Gospel Story Finder

When I was 13, my mother decided to return to her church. I went with her every Sunday for several months and soon joined the church’s youth group. I loved many things about this church, but I always felt like there was something missing. I continued to go until one day at a youth activity the other youth found out I was not a member of the church. The teenagers in the group began shunning me, and I eventually stopped going to church altogether.

Later, in high school, I took a comparative religions course. I learned a lot about many religions and realized there are a lot of good people with the best of intentions. But no religion ever seemed quite right.

I had convinced myself that no church was right and decided to live by my conscience, read the Bible (by this time I had bought my own), and do my best to live in accordance with the teachings of Jesus Christ. After all, no one in my family went to church, and they were all honest, good people.

In May of 2000, after seeing a movie about the life of Jesus Christ, I was so deeply touched that I earnestly prayed to God. I knew if I was patient, while continuing to do my best to follow Christ, I would receive answers to my prayers. I faced many tests in the months that followed. Through these tests, I became better at receiving the Spirit’s promptings.

Later that year I felt I should go to the visitors’ center at the Washington D.C. Temple to see the Christmas lights. I had been to the visitors’ center to see the lights before but had never inquired about the Church or its beliefs.

As I strolled through the visitors’ center, looking at the many displays, I thought of my cousin and another friend who were planning to serve missions for this church. I had studied about many religions but never this one. I was a little curious.

In my head I asked, expecting no answer, “Why in the world would those two men, or anyone for that matter, give up two years to serve missions—and at their own expense?” Much to my surprise, I received a humbling response. The soft whispers of the Spirit pierced my heart as my eyes fell upon a replica of gold plates. I was drawn to them. As I looked at them, I felt a powerful feeling of love, safety, and comfort, and in my mind I heard the words, “These are important. Learn about them.”

Immediately, I found a missionary and asked her about the plates. She told me about Joseph Smith translating the Book of Mormon. She also suggested I meet with the missionaries, but I declined.

The next day I went to the library to read all I could about the plates and the Church. I bought a copy of the Book of Mormon from a used-book store and began reading. I also read about the Church, but I wanted to learn more, so I decided to attend a church meeting.

I knew if I studied and prayed, God would confirm to me that this is the right church. So that’s what I did. I watched and waited patiently. And sure enough, my prayers were answered. On March 25, 2001, I was baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

This is the Church of Jesus Christ. There are many good churches with many good people, but The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the church of our Lord and Savior, and it is the church with which our Heavenly Father is well pleased (see D&C 1:30). Our Heavenly Father loves us, has a plan for us, and will guide us back to Him if we earnestly seek Him.

It was preparation day on my mission in Yamoussoukro, Cote d’Ivoire, a small country in West Africa.
At about 11 o’clock in the morning, I had the feeling that my companion and I should go out, without really knowing in advance where we would go. I suggested that we go, and he agreed without hesitation. A few minutes later, we were out in the street. We walked as if we were being guided by someone and went straight to a particular residence. I rang the doorbell and a young girl answered the door. I said to her, “Tell your mother the missionaries are here.”
The mother came out to greet us. She was in tears and said, “Three days ago, I prayed and asked God to send me missionaries, and now here you are.”
This mother was able to find peace in her life through hearing the message of the restored gospel. That day, I received the confirmation that God guides His servants.

“You’re it!” Mandy said. She tagged her little brother and then swam away. Mandy’s family was staying in a motel until they could move to their new home. It was fun eating ravioli warmed up in the microwave for lunch. And they got to swim in the motel pool almost every day!
But there was one not-so-good part about the motel. The motel manager’s office was right under their room, and the manager thought Mandy and her brothers and sisters were too loud. “How can I rent rooms when it sounds like a herd of elephants are over my head?” he asked Dad.
After lunch Mandy’s little brother Aaron jumped off the bed and hit the floor with a thump. Mandy winced and looked up at Mom.
“No jumping. Tiptoe, please,” Mom said.
But it was too late. The phone rang.
“Uh oh,” thought Mandy.
Mom picked up the phone. Mandy could hear her apologizing to the manager.
Mom’s shoulders sagged as she hung up the phone. “Edward and Mandy,” she said, “I need to put Aaron and Emily down for a nap. Will you please take Kristine and Daniel for a walk?”
As they started across the motel parking lot, Mandy spotted something small and brown on the ground.
It was a wallet. And it had money in it!
“Look, Edward!” she said, holding the wallet up high.
“We need to take this to the manager’s office right away,” said Edward.
Mandy felt her stomach clench. Why did they have to take it right now? Couldn’t Mom or Dad return it later?
But Mandy knew the right thing to do.
The children opened the office door and timidly stepped inside. The manager frowned. “Um, we found this wallet in the parking lot,” Mandy said. Her hand shook as she set the wallet on the counter.
A man who was standing at the counter looked over. “That’s mine,” he said. He quickly looked through the wallet. “And everything’s here. Thank you, kids!”
Mandy looked up at the manager. His frown was gone, and his eyes were twinkling.
After they left the office, Daniel asked, “Was that wallet magic?”
“Why do you think it’s magic?” asked Edward.
“Because it made the grumpy man happy!”
Edward shook his head. “The wallet wasn’t magic,” he said. “He was happy because we did the right thing.”
Mandy had a special feeling inside. She never knew choosing the right could make people so happy.
A few days later, Mandy and Dad went to pay the week’s bill. The manager smiled at Mandy. He had only called once since they found the wallet, and just to thank them for being honest. Mandy felt like she’d made a new friend.
“Choosing the right really is magical,” Mandy thought. She waved goodbye, and the manager waved back. “And he really isn’t so grumpy after all.”

Years later I met with Elder Jairo Mazzagardi of the Seventy when he came to reorganize our stake. He asked me about my mission.
Elder Mazzagardi said, “Brother Murilo, I see that you were baptized when you were 16, but you did not serve a mission.”
“I did not serve a mission,” I said, starting to cry.
“But I do everything possible so the Lord will forgive me. I have served as a branch president for seven months, and I try to be a missionary and give my best. I work hard to help others. I want the Lord to forgive me. I do not want this blemish at the last day.”
“Brother Murilo,” he said, “do not look back; look forward. Whoever looks back walks backwards, and whoever looks forward walks forward. You are clean.”
I was happy to hear this! I felt light, happy, and peaceful.
It felt like a six-ton backpack was lifted off my back.
He told me to return with my wife and called me to serve as stake president.
Elder Mazzagardi then said, “Your experiences will help you be stake president. You will be able to help young people who have difficulties or who do not have the support of their parents. You did not have the opportunity to serve a mission, but this is your mission now. You will help send young people on missions.”
As stake president one of my main goals is to help young men and young women prepare to serve missions. The Lord has given me the right words at the right time to talk to these young people. I am grateful the Lord has given me the opportunity to help others choose to serve missions.

“Mormons sometimes discriminate against other Mormons.”
This feeling was expressed in a recent rap between returned Latter-day Saint servicemen and institute students and faculty at Idaho State University. The returned servicemen were invited to talk to student and faculty leaders and tell them how they felt about the institute. The surface niceties were soon forgotten because these men were encouraged to talk frankly about their problems.
The result? A new program of help and encouragement and a resolution on the part of members of the Student Association to go out of their way to make any newcomer to the institute feel welcome.
The servicemen’s comments were accepted at face value by faculty and students alike. President Robert E. Thompson, president of the Idaho State University Stake, summed up the feelings of most when he said, “We have always felt that we were extending the hand of fellowship, that we were welcoming the returned servicemen, but when the truth came out, we found we were falling down. We didn’t realize that they needed something special, something extra. Whether we agree that their assessment of us is correct or not is not important. The important thing is, they feel they need something more and we are not providing it.”
The returned servicemen expressed their feelings of being left out, of finding no place or organization for them.
“When you have been treated like a second-class citizen for so long, you expect to get shoved off the street. I spent four years in the Navy, and the whole time was an intensive training period on catching the cold shoulder. So I’m probably more sensitive than most about recognizing it,” said Terry Van Orden.
Of course, the problem is more complex than it seems. There are many reasons returned servicemen feel as they do.
“A soldier is often in a poor environment. It is unfortunate, but the worst of mankind seems to reveal itself during war. And maybe this is the reason returned servicemen don’t feel equal to returned missionaries. Missionaries are in a situation to see the most beautiful and uplifting parts of mankind; military people see the opposite. This naturally created a state of inequity in my mind; I didn’t feel as good as if I had been serving on a mission. And, of course, I wasn’t treated the same as a returned missionary. But the most important difference to me was that difference inside of me.
“For the first while it was natural for me to be hostile and suspect that people were not sincere because this is what I had been conditioned to expect. But finally I had to get hold of myself and say, ‘Look, these people are trying to help you, and they want to be your friends.’ It took me a while to realize this, but when I did, the change started happening to me, and I began to come around,” said Warren Mallen, a Vietnam veteran.
One ex-Navy man said, “I kept my testimony all the time I was in the service, but when I came back to my home ward, I didn’t feel accepted, and so I became totally inactive. Now because of this special effort at the institute, I really feel that I am on my way back.”
Of course, adjustments back to regular religious life have not all been negative. “The first few days at the institute were a pain in the neck for me because people were unfriendly. So I decided that I had to get involved. I got involved in everything I could, and soon people seemed more friendly,” commented Craig Naylor.
“I went into the service with four of my best buddies,” added Chip Herndon, an ex-marine who was wounded several times and spent a total of sixteen months in hospitals. “One stayed in and the other three died while they were in the service. So I felt like burying myself in the Church when I got home. I had a lot of time alone in the service, and I didn’t like being by myself. I was real glad to be active in the Church, even though it is still hard for me to open up at times.”
The institute panel learned other things about returned servicemen. They learned that there are more than a hundred of them on their campus alone who do not even feel welcome or wanted enough to let others know they are Latter-day Saints, let alone set foot in an institute class.
They learned that being busy and preoccupied with your own studies and assignments can easily be misinterpreted by someone else. “I’ve tried to come here several times during the last two years,” said Terry Van Orden, “but I couldn’t get used to walking down the hall and seeing my people walk by with their chins in the air.”
Those listening to the panel realized that it is common for people to prejudge others. Just as returned missionaries are loved, ex-servicemen are looked on with suspicion. “Talk to any mother; they will all tell you they would rather have their daughters associating with a missionary than with a serviceman,” commented one person. The group feeling was unanimous: “People don’t look at you as a person first and a serviceman second. They don’t care what kind of person you are; most people won’t even give you a chance.”
They talked about specific problems that seem to keep returned servicemen from trying to get back into Church life. Some haven’t been keeping the standards, and they feel they need help from someone who can understand them. Others expressed the idea that it is only natural after feeling the spirit of true love and brotherhood from sincere people to want to reevaluate their own lives.
As a result of this session, a special seminar is held regularly at the institute. Some twenty returned servicemen are now attending, and they have been assured that they are loved and wanted. Here they discuss everything from the gospel principles to career advice to how to combat the feeling that girls are afraid of them. During the seminar they are making friends and beginning to feel at home at the institute.
Discovering how any child of God should be treated was one benefit of the returned servicemen’s session and its resulting seminar. People now understand and practice the quintessence of the gospel. Once these wonderful principles were applied, the servicemen’s seminar became a living, breathing part of the Student Association at Idaho State University. At the same time it promises to be a very important missionary tool.
Institute students and faculty learned several important lessons from this experience that could help you not only to relate better to others but also to be a better follower of the Savior.
“We should not be interested in the history of a person’s problems. If a guy is smoking, we are not going to put him down for that. We simply need to let him know that we are his brothers and sisters, that we want to help him, and that we care about him. We are not interested in what he was but in what he can become.”
“Many people are basically shy and have a hard time communicating—not the passing-the-time-of-day kind of talk, but really expressing their feelings from deep down inside. In order to do this they have to want to express their feelings and then feel comfortable about how they will be received.”
“It is easy for people who are extra sensitive to feel that they are being looked down on. In addition to the servicemen, non–Latter-day Saints on this campus feel that the Mormons are cliquish and that we look down on them because they are different.”
“Those returned servicemen who seemed to feel the best adjusted were welcomed back into their home wards with a ward party. Then they were asked to report to the bishop and the stake high council about their experiences and their conduct as ward members while they were away. This personal interest made them feel accepted and on more of a par with others in the ward who were returning from school or missions.”
“The most positive experiences these brethren had while they were in the service were when others reacted to them first as people and then as soldiers or sailors, not the reverse.”
Whether in the United States or Japan, people belonging to branches were generally more friendly than people in wards. An ex-sailor said, “One sister in a little branch in Japan kept a three-by-five-inch card for every serviceman who visited there. She and her husband would take you home, and you knew you really had a friend and a place to go if you were ever there again. This kind of experience is the gospel in action to a serviceman.”
“Many returned servicemen have experienced what they call a crash course in growing up. Even though they may be the same age chronologically as other students, they had to grow up under fire on a night patrol or crouched in a bunker with mortar rounds zeroing in on top of them, and so they have good reason for seeming a little older and a little more serious in many ways.
“Because of these kinds of memories, it is harder for them to be as light-hearted and gay as the average college student. They require more drawing out than most.
“It is natural when we see a person from a minority race at the institute to sort of go out of our way to be friendly. But we often tend to by-pass the average-looking student because there are so many of them.”
“There are many Latter-day Saint returned servicemen on this campus, but you can’t recognize them. You go to the student union building and you know that some of the people you see are returned servicemen, and yet you don’t know which ones. We have had some success in locating them by working through the registrars office and also by asking returned servicemen. Terry knew twenty Latter-day Saint returned servicemen on campus who were not affiliated with the Church in any way.”

What of marriage responsibility? Are there some who delay marriage for fear of the responsibility? When my wife and I were married, we had the magnificent sum of 20 English pounds between us. Although young, we felt ready for the challenges and responsibilities that we knew lay ahead. What a glorious experience it has been now for almost 40 years to shoulder responsibility and struggle together in building a happy home and a wonderful family of ten precious children.

The day after his arrival in the valley, after a restful night in the home of the Edward Stratton family, friends of the Blairs who had immigrated a few years before, William sought out a cobbler. As he waited for his boots to be mended, he relaxed and played merry tunes on his tin whistle, tunes he had undoubtedly played many times while crossing the plains.
When the cobbler finished, he handed William the old boots made new and asked, “How old are you?”
“Fifteen.”
“Didn’t you just arrive?”
“Yes, sir. How much do I owe you?”
“There’ll be no charge; just play me another tune on your whistle.”
William gratefully placed the handkerchief of money back in his pocket, the money his mother had so delicately given him many, many nights ago, and played the whistle like it had never been played before.

When Sister Limsukhon was living in Chiang Mai as a new member of the Church, one of the full-time missionaries was Anan Eldredge. Brother Eldredge’s life has almost spanned the history of the Church in Thailand.
Born Anan Tubtimta, he lived in a small village approximately five hundred kilometers north of Bangkok. When he was eight years old, Anan’s mother died—leaving him with questions about life and death. As he sought the answers to these questions, he also sought educational excellence and became one of the top students at his high school.
“When I was sixteen, I left home and went to Bangkok, where I worked as a busboy in a hotel,” he says. There he became friends with the teenage son of a U.S. State Department official, Louis Eldredge. Louis and his wife, June, were Latter-day Saints. When the Eldredges were assigned to a major military installation in Thailand, they invited Anan along.
“I met two Latter-day Saint servicemen who discussed the gospel with me. Through them, I finally found the answers to the questions I had on life and death. I discovered who I was, where I came from, and where I was going.”
Anan was baptized 24 December 1967, the first Thai male convert in Thailand. The following year, when the first six full-time missionaries were assigned to Thailand, Anan became their constant companion, teaching them the language and helping them translate Church pamphlets.
The Eldredges offered to adopt Anan and send him to college in the United States. Even though it meant giving up his family name, Anan’s father, a respected school principal, encouraged his son to accept the Eldredges’ offer.
But no sooner had Anan arrived in the United States than he was called to serve a mission in Thailand. After a thirty-month mission, Anan returned to the United States and entered college in California. There he met a Brigham Young University graduate named Margaret Brown, a convert from England. The couple was married five months later in the Los Angeles Temple.
“After my graduation in business management, Margaret and I went to Thailand so she could meet my family. During that visit, I was hired to establish the area distribution office for the Church.”
While there, he helped prepare a revised Thai-language version of the Book of Mormon, and he helped with translating and publishing the Thai Doctrine and Covenants and the Pearl of Great Price.
After he had worked for five years with the Church Distribution Center, Anan and Margaret returned to the United States, where he continued with gemology studies he had begun in Thailand. Eventually, he opened a jewelry business in Kansas City, Kansas, and later a store in Anchorage, Alaska.
When asked how a Thai, married to an English woman, decided to live in Alaska, he jokingly says, “I love the fishing there.”
But Anan, Margaret, and their growing family of three sons and two daughters, were to become fishers of men. In 1988, Anan was called to preside over the Thai Mission. (Before he completed his term as mission president in 1991, he greeted a new missionary couple from the United States—Louis and June Eldredge.)
Under President Anan Eldredge’s missionary leadership, Church membership in Thailand showed a steady increase. He constantly emphasized the need for members to fellowship and retain new converts, and to reactivate the less-active. He looks forward to the day when the first stake is created in Thailand.

The children of Eulogia Diaz and Delio Cosme Sanchez remember this about their mother’s service as branch Primary president: Back when Primary was held on weekday afternoons, Eulogia would shepherd a large group of children from her neighborhood—“our little band,” one of her daughters recalls—on the long walk to church each week. It didn’t matter whether or not they were members; if they wanted to be there and their parents allowed it, Eulogia would bring them along. She wanted as many children as possible to enjoy the blessings of Primary.

I was nervous. I had been to Blythedale Children’s Hospital on a few previous occasions, and my youngest brother, Taylor, had been a patient there. But I was still nervous. Participating in a Young Women service project at the hospital was a new experience. The children at Blythedale are all preparing for or recovering from major surgeries. Many children there have cerebral palsy or other disabilities. I was worried about what to do, what to say, and how to act in these unfamiliar circumstances.
I first noticed Libby because she was the last to finish her “paper pizza,” the craft project we were doing with the children. All the other children had finished their projects. But not Libby. Her jet-black hair hung down over her face as she focused intently on her work. She sat in a wheelchair, hovering over her pizza and arranging the pieces to her liking.
“Can I help glue those pieces on?” I asked.
“Nope,” she replied matter-of-factly. “I can do it.”
My Young Women leaders were crinkling up newspapers and packing other supplies, but Libby continued to work, unrushed. I realized that Libby would need some help to finish, but she seemed intent on doing her project herself. I noticed that Libby didn’t have enough “confetti cheese” for her creation, so I searched under the tables to find more. I even had to pick through the newspapers that were in a large garbage can, but we finally found enough and Libby put the final touches on her masterpiece.
After placing the pizza neatly in her lap, Libby maneuvered her wheelchair around to join the “singing circle,” and I followed. We sat side by side, singing silly songs with all the other kids. Libby frequently reached over and clasped her arms tightly around my neck, bringing me close to her face. This display of affection surprised me, but I responded by placing my arm around her small neck and smiling. Libby didn’t sing many of the songs, but she seemed happy to sit with me, listening as I sang.
As I sat with her, I realized that Libby reminded me of my youngest sister, Lyndsey—especially her hands. Libby’s tiny hands had long, thin fingers, and her fingernails were all cracked and broken, obviously from being bitten.
“You know what, Libby?” I said. “You look a lot like my sister Lyndsey, who’s around your age. In fact, your hands look exactly like hers. She bites her nails just like you do!”
Libby looked up at me, biting her lip. Then she asked me an unforgettable question.
“Did your sister have to have her legs cut off, too?”
I froze. It felt like my heart ceased to pump for just a second. Lyndsey’s legs were strong; they climbed trees and rode bikes, jumped on beds and turned cartwheels. They ran barefoot through the grass in summer and skied down steep slopes of snow in the winter. But how could I say that to Libby?
Libby gazed at me calmly, waiting for an answer. I mumbled some response which she accepted and then moved on. After I answered her, I realized that Libby, like most people, wanted someone who could understand.
Singing time came to an end. Libby asked me to help her pull her braces over her knees, all traces of independence vanishing as the question was asked. As I pulled the rubbery braces over her feeble knees, she reached her slender arms around my neck and grasped me tightly in one last hug. Then she turned her wheelchair and pushed herself determinedly down the hall.
I watched Libby until she disappeared into her hospital room. I wanted to reach out and do something more for her, but I realized I had done all I could do that night. Our brief friendship is still special to me. On my trip to Blythedale I learned something I’ll never forget. We are two totally different people—different races, different lifestyles, and different challenges—yet we felt a love for each other.
I was only a 14-year-old girl, but I think I may have succeeded in making a connection with Libby, simply because I was willing to try. I hope she thinks so too.

My first Sunday in church was in early 1995. All my life I had spent weekends in stadiums and gymnasiums. I love sports! I was even studying sports. But in January 1995 I came in contact with The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The sister missionaries invited me to attend church, and I went.
It was a fast and testimony meeting. I sat on a massive wooden pew, one sister missionary to my right, the other to my left. But I encountered only unfamiliar faces, unfamiliar music, unfamiliar proceedings, and unfamiliar words. I had never partaken of the sacrament before and was preoccupied with finding out the appropriate conduct. I felt very uncomfortable. I said to myself, “It will be over at some point, and then I will get out of here and never come back.” But the meeting concluded with the announcement that all should remain in the chapel for a lesson by the mission president, President Charles W. Dahlquist II, who now serves as Young Men general president. So most people, including the sister missionaries, remained seated, and I could not simply sneak out inconspicuously, as I had planned. Since I did not have the courage to tell the missionaries how awful I was feeling, I decided to endure.
President Dahlquist stood in front. He began by asking what we would do with a good book we had just read. My answer was, “Read it again, recommend it to others, or give it as a gift.”
He spoke about the Book of Mormon, then about a few other subjects. But something peculiar happened. I suddenly knew that everything he said was true. I knew that he knew more things that were true as well. I knew that I wanted to know what he knew. I knew that I wanted to have in my life what he had as an anchor in his life. It is hard to find words to describe this experience. I simply knew that he knew.
I looked around stealthily to see if anybody had noticed anything unusual, for I had the impression that something wonderful had happened.
Because of his lesson I attended church again—and again. My baptism was on March 2, 1996, approximately one year after this experience. Today I have five wonderful children and a wonderful, eternal husband.
I recall often and with gratitude this lesson.
Barbara Hopf, Stade Branch, Hamburg Germany Stake

In our day and our time, there are many examples concerning the experiences of those who pray and then go and do. I share with you a touching account of a fine family that lived in the beautiful city of Perth, Australia. In 1957, four months before the dedication of the New Zealand temple, Donald Cummings, the father, was the president of the member district in Perth. He and his wife and family were determined to attend the dedication of the temple, although they were of very modest financial means. They began to pray, to work, and to save. They sold their only car and gathered together every penny they could, but a week before their scheduled departure, they were still 200 pounds short. Through two unexpected gifts of 100 pounds each, they met their goal just in time. Because Brother Cummings couldn’t get time off work for the trip, he decided to quit his job.
They traveled by train across the vast Australian continent, arriving at Sydney, where they joined other members also traveling to New Zealand. Brother Cummings and his family were among the first Australians to be baptized for the dead in the New Zealand temple. They were among the first ones to be endowed in the New Zealand temple from far-off Perth, Australia. They prayed, they prepared, and then they went.
When the Cummings family returned to Perth, Brother Cummings obtained a new and better job. He was still serving as district president nine years later when it was my privilege to call him as the first president of the Perth Australia Stake. I think it significant that he is now the first president of the Perth Australia Temple.

With three children under the age of three, Diana Hoffman found little time to read the scriptures. But she determined to make scripture study a priority, hoping the Lord would bless her with the time needed to care for herself and her family. By getting up earlier and reading while the children were sleeping, she found herself strengthened, able to accomplish all she needed to, and blessed with the companionship of the Holy Ghost.
She says: “I have more patience with my children, more understanding and compassion for others, and more love for my husband. I feel at peace, and I am aware of an abundance of blessings in my life. I have a greater awareness of my priorities and a great satisfaction with what I am achieving” (Ensign, January 1996, 11).

It is important for each deacon to be guided to a spiritual awareness of the sacredness of his ordained calling. In one ward, the lesson was effectively taught pertaining to the collection of fast offerings.

On fast day, the ward members were visited by deacons and teachers so that each family could make a contribution. The deacons were a bit disgruntled, having to arise earlier than usual to fulfill this assignment.
The inspiration came for the bishopric to take a busload of the deacons and teachers to Welfare Square in Salt Lake City. Here they saw needy children receiving new shoes and other items of clothing. Here they witnessed empty baskets being filled with groceries. There was no money exchanged. One brief comment was made: “Young men, this is what the money you collect on fast day provides—even food, clothing, and shelter for those who are in need.” The Aaronic Priesthood young men smiled more, stepped higher, and served more willingly in filling their assignments.

There are many ways bishops and quorum members can help to relieve the suffering and anxiety of the unemployed. Phil’s Auto of Centerville, Utah, is a testament of what priesthood leadership and a quorum can accomplish. Phil was a member of an elders quorum and worked as a mechanic at a local automobile repair shop. Unfortunately, the repair shop where Phil worked experienced economic trouble and had to let Phil go from his job. He was devastated by this turn of events.

On hearing about Phil’s job loss, his bishop, Leon Olson, and his elders quorum presidency prayerfully considered ways they could help Phil get back on his feet. After all, he was a fellow quorum member, a brother, and he needed help. They concluded that Phil had the skills to run his own business. One of the quorum members offered that he had an old barn that perhaps could be used as a repair shop. Other quorum members could help gather needed tools and supplies to equip the new shop. Almost everyone in the quorum could at least help clean the old barn.

They shared their ideas with Phil; then they shared their plan with the members of their quorum. The barn was cleaned and renovated, the tools gathered, and all was put in order. Phil’s Auto was a success and eventually moved to better and more permanent quarters—all because his quorum brothers offered help in a time of crisis. Priesthood quorums can and must make a difference.

Illustrated by Mike Eagle
When Heber J. Grant was a new Apostle, he traveled with a group of brethren to Arizona to visit the Native Americans there.
Heber: Look, the path splits in two. Is the other one safe?
Companion: A rider can travel it, but it’s too muddy for wagons.
Heber: Why don’t the rest of you drive on while I take this path? I’ll meet up with you soon.
Heber wanted to be alone. He felt discouraged and unworthy.
Heber: I shouldn’t testify of the Savior. I’m not fit to be an Apostle.
As he pondered, a vision of heaven appeared in his mind. The Savior, the Prophet Joseph Smith, his own father, and other men he knew were deciding who the new Apostles should be. Heber was one of those decided on.
After that, he could bear testimony with confidence.
Heber: I know that Jesus lives.
President Grant spoke of this experience years later.
Heber: I have never doubted my testimony since. I have had only joy in bearing it. I know that God lives, that Jesus is the Christ, and that Joseph Smith is a prophet of the living God.

Who would have known that what began as a lemonade stand fund-raiser for Help a Child Smile would evolve into a carnival organized and run by Lindsay Schoen, with more than $10,000 raised during the past seven years?
Her provide-a-service idea first began with a lemonade stand that became a fixture near her Fielden Avenue home. Lindsay had already decided she would donate the money from her little business to Help a Child Smile, a nonprofit charitable organization that provides trips and gifts for sick Canadian children.
“The year after I had my stand, I went to [Help a Child Smile’s] big fund-raiser and I gave them $50 that I had earned,” Lindsay says. “I thought it was really cool. I didn’t even know how much money I had because I just kept all the money I made in a little box. Then I counted it out and gave it to them. I thought it was pretty neat.” So did the people at Help a Child Smile.
During Lindsay’s sickness, Help a Child Smile had selected Lindsay’s family for an all-expenses-paid trip to Disney World in Orlando, Florida. Lindsay had directly benefitted from people’s generosity, and now she wanted other cancer patients to experience the same thing she had.
That was when the grade-school businesswoman hatched the carnival idea. It was time to diversify, time to turn her lemonade stand into something a little bigger. Lindsay set a goal to make $100 at the first carnival, replete with a fish pond, a ring toss, and crafts table. She advertised the carnival by putting up posters on telephone poles around Port Colborne, and she sold tickets for 25 cents each. She even got people to donate some of the prizes, as well as food.
“I just didn’t know if anyone would come,” Lindsay says.
She couldn’t have been more wrong. By the end of that first carnival, the money she had made wouldn’t fit in her trusty box. “We made over $750,” Lindsay says.
Each year since, the carnival has been improved and upgraded. No longer is it held in the Schoens’ backyard. Instead, the front lawn of a water treatment plant hosts the pony rides, clowns, pie sale, and dunk tank—where Port Colborne’s mayor gladly agrees to let people try to knock him in the water. But since Lindsay knows the mayor personally, it wasn’t difficult convincing the politician he needed to participate. After all, he’d watched her struggle with the cancer she eventually beat.
“I didn’t mind getting knocked in the water,” says Mayor Neal Schoen, Lindsay’s dad. His Honor got wet all over again at Lindsay Schoen’s Seventh Annual Carnival, held last August. People pay for 25-cent tickets with a five-dollar bill, or they buy a lemon meringue pie for $100. After all these years, the people of Port Colborne seem to have the same vision Lindsay does, even if it does cause her to stress a bit.
“I just love doing the carnival. You can feel the Spirit when you do it,” Lindsay says. “And when I give the money to Help a Child Smile, I feel the Spirit so strong. It’s really cool.”
Funny how that works. Lindsay is doing her best to help some children smile, and it seems she’s the one doing all the smiling.

Can you remember a moment when someone gave you a gift that changed your life? This October marks 40 years since I received one of the greatest gifts in my life. While I was in high school, I noticed that one of our classmates had a light that was different from most of the other young people. I enjoyed being around him. One day he told me he was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Then he offered me a gift: a copy of the Book of Mormon. He invited me to read a few pages and meet with two friends who could answer my questions. Those friends were the missionaries.
When I met with the missionaries, they taught me the doctrine of Christ and invited me to follow the prophet Moroni’s invitation: “When ye shall receive these things, I would exhort you that ye would ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost” (Moroni 10:4).
I read several pages of the Book of Mormon and prayed. Although I did not yet have a deep understanding of all the things that the missionaries were teaching me, I felt in my heart that what I was reading was good and came from God. I received the confirmation of Moroni’s promise: “And by the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things” (Moroni 10:5).
After I was baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, some friends tried to convince me that I had made the wrong decision. But each time I faced such doubts or opposition, I received renewed confirmation through studying the scriptures and praying to stay true to the covenants I had entered into with God. Since then, the Book of Mormon has been my companion and has become an immeasurable treasure in my mortal journey.

Mom poked her head into David’s room. “I have a surprise.”
David looked up from his toy cars and smiled. “What is it?”
“We’re going to lunch with your cousins.”
“Yes! Can we get tacos?”
“That’s a great idea. But before we go, put your cars away.”
“I’ll do it later.”
Mom frowned. “You know the rules, David. You have to clean up before you go anywhere.”
He didn’t want to put his cars away. “Rules, rules, rules.” Suddenly he remembered something he had learned in his Sunbeam class. One of Heavenly Father’s rules was to obey your parents. He put his cars away.
At the restaurant, David stared at the huge taco on his plate. There were also rice, beans, and little green things. He picked up one of the green things.
“No, David!” his sister yelled. “Don’t eat that.”
“She’s right,” Mom said. “Don’t eat that. It’s a hot pepper.”
“More rules,” David thought. He popped the small green thing into his mouth and chomped down. Very spicy pepper juice filled his mouth. His mouth and throat felt on fire. Tears rolled down his cheeks. He coughed. “Water! My mouth … my mouth is burning.”
He grabbed his water and drank every last drop.
“Eat a corn chip,” Mom said. “It will help.”
He grabbed the chip and chewed. His mouth felt better, but his throat still hurt. The taco on his plate didn’t look good anymore. Tears still rolled down his cheeks. He looked at Mom. She had tears in her eyes, too.
Sadness came over him. He should have listened. Mom loved him. She didn’t want anything bad to happen to him, just like Heavenly Father loved him and didn’t want anything bad to happen to him. That’s why Heavenly Father gave him a wonderful mother and the commandment to obey his parents. His mother’s rules and Heavenly Father’s rules would help him to be happy and safe.
He wiped away the tears. The taco started to look good to him again.

I don’t like that George Bacon! Yesterday he dipped my braids in black ink, and today he pulled out my hair ribbon.
This evening George Bacon walked by my house, playing softly on his harmonica.
George came calling tonight. We had a lovely visit. After he left, I found his handkerchief in the corner of a chair. I wonder if he means for me to keep it.
George and I are to be married tomorrow! Mother will let me borrow her beautiful gold pin to wear.