Gospel Story Finder

A while back a young woman from another state in the United States came to live with some of her relatives for a few weeks. On her first Sunday she came to church dressed in a simple, nice blouse and knee-length skirt set off with a light, button-up sweater. She wore hose and dress shoes, and her hair was combed simply but with care. Her overall appearance created an impression of youthful grace.
Unfortunately, she immediately felt out of place. It seemed like all the other young women her age or near her age were dressed in casual skirts, some rather distant from the knee; tight T-shirt–like tops that barely met the top of their skirts at the waist; no socks or stockings; and clunky sneakers or flip-flops.
One would have hoped that seeing the new girl, the other girls would have realized how inappropriate their manner of dress was for a chapel and for the Sabbath day and immediately changed for the better. Sad to say, however, they did not, and it was the visitor who, in order to fit in, adopted the fashion of her host ward.

“I love the Personal Progress program. I have learned to do things I never knew I could,” says Mindy Sutton of the Twenty Wells Ward. Mindy believed a choir experience would help the youth in her Grantsville Utah Stake feel the Spirit in their lives, and Mindy needed a Laurel project. So she organized and directed a choir for stake Standards Night.
But the task wasn’t easy. Mindy says although she loves music, she has no natural ability. In fact, she was very discouraged after the first practice. “It was so hard to be in front of my peers trying to tell them what to do. But my stake leaders encouraged me to pray for help and promised the Lord would bless me.”
She went home and fasted and prayed. Her prayers were answered when the choir’s outstanding performance two months later not only brought the Spirit into the choir members’ lives but inspired those in attendance.
“I feel a lot closer to my Heavenly Father and know He has helped me so much,” Mindy says.

He continued to work on the farm and later went to the University of Utah. During his years at college he played football, played piano for a dance band, and was elected president of his senior class. His professional plans were made as his graduation drew near, but shortly before receiving his diploma he received a letter from President Wilford Woodruff, calling him to serve a mission in Great Britain. It was a major decision—and he struggled with it, as must some young men today. His ultimate decision, however, was to set aside his plans and accept the call.

Jayson slumped in his seat. “This is so boring,” he thought. “I’m too old for Primary.” He looked around at the other children. Some were smiling or nodding. They actually looked interested in what Sister Simmons was saying. “How could anyone enjoy this?” he thought glumly.
For several months Jayson had dreaded Primary. He didn’t mind class so much; his teacher involved everyone with fun lessons. But singing and sharing time just weren’t interesting anymore. The lessons were for younger children, and the songs he used to love now seemed childish.
Jayson had talked with Mom about the problem. She told him that Primary was for everyone and that if he tried hard to listen, there would always be something just for him. Mom was almost never wrong, but this must be an exception.
He glanced at the clock—still 20 minutes to go. He started looking for ways to make the time speed up. He folded up his class handout. Pretty soon he started swinging his feet back and forth. Just as he was about to see how long he could hold his breath, Jayson heard something amazing. “I made a big mistake,” Sister Simmons said.
“Well, this is new,” Jayson thought. “Teachers don’t talk about their mistakes.”
“When I was 12 years old I had some friends who used bad language,” Sister Simmons said, “and I noticed that whenever I got mad a swear word would pop into my head. I wasn’t worried, because I knew that I wouldn’t actually say the words. But one day I got mad during recess and took the Lord’s name in vain. I felt so sad! I couldn’t believe that I had crossed the line between words in my head and words in my mouth.”
Jayson sat up straight, the clock forgotten. Sister Simmons told how she had talked with her parents that night and asked her father for a priesthood blessing. The bad words didn’t go away immediately, but as she crowded them out with good thoughts, they came less often. After a while, they went away completely.
Jayson couldn’t believe it! He had been having exactly the same problem. Lots of his friends at school swore, and cuss words always seemed to be floating around in his head. Just the other day he had called a boy a bad name for kicking a ball over the school fence. He felt terrible afterward! But he didn’t have the courage to ask his parents for help. He was afraid they would forbid him from hanging out with his friends.
Sitting there in Primary, he suddenly stopped being afraid. Sister Simmons had faced the problem, and so could he. Her parents had understood, and so would his. Maybe he could even get a blessing from his dad, just like Sister Simmons had. A happy feeling came over him, and he felt better than he had in weeks.
The next thing he knew, the closing prayer was being said, and all the other children were leaving the Primary room. Jayson sat thinking a few moments, then slowly got to his feet. He noticed that Sister Simmons was giving him a worried look. “Are you OK?” she asked.
Jayson grinned. “I’m great actually, and my mom was right as usual. Primary really does have something for everybody—if you just keep listening.”

I was 14 when my grandmother passed away. During this time, sadness wasn’t a stranger to me. I wanted to know where she was and if I would ever see her again. I needed to know how to overcome the pain I was feeling. For two years, these questions weighed heavy on my mind.
One day, my dad invited missionaries to our house, and they taught me about the restored gospel. They taught me how to find the healing power of the Atonement of Jesus Christ. Their teachings of the plan of salvation entered my heart with force and answered my questions. These answers brought the peace I was looking for.

During my high school years, I played football and had a good friend named Ryan. I frequently offered him rides home from practice. Early one morning in February of 2003, my senior year, I was at school getting help from my math teacher. A girl walked in the door and announced the death of my friend Ryan. I was astonished and almost didn’t believe the words I had just heard. A good friend of mine, whom I had just talked to a week before, was now dead.
I made the decision to miss school the next week and attend the funeral services. Upon arriving, I noticed that the building was very beautiful and bore the logo of the church to which it belonged—The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The moment I walked in the door, I felt something different: a sense of peace, joy, and happiness—feelings that are not typically experienced at a funeral. As the services progressed, I noticed a new vocabulary, one that I had never before heard. The words gospel and Atonement entered into my mind for the first time. It was something new and unheard-of but, oddly enough, familiar. I listened attentively as Ryan’s mom spoke, and tears came to my eyes. Something was telling me that this “plan of salvation,” which she was speaking about, was true. I felt that the people in this chapel had something in their lives that I did not, and for some reason, I felt a desire to get it.
Now, I was not completely oblivious to Mormons. I grew up in Mesa, Arizona, where members of the Church come in great abundance. I knew two things for sure: first, many of my friends were members of the Church, and second, Church members believed in something called the Book of Mormon. I had a newfound desire to get my hands on this book and to find out what this religion was all about.
In March of 2003, one of my good friends, Bret, invited me to help with his Eagle Scout project. After school the next day we drove in his truck with another friend of ours, Camden, to where the project would be. Inspired by the Spirit, Bret directed Camden to a Book of Mormon situated in a holder in the passenger-side door. He told him to open to a verse he had recently read in the Book of Alma. My interest was sparked, and for the first time, I saw the book I wanted so very badly. However, I was too scared to say anything right then. Upon returning that evening, I worked up the confidence to ask Bret for the book. He happily gave it to me and told me to read it. That night I read nine chapters. From the moment I picked up the book, I fell in love with its message.
The next evening, I was sitting in Bret’s living room with his family and two young men dressed in dark suits, both of whom were named “Elder.” I learned these were missionaries for Bret’s church. We watched Finding Faith in Christ. I will admit that I cried during the movie and loved every bit of the lesson. I decided to continue investigating and to come to church. I eventually finished the lessons and accepted everything the elders taught me about being a member of the Church of Jesus Christ.
One night as I was kneeling in prayer after reading a portion of the Book of Mormon, I specifically asked if what I was learning was true. Overwhelming feelings of peace and joy came into my heart. I was feeling the Spirit, and it was answering my prayers. After that time, I knew without a doubt that the Book of Mormon was true. I felt it in my heart and had the knowledge given to me in my mind.
With this new knowledge, I knew what my next step would be. I was baptized on May 3, 2003. The following day, I was confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I will always remember my baptism, the Spirit I felt, and the covenants I made with my Heavenly Father.
My first year as a member of the Church was a long and difficult one, but also full of rewards. Being the only member in your family isn’t the easiest thing, and I also received much persecution from old friends. In May of 2004, I received the Melchizedek Priesthood and a call to serve in the Virginia Richmond Mission, speaking Spanish. I left my nonmember family in July of 2004, not knowing exactly what I was getting myself into or just what it was that I was leaving behind.
During the beginning months of my mission, I heard many things from many friends about the progress of my parents in the Church. They had been attending church off and on and had allowed the missionaries to come by every so often. I was always excited to hear news. Then one Saturday morning my mission president told me he had just spoken with my stake president about my parents. My parents had decided to join the Church. The gospel had now changed their lives for the better, just as it had mine only two years before.
I am so grateful for my Savior Jesus Christ and for the opportunity I had to serve Him as a missionary. I now understand more fully the plan of salvation. I know that this is the gospel and Church of Jesus Christ. Upon returning from my mission in July of 2006 I was overjoyed to enter the Mesa temple with my parents, where we were sealed as a family for time and all eternity. It’s a day I could hardly have imagined just a few years earlier.

I have a Young Women leader named Jennifer. She is my inspiration. When I was in seventh grade, she showed up at my doorstep every Wednesday and Sunday, wondering if I was going to go to Mutual or church. I always came up with the excuse of being “busy,” so I said no. Then I noticed her visits were a repetition. She was showing up every week, so one Wednesday I decided to try going to Mutual.
When I went, I felt so loved. I just loved being there with the other young women and leaders. I went home and cried myself to sleep, I was so happy. On Sunday, Jennifer was at my door again. I said no, so she made me a deal. She said if I went to just Young Women and liked it, she would continue to take me; if not, she would keep bugging me. So I went, and I loved it.
I started getting back into the Church, and I remembered how much I loved the gospel. Jennifer has been there for me through everything. I am so glad that Heavenly Father has blessed me with my leaders, especially Jennifer. She has made such a great impact on my life. I haven’t always made the right choices, but I am glad and so grateful that I have her on my side. She has motivated me to become active again. I don’t know how I could ever repay her. I thank Heavenly Father that I have her in my life.
I now know how to appreciate my leaders more. I know that they are here for us and they can help us become better young women and men. That’s why God blessed us with them.

Some years ago, the mission in Tonga was presided over by Elder John H. Groberg, long before there was a temple in that land. On one occasion he went down to the docks to welcome home the forty members of the Church who had just returned from the New Zealand Temple. They had sacrificed all they had to go to the temple. For years they had lived in modest circumstances to save the money, that they might go and receive their own endowments and their sealing blessings. As they returned, they expected President Groberg to greet them with enthusiasm and to commend them for their journey. He later said to me, “I didn’t feel that impression; rather, I felt to chastise them a little.” As they landed and were all smiles, they said, “What do you think of our accomplishments, President Groberg?”

He responded, “I think they are many. You have journeyed long and have endured much, and you have contributed greatly to the happiness of those for whom you officiated. But how many were Tongan names? How many were your ancestors ?”

As he spoke to them so beautifully and so fluently in Tongan, the people admitted that other than their own endowments and maybe one or two family names, the ordinance work which they had performed in the New Zealand Temple was the same ordinance work which any temple recommend holder could perform in the Salt Lake Temple, or in the Logan Temple, or in any temple. A vision of eternity came to their view as President Groberg spoke to them for a full hour about their responsibility to their own kindred dead.

This experience prompted an active interest in family history research in the Tongan islands. They organized fine family history committees and have since performed the work for countless of their own ancestors.

Reader 5: A young seaman was on his first voyage. At night, he longed to continue his family-taught habit of kneeling in prayer.
Reader 3: But he feared the ridicule such a practice might receive from his mates. Prayer was sacred to him, not to be laughed at.
Reader 5: When he felt the others were quietly settled in, the young man silently slipped to his knees beside his bunk. Shortly after he had done so, a seaman laughed out:
Reader 2: “Look at the boy praying!”
Reader 5: While at the same time flinging his shoe. The shoe hit the young man on the side of the head. The young man braced himself for further harassment, for he heard one of the tougher seamen, a man called Dicks, muttering angrily. Dicks threatened the loud, unruly, older seaman and the situation was quieted.
Reader 3: The following night, fearing more disapproval, the young man slipped into his bunk, making no effort to pray. He soon felt a large hand on his shoulder and turned to see Dicks, who muttered:
Reader 4: “Are ya a coward? You think I’m going to fight for you and be disgraced? Say your prayers like a man!”

Who’s responsibility is it? Well, I’ve told and retold a little story about one of our sons, but I think it illustrates a point so I will tell it to you. Our youngest son has lived all of his life in one house. It isn’t a grand mansion, but it has been a good home. He never intends to leave it or live anywhere else. He always expected to go on a mission, but he said, “I’ll go and then I’ll come back.” He went around to the neighbors and said, “I don’t want you to move, and I don’t want you to move, and don’t you dare let them sell the house. I’m the youngest and if they move into a condominium, I’ll be devastated and have to come home.”

We said, “What if we’re called on a mission?”

He thought it over very seriously and replied, “I think we had better take turns. I’ll go and you take care of it and when I get back you can go.”

We said, “What if we’re still here when you bring a bride home?”

He said, “I’ve thought about that. I’m considering remodeling the garage into an apartment for you.”

Well, his father had had a heart attack and no one else was home but just Scott. One day, as things were looking pretty bad, I appealed to this next owner of the property and said, “You know we need to do the lawn, the shrubs, and a little painting.” And he couldn’t have been less interested in anything. I mean he had important things to do. I think right then he was recording the Beach Boys and Fresh Aire tapes.

Well, I thought it was time for one of those “reprove with sharpness and then show forth an increase of love lest they esteem thee to be thine enemy” (someone called them “woodshed”) talks. I daresay each of you has had a few of them. I said, “If you really do intend to live here the rest of your life, then you of all people should be concerned about the kind of repair it’s kept in, because, before you know it, it will be yours with all of its accumulated problems. Not ours, but yours.”

A little minor miracle happened. The shrubs were trimmed, the lawn was not only cut but crosscut. I didn’t know that it could look like green velvet if you went in two directions. He began to take great interest in calling it “the best yard on the block.” It became almost that. With his effort we even got a little painting done.

I was raised a deeply devout Roman Catholic, going to church every day. Studying the Bible was a normal every day event which I loved. My testimony of Jesus Christ was well established. He was my cornerstone, my iron rod. I had never visited any other church and was unfamiliar with The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. I often prayed that I could be a good Christian example to my children.
During one of my prayer sessions, I experienced a very personal and sacred spiritual encounter. I shared this encounter with a local parish priest and was told these things don’t happen today, so I kept this to myself for many years. But it became foundational to my testimony.
When I moved to Utah, I became involved in the local Catholic community. I didn’t drive back then, so my husband would take me and the children. One Sunday we were running late for church and took a different route. On this route, we passed a building with a sign which read: “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.” Immediately, a presence came over me. Even though we were going about fifty miles, it felt like time had stood still. After mass, I mentioned to the parish priest that I saw a sign that said “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints”. I expressed an appreciation for the name and asked, since we are the true church, why aren’t Catholics called this? He admonished me not to have anything to do with Mormons. This was the first time I had heard this word but the seed had been planted.
Some time later, there was a knock on my door. I assumed they were Jehovah Witnesses so I told them I wasn’t interested and they started to walk away. For some reason I called them back and asked them who they were. They mentioned they were members of “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.” This captured my attention, and I invited them in. They left me a Book of Mormon which began a friendship with two ladies who were members of the local Relief Society.
A few months later, my husband was asked to work on Sundays so I had no way of getting to my local church. Around the same time, my children began to interact with other children in the neighbourhood, which led to me being invited to activities at their local church. On my first visit to my neighbour‘s church, they were showing a film of Joseph Smith‘s first vision. It was new to me, but when it came to the part he was bound, from my own experience years before, I knew this to be true.
As mentioned I wanted my children to know of Jesus as I knew of him, so I started to attend the Sunday services. I grew up in a Latin based church service where prayers and hymns were all in Latin, so this was the first time I had ever entered another church and heard hymns in English. I remember the first hymn I heard was “O my Father Thou That Dwellest.” It filled me with awe and is now my favourite hymn.
Thereafter, I was invited to the Relief Society and then my baptism came around. I think the whole stake came out to see this young Scottish girl being baptised in Utah. I have since held many positions in the church, such as Relief Society President, Primary President, Stake Primary President, and Sunday school teacher. Currently, I am in charge of Public Relations and Communications for the Greenock Branch.

My mind was focused on the Savior as the congregation finished singing the sacrament hymn, but as I started to close the hymnbook, the music continued. A large congregation that day made it necessary for the organist to play two more verses while the priests finished breaking the bread. I was grateful for the extra time. It allowed me an additional moment of reverent meditation before the sacramental prayers.
During the prayers, I followed carefully the words the priests spoke as they blessed the emblems of Christ’s sacrifice for us. Just as the final prayer concluded and at the moment when the congregation voiced their assent, a four-year-old boy’s voice from two rows behind me sprang from the midst of the “amens.”
“Hooray!” he exclaimed.
His spontaneous expression was loud enough to cause several children nearby to giggle. I confess that it brought a quizzical smile to my lips.
“Hooray?” I thought. That’s an odd response to the sacrament prayers. It was certainly a response I’d never heard before and likely will never hear again. After all, we end our prayers with “amen.”
Perhaps that young child had sensed more of the truth than I had.
Hooray communicates excitement. It is an exclamation of joy, usually for a victory. Sometimes it’s shouted to show approval for someone who has finished a difficult task well.1
Instantly, my mind caught hold of the idea. Yes, I thought, hooray that Jesus Christ overcame death so we can all be resurrected! Hooray that because of His Atonement, He can forgive our sins! More to the point, He can forgive me of my sins! Hooray that through His grace I may return to my Heavenly Father and enjoy the hope of eternal life! Yes! Hooray!
As I silently shouted these praises of thanks to my Heavenly Father, the Holy Ghost flooded my heart with a joy that nearly brought me to tears. I had been led that day by a little child (see Isaiah 11:6), and I rejoiced with fresh vision for the blessings of the Savior’s Atonement in my life.

I was single and 25. I loved teaching and enjoyed the students that came from different communities from all over the United States. As a single faculty member I did not date the coeds, and so I had a lot of time to grade papers and read the scriptures. I had time to sit in on a number of religion classes and observe master teachers like President Henry B. Eyring, who was then president of Ricks College, Keith Sellers, and Mel Hammond. I loved the devotional assemblies in the Hart Building.

Once while sitting in a devotional, my conscience was pierced by a comment made by then-apostle Spencer W. Kimball. To the best of my recollection, he said, "If you are a priesthood holder and 26 years old and still single, you are a menace to the Church." I had just turned 25 and while I had aspirations to be married, I was not close. My number one prospect was Sister Cameron; however, at that time she was in Salt Lake City, and I was not her number one prospect.

I was inspired to make marriage my number one priority. As I mentioned, I had a lot of free time and used my best freshman English teacher skills to write letters. I would write about my classes and include bits of poetry we were reading, like part of Sonnet 29 by Shakespeare: "Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think of thee, and then my state, Like to the lark at break of day arising from sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate; For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings, That then I scorn to change my state with kings."

Through the help of friends, I convinced Christine to visit Rexburg, and we went on a geology field trip through Yellowstone. She met President Eyring and his wife, Kathy, and we ate at Walker's Café. Could there be anything more memorable? We courted over Christmas vacation in Salt Lake, and she visited when I was called into the bishopric of the Ricks College 13th Ward. We were engaged at the end of my first year teaching and married two days before I turned 26, saving me from becoming a menace.

I wondered what would have happened had I not been intently listening in the devotional. The most important things in my life--my wife, our six children, their spouses, and our 17 grandchildren--might not have been mine.

As I contemplated the possibility of bearing my testimony tonight to you, my mind went back to many years ago when I was in the Aaronic Priesthood, and somehow I and one of my companions found ourselves over here by the stairs where we didn’t belong, just prior to the beginning of the priesthood meeting. President George Albert Smith, in his kindly way, saw our plight, saw that we really had nowhere to go, and invited us to sit on these stairs by the pulpit. I sat there with my friend and watched the proceedings of that great priesthood session, never believing that I would ever again get that close to this pulpit.
I remember that I said to my friend when we left the conference, “It sure would be nice to be a General Authority; then you would have one of those big red chairs to sit in.”
I would like to say, my brethren, that I have been sitting in a big red chair for just a few minutes, and the greatest desire of my heart is that I will learn through my obedience and my service to become comfortable in that big red chair. I pray that the Lord will bless me that I might properly represent President Kimball, his counselors, the Council of the Twelve, and all my brethren of the General Authorities; that as they send me forth on whatever errand it might be, I might do the will and the bidding of the Lord.

Just a few weeks ago, I saw a new deacon start on that path of diligence. His father showed me a diagram his son had created that showed every row in their chapel, a number for each deacon who would be assigned to pass the sacrament, and their route through the chapel to serve the sacrament to the members. The father and I smiled to think that a boy, without being asked to do it, would make a plan to be sure he would succeed in his priesthood service.
I recognized in his diligence the pattern from the new Duty to God booklet. It is to learn what the Lord expects of you, make a plan to do it, act on your plan with diligence, and then share with others how your experience changed you and blessed others.

In my last year of high school, I wanted to make the varsity (or advanced) tennis team. I had to beat the girl ranked immediately above me to make the team. But when I played her, I lost.
Even though I was disappointed, I played on the junior varsity team. In the final junior varsity tournament, I was ranked in first place. But what do you know? I lost the final match. I cried—again.
I was disappointed again later. After I received an award for earning good grades and playing sports, they decided to take the award away—because apparently, it was only for those who played varsity.
At the time, tennis was a big part of my life, and those disappointments felt huge. What I didn’t realize was that the Savior was always with me, helping me. Those huge disappointments didn’t last forever, even if it felt like they would.

One year, my family and I drove to Tijuana, Mexico, to visit some members there and drop off some supplies at the mission home. However, once we crossed the border between California, USA, and Mexico, we got lost. None of us had cell phones, so we had no way of contacting anyone for help.
Finally, my sister suggested that we pull over and say a prayer. We all closed our eyes and bowed our heads as she prayed. When she finished, I opened my eyes and the first thing I saw was a taxi with a sticker outline—of the San Diego California Temple! I yelled out, “The temple!”
One of my sisters quickly slipped out of the car and ran up to the taxi, which was stopped in the traffic. She talked to him briefly and then ran back and said that he told us to follow him. We followed as he weaved in and out of traffic and through the streets of Tijuana until we arrived at the mission home.
This experience strengthened my testimony that Heavenly Father lives and is watching out for us. Praying faithfully as a family is the best feeling, and God really does hear our prayers.
Corbin D., California, USA

A true story from the USA.
“Are you ready?” Mami asked.
Anika nodded and hugged her teddy bear. She was bringing it to church. She hoped it would help her feel brave.
Anika had a part to say in the Primary program today. But she was new to this country. She didn’t speak much English. She was going to say it in Spanish instead. Would everyone understand?
Mami gave her a hug. “I know you’re nervous. But remember, the Holy Ghost will be with you! You are not alone.”
That made Anika feel a little better. She smiled at her teddy bear. Then there will be three of us, she thought. Me, my bear, and the Holy Ghost!
At the Primary program, Anika’s class talked about what they had learned that year. They went to the stand one by one. Soon it was Anika’s turn.
She hugged her bear. She could be brave!
“My family studies the scriptures with Come, Follow Me every night,” Anika said in Spanish. She took a deep breath. “We learned how Joseph Smith forgave those who hurt him. I can forgive others too. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Anika went back to her seat. Her teacher smiled at her and her bear. “Good job,” she whispered. “Both of you were very brave!”
Anika felt warm in her heart. She had been brave! And she knew the Holy Ghost was with her.
Illustrations by Katie Rewse

“Well, believe it or not, I used to be his Primary teacher,” Sister Jensen explained.
“Oh.” Robby nodded. “I guess you could have been; you are old.” Robby blushed when he realized what he’d said.
Sister Jensen laughed heartily. “That’s true! He was a sweet little boy, just like you. You and he have a lot in common—his parents never brought him to church, either. I used to pick him up all the time. He even sat with me in sacrament meeting.
“When he was about your age,” Sister Jensen continued, “he decided to make choices that would help him the rest of his life. He had a little problem with angry words, and he decided that when he became upset, he’d say ‘How exasperating!’ I told him that was a good start but he also needed to fill his mind with good things. That way only good things would come out of his mouth.”
Robby traced on the floor with his other shoe. “Well, maybe when I’m a grown-up, I can do that, too,” he told her.
“But now’s the time to make important choices that will bless you throughout your life, including your choice of words.”
“How can words bless me?”
“When you are careful with the words you choose to say, you show others you care enough about them not to offend them. Choosing good words helps you gain more friends, and you’re also not offending your Heavenly Father. Besides, when you have good words inside, good actions often follow.”
Robby nodded that he understood, and he helped Sister Jensen gather up the rest of her teaching materials.
The next Sunday, Sister Jensen picked Robby up in time for sacrament meeting. The bishop was conducting, and he seemed to be having a difficult time with some of the announcements. Finally he put down the paper he was reading, smiled at the ward members, and exclaimed, “How exasperating!”
Robby giggled as Sister Jensen nudged his arm. He leaned over and whispered, “That’s what I’m going to say when I’m mad, too.”
“Good for you, Robby,” Sister Jensen said with a wink.
Later, in the Primary room, Robby again noticed his name on the yellow birthday board. “That’s funny,” he said.
“What’s that?” Sister Jensen asked.
“Last week my name seemed different.”
Sister Jensen looked puzzled. “What do you mean?” she asked.
“Well, last week my name looked out of place up there by the names of the church kids. But today it looks like it belongs.”
Sister Jensen put her arm around Robby, and he noticed tears in her eyes. “That’s because you do belong here,” she said.

Whenever my mother and father planned a vacation, they always took our family to the temple. We lived in Oregon, USA. The nearest temple was 600 miles (965 km) away in Cardston, Alberta, Canada. Our car didn’t have an air conditioner. My brother and sister and I sat in the back seat. We would hang a wet washcloth outside the car window. Then we put it on our necks to cool off.
It was a thrill when we finally saw the temple. I didn’t know very much about what happened there, but my parents were always happy when they came out. I knew the temple was very important. I knew it was the Lord’s house. (In the photo, that’s me in the white shirt.)