Gospel Story Finder

“Hello, Brother Berger? This is Dallin Wright speaking. I’m Greg’s quorum president, and we missed him at Scout meeting tonight. I’m calling to see if he is ill or something else is wrong so that he wasn’t able to come.”
“His what? Deacons quorum president, huh? Glad you won the election. I expect my son’s got something better to do than tie square knots.”
Dallin didn’t stop there. He went to the elders quorum president.
“President Roanes, this is Dallin Wright. I’m president of the deacons quorum. I …”
(With a slight chuckle) “Oh yeh. What can I do for you?”
“I’m calling on quorum business. I understand that Greg Berger’s father is a member of your quorum. You see, we’re trying to reactivate Greg and feel that it’s his father who’s hindering his spiritual growth. That’s why I called you. I wondered what you were doing to help Brother Berger.”
“Well, uh … I … uh … that is …”
“I see. Well, I was wondering if you could see what you could do with Brother Berger … especially help him give the proper parental support and guidance for Greg’s quorum activities. So is it all right if I call you again a week from tonight and find out what progress you’ve made?”
“I think I’ve just been called to repentance!”
The dialogue reads like a script, and it was—part of this year’s June Conference activities—but more importantly, the circumstances actually existed, and a deacon spurred an elders quorum president to work with an inactive elder, thus helping both father and son.

Senen had lived in the mountains all his life, but he’d never traveled as far up the valley as he’d come that day.
If I can reach the gap between the mountains where the valley begins, he thought, I’ll be so high that maybe I can see all of Andorra.
Senen knew that his country was so small that he might be able to see it all from just one vantage point. Andorra covers only 465 square kilometers and is one of the smallest countries in the world. Some maps and globes don’t even bother to show its location. However, to Senen it was big enough. And surely its pine-clad mountains were among the most beautiful on earth.
Early that morning Senen had noticed that clouds were gathering around the tallest mountain peaks. However, as he’d climbed from the valley floor, he’d become lost in his thoughts and hadn’t noticed that those clouds were coming together and that even the mountaintops were being covered by dark, angry-looking clouds.
When Senen finally neared the big gap between the mountains, what appeared above him was unlike anything he had ever seen. Like a huge white hand reaching from the sky, a cloud billowed through the gap and began descending into the valley toward him. Slowly the cloud dropped lower and lower. The closer it came to Senen, the thinner it became. Finally it broke into separate wisps and vanished.
With a mighty burst of energy another cloud emerged through the gap. Within a few minutes, this one had descended even lower into the valley than the first one. Nevertheless, it, too, simply disappeared into the wind before it reached Senen.
What would it be like inside one of those clouds? Senen wondered.
Then, with even more energy than the last cloud seemed to have, another darker, faster-moving cloud poured through the gap. As it descended into the valley, Senen watched in awe; he could see the cloud’s surface churning and rolling like fresh milk gushing from a pail. But this cloud was not milk white. It was an angry, dark color, and it didn’t show any signs of disappearing!
Soon Senen knew what it was like to be inside a cloud, for the cloud had enveloped him! He could feel its cold, tiny droplets blowing against his face. He discovered beads of water forming, like tiny light bulbs on the hairs of his arms.
The wind inside the cloud was so strong that Senen had to hold on to a boulder to steady himself. He couldn’t see more than a couple of meters around him. As soon as the cloud disappears the way the others have, he decided, I’ll go home.
However, minutes passed and the cloud became darker. Worse still, in the distance thunder began rumbling among the mountain peaks.
“I’d better start back home now,” Senen murmured. Then a new thought sent shivers down his spine: Which way is home?
Senen could see nothing but the dark mists around him. He thought he remembered the right way home, but a few steps in that direction carried him smack into the trunk of a big pine tree.
Senen was lost in a cloud!
It seemed like hours passed as Senen huddled beneath a rocky overhang. The cloud became darker, and the thunder came closer. The pines groaned in the wind like giants bending their backs, trying to hold up the whole sky.
Then Senen heard the sound of bells. He heard small bells that went tink-tink-tink, big bells that went bonk-clunk-clang, and medium bells with all kinds of in-between sounds.
At first the beautiful clangor seemed to come from a distance. Then the bell sounds came closer. They surrounded Senen, then began moving away.
I’m not sure what’s happening, Senen thought, but I’m going to follow those bells!
That night Senen sat beside the glowing fireplace in his home. As the winds whistled through the big pines outside, he told his story. “When I heard those bells, I followed them. Down and down I came until finally the cloud wasn’t so dark and I could see where I was. I found myself in our own pasture, surrounded by our own cows! I’m so glad that the cows passed me today and that they were wearing bells.” Senen stopped and looked thoughtful. He asked, “Father, why do you put bells around the necks of some of our cattle?”
“Calves can get lost very easily,” Father explained. “However, when they hear the bells, they can simply follow the sound to their mamas.”
Senen laughed to think that in just one day he had learned what it feels like both to be inside a cloud and to be a little calf being led home by bells.

Some time ago, while speaking in a stake conference, I noticed a cute little girl sitting on the third row right in front of me. She had what appeared to be a small handmade telescope. I thought it might be a kaleidoscope, and she was just using the light behind me. I wondered what she could see. Suddenly our eyes met. Unfortunately, her mother realized what was happening and took the little telescope away. My little friend quickly slid under her seat and never returned. I was left wondering what lens she was looking through.
As I stood there at the pulpit, I concluded that everyone was looking at me through a different lens: some through the lens of struggle and unfulfilled expectations; others, through the lens of doubt and disbelief. Still others seemed to be anticipating with faith and hope my message. A number were indifferently focused on their cell phones.
I share this story for two reasons. First, to assure you that men really can do more than one thing at the same time! Second, to raise a question: What lens are you looking through?

President Benson devoted his life to testifying about Jesus Christ and the Book of Mormon. Here are my personal remembrances of President Benson:
First was his ability to sincerely communicate one-on-one directly with each of us who served with him. He would sit at his desk. I would be seated just to his right in a chair facing his large swivel chair. He would sit there with his large from-plowboy-to-prophet hands, our knees almost touching, and look me directly in the eyes with a depth of inner feeling that touched my very soul and tell me what was important for me to know or to do in my life or calling. When I left his office there was no doubt in my mind that I had been instructed by a prophet of the Lord.
Second, President Benson was fearless in the cause of truth and right. He was a living example of the words of the hymn “Do what is right; let the consequence follow” (Hymns, 1985, no. 237). God bless his memory.
On one occasion in Europe I remember kneeling in prayer beside President Benson when we were at the point of selecting a stake president. What a great joy to participate with him in prayer and understand the true order of prayer and what it means to be able to call upon the Lord for revelation.

When I was in high school, my mom would place the New Era so that when I came home from school, I would be sure to see it. I usually glanced at the cover and that was it. My freshman year of college my mom started sending me the New Era every month. At first I would just put it on the coffee table hoping to impress someone. Now in my sophomore year, I anxiously await the arrival of the New Era. I really appreciate the uplifting articles and the inspirational musical numbers. Now I don’t have to use the New Era to impress anyone but myself.
Heidi SmithEllensburg, Washington

Fifty-five years ago, I knew a young man, Robert Williams, who held the office of priest in the Aaronic Priesthood. As the bishop, I was his quorum president. When he spoke, Robert stuttered and stammered, void of control. He was self-conscious, shy, fearful of himself and everybody else; this impediment was devastating to him. Rarely did he accept an assignment; never would he look another person in the eye; always would he gaze downward. Then one day, through a set of unusual circumstances, he accepted an assignment to perform the responsibility to baptize another.
I sat next to Robert in the baptistry of the Salt Lake Tabernacle. I knew he needed all the help he could get. He was dressed in immaculate white, prepared for the ordinance he was to perform. I asked him how he felt. He gazed at the floor and stuttered almost uncontrollably that he felt terrible.
We both prayed fervently that he would be made equal to his task. The clerk then said, “Nancy Ann McArthur will now be baptized by Robert Williams, a priest.”
Robert left my side, stepped into the font, took little Nancy by the hand, and helped her into that water which cleanses human lives and provides a spiritual rebirth. He spoke the words, “Nancy Ann McArthur, having been commissioned of Jesus Christ, I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
And he baptized her. Not once did he stutter! Not once did he falter! A modern miracle had been witnessed. Robert then performed the baptismal ordinance for two or three other children in the same fashion.
In the dressing room, I hurried to congratulate Robert. I expected to hear this same uninterrupted flow of speech. I was wrong. He gazed downward and stammered his reply of gratitude.
I testify to you that when Robert acted in the authority of the Aaronic Priesthood, he spoke with power, with conviction, and with heavenly help.
Just over two years ago it was my privilege to speak at the funeral services for Robert Williams and to pay tribute to this faithful priesthood holder who tried his best throughout his life to honor his priesthood.

Dear Elder Brown,
You will certainly not mind if I still call you elder, will you? This is the name under which I started to know you, and it will be associated that way in my mind forever. Do you remember? It was that hot summer afternoon. You and your companion were pushing your bicycles towards the hill where we lived. We admired how you could put up with the heat with your white shirts and your ties. For two or three days we had noticed how you literally flew down the hill, and when you rang the bell of our home, all of us, the four children, rushed to the door to know who those young foreigners were and what they were doing in the neighborhood. You came in, and when we offered you some ice-cold tea, you refused politely by saying that you were not thirsty. What a pious excuse for missionaries, as I learned later who you were and the purpose of your visit. It took us some time to realize what you were talking about. First the strong American accent and then what you showed us to start with: pictures of Indians, pictures of ruins in South America, and even some handmade copper plates bound with three rings. We felt quite like Christopher Columbus when he discovered the New World, a strange but exciting discovery.
We rapidly became good friends as your visits became more frequent. You were preaching the message of the restoration of the gospel, and we were learning English in school. We both had our personal motivations to see each other! It was not difficult to also teach us some English and especially how to say “I love you.” You were a living example with your companion. We loved you.
One day we learned that you were leaving the city. This you called a transfer. It was the right word; we had to transfer our love to a new companion. Soon we followed his teachings and example, but you were the first, and you remained so in our minds. We also learned that your mission was for two years, and of course, you promised when you left that you would send us news. Indeed, we received one short letter two months later. There was also a picture with it. All was well, but it took us a little time to recognize you. Oh, not because of the horse that you were riding instead of your bicycle in the mission fields, not because of the clothes, but rather because of the sideburns and the length of your hair. We smiled about this as we thought that perhaps you were trying to re-create the legend of Buffalo Bill. We did not know that leaving the mission field also meant that you abandoned some of the characteristics that made you so special to us and were some of the reasons why we invited you into our home. You were so different from the world. Why was it so difficult to remain different?
We were anxious to receive the next letter. We grew in the Church, were baptized one after the other, and learned very soon of the importance of temple marriage. Some wedding cards arrived in the meantime from some of your companions. We rejoiced every time just looking at their pictures, and we could feel their happiness. Yours never came. We did not dare ask you why.
Some time passed; I had my first opportunity to come to Salt Lake. I was finally going to see all the things you had been talking about, or should I say, bragging about. That’s another word of vocabulary that I learned from you. Would you believe me if I told you that I was not surprised when I saw the city? You revealed so much and with such an enthusiasm about the valley, the Tabernacle, the temple, and the members that I already had a vision in my mind of what to expect. I had envisaged even Brigham Young entering the valley and saying, “This is the place.” Now the vision became reality in the same way that you explained the first vision of Joseph Smith and what it meant for the world and for myself.
Of course, we wanted to visit with you. We still had a vision of you, Elder, smiling and testifying with tears in your eyes: “I know what I say is true because I asked my Heavenly Father and I received a personal answer. There are no doubts any more. I have peace in my mind. I know that Jesus is the Christ, that Joseph Smith is a Prophet, and that this Church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, is the only true and living church upon the face of the whole earth.”
I could not resist or deny your testimony because of the Book of Mormon. You spoke to my heart by the power of the Holy Ghost. I did not tell you how I felt that day. These are things we sometimes do not like to talk about because of the sacredness of our feelings, but it was the beginning of a new life for me, with new objectives, and a sure knowledge of the Church and of the truth.
Yes, that day we arrived in Salt Lake we wanted to tell you, the same way you told us, that we also knew. We wanted to say: “Thank you, Elder. Thank you for what has happened in our lives because of your testimony. You prepared the way of the Lord. You made his paths straight. Now, listen, the gospel rolls forth into the cities of your old mission. Zions are established in Europe. Well done, thou good and faithful servant. Let us share this joy together.”
We first met one of your former companions; we asked after you. There was a kind of hesitation in his voice, and he seemed embarrassed but finally he admitted that you were working in a gas station and that you would probably not be coming to general conference or even listening to it. You were not, as we say in the Church, “very active,” meaning that you were no longer living the principles that you preached to us some years ago. We decided immediately to see you. We drove in front of the gas station and stopped.
We were looking for you, and as you saw us and realized who we were, there was a kind of hesitation. I could detect panic on your face, and I smiled as you were trying desperately to hide a cigarette that started to burn your fingers. We shook hands, asked about your wife, your children, your life, your future. Something was missing. You knew it and we knew it. We left. A last look through the window, a last wave of the hand.
Today I am in Salt Lake again, and I am writing this letter with the hope of reaching you. I do not know where you are. I drove in front of the gas station, but you were not there anymore. Where are you, my brother?
I hope that you will not mind if I have recalled some of the souvenirs of what you always referred to as the best time of your life. Why can’t it be the same way today? Why should the “best time” always refer to yesterday instead of tomorrow? The gospel of Jesus Christ is not a gospel made of souvenirs. It is a gospel presented to us so that we may live it today in order to know where we will be tomorrow. Alma bore his testimony of it in these words:
“For behold, this life is the time for men to prepare to meet God; yea, behold the day of this life is the day for men to perform their labors.
“And now, as I said unto you before, as ye have had so many witnesses, therefore, I beseech of you that ye do not procrastinate the day of your repentance until the end; for after this day of life, which is given us to prepare for eternity, behold, if we do not improve our time while in this life, then cometh the night of darkness wherein there can be no labor performed.” (Alma 34:32–33.)
Dear Elder, you said one day in a conference that mothers can give birth to children, but missionaries can give eternal life to people. I recorded this as well as your testimony that day. The words of our Savior Jesus Christ are also recorded that we may not forget, that because of his sacrifice, we may repent of our errors. Didn’t he declare to the Nephites: “Behold, I am the law, and the light. Look unto me, and endure to the end, and ye shall live; for unto him that endureth to the end will I give eternal life.
“Behold, I have given unto you the commandments; therefore keep my commandments. And this is the law and the prophets, for they truly testified of me.” (3 Ne. 15:9–10.)
You have opened the gate to many. Why, why do you close it for yourself? May I put my foot in the door, as you once did in mine? Reach out your hand while there is still time, and let us tell you that we love you. Your bishop is waiting for you; your home teachers are caring for you; your missionary companions do not forget you; but more than that, we, we need you. Come as you are—our arms are open. We’re waiting for you.
Now the time has come to leave, but you should know that what you once were you can be again. May my testimony help you as yours did me some years ago. I know by the power of the Holy Ghost, the spirit of revelation. I know in my mind and in my heart that God lives, that Jesus is the Christ, our Redeemer, and that we have a living prophet today, Spencer W. Kimball, and that by following his directions and advice we can come closer to our Heavenly Father and repent of our sins. My prayer is that you may realize this again in your own life and make a new decision to be one of His disciples, in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Some who profess to be followers of Christ insist that members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints are not Christians. Indeed, there are those who make their living attacking our church and its doctrines. I wish all of them could have the experience I shared recently.

A friend who was making his first visit to Salt Lake City, called on me in my office. He is a well-educated man and a devout and sincere Christian. Although we have not discussed this with each other, we both know that some leaders of his denomination have taught that members of our church are not Christians.

After a short discussion on a matter of common interest, I told my friend I had something I would like him to see. We walked over to Temple Square and into the North Visitors’ Center. We viewed the pictures of Bible and Book of Mormon Apostles and prophets. Then we turned our steps up the inclined walkway to the second level. Here Thorvaldsen’s great statue of the risen Christ dominates a setting suggestive of the immensity of space and the grandeur of the creations of God.

As we emerged and beheld this majestic likeness of the Christus, arms outstretched and hands showing the wounds of his crucifixion, my friend drew a sharp breath. We stood quietly for a few minutes, enjoying a reverent communion of worshipful thoughts about our Savior. Then, without further conversation, we made our way down to the street level. On the way we walked past the small diorama showing the Prophet Joseph Smith kneeling in the Sacred Grove.

As we left Temple Square and took our leave of one another, my friend took me by the hand. “Thank you for showing me that,” he said. “Now I understand something about your faith that I have never understood before.” I hope that every person who has ever had doubts about whether we are Christians can achieve that same understanding.

Thus, they left Nauvoo and thousands were to die along the trail west. As most of you know, the first Latter-day Saint pioneers arrived in the Salt Lake Valley on July 24, 1847. To any of us with farming experience in this part of the west, we know that the end of July is harvest time, not planting time. The pioneers worked feverishly to plant seeds with the hope of harvesting some kind of crops in a very short growing season before the arrival of frost and snow. And, to that point, they had no homes built to shelter them and their families from the approaching winter.

In spite of these difficult, and even life-threatening circumstances, four days after their arrival into the valley (and I repeat, four days after their arrival), in the dry, dusty heat of that July afternoon, President Brigham Young took some of the leaders on an exploratory excursion around the valley and, placing the tip of his cane in the ground, declared, AHere we will build a temple to our God. (And, did they ever! The walls of solid granite rise from sixteen feet wide at the base and taper to six feet wide at the square with those beautiful six spires above, which someone has described as poetry in stone.) Elder Wilford Woodruff reportedly drove a stake to mark the spot where the Temple was to be built and the city and streets were laid out from that point.

I’m aware of a man who was involved in moral transgressions several years ago. For some time, this man felt too ashamed and too worried to approach his wife and his priesthood leaders. He wanted to fully repent but actually expressed that he was willing to give up his own eternal salvation rather than put his spouse and children through the sorrow, shame, or other consequences that might be caused by his confession.

Finally, this dear man confessed to his faithful wife and his Church leaders, expressing deep remorse. Though it was the most difficult thing he had ever done, feelings of relief, peace, gratitude, love for our Savior, and a knowledge that the Lord was lifting his heavy burden and carrying him caused joy beyond expression, regardless of the outcome and his future.

He had been certain that his wife and children would be devastated—and they were; and that there would be disciplinary action and a release from his calling—and there was. He was certain that his wife would be brokenhearted, hurt, and angry—and she was. And he was convinced that she would leave, taking the children with her—but she didn’t.

Sometimes serious transgression leads to divorce, and depending on circumstances, that might be necessary. But to this man’s amazement, his wife embraced him and dedicated herself to helping him in any way that she could. Over time, she was able to fully forgive him. She had felt the healing power of the Savior’s Atonement for her. Years later, this couple and their three children are strong and faithful. The husband and wife serve in the temple and have a wonderful, loving marriage. The depth of this man’s testimony and his love and gratitude for the Savior are so evident in his life.

My name is Olivia. I’m six. My brother Grayson is four. We like to go to the park with Mom. My favorite part is the swing. When I stretch my toes, I can almost reach the trees!
I watch the other kids chase each other. It looks like fun, but I don’t play with them. I just swing and watch and imagine.
The other kids are playing with their brothers and sisters. I wish Grayson could run and play with me, but he can’t walk or talk. He sits in his wheelchair next to Mom. He watches the kids playing too. And he watches me swing. He smiles when I go high.
Yesterday Mom found a new park. I ran to the swings. I saw the kids playing below, and I started to wish again. I closed my eyes. Suddenly I was flying an airplane! I was flying the other kids to visit Grayson.
I felt the swing go up and down. It felt like a ship—a pirate ship! Now Grayson and I were sailing across the ocean, looking for treasure. He steered the ship. I read the map.
I heard Grayson laugh. I opened my eyes and looked at the bench. But Grayson wasn’t there. Mom had put him next to me in a big red swing!
Mom pushed the swing. Grayson laughed and whooshed through the air. We were swinging and laughing together!
Finally we stopped. I looked at Mom and said, “I’m glad Heavenly Father gave me Grayson for a brother.”

Beatriz da S., age 10, Brazil
When I was little, my mother took me to attend many baptisms. But last year, when I was old enough to be baptized, I was very nervous. I was afraid that I couldn’t participate in the ordinance correctly, like those I had watched. Above all, I was afraid to go into the water. But the Holy Ghost helped me. I seemed to keep hearing the words, “Don’t be afraid! Don’t be afraid!” The Holy Ghost helped me overcome these problems so I could be baptized, which was very important to me. I was very blessed. When I came out of the water, I was not afraid of the water any longer, and I felt good inside.

It’s a beautiful sound when all the members of the London Ward in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada, sing hymns with the organ music in their chapel. Thirteen-year-old Marvin Cardona is the organist. Anywhere there’s music in the London Ward, you’ll most likely find one of the youth from the ward providing the accompaniment.
It’s strange to think that only a few months ago the members in this ward would either sing without accompaniment in their meetings or play the Church-produced tapes of the hymns as they sang.
Everyone prefers having the young people in the ward play the hymns now. Andrew Cardona, 17, says, “Everyone actually sings in time now. Sometimes we were off a few beats [from the tape]. You feel the Spirit more now.” Jackie Famini, 13, agrees. “It’s nice to have someone play the piano instead of listening to the tapes.”
When the London Ward was split from another ward, there was no one left in the ward boundaries who could play the organ or the piano well enough to accompany the congregation. That’s where Elder and Sister Heap entered the scene. They are a missionary couple who realized that once they left the ward, there would be no one who could play the piano. So they decided to teach music lessons to anyone who was interested.
Almost all the youth in the ward signed up. “I heard about all the other people taking lessons, and I was interested because I wanted to play the piano,” says Sherri Cardona, 15. “So I asked Sister Heap, and she said yes.” Sherri now rotates with other girls in the ward to play the keyboard for Young Women opening exercises.
The youth in the ward are grateful to Elder and Sister Heap for all they’ve taught them. They say the Heaps were not only good music teachers but also good friends.

Later in the afternoon, after classes, Melanie, Jackie, and Petra go downtown to meet Sister Howells. They wander by the Spinrädl (the Spinning Wheel Inn), a Gasthaus that is one of Kaiserslautern’s oldest buildings. They look at the original city walls, the Stiftskirche (the biggest church downtown), the cars, and the people. Jackie stops at the Bundespost office and mails a letter.
This is another kind of learning—after-school learning, cultural assimilation. “There are so many things to see. I get excited just walking and looking,” Jackie says. “There is history everywhere you turn.” Melanie adds, “I want to remember the people, the way they dress and walk, the way they sell things, the open-air markets, the way they drive their cars and honk their horns, the posters plastered on every wall. When I go away to college in two years, I want to take part of Germany with me, at least in my mind.”
Sister Howells pulls up just as rain is starting to pour. Everyone’s a little bit wet and glad to be warm and drying out together inside the car. At home they change clothes, dry their hair, have dinner and family prayers, and talk over the day’s activities. Grandmother joins the group—in fact, she fixed the meal. Petra is invited to stay. On the front door and one of the walls Brother Howells had taped inspirational thoughts and reminders about home evening assignments. Some of the children read them as they respond to the call to eat. One of them notices a letter from John, 18, a sophomore at BYU, and brings it to the table to read to the family. They listen, even though they’ve already read it themselves. Somehow, they don’t mind the repetition.
This is another kind of learning—learning about family love and closeness, about the importance of building eternal ties.

While speaking to a group of single adults at Christmastime a year ago, I reminded them that if they were working in an environment that was not conducive to their spiritual well-being, perhaps they should resign. Afterwards, a young man the age of many of you came up to talk to me. He expressed concern that he was called upon to do some things that he didn’t feel comfortable doing. Jobs were almost impossible to get, he explained, and the work he was doing paid well. I reminded him that it was his decision whether to stay or resign. “Call upon the Spirit,” I advised. The next week he called me. Reminding me who he was, he said, “I did it. I quit my job. I am frightened, but I know I did the right thing.” Within two weeks he reported back that he had a job where now he was comfortable, and he appreciated the promptings of the Spirit.

“Stephen, will you come here, please?” Stephen’s mother called from the living room.
“Sure, Mom,” Stephen said. He put down the video game controller. “I’ll be right back, Josh,” he said to his little brother.
In the living room, Stephen was surprised to see a police officer talking to Mom. What surprised him even more was that the police officer was holding the blue bike Stephen had gotten for Christmas last year!
“Is this your bike, Son?” the officer asked.
“It looks like mine,” Stephen said. “I think I left it down at the end of the block.”
“That’s where I found it,” the officer said. “Someone started a fire near where your bike was, and some neighbors said they saw you playing in that area. Would you mind telling me what you were doing there? Were you playing with fire?”
“No,” Stephen said. “I rode my bike there to play with my friends. We played tag for a while, and then some older boys came around. They looked kind of mean, so we left. I must have left my bike there. Then I came home and played video games with my brother. I didn’t start any fires.”
The officer folded his arms and looked stern. Stephen felt his cheeks getting hot. What if the police officer didn’t believe him?
The officer turned to Stephen’s mother. “Does Stephen tell the truth?” he asked.
“Stephen has never lied to me,” Mom said. “If he says he didn’t start the fire, he didn’t start it.”
The police officer asked a few more questions and then thanked Mom and Stephen for talking to him. Before he left, he told Stephen to take better care of his bike.
A few hours later, Stephen and his mother learned that the police officer found the older boys Stephen had seen, and they admitted to starting the fire.
“I’m glad you believed me when I said I didn’t start the fire,” Stephen told Mom.
“I knew you didn’t do it,” Mom said. “You have always told me the truth, even when it might get you in trouble. I always know I can trust you.”
Stephen smiled and gave his mom a hug. It felt good to be trusted. It was a feeling he always wanted to have.

Of course, there are times when a family suffers because of divorce. Being part of a large extended family and a loving ward helps families heal. Gospel teachings help them remain faithful. Says one sister, whose husband left her and their seven children six years ago: “Though my husband was not a Latter-day Saint, the children and I always had family home evening, family prayers, and scripture study, including memorizing scriptures. After he left, I found work in a bakery, and my older children found jobs too. Family and ward members helped us also.” In this family, three sons and a daughter have served missions and married in the temple. The younger children are still living at home. “The priesthood of my sons and our testimonies of the gospel have sustained our family,” says this sister.

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

Our family knew a young lady who passed away from skin cancer. But even while on her death bed, unable to care for herself, she chose to exercise positive power by expressing love and gratitude to all those that attended her and visited with her. She was a perfect example of grace and Christlike love. She didn’t complain or bemoan her lot in life. She trusted our Heavenly Father and accepted His will. Though in great pain, she was truly an angel, and her positive power has had a lasting impact on the many lives she touched before she passed away. Many people in her situation would be bitter. She was young, vibrant, and newly married to a loving husband, with all the promise of a wonderful life ahead of her. She had every reason to complain, but she was one who had learned the power of choosing to be positive and speaking words that would inspire and uplift. This young woman chose the light of God’s positive power.

In the October 2007 general conference, Elder Claudio R. M. Costa of the Presidency of the Seventy talked about not waiting until tomorrow to do the things we can do today, especially when it comes to our families.3 At the end of his talk, he shared some lines based on a poem by Norma Cornett Marek. Elder Costa’s message and the words of that poem touched me deeply and encouraged me to start regularly expressing my love to my parents, my sisters, and my friends.
Of course I loved my family and friends before I heard that conference talk, but I was not in the habit of telling them that I loved them, at least not every day. Maybe they did need to hear those special words from me more regularly. I wasn’t sure at first how they would take it, but when I received a positive reaction, I decided to continue this practice. Over the next several months, I saw that my relationships were strengthened in part because I had heeded Elder Costa’s words.
Now I am serving as a full-time missionary thousands of miles from my home in Costa Rica. I miss my family, but it’s OK. I know they love me, and I also know that they know I love them. I feel peace because I took (and still take) opportunities to express my love.
I am grateful that we have the opportunity to regularly listen to leaders called by God. I know that as we follow them, our lives and the lives of those we love will be blessed.
Elder Hugo Lino Rivera Mena, Idaho Boise Mission