as a full-time missionary, my family was right there with me. This picture is of me hugging one of my brothers after I got set apart. It’s been a journey to get to this point, but I’m so grateful for the changes I’ve seen in myself and in my family.
My second-to-last year of high school, I got in a serious car crash. Before that I just wasn’t doing the things I should. But after the wreck, my viewpoint really shifted. My life could’ve been taken right then and there, and I did not want it to end like that. My bishop helped get me on the right path: reading the Book of Mormon daily and preparing to serve a mission.
Running track is my sport, my passion. After the wreck, I was out for the season, and I wondered what I even had left. But I turned to the Lord, and as I did, I had a phenomenal season the next year. There were still struggles, but what changed is instead of doing it for myself, I did it for the Lord.
Just seeing how many blessings can come from the fulness of the gospel was what changed me. Getting all of that happiness and joy, I want to spread it around the world. I’m longing for people to have the joy that I have every day because of the gospel. And that’s why I’m serving a mission: to help “bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man” (Moses 1:39).