Gospel Story Finder

Each July nearly a thousand volunteers gather at Hill Cumorah, New York, where the Prophet Joseph Smith received the gold plates. After only a week of rehearsals, they put on the Hill Cumorah Pageant, which tells the story of the Book of Mormon and of the Restoration of the gospel. Tens of thousands of people see the pageant each year. There is nothing else Brittany (11) and Tishna (10) Campbell would rather do for their family’s vacation than be in the pageant. The girls bake and sell chocolate chip and peanut butter cookies and brownies year round to raise money for the trip.
The Campbells didn’t have as far to travel as many volunteers. Their home is in Gowanda, New York, about a two-and-a-half-hour drive away. They arrived on a Friday. The next morning began with breakfast and a devotional. Then casting (choosing people for parts in the pageant) started.
There are ten major scenes in the pageant. Each scene has a director. Each director chose the people for their scene and what part each person would play. Brittany and Tishna’s little brother Montgomery (5) was given the part of Jesus Christ as a young child. Their mother and other brother, Christian (2), were assigned to the scene where Christ visits the Americas. Their father didn’t have an acting part. He’s served as a pageant choreographer (someone who plans out everyone’s movements on stage) for ten years.
The girls’ favorite scene to be in is the “Voyage to Ancient America.” When Tishna and Brittany went to the tryout, there were more children than parts. Three years earlier, Brittany had played a child on Nephi’s ship in the voyage scene. She’d had fun being tossed into the air on a blanket by other actors. She decided that it was someone else’s turn this year and tried out for another scene.
When the tryouts were over and the parts had all been assigned, the directors started blocking the scenes. Brittany and Tishna learned where to stand, what to do during the scene, and how to get on and off the stage. The speaking parts, music, and sound effects for the pageant were all prerecorded, but the actors had to learn to move and react in time with the tape. The first practices were held on the big lawn in front of the stage. Later, rehearsals were held on stage.
Tishna was cast as one of Lemuel’s daughters in the voyage scene. Wondering if and when she’ll get splashed by the water during the scene added excitement. Usually she did get wet. After the scene was over, she had to be especially careful to hang up her costume neatly so that it would dry before the next performance.
“The boat scene is the most fun,” Tishna said, “because you get to run and play during the scene.” The tricky part of her scene was opening the floor hatches so that Nephi’s ship could be raised onto the stage. “It can be hard to do it quickly enough,” she added.
Rehearsing wasn’t always easy. Brittany was cast in the “Burning of the Prophet Abinadi” scene. She played a page in King Noah’s court. It was an important part because she was responsible for handing fans to all of King Noah’s courtiers as they came onstage. But once she herself was onstage, she didn’t have much to do but stand beside King Noah’s throne. Rehearsals lasted up to three hours and sometimes were hot and boring, but she still wouldn’t trade being in the pageant for any other vacation.
Although they weren’t in it, Tishna and Brittany’s favorite part of the pageant was the harvest dance. “That’s when the Book of Mormon people were righteous and they prospered,” Tishna said. “It’s a happy scene—very colorful, and everyone is dancing.”
When Tishna and Brittany weren’t practicing their scenes, they met in small groups they were assigned to. They had leaders who prepared lessons, stories, and activities for them.
“I like working on our journals,” Brittany said. “We write things down, and the leaders give us stickers and stamps we can use to decorate the pages.”
One year each child drew a picture on a quilt block. The group leader sewed the blocks into a quilt. The child who picked up the most garbage from the grounds during the pageant would win the quilt. Brittany won it.
Tishna’s favorite group activity was stamping designs on fabric.
Montgomery liked making a little garden, and one day his group went out and looked at the trees and leaves through magnifying glasses.
Everyone involved with the pageant attended three 35-to-45-minute devotionals each day. Sitting quietly through the devotionals was the hardest part of the pageant for Montgomery and Christian, but Tishna and Brittany enjoyed them. On performance days, the actors didn’t have to arrive at the grounds until noon. The Campbells used this time to sleep a little longer, get pizza or ice cream together, or visit some of the Church historical sites in the area.
With all the work and practices, why do the Campbells keep coming? “I have been to the Hill Comorah Pageant every year since I was three years old,” Brother Campbell said. “It’s a family tradition.”
“At the pageant, people are so nice to you,” Brittany said. “You make a lot of friends here. When we get home, we run to the mailbox each day, looking for letters from our new friends.”
“Everyone plays with my little brothers, and there’s no fighting here,” Tishna added. “It’s exciting because it’s for the Church, and it helps you understand the Book of Mormon. It’s our favorite vacation in the whole world.”

Because of our financial needs, my father expected me to help earn money for the family. I wanted to serve a mission, but when I turned 19 years old, he asked that I wait one year to serve my mission so I could continue working to help my family. When I turned 20 years old, he asked that I wait another year to serve.
Just before I turned 21 years old, he wanted to request that I wait one more year. But my mother told him, “Let him go serve, and it will bless us.” This really happened. Before my mission, only a younger brother and I had worked to help support the family. As soon as I went on my mission, two more of my brothers and my two oldest sisters started working, so my family did better financially.

Dear Topher,
Thank you for the get-well card and the snapshot of you and that kangaroo on the playground. It sounds like school in Blackwater isn’t much different from here in Michigan, except I have never seen anyone bring a wallaby to class!
Yesterday was my twelfth birthday. My little sister, Kimmy, drew me a picture of an elephant on stilts. It was pretty funny. The nurse hung it on the wall by the side of my bed. Oh, and Mom and Dad bought me a puzzle—one of those hard ones with zillions of tiny pieces. I guess they think I’m going to be here for a while! Dr. Gunnerson tries to find a piece every time he comes in my room, but he says it’s harder to put together than some of his patients.
I feel about the same, I guess. Some days are better than others. It’s hard to know about cancer.
Well, I’d better go now, Topher. I’m real tired, and Dad is making funny faces and it makes it hard to write.
Your pen pal,
Cindy
Dear Topher,
It was fun reading your letter. Good luck with your part in that ward musical. Are you serious about your bishop playing Bigfoot? Maybe they grow bishops bigger in Australia—ha, ha!
Speaking of bishops, Topher, mine has been coming to see me a lot lately. In fact, he helped me finish that puzzle. It’s a picture of a raccoon and a turtle. I told him that I wish more people would show reverence for Heavenly Father’s creatures by being kind to them. He said that life is precious—all of it. I asked him if animals go to heaven when they die. He said that it says in the Pearl of Great Price that all things were created spiritually before they were placed temporally upon the Earth.* He said that spirits are eternal, so that certainly ups their odds!
Then we talked about dying, how it is a part of living, that it is like a door we all pass through in order to keep on living forever. He said that it isn’t so important how much time we have on earth but what we do with the time we have. Then he held me a long time and didn’t say anything. It was like he couldn’t talk. I think he was crying. Then he whispered in my ear and said that Heavenly Father was very proud of me and had a special place prepared for me in Heaven.
Later that day Dad and our home teachers—Brother Sullivan and his son Larry—gave me another blessing. Dad asked Heavenly Father that if it was His will that I should be called home early, that my pain might stop so I could better enjoy whatever time I have left. Well, Topher, guess what? The pain went away. It is easier for me to write now too.
Linda, one of the nurses, is bringing my supper in, and it smells good, so I guess I’ll say good-bye for now.
Your pen pal,
Cindy

By September 1951 the Korean War had reached a stalemate, so Dr. Kim returned to Korea. He had a strong desire to preach the restored gospel. He attended church in a U.S. military camp in Busan, where he taught the Gospel Doctrine class and shared his testimony with Korean visitors. U.S. soldiers taught the gospel in English to the youth, and Dr. Kim kindly interpreted for them. This was an effective way to share the gospel, and because Koreans trusted Dr. Kim, his example influenced many.
After suffering much from the Korean War, the people eagerly welcomed the gospel of Jesus Christ. Dr. Kim’s devotion finally bore fruit on August 3, 1952, when the first four people were baptized in Busan, Korea.
Dr. Kim later told a group of Saints, “I wouldn’t care if I had to give up my life, or my money, or my title, as long as I could be with my Savior.”3 His life evidenced this commitment to serving God.

Hi, my name is Kennedy Lee McKinnon. I am eight years old and in third grade. I attend church at the Whitecourt Branch in Whitecourt, Alberta, Canada. One day I was making a gelatin salad. When I threw the package away, I saw two $20 bills in the garbage. I put them in my pocket and thought, “Wow! Forty dollars!” Afterward, I felt guilty and gave them to my mommy. I felt better. I know I listened to the Holy Ghost and made the right choice. My mommy was glad, too, because my sister, who is one and a half, had taken the money from Mommy’s wallet and put it in the garbage.
Kennedy McKinnon, age 8Whitecourt, Alberta, Canada

I am a space nut. I love the intricate formations of stars and planets. Last year, I entered a scholarship competition and won a week’s stay at a space academy in Huntsville, Alabama. I was thrilled! I would be part of a team of other young people from all over the country.
As I began making plans for the trip, a thought occurred to me: Why not try to plant some gospel seeds at the space academy? I had been taught that I could pray for missionary opportunities, and I was aching to share the gospel with others. So for days before my trip to Alabama, I prayed for “seed planting” opportunities. It was the first time I had ever asked for a missionary experience.
On the second day in Alabama I received the opportunity I had been praying for. I had set my scriptures on my bed, and one of my new friends read the title out loud as though it were a foreign language. I couldn’t believe it! My friend, Sophia, had never heard of a Mormon and didn’t know what LDS meant. I explained to her what the Book of Mormon is and what LDS stands for.
When it was time to climb into bed, we continued our conversation. The topic changed as four other girls in our room joined the discussion, and eventually we were discussing … can you guess? Boys. I casually said that I wasn’t going to date until I was 16.
As the week progressed, almost every night we’d discuss some of the Church’s standards and beliefs. We talked about language, fashion, boys, and a little about the temple, sealings, and baptisms for the dead. We talked about charity, the theory of evolution, and the big bang theory.
Now that I’m back from the space academy, I reflect on my time spent there and the friendships I developed. The most important things I learned at the space academy were not about science and space. I learned that missionary experiences are everywhere. If you open your heart and mind and listen to the Spirit, you can spread the gospel wherever you go.

Getting in the “in crowd” was like trying to thread the eye of a needle with a cob of corn. It felt impossible! I had tried out for cheerleading, the drill team, the school chorus group, and the art club—I failed at all of them. I really cared about how other people perceived me, so I continued my quest for popularity and decided to join a club my school calls the “Mice Squad.”
Mice Squad is for girls, and Rat Squad is for boys. Together they make up the Pep Club. They attend the games and cheer from the stands, giving the cheerleaders a boost to get the audience excited. All the “who’s who” in the popular world of my high school were in this club.
On the way to the first meeting, my heart raced. This was it. This was my chance to be among the elite, the faces that everyone knew. And it didn’t even require singing or physical exertion. All it took to be in was school spirit, and I had plenty of that. I knew that beyond the door were all the popular faces, and I was about to become one of them.
Smiling, I pushed open the door only to see surprised looks when I walked in. Sarah [name has been changed], who was pretty popular, was leading the meeting. I didn’t know her very well, although during our sophomore year my father sometimes drove us to seminary together. I was glad to see her, as there were no other LDS girls in the room.
First Sarah shared with us how fun Mice Squad was going to be. As she talked, I became more delighted that I could be involved. I could just see myself at football games cheering, painting my face, and having fun with my peers.
After talking about the games, Sarah gave me an uncomfortable look and began talking about the parties. The first party was the initiation. She told us where and when it would be held. And then, to my horror, she explained that we had to drink alcohol to be in the Mice Squad. With this “requirement” so clearly stated, I sat there in shock.
I knew I had a choice. I felt impressed that I would have to leave them, or the Holy Ghost would leave me. A darkened feeling started in, but I waited to see if anyone else would leave. Then Sarah looked straight into my eyes and said, “If anyone reports us, we’ll come after you.” Immediately, I left the room alone, but the Spirit was still with me. I knew I was saying goodbye to my dreams of popularity.
It took me a long time after that meeting to realize that I had value, even though I was invisible to most of my peers. I realized that while I had chosen the “out crowd,” it was the right crowd. I knew the only opinions that truly mattered were my own and Heavenly Father’s. And I knew we were both smiling at my decision.
Now, after marrying in the temple and having three children, I still sometimes look through my autographed high school memory book. I always smile when I read the short note that says, “Thanks for being a girl with good works and for sticking up for what you believe in. Don’t let anyone sway you.”
Perhaps I wasn’t so invisible after all.

When Darren climbed onto the top bunk, he found a note on his pillow: “CK 24/7.” He slid down and showed it to his older brother, Byron.
“I got the same thing!” Byron said. “What does it mean?” They asked Mom if she knew anything about it.
“Hmm … ,” she said. Then she smiled. Darren knew she was up to something! “I bet you’ll get some answers during family home evening tomorrow.”
On the way home from school the next day, Darren and Byron tried to guess what CK stood for.
Candy Kangaroos? Curious Koalas? Crafty Kings?
Mom just smiled when they asked at dinner. When it was finally time for family night, Darren was ready for some answers.
But first Mom read a story from the Friend about a boy who helped take care of his grandma. The boy didn’t realize it, but by showing Christlike love he was keeping his baptismal covenants.
“We keep our covenants every day when we show love and take care of each other the way Jesus would,” Mom said.
“Hey! Covenants starts with C!” said Darren.
“And keep starts with K. So maybe CK is … Covenant Keepers?” said Byron.
“Yeah, and the 24/7 could mean all day, every day!” Darren shouted. “We cracked the code!”
Mom high-fived Darren and Byron. “Good job, guys! But the lesson’s not over yet. I need to tell you boys that I’ve been spying on you.”
“What do you mean?” Darren asked as he watched Mom pull out a piece of paper. He could see different notes for each day of the week.
“Well, I decided to write down the times I spied you keeping your covenants this week,” Mom said. “And here’s what I saw.”
Monday: Your friend asked if you wanted to watch a violent movie, but you suggested a better movie instead. You were obedient.
Tuesday: Darren’s teacher was grouchy, but you were still kind to her. She was so impressed she called and told me about it. You were forgiving.
Wednesday: Heidi came home from college for a few days. She was sad because one of her classmates died. You two brought her tissues and kept her company. You showed compassion.
Thursday: Byron used a bad word and wished he hadn’t. But you apologized and said you would do better. You repented.
Friday: When your older brothers came to visit and teased you, I saw you guys start to get angry. But then instead of fighting with them, you laughed it off. You showed self-control.
Saturday: When Mr. Gomez offered to pay you for playing with his grandkids, you two said you were happy to help for free. You served.
Sunday: You both sat quietly as you took the sacrament to renew your baptismal covenants. You were reverent, and you remembered how important the sacrament is.
As Mom read the list, Darren felt happy and warm inside. He knew it was the Holy Ghost telling him that those were good choices to make. He wanted to be a covenant keeper by following Jesus 24 hours a day, 7 days a week!

As time went by, a pair of missionaries taught us the riches of the restored gospel, of the doctrine of the plan of salvation, and of eternal families. We were baptized, and when my father began his calling as district president, his first objective was to journey to the temple and receive the blessings which would come because of that sacrifice. It was a 15-day journey covering 4,800 miles (7,725 km)—a journey filled with difficulties and setbacks, highways in poor condition, uncomfortable buses, not even knowing the route, but with great hope in the ordinances we would participate in.
Upon arriving in the city of Mesa, Arizona, we headed down an avenue at the end of which we could see the house of the Lord, gleaming and beautiful. I remember the joy which filled our hearts; we all broke out in songs and praising, and tears ran down the cheeks of many Saints.
Later in the temple we knelt as a family to hear the beautiful promises about an eternal family, with the certainty that our mother, though absent, was now our mother forever, and we felt the peace which comes from knowing that we are an eternal family.
The promise of life eternal thus gave us the riches of eternity! “Behold, he that hath eternal life is rich” (D&C 6:7).

My beloved and wonderful brothers and sisters, I seek an interest in your faith and prayers these few minutes that I stand before you. A few years ago, just before our departure for a mission to Belgium, our family went on a vacation. Upon arriving at a motel, our children were out of their clothes and into swimming suits before we could unload the car. As I passed the swimming pool, the sign struck me forcefully: “Do Not Leave Children Unattended.” Though I had read similar signs and ignored them many times before, I felt compelled to stay and watch my young children. (My wife wasn’t very happy; she was unloading the car.) In minutes, one of my daughters was in deep water, and deep trouble, and struggling for help. I dove into the pool, clothes and all, and with all the energy I had, I reached her just in time. I recognized that frantic yet unspoken call for help that day, and I will never forget it.

I would like to tell you about two young girls I know who were shining examples in sharing the gospel. When our daughter Nellie was almost eight years old, our family lived in Switzerland. Nellie was excited to be baptized. Just before her birthday, we had family home evening with our friend Tina. Tina had been taught by the missionaries. But she wasn’t sure if she wanted to be baptized.
After our lesson we asked Tina to pray. Tina didn’t speak much English, so she prayed in Chinese. We didn’t understand her words, but we felt the Spirit when she prayed.
Later that night Nellie asked if she and Tina could be baptized on the same day. We didn’t know how Tina would feel about that idea. But we all agreed that Nellie should at least call and ask. To our surprise, Tina said yes!
Nellie and Tina were baptized that weekend. Later, Tina told us a wonderful story. She reminded us about her prayer at our family home evening. In her prayer she had asked Heavenly Father to let her know if she should be baptized. When Nellie called later that night, Tina knew that Heavenly Father had heard her prayer.

Every time I attend my Church meetings, I feel a great desire to go every week, but for various reasons I don’t. I find plenty of excuses. I’m a carrier of HIV, and my life has gotten pretty complicated. It gets more complicated every day. But the article by Juli Housholder, “It’s Just Hair,” gave me the strength I needed to get organized and set some new goals.
The same thing happened to me that happened to Juli. I lost almost all my hair—in my case because of the strong medications I’ve had to take to keep me alive. But her testimony really woke me up, and now I’m getting back on the path. I had lost sight of my goal, which is to return to the presence of my Heavenly Father. I’m just now starting to realize that because of my illness I had forgotten the Lord.
Thanks for the testimonies you publish from members all across the world and for the talks by our leaders.Name withheld

In the spring after an especially exciting day, I just had to call “home” to tell mom and dad the big news. The voice on the other end of the line said, “Honey, we’re glad you called. We were just going to call you. Dad and I have talked to the headmaster at Jackson Preparatory School, and they have room for you this next year. We know this is where you should be. We really want you to plan to come here for school next year.” Silence. I felt my world slipping again.
“But, mom, I just can’t. I tried out for madrigals just yesterday, and I feel so good about it. My big dream, remember?” I cried, and mom cried. How could I leave everything and everyone? All my dreams of being a senior at Viewmont—I had waited so long. But when parents like mine say they both have a strong feeling that I should do something, I know that I should. When I said, “Okay, mom and dad, I will come,” a sweet, peaceful feeling came over me, and I knew it would be all right.

The next thing Jake knew, he was cold, so very, very cold. Snow was blowing in his face, and an ice cold wind cut through the thin, coarse jacket he was now wearing. His legs were covered by very thin, gray wool pants with patches on both knees. He couldn’t feel his feet and had to lift them out of the snow to see if they were still there. His high-top, cross trainers had been replaced by old-fashioned boots. But the toes of the boots were completely worn through, revealing the red wool socks that now covered his frozen toes.
Taking in his surroundings, Jake became aware that he was standing on the bank of a wide river. There were people on both sides of the river pulling and pushing handcarts and shivering in the cold. Those on the opposite side of the river appeared to be waiting for their turn to walk down into the water and cross to Jake’s side. Jake shivered involuntarily as he looked at the sheets of ice floating on the cold, gray water.
“What is this?” was all he could say before he heard a cry for help.
“My boy, my boy! Somebody save my boy!” The cry came from the far side of the river, and Jake focused on a woman with several children gathered around her. She was screaming and pointing at a boy, no more than 10 or 12, being carried downstream with their handcart by the force of the current. For an instant, Jake was frozen in terror as he watched the tragedy unfold before him. It seemed hopeless. Then he noticed someone from his side of the river racing down the bank toward the boy. The rescuer jumped into the water, splashed out to the boy, and pulled him and his handcart toward the safety of the shore.
Something finally clicked within Jake, and he ran down to the bank of the river. He reached the water just in time to help pull the boy and his rescuer up onto the bank. With chattering teeth, the boy thanked the rescuer over and over again, “Thank you, Annie! Thank you, Annie!”
For the first time, Jake realized that the rescuer was a young girl not much older than himself. As he reached out his hand and pulled her out of the water, he asked, “Annie? Annie Hicks?”
She looked at him for a moment with a quizzical look on her face and then replied in an English accent, “Why of course it is. Have you had a bump on your head today? Now quit looking at me that way, and let’s get this poor chap back to his family and into camp.” Jake smiled sheepishly, took hold of the handcart, and pulled it up the hill toward the rest of the company.
As he walked into the camp, Jake realized it was like none other he had ever seen. There were four to five hundred men, women, and children, all in wet and frozen clothes. From what Jake could see, few, if any, had dry clothes to change into. Some were trying to clear away snow and set up tents, but the ground was too frozen to drive the tent pegs. One or two small fires burned, but there wasn’t any additional firewood in sight. There were a few people eating, but what they ate looked like nothing more than a flour paste. Jake thought about the masterpiece burger and fries he had eaten for dinner. It probably would have fed half the camp.
“How are these people going to survive the night?” he wondered aloud as he helped Annie pull her cart into camp. Annie looked at him but didn’t respond. As they passed cart after cart, he began to wonder if they would ever find Annie’s family. “Where’s your family’s camp?” he finally asked.
Annie stopped pulling and studied him closely before responding. “My family is in England. They disowned me the day I was baptized. I don’t expect that I will ever hear from them again.” As she spoke she laid down the handcart handle and turned to unpack her few belongings.
“You, you’re here by yourself?” Jake’s disbelief and shivering caused him to stammer. After all, here was a girl, no older than himself, pulling a handcart across the country in the middle of winter without her family.
“No, I’m not by myself,” Annie responded matter-of-factly. “I’m surrounded by my brothers and sisters, and God is with us.”
“But how, Annie? How can you keep going without your family and with so much suffering?”
Now Annie stopped working and looked directly across the handcart at Jake. “From the moment I heard the gospel, I knew it was true. The day after I was baptized, my family heard of my baptism and told me some of the vilest stories about the Mormons. They said if I joined the Mormons I would be ruined for life. That night I prayed with all my heart to know the truth. I prayed, ‘Dear Lord, do not let me do wrong. Let me know tonight, dear Father; let me know tonight.’ I immediately was comforted by a wonderful dream. A book was opened to me, and the leaves were turned in rapid succession until the page with my record was found. On the page was my name without a mar or blemish against it. A loud clear voice spoke to me saying, ‘This is the way. Walk ye in it.’ When I woke the next morning, I laughed for joy to think that I had been heard and answered. I told my folks that it had been made known to me that Mormonism was right, and I would follow it.”
She hesitated for a moment and Jake looked down. A warmth burned within him that even the most severe cold couldn’t stop. Annie stepped around the corner of the cart and touched him on the sleeve. “This is the right way, Jake. Walk in it.”
The river crossing described in the story is based on the Martin handcart company’s crossing of the North Platte River.
The rescue of the “fine young chap” (Annie’s words) and her testimony were taken from her unpublished autobiography, which is in the possession of family members. The conclusion of the rescue story is heart wrenching. The young boy Annie pulled from the river insisted on searching for firewood that night for his widowed mother. “When he had been gone a long time, a search was made for him, and he was found frozen to death with his sticks in his arms.”

We sat huddled on the wet lawn in front of the Joseph Smith Monument in Sharon, Vermont—the birthplace of the Prophet. Draped in ponchos in a vain attempt to keep dry, we strained to hear our leader over the sound of the rain. Shortly, we would finish our final activity—a few moments alone in the woods, meditating and doing some self-evaluation.
The idea really excited me. Earlier, a speaker had related to us a story about President David O. McKay receiving his patriarchal blessing. Thirteen-year-old David was, at the time, a champion marble player. After the blessing, the patriarch told David that he had more important things to do than play marbles. I felt that now, too, was the time for me to “put away my marbles” and decide what to do with my life. A big part of that decision depended on knowing if the Church was true. I decided to ask our Heavenly Father.
The world seemed to fall silent as I entered the woods. With my poncho pulled around me to protect me from the rain, I found a secluded spot and sang some hymns to myself. Then I read the scriptures for a while. When I felt ready, I knelt to pray.
I was excited to pray, but I was also nervous. I had felt the Spirit before—in fast and testimony meetings and when I had received a testimony of the Book of Mormon—but I couldn’t honestly say that I knew the Church was true. What if I prayed and there was just nothing? What if, out here in the woods, kneeling and praying aloud got me nothing but wet?
But I decided that I had to try. So I knelt on the soggy leaves and bowed my head in prayer. I spoke in a whisper, fearful that someone might eavesdrop, and asked very simply to know if I really belonged to God’s true church. I finished my prayer and remained kneeling, awaiting an answer.
At first, I received an impression that I already knew the Church was true. But I figured that must have been my own thoughts, so I prayed again.
“You already know,” came the answer again, along with the warm and calm feeling of the Spirit enveloping me with peace and joy.
My heart quickened, and I couldn’t hold back the smile that covered my face. I realized that through seminary and my personal study, I had built my testimony step by step, precept upon precept, so slowly that I hadn’t even realized I had it.
I had a testimony of the Church, and I could now put aside the less important things in my life and get on with my spiritual growth. I felt so relieved, so content, and so grateful that I knew personally that the Church was true. Still kneeling, I bowed my head again and gave a prayer of thanks to Heavenly Father for his witness that, although I hadn’t recognized it before, I already knew.

My family wanted to focus on the Christmas spirit during the Christmas season, so we decided to do a secret “12 Days of Christmas.” We chose a family in our stake who were good friends of ours and had been going through a rough time. On each night of the 12 days leading up to Christmas, my four younger siblings and I prepared a gift with that day’s theme. For example, on the second day we used turtle chocolates for “two turtle doves,” and on the seventh day for “seven swans-a-swimming,” we used goldfish crackers and bubbles. We dropped off the nightly treats on the family’s doorstep, rang the doorbell, and ran and hid so they couldn’t find us.
On Christmas Eve, the 12th day of Christmas with “12 drummers drumming,” we brought the family a box of Drumstick ice-cream-cone treats and let them know who we were. They were so happy and thanked us for helping them feel love during the Christmas season.
Because that family felt loved they decided that they also wanted to show love to other families. My family also had such a positive experience spreading the Christmas spirit that we still continue this tradition. I’m grateful my family could focus on the true spirit of Christmas and help others feel it as well. Those nightly treat drop-offs have become some of my favorite Christmas memories.
Sydney J., Alabama, USA

I remember as a youth walking with my mother up the dusty road to the bishop’s house in a day when we often paid tithing from our animals and produce. As we walked, I said, “Why do we take the eggs to the bishop?” She answered, “Because they are tithing eggs and the bishop receives the tithing for Heavenly Father.” My mother then recounted how each evening when the eggs were brought in, the first one went into a small basket and the next nine went into a large basket. I first learned the law of tithing from my beloved mother.

I was never the most popular girl in my school, but I had tons of good friends, people to talk to and trust. Most of the students at school, including some of my friends and I, made fun of a girl in my class because she was different. We would tease her and call her names. We thought she looked funny, so we were just using her to entertain ourselves.
One Friday night some of my friends and I were at a friend’s house. We stayed up late talking, and we started talking about this girl. Then one of my friends said that she used to be friends with this girl and that she was made fun of last year, too. She told us that when they were friends, this girl used to call her on the phone every day after school. She said that sometimes it sounded like she was crying.
This made me think twice about how this girl must have felt. So I decided to stop making fun of her. That next week, instead of saying something mean or laughing at her, I would smile at her. After a few weeks, we began saying hi to each other in the halls. The next month we started talking more. We became very good friends.
One day we were walking to the bus, and this girl looked at me and said, “You mean the world to me, and I am so glad you’re my friend because you’re so nice to me. You respect me for who I am, and you make me so happy. You give me a reason to come back to school every day.”
After she told me this, I couldn’t speak. All I could do was say thanks and think about how much our friendship meant to her. It made me feel like someone out there loved me and respected me for how I acted toward them. It made me feel like I was worth something.

One day my friend got angry with me. She yelled and shouted at me. For two weeks I was angry with her. After the first week, she asked me if I wanted to walk with her. I said no. Then one day I prayed and asked Heavenly Father if He would help me not be angry. The next week my friend asked me if I would walk with her, but I still said no. The next time she asked me, I wasn’t angry, and we walked together from then on. Heavenly Father helped me forgive my friend. And that’s how I learned that self-control works, just like Elder Gibbons said in the Friend.

“Wow, did you see that?” my seven-year-old son, Weslon, exclaimed in delight as he watched the football players in action .He wished aloud, “I’d sure like to meet some of the team.”
We frequently found ourselves at the Round Valley High School football games in Eager, Arizona. Besides Weslon, my husband and I had become involved in the games because of our daughter Mitzi, who was a student at the school. As the season progressed, football heroes had blossomed in young Weslon’s impressionable mind.
Battling my own shyness, I determined to help this stargazing, bashful boy meet some of his heroes. “We’ll go talk to some of the team,” I told him after the game. I then led my son onto the field into the crowd. We approached one of his heroes and tried to offer congratulations. The young man walked past us, aware only of himself and two chattering girls who had cut in front of us to reach him. The next player mumbled “thanks” without stopping as I told him “good game” and tried to tell him he had an admirer in my son.
Reluctantly, we approached the last player. As I told him what a good job he had done, Ty Workman stopped, gave a big smile and said, “Thank you very much!”
Encouraged by his response, I started telling him of Weslon’s admiration. Ty’s black hair and handsome face dripped with sweat from his efforts on the playing field as he listened. He extended his hand to shake Weslon’s and said, “Thanks buddy. What’s your name?”
My son quietly said, “Weslon,” and shyly looked down at the ground.
I told Ty, “Weslon likes the way you play.” Ty smiled at him and said, “Thanks a lot. I’m really glad to meet you, Weslon, buddy.”
Mitzi went to school the next day and told Ty, “My little brother thinks you’re a special person.” From then on she relayed messages between Ty and Weslon. Soon the two boys became real buddies. After each football game they could be found together with Ty’s arm draped around Weslon, chatting about the game. We attended every football game, even those out of town.
As we became acquainted with Ty, we found he was popular with everyone—young and old. He didn’t drink, smoke, or take drugs, and he had good moral values. He encouraged Weslon to avoid harmful things and often repeated his favorite phrase, “Stay close to the Lord.”
Several weeks into this friendship, Mitzi came home from school with some disturbing news. Her face a mask of disbelief, she said, “This is so sad. Ty has multiple sclerosis. They said he might not live longer than a year.” Weslon’s face fell as we told him what multiple sclerosis was. A heavy silence came over us as we realized the seriousness of Ty’s illness.
In the next few months Ty had several attacks requiring hospitalization. He lost weight but forced himself to do well on the football field. Ty, along with Mitzi, was also a member of a school singing and dancing group. He made it to many difficult practices and performances between hospital stays.
Late one evening we received a telephone call from Ty’s father. “Ty is pretty sick. I think it would help him if Weslon could visit him at the hospital tomorrow. He’s blind and he’s paralyzed from the waist down.”
After the telephone call, Weslon disappeared into his room. He came out a little later, green eyes glittering with tears, and said, “I said a prayer for Ty.”
The next morning we visited the hospital, carrying gifts bought with Weslon’s savings. Ty greeted Weslon with a cheery, “Hi, buddy! How are you doing? I can’t see anything clearly; you look like shadows to me.”
“We brought you a few things, Ty,” I told him, trying not to let him hear the fear in my voice.
“Thanks a lot,” Ty said, his dark eyes looking our way but not focusing. During our visit my words were cheerful, but my heart ached as I watched the two buddies talking.
We were amazed when the hospital released Ty a few days later. He went home with his eyesight and with the feeling in his legs gradually returning. Soon he was back in school.
Our family spent a lot of time with Ty through the next few months. Laughter and friendship raised our spirits during Ty’s visits. He would talk with Weslon about lots of things, always reinforcing his slogan, “Stay close to the Lord.”
Soon after Christmas, Ty was flown to a hospital in the city of Phoenix, Arizona, for treatment. While he was there, he went into a coma. Just when we decided we should take Weslon on the long trip to Phoenix because the doctors didn’t expect Ty to live, we received a telephone call. Ty had come out of the coma!
Following his release from the hospital, Ty’s parents took him to a specialist in California. After many tests the doctors ruled out multiple sclerosis. Numerous additional tests found Ty to be suffering from a virus that attacked the nervous system during times of stress or exhaustion. We were joyfully relieved at the news. Ty was still a sick young man, but now he knew how to avoid the debilitating attacks, and, best of all, the possibility of an early death no longer faced him.
In spite of his many absences from school, Ty was well enough to graduate with his classmates in May. During the summer Ty had a job and practiced for the Arizona state high school all-star football game. He was one of four young men chosen from our region to play on the state team. Weslon was invited to practices, and we made the long trip to Prescott, Arizona, for the all-star game. As a result of his illness, Ty was the smallest player in weight on the field, but his effort helped bring his team to victory.
After the game, he came jogging off the field, covered in sweat, but beaming that wide, white smile. Ty got his buddy by the shoulders and they chatted about the game as I took pictures. He told Weslon, “Stay right here. I have to go get something.” A little later he came dashing back. In his hand was his all-star cap awarded him for playing in the game. He told Weslon, “I want you to have this. Thank you for coming to my game, buddy.”
Ty has been an inspiration to many. He was awarded the first “Ty Workman Award” at Round Valley High School. This award is presented each year now to a student conquering adversity.
December 1987 came and with it Ty’s call to the North Carolina Charlotte Mission. In his talk he mentioned, “I have a little friend here who is really special to me. He is Weslon Whiting.” It was a very emotional meeting for us all.
Ty has filled an honorable mission. He continued to remember his little buddy, writing letters in the same spirit as he used to talk to Weslon. Instead of thinking of the joy he has brought to a small boy he turns the situation around. For example, one sentence will stay in my memory for a long time: “Weslon,” Ty wrote, “you’ve been a big help in my life, more than you’ll ever know.” With each letter he sent to his little buddy he enclosed a coin or two for Weslon’s missionary fund.
Three years have passed since Ty was not expected to live. I thank this exceptional young man for giving me faith in a younger generation. And I thank him for providing my young son with a shining example of a true hero.