Gospel Story Finder

While still living at home, Beatrix began sending illustrated letters to Noel, the son of a former governess. He read the letters with such delight that Beatrix decided to make a book. She lengthened the Peter Rabbit story and submitted it to Frederick Warne & Co., a London publisher. Although it was rejected, Miss Potter had faith in her rabbit story. She felt so strongly that children would like it that she had it published privately. The book sold quickly for one shilling and twopence a copy. During the next eighty years, over twenty million copies were sold!
The Tale of Peter Rabbit has been translated into thirteen languages. Sightless children can also enjoy the book in Braille.

Saúl T., age 11, Mexico
Once my brother and I traveled on a bus with our aunt to her home for a week’s holiday. My father gave us a blessing before we left. After a while, a man who was also on the bus asked to get off. While the driver’s assistant was helping him with his luggage, a whisper told me softly, “Your luggage has been stolen.” I looked out, and our luggage had indeed been taken off the bus and hidden in the grass. I cried out that it was our luggage and not the man’s. I know it was the Holy Ghost who spoke to me, and I was so grateful.

He grew up, coming and going through my door. After Jim’s 19th birthday and a year in Provo, he announced his intention to serve a mission. I was thrilled but a little surprised. He had never spoken of a testimony. His group of friends were split—some were going in the military, a few were planning on missions, and a few others struggled with worthiness problems.
Jim went back to Okinawa again, this time to receive a mission call. In a few month’s time he was on my doorstep again, on his way to the Missionary Training Center. We acknowledged how ironic it was for him to leave the Far East to come to the United States for a mission. During this visit, Jim began to talk. We talked about Japan, about his two dates, about his friends and their plans, and we discussed his recent trip to the Tokyo Temple to be endowed. We laughed, reminisced, and speculated about our future lives when he returned as an “R.M.”
Secretly, I worried about him. How was this quiet, private young man, who was just now conversing openly with me after a five-year friendship, going to survive on a mission? I couldn’t imagine him tracting, speaking in church, or teaching a discussion. Would he be an ever-silent companion? I hoped for understanding, sensitive, and gregarious companions for him. When the departure day arrived, I hugged and waved him off to the MTC with a prayer in my heart—for his growth and for his survival.
Jim’s letters were few and far between, but they were treasures. I finally got to know some of his thoughts. He began to share some of his feelings and his testimony with me. Missionary work was hard. He hoped he could “do the job.” He liked some companions and struggled with others. He was always full of faith. His letters proved the adage, “Still waters run deep.”
Fate and time brought a move for us and a relocation for Jim’s parents. We both moved to the state of Washington. His mother, when we communicated, helped fill in the gaps between Jim’s infrequent letters. She gave me news of transfers, of companions, of a new assignment: zone leader. I tried not to be surprised. I matched the depth of the well-written letters with the emergence of this “new” personality who trained elders and taught successful discussions.
When Jim returned from his mission, I was privileged to join his family at the airport to welcome him. As I drove to the airport, I reviewed our friendship and Jim’s growth and maturation. I speculated about his appearance and his demeanor.
He was the last person to emerge from the jetway, which caused extra anxiety for his waiting family. Finally, he appeared—taller than I remembered, and thinner. His naturally curly hair was darker and was cut so short that there was no curl. He wore the missionary uniform: dark suit, white shirt, dark tie, black “mailman” shoes. The suit was very worn and looked like it could stand on its own and still hold the shape of Jim’s body. He was bent a little from the weight of his carry-on luggage.
When he saw us, he smiled a little, then dropped his head as he walked the last few feet of the walkway. When he raised his head again, his eyes were red and he was weeping. He dropped his bags and embraced his mother in a tight hug and cried openly as he kissed her, then held her in his arms for a full minute more. He released her to repeat this exchange with his brother, sister, and his father.
It is a rare privilege to observe such an exchange of pure love among people. I thought, this is how it must be to return to our heavenly parents after completing our earthly missions. What a sweet experience to return, knowing you’ve served faithfully.
Jim then turned to me, and without hesitation, embraced me in a bear hug. As we parted, we both wiped tears from our eyes. And he said, “Thanks for being here.”
I spent another two hours with Jim that morning before we had to head in different directions. During that time, I watched him start a conversation with the man next to him while waiting for his luggage. Within 15 minutes, he had given the man a Book of Mormon and a pamphlet and had parted as a friend. I saw him spend a few private tender moments with his younger brother and sister as he sensed their need and focused on them individually. He gave half of his lunch to his little brother, when the ten-year-old complained of being hungry still.
Jim related a few mission experiences: of singing a duet in church with his companion, of a Sunday when he had 17 investigators at church on the same day, and of the mission farewell the night before. He had been amazed that so many of the missionaries had wanted to gather to say good-bye to him. Jim wept again as he expressed his concern for a companion who had recently lost his dad to a sudden, unexpected death. Here was compassion, love, humility, confidence, and power. Sitting before me, in his grayed shirt, wrinkled tie, and well-worn coat, was someone who had been seemingly magically transformed. His smile was the only trace of the shy, quiet boy who hesitated to pray in front of someone.
We send our young men and women out to preach the gospel of Jesus Christ. We ask them to study, to work hard, to endure, and to serve. And in the end, these children return to us whole, ready to teach and inspire by their loving and humble example. And, having been touched by divine light, we are, none of us, the same again.

I was raised with very liberal views concerning the gospel. There was no priesthood in our home, and although I studied the gospel as best I could, when the real trials came, I couldn’t seem to live up to gospel standards.
My husband was not a member of the Church, and for a long time, the gospel was not a part of our lives. There was tension and misunderstanding whenever we tried to discuss the Church, so we just didn’t.
I didn’t want these hurt feelings in our family, so five years ago, I decided to do something about the situation. At that time, my husband was sent to Vietnam. Our son was four years old, and I decided it was time for him to go to Primary. Gradually, we began to go to Sunday School and sacrament meetings. We didn’t feel too comfortable there. We didn’t know many people, and no one seemed particularly interested in us except one family. They invited us to their home for family home evening and dinner. In time, from this first exposure, I realized that there was something missing that I wanted in my home.
When I met my husband on leave, I told him how much the Church meant to me, how I believe it with all my heart, and how I would never demand that he go to church if he would just first give it a try.
When he returned from Vietnam, we were transferred to Kentucky, where we started going to church. My husband, Rich, was the friendly antagonist in class—asking all the questions that many teachers wish would be asked somewhere else, or at least in a different setting. I kept praying that when our next orders came, we would find ourselves in an area surrounded by Latter-day Saints. I wanted so much for Rich to rub shoulders with Mormons. I prayed about it a lot.
Well, when our orders came through, they were for Stillwater, Oklahoma. I cried for three days. I didn’t think there were any Mormons in Oklahoma. But the Lord does things in his own way. In Oklahoma, we again attended the investigator class, and home teachers started coming to visit us.
The real change came one very cold January night in 1970. I decided that 1970 was going to be my year for the Church—no more being a part-Mormon, I wanted to be a total one. So the first Monday night (this was when Relief Society was on Monday), I started out in the bitter cold. Rich said, “Please don’t go.” I said, “I’ve got to. If I don’t now, I never will.”
When I arrived, I felt quite uncomfortable, for I was the only one there. It wasn’t long, however, before three others came—the presidency. Finally, we had a total of seven sisters. They really made me feel welcome. They held a testimony meeting, and everyone except me bore her testimony. There wasn’t a dry eye in the room. I couldn’t wait to get home to tell my husband how I felt about the Church.
That experience kept me in Relief Society. I didn’t miss a single meeting for about six months. Finally, after testimonies were shared at the conclusion of one lesson, one sister said, “If you’re having trouble reading the Book of Mormon, start reading Third Nephi.”
I thought. Oh, am I having trouble? I can’t even get started!
That evening, I went home and opened Third Nephi and read the whole book. My husband and I were both students at the time, and after I’d finished reading it, I took it to the other room, where my husband was studying.
I handed the book to him and said, “Read this and tell me if you don’t think it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever read.”
He looked at me as if to say, “You’ve got to be kidding—at this time of night?”
But he read it. Who could not be moved by chapter 11:
“And it came to pass, as they understood they cast their eyes up again towards heaven; and behold, they saw a Man descending out of heaven; and he was clothed in a white robe; and he came down and stood in the midst of them; and the eyes of the whole multitude were turned upon him, and they durst not open their mouths, even one to another, and wist not what it meant, for they thought it was an angel that had appeared unto them.
“And it came to pass that he stretched forth his hand and spake unto the people, saying:
“Behold, I am Jesus Christ, whom the prophets testified shall come into the world.” (3 Ne. 11:8–10.)
This book was the turning point. He went on to complete the Book of Mormon—we both did. We read other Church books, prayed, and started having family home evening. Within six months, he was baptized. A year later, he baptized our son—a dream I once thought was impossible for me. This year (1972), we were sealed as a family in the temple.
I can never fully express how I feel about those scriptures that started us down the road of happiness.

The courage that the Prophet Joseph Smith showed is not reserved for prophets or members of the Church of a previous generation. An incident in the life of President Joseph F. Smith (1838–1918) bears this out. In the fall of 1857, while 19-year-old Joseph F. was returning from his mission in Hawaii, he joined a wagon train in California, USA. It was a volatile time for the Saints. Johnston’s Army was marching toward Utah, and many had bitter feelings toward the Church.

One evening, several hoodlums rode into the wagon train camp, cursing and threatening to hurt every Mormon they could find. Most in the wagon train hid in the brush, but Joseph F. thought to himself: “Shall I run from these fellows? Why should I fear them?”

With that, he walked up to one of the intruders, who, with pistol in hand, demanded, “Are you a ‘Mormon’?”

Joseph F. responded, “Yes, siree; dyed in the wool; true blue, through and through.”

At that, the hoodlum grasped his hand and said, “Well you are the ——— ——— pleasantest man I ever met! Shake, young fellow, I am glad to see a man that stands up for his convictions.”3

On a warm summer evening, my son Paul was playing with friends near our home. Nearby was a group of teenagers. One of the teenagers started smoking something bad. She called to Paul, “Hey, do you want to try this?”
Paul remembered what he had learned at school and Primary and from his parents. He looked right into the girl’s eyes and said, “No! Drugs are bad for you!”
The girl took the drug out of her mouth, threw it on the ground, and crushed it with her shoe.
Later, Paul curled up on my lap and told me about it. I am grateful that Paul has been taught that drugs are bad for the body and that he had the courage to try to be like Jesus Christ and obey His commandments.

President Lee on several occasions gave wise counsel with respect to following the living prophet. I should like to quote from one of his Brigham Young University devotional addresses:
“Now may I make a personal reference, which I’ll try to treat in such a way as to preserve the confidentiality. It involved a beautiful, young wife and mother from a prominent family. She had gone away from her home and was now in the East. She had gone out into an area where she and her husband had taken up with those in the ghetto, and she wrote me a rather interesting letter, and I quote only a paragraph: ‘Tomorrow my husband will shave off his long, full beard. Because of the request of the stake president and your direction in the Priesthood Bulletin, he must not have the appearance of evil or rebellion if he is to get a recommend to go to the temple. I have wept anguished tears; the faces of Moses and Jacob were bearded, and to me the wisdom and spirituality of the old prophets reflected from the face of my own spiritual husband. It was like cutting out for me a symbol of the good things my generation has learned.’ Then the letter concluded with a challenge to me: ‘We are prepared for clear, specific, hard-line direction as youth. Wishy-washy implications are not heard very well here. We look to you to tell it straight.’
“I don’t know whether she knew just what she was asking for when she asked me to tell it straight, but these are some things I wrote to her: ‘In your letter you address me as, “Dear President Lee,” and in your first sentence you refer to me as the Lord’s prophet. Now, in your letter you tell me that you are saddened because with the shaving off of the beard and the cutting of the hair, which, to you, made your husband appear as the prophets Moses and Jacob, he would no longer bear that resemblance. I wonder if you might not be wiser to think of following the appearance of the prophets of today. President David O. McKay had no beard or long hair; neither did President Joseph Fielding Smith; and neither does your humble servant whom you have acknowledged as the Lord’s prophet.
“‘The inconsistency in your letter has made me reflect upon an experience that I had in the mission field when, in company with some missionaries and the mission president, we were at Carthage Jail, where the martyrdom of the Prophet Joseph and his brother, Hyrum, took place. In that meeting there were recounted the events that led up to their martyrdom. Then the mission president made some significant comments. He said, “When the Prophet Joseph Smith died there were many who died spiritually with Joseph.” Likewise there were many who died spiritually with Brigham Young, and so with others of the presidents of the Church, because they chose to follow the man who had passed on, rather than giving allegiance to his successor upon whom the mantle of leadership had been given by the Lord’s appointment.’
“And then I asked her, ‘Are you following, in looks, prophets who lived hundreds of years ago? Are you really true to your faith as a member of the Church in failing to look to those who preside in the Church today? Why is it that you want your husband to look like Moses and Jacob, rather than to look like the modern prophets to whom you are expressing allegiance? If you will give this sober thought, your tears will dry, and you’ll begin to have some new thoughts.’” (“Be Loyal to the Royal Within You.” Speeches of the Year, Provo, Utah: Brigham Young University Press, 1974, pp. 97–98.)

When my family planted a peach tree in our backyard, I started dreaming about homemade peach pie. But the sapling we planted was small, with only a few skinny branches. It looked like a single peach would pull the whole tree over.
After a few summers, the tree became tall, leafy, and beautiful. The birds loved it, and my family enjoyed the shade it provided. But it still wasn’t doing what it was supposed to do—grow peaches!
It was a few years before any fruit grew on the tree. There were only a few small peaches, but it was better than nothing. It took another summer for the tree to start growing enough big, sweet peaches to (finally!) make the pie of my dreams.
My family wouldn’t have gotten that homemade pie if we’d let the tree stop growing. The sapling, the shade, and the small fruit weren’t bad, but we knew that the tree had the potential for more. There was always room to keep growing.

“Truck left and get me a two-shot.”
The words come quietly but insistently over the headset to a young cameraman silhouetted against the hot lights of the television studio.
“I thought you just told me to stay with a close-up,” he whisper yells into his microphone. “What’s it going to be?”
“Get the two-shot,” the director insists.
The cameraman wheels his camera to the left, focuses it, locks it in place, and watches as the red light comes on indicating that his camera is live.
The television show being taped is one of a series being produced for cable television by the two wards in Kamloops, British Columbia. The series, the LDS Hour, can be seen on the second Tuesday evening of each month. The show consists of one of the many films produced by the Church, followed by a panel discussion using the theme of that particular film as the topic for comment. The guests on the show, hosted by the stake public communications director, Graham Noble, are local residents, most often nonmembers who are experts in the area being discussed. So far, the program has dealt with such topics as loneliness, alcoholism, genealogy, and self-esteem. The boys who run the cameras, control the sound, and direct the production are from the teachers quorum of the Kamloops Second Ward.
It all started when Brother Noble visited the meetinghouse library and saw that there were nearly 70 Church films available for viewing. He thought that it would be nice to show a film on television once a month. “I figured that with 70 films, we could be on the air for four or five years.”
“I knew people liked Mr. Kreuger’s Christmas, and I thought they might like these other films,” said Brother Noble. “I phoned the television cable company and was invited for an interview. The manager said we couldn’t just show a film. We had to have some local content. He suggested an hour show where we show a half-hour film and discuss it afterward with two or three guests. We set the formula for the show based on his suggestion.”
Before the first episode of the show could go on the air, a crew had to be assembled. The studio personnel would train the people involved to run the cameras and sound equipment and be the floor director. Brother Noble thought of using the young men of the ward. He asked the teachers quorum to help. His aim was to have a trained, established group who would stay with it for several years.
Were there any problems using such an inexperienced young crew? Brother Noble said, “There was some opposition to my using kids. But we stuck with it. They are just the right age to learn.”
It takes a four-man crew to get a show on the air. So far six have worked on the program, Allen Oram, Mike Noble, Martin Kyle, Bill Graham, Doren Quinton, and Chris Arnold. Not only are friends impressed when they beg off from other after-school activities because they “have to go film a television show,” but parents too have been impressed by what their sons have done. Indeed, most of the boys’ families and other ward members tune in to watch the show. But the crew doesn’t always sit back and enjoy the program.
“When we watch the show on Tuesday nights,” said Doren, “we’re critical of how we did.”
Allen quickly added, “We’re getting better all the time.”
Things have not always gone smoothly as the young men were learning how to run the equipment and anticipate the requests of the director. Some of the first tapings were plagued by pictures with no sound and potentially embarrassing zoom shots.
The group learned quickly that they had to do it right the first time. “There are no retakes,” said show host, Brother Noble. “If you stutter or clam up, it’s right there on tape, no second chances. It doesn’t bother me to talk to different people, but once you get under those lights, it shakes you a bit.”
Chris remembers learning about how to produce the show. “I was really surprised at first. The first time was quite rough, but we learned. Now when I watch television, I know what the cameras are doing and when they mess up.”
Martin was also involved in that first program. “Everyone decided on what area they wanted to work, sound or camera. I thought the whole thing was a great idea. I had always wondered how they actually did television productions, and here we were doing it too.”
Martin chose to do the sound mixing. His interest has been stimulated, and he finds that knowing a little has added to his appreciation of professional sound mixers. “I went to a concert, and I was really interested in the complicated sound mixing. It was amazing because I knew just how good it was.”
At first, the LDS Hour seemed to be a service just for Church members. But Brother Noble and the boys found out that the show was being watched by an audience they hadn’t quite expected. They found that members who have not been attending church for years are tuning in.
“They don’t want to commit themselves to attend church meetings, but they want some connection. One lady who watches our show was baptized 33 years ago,” said Brother Noble. “Her home teachers and visiting teachers have never been successful in encouraging her to attend the ward. But she watches the program and calls her friends to watch it.”
The group really didn’t know how well the program was being received until one day the LDS Hour had to be cancelled because of a scheduling conflict with another program the cable station was airing. That was when the telephone started ringing. Viewers wanted to know what had happened to “their” program. The following month the show was back in its scheduled spot, and both the cable station and the local wards were glad to know they had a program that was missed when it didn’t make it on the air.
The young men have caught on that they are involved in something more than just publicity for the Church. They recognize it as a service project. “Yeah, but it’s fun,” is the quick response. It has involved the community because the subjects of the films and the discussions are of general interest.
Bill explains, “It’s not really a preachy show. It’s about good things that society wants. It’s about human relations. It’s something we can all share.”
Bill also tells about one man that was touched directly from the program. “I know a lot of people call their friends and tell them about the show. One man saw the show and called the missionaries and wanted to know more about the Church. It’s a missionary tool. We aren’t directly teaching people, but we’re helping. I like being a part of that.”
The crew has arrived at the studio ready for another taping. With an air of knowing exactly what needs to be done, they quickly arrange the furniture on the set. Chris and Allen pull cables out of the way of their cameras. Martin clips the tiny microphones to their guests’ lapels. Mike is seated at the switching board, giving instructions over his headset.
Suddenly someone yells, “Quiet.” Bill counts down with the fingers of one hand. “Five … four … three … two … we’re on the air.”

When I was younger, I had trouble sleeping at night. Then I had a rare experience. It was Christmas Eve, and I was having trouble sleeping. I was awake for hours, and I wanted to get to sleep! I began to cry. My mom heard me and came into my room. I told her that I couldn’t sleep. She asked me if it would help if she said a prayer. I told her that I hadn’t thought of that and that yes, it would help. She asked Heavenly Father to help me. When the prayer was over, I felt very relaxed, and I thanked her.
The next morning, my mom told me that she had gone back to my room five minutes after her prayer, and I was already asleep. I learned that because of my faith, I was able to get over my trouble with sleeping.
Maren Sargent, age 11Fruit Heights, Utah

Gradually and painfully Peter became more stable. His arms and legs were tied up to prevent bleeding, and his eyes were bandaged. The doctor explained to him what had happened in the accident: he had dislocated an arm and a leg; had broken three ribs, seven or eight fingers, and his jaw; had received a serious concussion; had lost 50 percent of his skin; and had received first- and second-degree burns over another 40 percent. But Peter had one big question. Since the gas splashed into his eyes, would he ever see again?
I could hear the doctor leaving. He hadn’t answered my big question. I got my arm swinging. I must have caught his attention because he came by me and asked, “What is it, Peter?” I could only say, “My eyes, my eyes, my eyes.” He just squeezed my arm and didn’t answer. He knew what I meant. There was just the unsaid answer that there was no chance I would see again. He started to weep a little, and I could tell that things were very serious.
Peter spent months in the hospital slowly recovering. In fact, he would spend one year as a full-time patient and many more months in and out of the hospital as he underwent dozens of operations. One of the many operations to be performed was to remove the scar tissue from his eyes. Following the operation, while he was in the recovery room, Peter knew that the moment of truth would come that following morning. Then the bandages would be removed and his eyes tested.
Awake and alone in the middle of the night, Peter thought about what was to come.
I couldn’t handle the thought of that scene when my eyes would be uncovered. On the one hand, if I could see, what a grand moment it would be! But on the other hand, what if I were blind? All hope would be gone.
Awkwardly, because his hands were wrapped in bandages, Peter started to remove the wrappings from his eyes. He managed to maneuver a pan from beside the bed onto his chest. His plan was to reflect the light from his overhead bed lamp into his eyes. He flipped the switch, and the light exploded in his eyes. He could see! As his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room, he lifted the shiny, metal pan once more.
There, in all my excitement, was this horrid face. Because my family had been told that I didn’t have a chance to live, they hadn’t told me about some other things. They hadn’t told me that I had lost most of one ear and all my eyelids and all my facial features. My nose was gone; all mymouth was gone. In my excitement to see, I hadn’t thought about what I would see. I couldn’t handle it emotionally. I let out a big yell.
Now faced with new dilemmas, Peter spent all night talking with a sympathetic nurse, asking her about what could be done. What plans had been made? What was going to happen to him once he got out of the hospital? What was it going to be like going to a store? What about going to a dance? What if he wanted to dance with a girl? What if he liked a girl? What if he wanted to give her a kiss? Abruptly, he started to laugh. The nurse, puzzled by this sudden change in emotion, wanted to know what was so funny.
All of a sudden something flashed through my mind. I was reminded of another time when I had looked into a mirror, concerned about the way I looked.
When I was a junior in high school, I had an opportunity to go to the junior-senior prom. This was the first time I had ever worn a tuxedo. It was exciting! I had just turned 16 and had asked a special girl to go with me. It was the first time I was to take a girl out to dinner. I was so concerned I would be late that I started getting my tuxedo on at 2:00 in the afternoon. Just as I was putting on the cummerbund and the bow tie, I noticed something happening on my chin. No, not now! I hurried to the mirror. Right there on the left side was a blemish just starting to appear. I remember how angry I got. Why today? Why not tomorrow? Any day but today! Pictures will be taken. In my attempt to correct the problem, I made it bright red.
When I went to pick up my girl friend, I was so embarrassed at the way I looked that I positioned myself at her front door so that the right side of my face was toward her and the left side faced away. Throughout the dance she kept asking who I was looking at. To top it all off, when we went to the restaurant, I asked to be seated at a large table for 10 so that I could sit on her left side and she wouldn’t be able to see my blemish. I had been so embarrassed by the way I looked then.
Now, here I was in the hospital, remembering how silly and immature I had been about that blemish. Here I was, having fought for my very life, for everything I had. And even though my face didn’t look very good, that didn’t seem so important when I thought of the miracle that had taken place. There really had been no chance that I would see again; yet now I could see! I took a little moment to say a prayer of thanks to my Father in Heaven because he had answered that prayer.

When I was a young man, my home was on Long Island about 30 miles from New York City. We had woods around us, and we enjoyed nature. My father had a large yard with hedges, rock gardens, fish pool, vegetable garden, lawns, and trees. They all required regular care. There were always chores, like cutting the lawn in the summer and raking leaves in the autumn. I thought we worked pretty hard taking care of our yard, but it was nothing like my father’s boyhood on the sugar beet farm in Burton, Idaho.
One day my father said to me, “You’re never going to learn how to work until you go out and work on the ranch with your Uncle Frank.” So I spent that summer in Skull Valley near Tooele, Utah, learning how to work.
The change from the lush greenery of my home in Long Island to Skull Valley’s dusty, stark desert environment was hard for me to believe. It gave me an appreciation of the first impressions that pioneers coming from Europe and the eastern part of the United States must have had when they were told, “This is the place.”
I had grown up near a large city. Ranch life was an education for me. I was impressed to see the cattle and the horses and the hard work necessary to bring about the harvest. I can remember the feelings when I first realized that an enormous amount of preparation was necessary before the crops were brought in. We had to plow, disk, harrow, plant, cultivate, weed, irrigate and then continue to cultivate, weed, and irrigate, endlessly it seemed. That summer was a great lesson to me. It is a cherished part of my heritage, because it was here in this almost desolate, remote corner of the world that I learned the law of the harvest.

On a rainy morning in 1953, 79-year-old President David O. McKay visited Thurso, Scotland, to see the home where his forebears had embraced the restored gospel more than 100 years earlier. President McKay’s son Llewelyn, who accompanied him on this visit, recalled: “[As we approached the home], the sun broke through the clouds and smiled at us as though he were reflecting the joy and happiness in father’s heart. As we all gathered in front of the home, tears came to father’s eyes as he looked through the door. ‘If it had not been for two missionaries knocking on this door about 1850, I shouldn’t be here today!’” he declared.1
Even though the home had fallen into disrepair and was by that time used only to store potatoes, President McKay lingered for some time in the doorway, speaking fondly of what had happened there. The gratitude and joy President McKay expressed that day were characteristic of his life and ministry. As a General Authority for almost 64 years, including 19 years as the ninth President of the Church, he served with the energy of one who cared deeply for people and for the gospel and found joy in bringing the two together.

Roger had been a valuable employee throughout his successful career. But company ownership changed, the workforce was reduced by 25 percent, and Roger’s position was eventually eliminated. Though he had not anticipated losing his job, he never dreamed he’d have a difficult time finding work as an engineer.

Roger’s former employer provided the assistance of a professional outplacement firm. The firm assured him that with his expert skills and valuable experience, unemployment wouldn’t last long. Although Roger dutifully searched the job market and distributed copies of his résumé, days turned into weeks and weeks into months, and Roger became discouraged. “I felt extremely frustrated, knowing I was capable and experienced enough to provide for my family, yet being unable to find an opportunity to do so,” he remembered. After more than seven months of unemployment, funds from Roger’s severance package were gone and the family’s savings were nearly exhausted.

After learning of Roger’s struggle, his ward employment specialist encouraged him to participate in the professional placement program at the Michigan Detroit LDS Employment Resource Center. A woman in attendance at the next weekly networking meeting was looking for employees to work in her manufacturing company. She was impressed by Roger’s valuable skills and experience. A job interview followed shortly thereafter and a job description was written specifically to fit Roger’s skills.

I had no sooner opened my lips in an effort to pray, than I heard a sound, just above my head, like the rustling of silken robes, and immediately the spirit of God descended upon me, completely enveloping my whole person, filling me from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet, and O the joy and happiness I felt! No language can describe the almost instantaneous transition from a dense cloud of mental and spiritual darkness into a refulgence of light and knowledge, that God lives, that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, and of the restoration of the Holy Priesthood, and the fullness of the Gospel.

Many years ago, I was the bishop of a new ward in Potomac, Maryland. We had to meet in a school, so one of our first goals as a ward was to build a meetinghouse. Back then, each ward in the Church had to help pay for its meetinghouse, and we sent letters to all the adults in our ward, asking if they would make a donation. As a bishopric, we then decided that the entire ward should be involved, so we also sent letters to the children and teenagers.
The following Sunday, I sat on the stand in Junior Sunday School, which was the meeting children used to attend while their parents were in regular Sunday School. As the music played and the children walked in, one little boy, Jimmy Theurer, came up to me on the stand and placed a nickel in my hand. Our meetinghouse got its start with the contribution of that one little boy.
This experience helped me realize that it’s important for children to be a part of what we do in the Church. They can do many good things for the Church, and they can help and encourage their parents to do good things as well.

First, living the gospel of Jesus Christ. Jens of Denmark prays daily to live the gospel and notice promptings from the Holy Ghost. He has learned to act quickly when he feels directed by the Spirit.

Jens shared the following:
“We live in an idyllic, small, half-timbered house with a thatched roof, in the center of a cozy little village, close to the village pond.
“On this night with the most beautiful Danish summer weather imaginable, doors and windows were open, and everything breathed peace and quiet. Due to our gloriously bright and long summer nights, I had not been in a hurry to replace a burned-out light bulb in our utility room.
“Suddenly, I got a strong feeling that I had to replace it immediately! At the same time, I heard my wife, Mariann, call for me and the children to wash our hands because dinner was ready!
“I had been married long enough to know that this was not the time to start doing anything else than washing my hands, but I heard myself calling out to Mariann that I would just pop over to the store to buy a new light bulb. I felt a strong urge to leave immediately.
“The grocery store was only on the other side of the pond. We usually walked, but today I grabbed my bike. While riding past the pond, out of the corner of my eye I noticed a small boy, about two years old, walking alone near the edge of the pond, very close to the water—suddenly he fell in! One minute he was there—and the next he was gone!
“No one had seen this happen but me. I threw my bike on the ground, ran, and jumped into the waist-high pond. The surface of the water immediately closed with duckweed, making it impossible to see through the water. Then I sensed a movement to one side. I put my arm in the water, got hold of a T-shirt, and pulled the little boy up. He started gasping, coughing, and crying. Soon afterward the boy was reunited with his parents.”

As Brother Jens prays each morning for help to recognize promptings from the Holy Ghost, even something as unusual as to immediately change a light bulb, he also prays that he can be used as a tool to bless God’s children. Jens lives the gospel by seeking divine direction each day, striving to be worthy, then doing his best to follow that direction when it comes.

I first came to the United States from American Samoa when I was 10 because my father wanted his children to have more educational opportunities than those he had. I lived in Seattle, Washington, with an aunt and uncle. At 14, I moved to California. My grandmother, with whom I lived, was a temple worker in the Los Angeles California Temple, but I was not a member of the Church.
During my junior year of high school, I became involved with student government and noticed several people on the student council who stood out from all the rest. They were respectful of others, clean in speech and dress, and had a dignity and light about them that caught my attention. We became friends, and they invited me to go to Mutual with them. I liked the fun, wholesome activities and the Spirit that I felt there, so I began attending regularly. Just a few weeks later my friends introduced me to the missionaries and to the Book of Mormon. I was baptized soon afterward and began a lifelong study of the Book of Mormon.

The fact that Apii is alive is part of the reason her family joined the Church. When she was eight, she was desperately ill with asthma. Missionaries gave her a blessing, and she was healed literally moments later. “I was really weak,” says Apii. “I hadn’t been able to eat or drink. As soon as the missionaries said amen I was all right. I opened my eyes and asked for something to drink. Everybody sort of laughed they were so relieved.”

First, you will likely be found out. Then you must work extra hard to make up for losing the trust of your teachers and your parents. One young woman was very nervous about going to college. The first essay she turned in to her freshman English class was one she plagiarized (copied from another source). Her teacher recognized the essay she had copied from and confronted her. The student spent the rest of the semester trying to make up for her cheating. Even when she did well on an essay she wrote herself, her teacher was always a little suspicious.

Second, cheating takes away the satisfaction of doing well in your classes. Nothing will give you more confidence in your abilities than doing well in a class by studying hard. One young chemistry student found out that someone in his chemistry lab had the answer book for all the lab experiments they would be assigned that semester. It seemed like the whole class played around in the lab and then filled in the correct answers while he did his lab work without cheating. He was made fun of, but in the end, when the class was assigned individual projects for their final grade, he was way ahead because he had actually learned the things he was supposed to have learned.

Third, and perhaps most important, cheating damages your spirit. When you are in tune with the promptings of the Holy Ghost, it is fairly easy to tell right from wrong. But each time you cheat or lie or cover up errors, you start to believe your rationalizations. You begin to think that there really are good reasons for you to cheat or to bend the rules in your case. But no matter how you fool yourself, it doesn’t make it right. And the cost to your spirit is high. Your ability to hear the promptings of the still, small voice telling you right from wrong will diminish. You can become spiritually numb, as it says in 1 Nephi 17:45, “Ye were past feeling, that ye could not feel his words.” [1 Ne. 17:45]

The things you learn about being honest in schoolwork apply to the business world as well. As you move into the working world, if you give good honest value in services and products for the money paid you, then you can truly say that you deal honestly with your fellowmen.