Gospel Story Finder

I was invited to attend the Strengthening Families Conference 2023, at Abuja, Nigeria by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. When I got the invitation, I was both skeptical and apprehensive. What has the Anglican Church got to do with The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, let along attend their conference for three days? The one who invited me encouraged, persuaded, and pleaded with me to attend.
I finally attended with one eye closed and the other opened: very apprehensive and nervous.
I must confess that I was parochial in my thinking and outlook. The introductory address knocked me down as scales fell off my eyes to see and reason well with respect to my own marriage. It was evidently clear from the conference that marital issues do not have denominational and religious colors. The principles for a good marriage are almost the same in all places.
Interestingly, the chairman for the conference was a Muslim, with speakers from various religious and denominational backgrounds and professions.
Like the confession of the Queen of Sheba when she visited King Solomon, “I believed not the words, until I came, and mine eyes had seen it: and, behold, the half was not told me” (1 Kings 10:7). It was my confession, too!
I thank God for the opportunity I had to be part of the 2023 Strengthening Families Conference. I recommend the program to one and all.

Thomas woke up one sunny morning to the sounds of his big brothers, Jonathan and Matthew, talking quietly. He smiled as he realized it was Sunday. Thomas loved Sundays. He loved looking handsome in his Sunday clothes. He loved singing Primary songs. And he especially loved his Primary teacher, Sister Brandon. He couldn’t wait to go to church!
Then Thomas frowned. He remembered that church didn’t start until after lunch. Sunday mornings seemed to drag on forever. What could he do until it was time to get ready for church?
After breakfast, Mom came into Thomas’s room. “Thomas, hurry and put away your toys,” she said, smiling. “We’re going to do something new that I think you will like.”
Thomas quickly picked up his toys and went into the living room, where his brothers and sisters were waiting. “Today we’re going to do Sunday stations,” Mom announced.
Thomas had never heard of Sunday stations before. He hoped he would like them.
“One station will be at the table,” Mom explained. “Two will be on the couches, and one will be at the computer. You will have 10 minutes at each station.”
Now Thomas was really curious. Usually he wasn’t allowed to use the computer on Sundays. Mom gave a few more instructions and then let each child go to a different station.
Thomas headed straight for the computer, but his sister Katrina had beat him to it. So Thomas sat down at the table instead. There he saw the Faith in God and Duty to God booklets that belonged to his sisters and brothers. “What can I do here?” he asked Mom. “I’m not old enough to have a Faith in God book.”
Mom pointed to a sheet of paper and a box of markers. “You don’t have a Faith in God book yet, but you do have faith, and you can make a goal to help it get stronger,” she said.
“How?” Thomas asked.
“Well, just think of something you can do this week to follow Jesus,” Mom suggested. “Then write your goal on this paper so you can remember it.” Mom patted Thomas on the back and set the kitchen timer for 10 minutes.
Thomas thought hard about how he could follow Jesus. He watched Mom helping his brothers and sisters with their stations. “I know,” he thought. “Mom is like Jesus because she is nice.” He smiled as he carefully wrote the words I will be nice on his paper.
Mom came over and gave Thomas a hug. Then she showed him where his sister Miriam had glued her picture inside the cover of her booklet. Mom drew a square on his paper, and Thomas drew a picture of himself in his Sunday clothes and colored it with markers. He was admiring his picture when the timer went off.
The next station was the computer. Mom explained that Thomas could send an e-mail to someone he loved. He decided to send a message to his cousin Moroni, who had been sick. “Hi, Moroni,” he wrote. “How are you? I hope you are feeling better.”
Just then the timer went off. “Time sure goes by fast when I’m doing stations,” Thomas thought. Then he typed his name, clicked on “send,” and hurried to the couch.
At the next station, Thomas found a phone. “I know what this is for,” he thought. Mom helped him dial Grandpa’s phone number. Thomas was surprised to learn that Grandpa didn’t know about Sunday stations. Usually, Thomas was the one who had a question, and Grandpa had the answer. So Thomas explained about Sunday stations. He and Grandpa had a great time talking. When he heard the timer, Thomas said, “I love you, Grandpa!” and handed the phone to Mom.
The reading station on the couch was Thomas’s last station. Mom listened to Thomas read the story of Captain Moroni and the title of liberty. Then they had just enough time for Mom to read a letter in the Friend.
When the timer went off for the last time, everyone stood up and stretched. “Let’s pick up and make lunch now,” Mom said. Wow! It was lunchtime already. Then it would be time to get dressed for church.
As Thomas gathered the magazines and scripture storybooks from the couch, he had a happy feeling inside. “Mom,” he asked, “can we do Sunday stations again next week?” He could tell by Mom’s smile that they would.

He bears his missionary testimony as a special witness without the fear of man. I have observed it. At the Copenhagen Denmark Area Conference held August 3–5, 1976, President Kimball went to see Thorvaldsen’s beautiful sculpture The Christus, the resurrected Christ, which has been reproduced, as you know, for the visitors’ centers in Salt Lake City, Los Angeles, and New Zealand. After a few spiritual moments admiring The Christus, President Kimball bore his testimony to the caretaker who stood nearby. As he turned to the statue of Peter and pointed to the large set of keys in Peter’s right hand, he proclaimed: “The keys of priesthood authority which Peter held as President of the Church I now hold as President of the Church in this dispensation.” Then he stated to the caretaker, “You work every day with Apostles in stone, but today you are in the presence of living Apostles.” He then introduced President N. Eldon Tanner, Elder Thomas S. Monson, and Elder Boyd K. Packer. He presented the caretaker with a Book of Mormon in Danish, and bore his testimony of the Prophet Joseph Smith. The caretaker was moved to tears in acknowledgment of the Spirit he felt in the presence of a prophet and Apostles. He acknowledged to me as we left the church, “Today I have been in the presence of servants of God.”

May 12. At school today some children were being mean to Billy. They were calling him names and saying unkind things. Especially Cory and Timmy. It’s because Billy is, well, different. Mom says he’s “mentally challenged.” He has a harder time learning than most children his age. But he can still go to the same school as everyone else. The teachers just help him a little more.
Anyway, I remembered what Dad had taught in family home evening, so I sat with Billy at lunch today and shared my sandwich with him. His sandwich and potato chips were soaked. Cory and Timmy had filled his lunch box full of water, then laughed and said, “We’re doing you a favor, Billy. We know you have a hard time doing things. Your lunch should go down real easy—you won’t have to chew it at all!”
May 20. Billy asked me if I wanted to go with him on his paper route after school. The other guys wanted me to play ball. So did I, but something inside me said that going with Billy was more important.
We rode our bikes. I helped carry some of the papers in a sack. Afterward, Billy bought me a soda pop. Then we went across the street and lay on the grass in the park. After a while he asked me why I wanted to be his friend, why I liked to do stuff with him. I didn’t know what to say. Finally I told him, “I guess I just like you, that’s all.”
He looked sad. “Is it because you feel sorry for me because I’m … different? Some people make fun of me because I can’t do things like other people. And some are nice because they feel sorry for me.”
I told him that I get mad when other people treat him unkindly and that at first maybe that was why I wanted to be nice. “But after a while, I started liking you because you’re you,” I said. “I like how you sound when you laugh. It makes me feel happy inside. And I like how you treat other living things. Even little things. Like the pollywogs in the creek behind the school last week. You felt bad because the sun was drying up the little ponds of water, so you put the tadpoles in that applesauce jar and moved them farther up the creek where it was deeper. Most people aren’t that kind,” I told him. “You remind me of Jesus.” His eyes got full of tears, and he didn’t say anything. He just tapped me on the arm with his fist and kept looking the other way.
June 7. Billy’s mother called me and asked if I wanted to come over and have dinner with them tonight. Billy was too shy to ask, she said, and wanted her to ask me. (Mom and Dad said it would be fine.) She also said that Billy can’t stop talking about me, that the past few weeks he’s been happier than she can ever remember. “He thinks the world of you,” she said, and she thanked me for being so good to him.
I could tell that she was crying, because her voice started breaking up. I told her that it was easy to like Billy because he was so good. I didn’t tell her, but I had been starting to feel happier inside myself than I had in a long time, and I was already happy. Dad says, “When we open our hearts to others, like Jesus did, we feel a whole different kind of joy.”
June 18. Today Billy and I saved a wild bird. A big kid named Donny, who lives close to Billy’s place, caught it and was going to hurt it. We started yelling at him, and it made him jump and the bird got away. He pushed us down, but we felt so good on the inside that it made what he did to us on the outside kind of not matter.
July 11. Our family got back this morning from a three-day trip to Buck’s Lake. I called Billy to see if we could get together, maybe go to a Saturday matinee or hike in the hills or something. His mother said he could not play … because he’d died two days ago. She began to cry, and Billy’s father got on the phone. He told me that Billy had seen a neighbor’s puppy in the street, and when he ran out to carry it to where it would be safe, he’d been hit by a car. It wasn’t the driver’s fault, Billy’s dad said. It wasn’t anybody’s fault. It just happened. I asked Dad if he could give me a blessing of comfort. I guess I’m having a hard time dealing with it.
July 12. I didn’t go to Billy’s funeral today. I just couldn’t. His parents said that they understood. I know that after we die, we will see our loved ones again, and, I believe, our close friends, too. But right now I miss him so bad! We were like brothers. I guess we are brothers. Spirit brothers. And blood brothers. I know we’re spirit brothers because we are all Heavenly Father’s children. And I know we’re blood brothers because we sat under the old fig tree in the field one day and made a pact.
Maybe we can play together in the next life. There might be creeks with tadpoles, but in heaven I’m sure there will always be enough water. Maybe a fence to sit on. And clouds to watch go by.
I know Billy’s happy where he is because he was always more of heaven than of earth. But right now I miss him so much! I will never forget him. Not ever. My mom says I will always have the memories, and so, in a sense, he will always be with me. Memories are eternal, she says, like our spirits. I guess I will always hear his laughter, then. I like that.
July 14. Billy’s parents came over today. They told me how much they appreciated what I did for him. They said that I had made the last part of his life happy and meaningful. “You were a gift from God to him,” they said. I couldn’t say anything back because it’s hard to cry and talk at the same time.
After a while, I told them that Billy was a gift from God to me. That he taught me by the way he lived the things Jesus teaches us. About loving. And caring. And showing kindness to all living things.
July 25. I checked on the tadpoles in the creek today. That’s what Billy would have done. They are doing fine. And so am I.

That was a lesson for Katelyn. She had had difficulty seeing this kind of potential in herself. As a Beehive, she looked up to the other young women, but she didn’t feel like she had anything to contribute to her Beehive class. At school she felt pressure to try to be popular and fit in. “It’s hard when other people try to tell me what I am supposed to look like, act like, and do well at.”

One night for Mutual each young woman received a piece of paper with a name on it. The paper was passed around the room and each young woman wrote talents, abilities, or admirable traits about the young woman whose name was on the paper. As Katelyn read the kind words that the other Beehives wrote about her, she realized that the other girls saw talents and gifts that she had never seen in herself. That experience, coupled with her efforts visiting the hospital, “have taught me a lot about my role here.”

My medical school classmates and I learned that lesson in an unforgettable way more than 30 years ago. Our experience took place in the little town of Manzanillo, on Mexico’s western coast. The year was 1978. The members of our 1947 graduating class, along with our spouses, were attending a medical symposium.
One evening after the scientific sessions had been completed, one of the doctors suddenly became seriously ill. Without warning, he began to lose massive amounts of blood from his stomach. Totally stunned, we surrounded him, watching life’s precious blood flow from him. There we were, medical specialists skilled in various disciplines, including surgeons, anesthesiologists, and internists, each with wisdom gained through more than 30 years of experience. What could we do? The nearest hospital was in Guadalajara, more than 100 mountainous miles (160 km) away. It was night. No planes could fly. Blood transfusions were out of the question because of lack of equipment. All of our combined knowledge could not be mobilized to stop his hemorrhage. We were totally without the facilities or equipment needed to save the life of our beloved friend.
Our stricken colleague, a faithful Latter-day Saint, was well aware of his plight. Ashen and pale, he whispered a request for a priesthood blessing. Several of us held the Melchizedek Priesthood. We responded to his request immediately. I was asked to seal the anointing. The Spirit dictated that he be blessed to the end that the bleeding would stop and that he would continue to live and return to his home. That blessing was administered in the name of the Lord.
By the next morning, his condition had improved. Miraculously, the bleeding had stopped. His blood pressure had returned to normal. In a couple of days, he was able to return to his home. Unitedly, we thanked the Lord for this most remarkable blessing.

“I feel the Spirit and receive promptings through sudden ideas and thoughts. This happens when my mind is open to God. At Young Women camp, I felt really lonely. I walked to my cabin and prayed about it. Afterward I had the feeling to turn around. I did and met with my leaders. We had a great time ziplining and eating snow cones! This experience helped me learn how I can feel the Spirit.”
Harper J., 14, Oregon, USA

That fall the children all came down with strep throat. We gave them antibiotics, and soon everybody was fine except for Jesse. His cough wouldn’t go away, and his neck became swollen. Pat took him to the pediatrician for what we thought would be a second antibiotic.
Two hours later Pat called from the hospital. The pediatrician had sent Jesse there for an X-ray to check for infection in his lungs. Instead, doctors found an 11-inch tumor in his chest.
“Go home, get your family packed up, head to Birmingham, and prepare for a lengthy stay,” the doctor said.
A few days after we arrived at the children’s hospital in Birmingham, we received Jesse’s diagnosis. He had pediatric acute lymphoblastic leukemia, a rare type of aggressive leukemia.
For the next three weeks, Pat and I lived at the hospital. While I zoned in on Jesse, Pat made the 90-minute drive back and forth from our home to the hospital. He tried to keep our business going and care for our goats. My mother-in-law came from California and stayed with our other children.
Jesse’s tumor had begun to cut off his airways, but it shrank after six weeks of chemotherapy. We thought that once the cancer went into remission, it would be an easy road ahead, but then Jesse got a blood clot in his brain. After doctors dealt with that, he got fungal pneumonia. He was in and out of the hospital seven times over the next several months.
In December 2015, while Jesse was back in the hospital, I began reading the Book of Mormon. I thought, “I left the Church, and I just want to rule it out like I’ve ruled out all the other churches.” But right away, it hit me like a ton of bricks—full peace. The book just spoke to me. I didn’t even have to pray to find out it was true. I knew in my heart it was true from the very beginning. I would read for hours sitting in that hospital room.
At one point, Jesse spiked a fever, which lasted for 10 days. It wouldn’t break, and doctors decided they needed to do a bone marrow biopsy to see if the leukemia had returned. I remember lying on the floor of the hospital. I had reached bottom. That’s when I decided to call Elaine Oborn, a member of our ward while I was growing up in Alabama.
I had been best friends with Sister Oborn’s daughter. Though I hadn’t spoken to the Oborn family for 20 years, I couldn’t get Elaine’s face out of my mind. I looked her up on Facebook, and there on the hospital floor, I called her.
“Do you even remember me?” I asked.
After explaining what our family was experiencing, I told Sister Oborn: “I don’t know what I need, but I need something. I’m not active in the Church. We don’t even have a church, but I keep thinking of you. Please, can you help me?”
“We can start by getting you and Jesse a blessing,” she said. She said her husband, Lynn, would come to the hospital that evening.
After the phone call, I told Pat, “I know you’re not a member of the Church, but can we have some guys come and give Jesse a blessing?”
“Whatever it takes for him to feel better,” he said.
That evening, in came Brother Oborn with two full-time missionaries, all dressed in white medical protective clothing because Jesse was so sick.
“The angels are coming for us,” I remember thinking as I opened the door.
They gave Jesse a blessing. Then Brother Oborn lined up all the kids and gave each of them a blessing. Then he gave me a blessing. Then he gave Pat a blessing. That was one of the first experiences where we all felt the Spirit. It was powerful. The next day, Jesse’s fever broke. As soon as he was released from the hospital, we started attending church.
In February 2016, the full-time missionaries began visiting us. At first Pat thought they were coming over to help on the farm. When we accepted an invitation for them to teach us, he thought the lessons were just for the children.
As the missionaries were preparing to teach us their first lesson, Pat went out to work on the tractor. After about 20 minutes, I could see that they—two sisters and two elders—were deflated. At that moment, I felt that I should get Pat and ask him to come listen for a couple of minutes.
Later the missionaries told me that they had been praying that that’s what I would do. They knew that Pat needed to hear what they were teaching.
After the missionaries had taught us for several weeks, Jesse, Bo, and Frank wanted to be baptized. Pat thought that was great, but he felt that he was “beyond salvation.” That was before he met Von and Glenda Memory and heard Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles speak during general conference.
When we saw Brother Memory at church, I recognized him from when I was a child. He was now serving as the ward mission leader. Pat introduced himself, telling Brother Memory that he really wanted the Church for our children.
“That sounds good,” Brother Memory said with a twinkle in his eye. “We’ll do it for the children.”
A few weeks later, after a lesson from the missionaries on the plan of salvation, Brother Memory said, “Boys, we’re going to talk about your baptism.” Then he added, “And then we’re going to talk about your dad’s baptism.”
Pat said OK, but his doubts about his readiness and worthiness persisted until general conference that April.
“You may be afraid, angry, grieving, or tortured by doubt,” Elder Uchtdorf said in his talk. “But just as the Good Shepherd finds His lost sheep, if you will only lift up your heart to the Savior of the world, He will find you.”1
Pat said: “Before then, it hadn’t occurred to me that I really could be a part of this, that I was worthy of salvation. But after listening to Elder Uchtdorf, it hit me that it wasn’t too late for me. I actually have a shot to get to heaven. I had never felt anything like that. From then on I knew. This is the Savior’s Church. We found it. I got baptized and received the priesthood. A week later I baptized my boys. When our girls were old enough, I baptized them.”
A year later, we were sealed in the Birmingham Alabama Temple.
Living the gospel of Jesus Christ as members of His Church has strengthened our marriage. It has made me a better mom. It has given our kids a foundation they never would have had. We’re confident about their futures, now that they have the Church in their lives.
I’m so grateful for everything that has happened and for all the lessons I’ve learned. I think it was important for me to go through a lot of stuff, a lot of mental anguish. I needed to be humbled, feel desperate for God’s help and love and forgiveness, and forgive myself of wrongdoings earlier in my life.
Jesse completed chemotherapy and his last round of steroids in March 2019. We would be devastated if his cancer returned, but now we have an eternal perspective. Now we’re sealed as a family. I can’t imagine ever not having the Church as my go-to for everything. The gospel has changed us forever.
Whatever happens, it’s going to be OK. We’re not afraid anymore. Jesse’s illness led to the best thing that ever happened to us. It brought us to the Savior’s Church.

When my parents visited other wards for their Church service, they weren’t home on Sundays. Yet, even when we were alone, my brothers and sisters and I would get ourselves to church. We knew that we were expected to take the sacrament and do our part. People in the ward would ask my mother how she got us to go to church by ourselves. She would reply, “They just get up and go because that’s what they’re expected to do.”

In my last year of teaching Year 1 children, I decided to share the real message of Easter with the children in my class. I borrowed the video of He is Risen, a cartoon version of the Easter story. The children sat and watched intently, which was a miracle in itself. At the end of the video, they were full of amazement, all asking questions. One boy asked if he would see his deceased grandfather again. Hearing the children ask these questions and being able to answer them made it feel as if I was hearing the message for the first time myself. I stopped and thought about how much I had taken this truly miraculous event for granted.

Although we live on the east coast of Queensland, Australia, we are Germans. My husband, Siegfried, was born in Danzig, and I was born in what is now the Czech Republic. When we considered going on a mission, we had concerns. Our family is constantly growing. The separation would be very hard for us. Our little house couldn’t be rented, and there were financial worries. We discussed it together and spoke about all the pros and cons. But in the end we knelt down and asked our Father in Heaven for guidance. After that it was very easy. We both had a good feeling and the certainty that we should go on a mission.

Many times we don’t comprehend the meaning of the ordinances of the temple in their fulness until after we have known affliction or passed through experiences that could have been extremely sad without the knowledge of the plan of salvation.
When my wife and I had only been married a year and a half, she was ready to deliver our first baby. We had decided that she would have the baby in the Chihuahua colonies, where she had been born. At that time I was working in Mexico City, and we decided that she would be there a month ahead of the delivery date. I was planning to join her later.
The delivery date arrived. I was at work when I received a call from my father-in-law. The news was good: “Octaviano, your wife has given birth, and you now have a little daughter who is beautiful.” So, in my happiness, I began to announce this to my friends and partners at work, who in turn asked me for chocolates to celebrate the birth of my little one.
The next day I began to give out chocolates throughout the four floors of our office building. When I reached the second floor, I received another call from my father-in-law. This time the news was different: “Octaviano, your wife is fine, but your daughter has passed away. The funeral will be today, and you don’t have time to come. What are you going to do?” I asked to speak with Rosa, my wife, and then asked her if she was OK. She replied that she was fine, depending on how I was feeling. Then we talked about the plan of salvation, remembering this scripture:
“And I also beheld that all children who die before they arrive at the years of accountability are saved in the celestial kingdom of heaven” (D&C 137:10).
I asked her, “Do you believe that?” And she said, “Yes, I do.” Then I replied, “We should be happy then. I love you. And if you are OK with that, I’ll take my vacation in two weeks, spend some time with you, and return back together to Mexico.”
We knew that one day we would be reunited with our daughter because we were sealed by the power of the priesthood in the temple. We ended the telephone call, and I resumed giving out the chocolates in my office building.
Seeing me do this, one of my co-workers was surprised and asked me how I could do this after such terrible news. I answered, “If you have three hours, I can explain to you why I am not feeling too sad and about my knowledge of what happens after death.” He didn’t have three hours at that moment but did later. We ended up talking for four hours. He accepted the gospel and, together with his mother and brother, was baptized into the Church after receiving the discussions.
I know that thanks to the power of godliness manifested in the ordinances of the temple, I will now be able to know my daughter. I will embrace her, and we will be with her for eternity, just as we are now with our three surviving children.

Michael gazed at the tiny, soft bed of straw. “I am glad that baby Jesus will have a soft, warm bed for Christmas Eve,” he thought.
For the past week Michael had carefully tucked little pieces of straw into this tiny manger, one piece at a time. Michael thought that it just might be the best Christmas he ever had because now he was old enough to understand what Christmas was all about.
A week ago Mom had given a family home evening lesson about the true meaning of Christmas. She said that Jesus Christ was the greatest gift Heavenly Father gave to the world. Then she presented each child in the family with a small, empty manger and a tiny figure of the baby Jesus.
“For the next week you will each have a chance to give a present back to Heavenly Father,” Mom said.
“How can we do that?” Michael asked.
“Your gift to Heavenly Father will be to serve others,” she said. “Each time you do a good deed or help another person, you may add a piece of straw to your manger. The more kindness you show to others, the softer the manger will be on Christmas Eve.”
“I hope I can get more straw in my manger than anybody else!” Michael thought.
The next day Michael started working to collect straw.
“Mom, can I help you sweep the floor?” Michael asked, when he saw her cleaning the kitchen.
“I’ll help you find your teddy bear,” he told his little brother when he cried for his lost toy.
“I want to shovel some snow too,” he said when his dad went outside to shovel the driveway.
Within a few days Michael’s little manger looked very different. It was stuffed full of straw! But Michael noticed a change in himself too. He started to enjoy doing kind things for others because he knew it was what Heavenly Father wanted him to do. Sometimes he even forgot to add a piece of straw to the manger when he helped.
Michael decided that doing nice things made him feel good inside. On Christmas Eve, as he stood by the soft lights of the Christmas tree, Michael gently laid his tiny baby Jesus in the manger, which was now overflowing with straw.
Michael knew he had done the best he could to show his love for Heavenly Father and Jesus. This was the best Christmas ever.

There it was, just lying on the sidewalk! I stopped and stared at it. “Hey, what’s wrong with you?” I looked up to see my new friend, Sally, standing beside me. “Look,” I said, “someone’s wallet.”
Sally had just moved to our neighborhood, and I was glad to finally have a member of the Church who was my own age around. “Let’s see if there’s any money in it,” she said, picking it up. “Wow! Have you ever seen so much money in your life!”
My eyes nearly popped out of my head. There must have been a thousand dollars in it. “See who it belongs to,” I said. But Sally was too busy counting the bills in the wallet to pay any attention to what I said. I tried again. “Stop that—it doesn’t belong to us.”
“It isn’t our fault somebody lost his wallet,” she said. “Besides, haven’t you ever heard of ‘finders, keepers—losers, weepers.’”
“But it isn’t ours,” I repeated.
“Don’t be such a baby!” Sally was getting angry. She made me promise not to tell anyone about the wallet.
“Come on,” she said, “we’re rich! Let’s go buy some candy.”
I didn’t want her to be mad at me, so I went along.
Later that night, when I was in my room, Mom came in. “Are you feeling OK?” she asked. “You hardly ate any supper.”
“Sure,” I mumbled.
“Are you worried about your talk next Sunday?”
I had completely forgotten about my talk. It was supposed to be on how the Holy Ghost can guide us.
After Mom left my room, I tried to work on it, but all I could think about was the wallet and whoever it belonged to.
A few days later my older sister, Beth, said she’d help me work on my talk. “What’s wrong with you, Shortstuff—you’re not paying attention.”
I started to cry. I’d promised not to talk about the wallet, but I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Sally and I found a wallet with tons and tons of money in it. We spent some, and now I feel just awful!” I blurted out as fast as I could. I felt better just having told her.
“No wonder you’re having so much trouble writing this talk, kiddo.” She smiled.
“Huh?”
“Your talk is on how the Holy Ghost can guide us, and you’re experiencing that firsthand.”
“What do you mean?”
“Think about it—about what you’re feeling now about the wallet. Where do you think those feelings are coming from?” She looked at me, waiting for an answer.
“You mean it’s the Holy Ghost trying to guide me to do what’s right?”
“You’re a smart kid! Now I think you need to talk to Mom and Dad.”
I went to my dad and told him the whole miserable story. He called Sally’s dad, and they came over. I could tell that Sally was really upset with me. My dad had me replace the money I’d spent. Sally grudgingly promised to repay her dad for the money she had spent. Then my dad called the owner of the wallet, who came over right away. Dad told him the whole story.
The man shook our dads’ hands and smiled at us. “Thank you for returning my wallet,” he said. “I was worried about it. It must have been very hard to find that much money and give it back.”
I looked down at my feet and mumbled, “Yes.”
“Well, I’d like to give you a reward.” He reached into the wallet and took out a twenty-dollar bill.
“We can’t take that,” I said. “We should have returned the wallet to you right away.”
The man nodded, put the money back into his wallet, thanked us again, and left.
Sally wouldn’t even look at me, let alone talk to me. But I was glad that I’d told, even if it meant losing Sally as a friend. I felt good inside knowing that I’d followed the promptings of the Holy Ghost and finally made the right decision.
That Sunday I gave my talk on how the Holy Ghost can guide us, even when we don’t want to listen at first. Sally sat in the front row and smiled at me. I think she was as glad then as I was that we’d returned the wallet.
After church we walked home together and talked a lot. I hoped that we wouldn’t find anything else. But I knew that if we did, the Holy Ghost would guide us to do what we should.

“Father came home every night shortly after six o’clock, and dinner was always at six-thirty. I remember wonderful evenings at the dinner table. The moment dinner was over, Dad would help clear the table; then we would go into the living room. He would be at one end of the room, totally absorbed in the work he’d brought home. Even so, he always knew what we were doing. If we listened to some good program on the radio, we would keep it down low so that it wouldn’t disturb him. Then, in the middle of the program, he’d look up and smile and say, ‘Turn it up a little. I can’t hear what’s happening.’”

Although my remarks have been directed to the youth of the Church, for parents and grandparents, I offer the following:
Recently, Elder David A. Bednar described a simple way to conduct a family assessment to mark progress on the covenant path by essential ordinances. All that is needed is a piece of paper with two columns: “name” and “plan for next or needful ordinance.” I did this recently, listing each family member. Among them, I noted an infant grandson, soon to be blessed; a six-year-old grandson, whose preparation for baptism was essential; and a son turning 18, whose preparation for the priesthood and temple endowment was imminent. Everyone on the list needed the sacrament ordinance. This simple exercise assisted Lesa and me in fulfilling our role to help each member of our family along the covenant path, with an action plan for each of them. Perhaps this is an idea for you which will lead to family discussions, family home evening lessons, preparation, and even invitations for essential ordinances in your family.

My mother died when I was fifteen years old. That was twenty years ago. I have experienced all the feelings you have—the anger (at my mom and Heavenly Father), the frustration, the loneliness, the shock. All of these feelings are very real.
When my mom died, we did not talk about it. I think it took me years to work through her death because of that. Hopefully, your family can talk about your feelings and losses. Your mother still exists; that doesn’t end with death. Your mother is simply living somewhere else. She loves you very much.
If your family can’t talk about your mom, you need to find someone who can. Pray to Heavenly Father so that he can help you find a support group, a counselor, or a friend who will listen to you.
Something that helped me very much (although I didn’t realize it until years later) was staying close to the gospel, praying, and keeping the commandments. I allowed myself to be angry at Heavenly Father. I said so in my prayers. I think he probably expected that and allowed me to work through my feelings. In looking back, I can see that Heavenly Father surrounded me with his love. He protected me from myself and my grief.
You will always miss your mom. And finding peace might take a long time. For me, it took years. But I promise you that if you desire it, it will come. When you’re at peace, you feel watched over and warm.
I may never understand why my mother died when she did. But it doesn’t matter anymore. It’s okay. I wish you success.
Stephanie Ransom, 35West Valley City, Utah

Once again the neighboring communities came to resent the Saints because of their strength, prosperity, and political influence. The Nauvoo Expositor, a local newspaper, added to the Saints’ trouble by printing lies about the Church leaders.

On June 10, 1844, a group of men under orders from the city council destroyed the newspaper’s press. Joseph and some of the other brethren were charged with inciting a riot, but were later found not guilty.

Governor Ford wanted Joseph to be tried again at Carthage, Illinois.

Joseph felt that if he went there, he would probably be killed, so on June 23, 1855, he rowed across the Mississippi River to avoid arrest. In a letter, Emma pleaded with him to return and surrender. Joseph also learned that some of the Saints were calling him a coward for leaving. “If my life is of no value to my friends,” he said, “it is of none to myself.” He returned to Nauvoo, and on Monday, June 24, he and the others charged in the case went to Carthage to surrender.

When they got to Carthage, they were released on bail until a circuit court judge could hear the case. Joseph and Hyrum went to talk to Governor Ford. While there, they were re-arrested on charges of treason.

Joseph and Hyrum were again jailed; John Taylor and Willard Richards went with them.

On June 27, 1844, shortly after 5:00 P.M., a mob rushed up the jail stairs to the room where the prisoners were being held. The culprits tried to break through the door, but were unable to. Shooting through the door, they hit Hyrum, who fell, saying, “I am a dead man.”

Joseph went to the window where he was shot twice from inside the building and twice more from outside. He fell out of the window to the ground and died. John Taylor was shot four times and lay under a bed, severely wounded. Willard Richards was not injured during the shooting.

After the martyrdom, John Taylor wrote, “Joseph Smith, the Prophet and Seer of the Lord, has done more, save Jesus only, for the salvation of men in this world, than any other man that ever lived in it. … He lived great, and he died great in the eyes of God and his people; and like most of the Lord’s anointed in ancient times, has sealed his mission and his works with his own blood. …” (D&C 135:3).

“Missionaries from the Western United States knocked on my door in England many years ago. After introducing themselves as representatives of the Lord Jesus Christ, they told us that the Book of Mormon was the word of God and that it had been translated from ancient records by the power of God. They shared with us how this wonderful book came to light. As I looked at it, a warm feeling came over me and I knew that the writings were true. I still had to read more and then pray before I knew that the young boy, Joseph Smith, whom the Lord used to translate the Book of Mormon, was indeed a prophet. My family and I were baptized. A desire to know the truth, coupled with study and prayer, gave me a testimony. Everyone can receive the same blessing through study and prayer. President Benson has challenged every member of the Church to read the Book of Mormon every day because it will bring us nearer to our Heavenly Father and Jesus than any other book.”

“I hope each young man who has been ordained to the Aaronic Priesthood is given a spiritual awareness of the sacredness of his ordained calling, as well as opportunities to magnify that calling. I received such an opportunity as a deacon when the bishopric asked that I take the sacrament to a shut-in who lived about a mile from our chapel. That special Sunday morning, as I knocked on Brother Wright’s door and heard his feeble voice call, ‘Come in,’ I entered not only his humble cottage but also a room filled with the Spirit of the Lord. I approached Brother Wright’s bedside and carefully placed a piece of the bread to his lips. I then held the cup of water, that he might drink. As I departed, I saw tears in his eyes as he said, ‘God bless you, my boy.’ And God did bless me—with an appreciation for the sacred emblems of the sacrament and for the priesthood which I held.