Gospel Story Finder

Oftentimes we are like the young merchant from Boston, who in 1849, as the story goes, was caught up in the fervor of the California gold rush. He sold all of his possessions to seek his fortune in the California rivers, which he was told were filled with gold nuggets so big that one could hardly carry them.
Day after endless day, the young man dipped his pan into the river and came up empty. His only reward was a growing pile of rocks. Discouraged and broke, he was ready to quit until one day an old, experienced prospector said to him, “That’s quite a pile of rocks you are getting there, my boy.”
The young man replied, “There’s no gold here. I’m going back home.”
Walking over to the pile of rocks, the old prospector said, “Oh, there is gold all right. You just have to know where to find it.” He picked two rocks up in his hands and crashed them together. One of the rocks split open revealing several flecks of gold sparkling in the sunlight.
Noticing a bulging leather pouch fastened to the prospector’s waist, the young man said, “I’m looking for nuggets like the ones in your pouch, not just tiny flecks.” The old prospector extended his pouch toward the young man, who looked inside, expecting to see several large nuggets. He was stunned to see that the pouch was filled with thousands of flecks of gold.
The old prospector said, “Son, it seems to me you are so busy looking for large nuggets that you’re missing filling your pouch with these precious flecks of gold. The patient accumulation of these little flecks has brought me great wealth.”

Julie sat and listened to the others talk. She wondered if she would be able to say anything without crying. It would be difficult. But then she decided that maybe it didn’t matter if she cried or not. These were her friends and they’d understand.

Above everything else, Julie was so glad to be alive. Each day when she woke up, she took delight in things she’d taken for granted before—the sun, the blue sky, the song of birds—it was such a wonderful world.

Julie was a senior. In two weeks she would graduate. Her senior year had been something she would never forget. She and her friends had been together all through school, and they realized that this was their last year to be together. They all wanted to have some good memories.

Julie had been in the pep club since she was a sophomore. She’d made some very good friends. Most of them weren’t LDS, but they were still great friends. They respected her beliefs and didn’t complain if she didn’t drink when they all got together after a game.

One day Vicky Kramer, her best friend since the eighth grade, talked to her. “Julie, after lunch tomorrow a bunch of us are going up to Daryl’s cabin to have a party for all us seniors. Daryl’s dammed off a section of the creek so we can go swimming. You’ll come, won’t you?”

“I don’t know, Vicky,” she began.

“I know what’s bothering you. Okay, there will be a keg there, but we’re getting diet soda especially for you. C’mon, we just want you to be with us. This is one of the last times we’ll have to all be together. Please.”

It was hard to say no to Vicky.

The afternoon with all the seniors had been a lot of fun. These were some of her best friends, and they all knew their time together was growing to a close. In the fall, they would scatter to colleges all across the country.

There was not just one keg, but two, and near the end of the party, there was still a lot left in one of the kegs. “C’mon, everybody, let’s finish this up,” someone kept saying.

Near midnight they decided to head back to town. Somehow Julie and Vicky got separated, and Vicky ended up in a car driven by Ross Turner, a senior basketball player who’d received a full-ride scholarship to the state university.

Julie was in the car driven by Bruce Seeley. Bruce had been one of the most eager to help finish up the last remaining dregs from the keg.

“Bruce, why don’t you let me drive?” Julie had asked.

“I can drive perfectly well.”

“You’ve been drinking all day but I haven’t. C’mon, it’ll be safer.”

“No girl can outdrive Bruce Seeley.”

“She’s right,” someone said, “she’s the one who should drive.”

By this time the first car, the one driven by Ross, had already taken off.

They switched places, and Julie got in the driver’s seat.

“Did you ever hear the story,” Bruce said, “that ends, ‘You’d better drive. You’re too drunk to sing’?”

It was a gravel road heading down a steep mountain canyon leading to home, so Julie drove slowly.

“It’s going to take us forever to get down at this rate,” Bruce said.

A few minutes later when they rounded a corner, they saw the first car. It had slid off a curve and hit a large tree.

Vicky Kramer died in the accident.

Julie stood up, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I’m so grateful to know that life goes on after we die. You all know about Vicky. Well, I miss her so much …”

I have always been interested in animals and birds, and when I was a little boy and the other children wanted to play cowboy, I wanted to go on safari to Africa and would pretend I was hunting the wild animals.
When I learned to read, I found books about birds and animals and came to know much about them. By the time I was in my teens I could identify most of the African animals. I could tell a klipspringer from an impala, or a gemsbok from a wildebeest.
I always wanted to go to Africa and see the animals, and finally that opportunity came. Sister Packer and I were assigned to tour the South Africa Mission with President and Sister Howard Badger. We had a very strenuous schedule and had dedicated eight chapels in seven days, scattered across that broad continent.
President Badger was vague about the schedule for September 10th. (That happens to be my birthday.) We were in Rhodesia, planning, I thought, to return to Johannesburg, South Africa. But he had other plans, and we landed at Victoria Falls.
“There is a game reserve some distance from here,” he explained, “and I have rented a car, and tomorrow, your birthday, we are going to spend seeing the African animals.”
Now I might explain that the game reserves in Africa are unusual. The people are put in cages, and the animals are left to run free. That is, there are compounds where the park visitors check in at night and are locked behind high fences until after daylight. They are allowed to drive about, but no one is allowed out of his car.
We arrived in the park in the late afternoon. By some mistake, there were not enough cabins for all the visitors, and they were all taken when we arrived. The head ranger indicated that they had a cabin in an isolated area about eight miles from the compound and we could spend the night there.
Because of a delay in getting our evening meal, it was long after dark when we left the compound. We found the turnoff and had gone up the narrow road just a short distance when the engine stalled. We found a flashlight and I stepped out to check under the hood, thinking that there must be a loose connection or something. As the light flashed on the dusty road, the first thing I saw was lion tracks!
Back in the car, we determined to content ourselves with spending the night there! Fortunately, however, an hour or two later we were rescued by the driver of a gas truck who had left the compound late because of a problem. We awakened the head ranger and in due time we were settled in our cabin. In the morning they brought us back to the compound.
We had no automobile, and without telephones there was no way to get a replacement until late in the day. We faced the disappointment of sitting around the compound all day. Our one day in the park was ruined and, for me, the dream of a lifetime was gone.
I talked with a young ranger, and he was surprised that I knew many of the African birds. Then he volunteered to rescue us.
“We are building a new lookout over a water hole about twenty miles from the compound,” he said. “It is not quite finished, but it is safe. I will take you out there with a lunch, and when your car comes late this afternoon we will bring it out to you. You may see as many animals, or even more, than if you were driving around.”
On the way to the lookout he volunteered to show us some lions. He turned off through the brush and before long located a group of seventeen lions all sprawled out asleep and drove right up among them.
We stopped at a water hole to watch the animals come to drink. It was very dry that season and there was not much water, really just muddy spots. When the elephants stepped into the soft mud, the water would seep into the depression and the animals would drink from the elephant tracks.
The antelope, particularly, were very nervous. They would approach the mud hole, only to turn and run away in great fright. I could see there were no lions about and asked the guide why they didn’t drink. His answer, and this is the lesson, was “Crocodiles.”
I knew he must be joking and asked him seriously, “What is the problem?” The answer again: “Crocodiles.”
“Nonsense,” I said. “There are no crocodiles out there. Anyone can see that.”
I thought he was having some fun at the expense of his foreign game expert, and finally I asked him to tell us the truth. Now I remind you that I was not uninformed. I had read many books. Besides, anyone would know that you can’t hide a crocodile in an elephant track.
He could tell I did not believe him and determined, I suppose, to teach me a lesson. We drove to another location where the car was on an embankment above the muddy hole where we could look down. “There,” he said. “See for yourself.”
I couldn’t see anything except the mud, a little water, and the nervous animals in the distance. Then all at once I saw it!—a large crocodile, settled in the mud, waiting for some unsuspecting animal to get thirsty enough to come for a drink.
Suddenly I became a believer! When he could see I was willing to listen, he continued with the lesson. “There are crocodiles all over the park,” he said, “not just in the rivers. We don’t have any water without a crocodile somewhere near it, and you’d better count on it.”
The guide was kinder to me than I deserved. My “know-it-all” challenge to his first statement, “crocodiles,” might have brought an invitation, “Well, go out and see for yourself!”
I could see for myself that there were no crocodiles. I was so sure of myself I think I might have walked out just to see what was there. Such an arrogant approach could have been fatal. But he was patient enough to teach me.

As a young elder, I had been called to the old Primary Children’s Hospital that once stood on North Temple Street in Salt Lake City. There were children to be blessed. It was the Christmas season. I had never been in a children’s hospital before.
As our group entered the foyer, we noticed an attractively decorated Christmas tree, with beautifully wrapped gifts beneath its boughs.
A feeling of sympathy welled up within me as I noticed these tiny children, many with legs or arms in large plaster casts. Some were ever so weak and pale.
A young lad called out to us, “Will you give me a blessing?” Of course the blessing was given. I shall ever remember placing my hands on the tousled head of that faithful boy who was desperately ill. As we left his side, he looked up into my eyes and said, “Thank you, Brother Monson.”
We walked away, only to hear him call out, “Oh, Brother Monson, merry Christmas to you.” I could scarcely see him for the tears in my eyes. He had that glow about him that comes only at Christmastime. That boy trusted in his Heavenly Father. He acknowledged the priesthood of God. His faith was unwavering. I felt I was on holy ground.

But the mob never returned. Len soon married a woman named Mary Pugh in 1920, and they moved to Birmingham, a large city in central Alabama. Mary’s uncle, a Baptist pastor, predicted that she would join the Church before the year was over.
Mary read the Book of Mormon and gained a testimony of its truth. It took a little longer than predicted, but after five years of marriage she decided to join the Church. On September 15, 1925, the Hopes went with two missionaries to a secluded spring near Birmingham. Mary was baptized without incident, finally becoming a Latter-day Saint, like her husband.4
“I couldn’t be anything better,” she told her uncle, “and I can see no better church.”

Valentina Aranda, 33 years old, feels blessed to have lived all her life in the same neighborhood in Rome, a city loved throughout the world for its history and art. Her family comes from many different parts of Italy, which enriches her life with varied traditions. She had a promising career in marketing that she set aside to be a full-time mother to her two daughters. Below she shares the story of her conversion at age 21.
It all started with the Book of Mormon, which I saw in my friend’s library. The book made me very curious, and I felt drawn to it. One day I picked it up and began reading it—but it didn’t make sense to me. I told this to my friend’s mother, who said that I should pray before I read it.
The next evening, I prayed and started reading at the beginning of the book. It seemed to be a different book from what I had read the day previous, and I felt something I had never felt before. I talked about it with my friend and told her I would like to go with her family to church the next Sunday.
When I arrived at the church, I immediately felt at home. It was fast and testimony Sunday, and a very strong spirit descended upon me. I’ll never forget that Sunday. That morning I met the missionaries, who began helping me to know the truth. Those two angels were a great gift, and they are still dear friends today.
But my belief in Joseph Smith as a prophet was the greatest, strongest, and firmest testimony I had. I knew right away that he was a prophet of God and that a great mission was entrusted to him, and after the lesson with the missionaries where I learned about the Restoration, I decided to be baptized. Five weeks after my first time attending church, I entered the waters of baptism. How exciting it was!
The Church gave me a new life. I am happy and secure in my decision; I am sealed to my husband and daughters; I have new friends, the truth, the scriptures, the temple, and knees that now know how to kneel to pray.
I await with anticipation the temple here in Rome. I know that it will be a great blessing for me and for many, many brothers and sisters who are waiting for it.

When I was single, it seemed like engaged girls with sparkly diamond rings loved to show them off so everyone would know how much their husband paid for them. It’s like in the film Johnny Lingo, where islanders are shocked when Johnny buys his wife with eight cows instead of the typical three or four. I couldn’t wait until I got the chance to wave around an “eight cow” ring of my own.

But if you judge me by the plain, thin, silver-colored ring I currently wear, you’d think my husband was a cheapskate. Actually my husband worked for months so I could have a beautiful ring. Unfortunately, it was an uninsured beautiful eight-cow ring … and I flushed it down the toilet.

We’d only been married for two weeks, and I’d already formed the habit of carefully pulling off my ring and placing it safely in a little box above the sink each time I washed my hands. I didn’t want to run the risk of tainting my ring’s sparkle with soap scum buildup. As I pulled it off one Saturday morning, the pressure built, and it popped right off my knuckle. I watched in disbelief as my lovely ring sailed straight for the toilet and hit the open bowl dead center, just as it finished flushing.

I screamed. I cried. I tried to jump in after it, but grown women just don’t fit in toilet bowls no matter how desperate the circumstances. My poor husband took the toilet apart for me, stuck his whole arm down the sludge hole, and felt around for the ring. We called every person in town that had anything to do with the sewer system and pleaded our case.

“Lady, your line is connected to the largest high pressure pipe in the city. Your ring is long gone,” I was told. In one swift swirl of water, my ring was gone forever.

Over the next few days, I became understandably depressed. My marriage preparation classes hadn’t covered crises of the flushing variety. I worried I’d ruined my chances for a happy marital relationship. After all, my husband had insisted on buying me a nice ring because the sacrifice it would take for him to be able to buy it would represent his love for me. Now I’d flushed the symbol of his love down the toilet.

I was telling my husband for the 42nd time how oafish I was and how sorry I was that he’d worked so hard for something I’d clumsily lost. He took me by the shoulders, looked me in the eyes, and said, “Please stop, Arianne. I don’t care about the ring. I didn’t do all that work for some sparkly rock. I did it for you, and I’d do it all over again a hundred times if you wanted me to. You’re worth more than all the diamonds in the world. I love you.”

My husband’s comforting words and warm embrace that day made me realize how silly I’d been acting. The ring was gone, but everything it symbolized still exists.

So even though I still punish the toilet with a hard kick from time to time, I’ve learned to focus on what’s most important. And that’s not how much my husband spent on me but how much he loves me. My husband insists he’ll get me a new ring someday. But I’m not sure I want one. Every time I look at my thin little ring, I remember what real love is. It doesn’t sparkle, it can’t be shown off, and thank goodness, it can’t be flushed down a toilet.

Until last year, Danny had a hard time communicating. Even those close to him had a hard time understanding his speech. But now Danny talks with his eyes—well, with a laser that’s attached to his glasses. Using the laser, Danny can activate keys on a small, talking computer. Now that he’s able to communicate more easily, collecting fast offerings becomes as easy as pushing a button.
“Hello. I’m from the Church. Do you have any fast offerings today?” When the envelope is returned to him, Danny pushes another button, and the electronic voice says, “Thank you!” He’s also used his new voice to give talks and bear his testimony.

One Sunday before a stake conference, I visited two branches using public schools as meetinghouses. I was shocked by the humble and modest conditions of the buildings, which lacked even some basic amenities. As I met a few members there, I was ready to apologize for the inadequate conditions of their meetinghouse, but they were happy to have a nearby place to gather, avoiding the usual long walk. Again, there were no complaints—only smiling faces and grateful hearts.

Some years ago on fast Sunday, an elderly sister came to the pulpit to share her testimony. She lived in the city called Iquitos, which is in the Peruvian Amazon. She told us that from the time of her baptism, she had always had the goal of receiving the ordinances of the temple in Lima, Peru. She faithfully paid a full tithe and saved her meager income for years.
Her joy upon going to the temple and receiving the sacred ordinances therein was expressed in these words: “Today I can say that I finally feel ready to go through the veil. I am the happiest woman in the world; I have saved money, you have no idea for how long, to visit the temple, and after seven days on the river and 18 hours by bus, I was finally in the house of the Lord. When leaving that holy place, I said to myself, after all the sacrifice that has been required for me to come to the temple, I will not let anything make me take lightly every covenant I made; it would be a waste. This is a very serious commitment!”

A couple of years ago I got into drinking. I drank as kind of an experiment. Around here there isn’t a lot to do so my friends all drink and party. I wanted to be like them, I guess. After I started drinking, I felt almost hopeless. At first I thought I was happy, that I was having fun, but I realize I was miserable. I thought, what’s the point in trying to change? I just didn’t feel worthy.
I really love football, and one day after practice I came home to find my mom sitting there. We talked about my drinking, and she called the school. I was suspended for a couple of games. That was a really big kick in the head for me—I realized I needed to change.
My family and some people in my ward helped me and made me feel loved. As I went through the repentance process, I gained a strong testimony of the Atonement of Jesus Christ. It’s so amazing to feel how much Heavenly Father loves us. It’s just crazy to me that He would send His Son to die for me when I mess up so much. You can always call upon Heavenly Father no matter what, and He will be there for you if you are willing to try and change.
I’m so much happier now than I was when I was drinking and partying. The gospel just brings you so much happiness if you turn to God and strive to improve yourself. It’s totally worth it.
Jens P., 18, Illinois, USA

I have a dear friend who served as a very successful bishop. During his tenure, the stake president asked a boy and a girl from each ward to visit with him about their relationship with their bishop. During the conversation, the stake president asked, “If you had a serious problem in your life, would you take it to your bishop?” Most responded that they wouldn’t. And when he asked why, their response surprised him. They said, “Our bishop seems too righteous.” To the credit of my friend, his youth replied: “Not our bishop.”

—A pot-holdered-hand pulled a door down, an oven light went on, and a wonderful, sweet smell filled the room. Another concoction was complete to add to the menu of a tea the young women of the Ashington Branch, Sunderland England Stake, were preparing for senior citizens in their community.
Not only did the young women share food, but they also shared a program of songs, thoughts, and prayers. “We wanted to show them how much they are appreciated for all their hard work,” says Rachel Woodward.

I am from Nigeria; but I live in Ghana. In January 2023, I went to my village to participate in the presidential election. The Church is not there. One day a man and a woman came to visit me at my house. I am married to a Ghanaian, and they wanted to talk to me. While visiting with them, what came into my mind was the question, “what can I do for this family?” I felt like the best gift I could give this family was the gospel. I asked them if I could come to their home on Tuesday to teach them. As I was teaching them, they were responding positively. I focused on family and taught them the importance of family first. I then went to the house next door to teach their neighbors. I did not even start with my kindred. My kindred came to me later and were upset. They said to me, “how can you start a church and not even tell us?”
It was not my plan to do missionary work when I was there. I took my scriptures, but I did not even take a white shirt and tie.
As I was going around teaching the people of the village, there was a man who was baptized in 1982. He joined the Church in Lagos but when he came back to the village, the Church was not there. He became a pastor and used the Church’s Bible Dictionary and Topical Guide to teach. The people there thought he was a brilliant pastor. They didn’t know where he was getting his information from. Because he was technically a member, I focused on teaching his wife and daughter. The whole family got baptized. I was using my own money to hire a van to go to church in Umuahia, which was the closest place. The bishop and stake president were happy to receive us. My father even came from the city to the village to go to church with us.
I told my elder brother, who is a stake president in Owerri, what was going on. He said we fell under the Nigeria Enugu Mission. Eventually, we got permission to worship in my village. We decided to use my grandfather’s house to hold church in. My grandfather has passed away. When he was alive, white missionaries came to him and he said he would support the Church, this was back in the 90’s.
The people helped me move all the property and clean the house. The people cleaned the house as if they were members, but they were not yet baptized. The missionaries came and on the first Sunday, we had about 19 baptisms and later more, for a total of 39 baptisms. The stake president has applied for us to become a branch. My father came and bore his testimony and said he never thought the Church would be in his village.
The group still worships in my grandfather’s house. From my village, we now have two high councilmen called. There is someone enrolled in BYU Pathways. The Church is growing, and it makes me happy.

In March 2024 when the weather was still quite chilly, the Chorley 2nd Ward of the Chorley Stake, led by Elders Quorum President Martin Cook and other members of the ward, completed an outdoor Service Activity in Cuerden Valley Park, Lancashire.
Ms. Laurance McCormick, a neighbour of Brother and Sister Wild, approached them and asked if our Church members would be willing to help clear a totally overgrown area within the park so that wild flowers could be planted. There is a big push around the country to do this as it helps bees and other insects to thrive. Brother Cook contacted Laurance and offered our help, which then led to a meeting with one of the park rangers, Phil. Tools, health and safety equipment, and even hot chocolate were to be provided.
On the day of the service, Saturday 9th March 2024, ward members met with Phil as well as Liam and Andrew, two other park rangers. Instruction was given by the rangers and they split the 24 members, full time missionaries and one non-member into 3 working parties. It was very hard work, but fun nevertheless, with new friendships developing and old friendships strengthened. By 11:30am most of the work was done, and what a difference the concerted efforts had made. Everyone felt rewarded by the work and difference that had been made. All was cleared and made ready for the planting.
Some days later Martin got a message from Phil, thanking him and all the wonderful hardworking members. They said that the day was a fantastic success, with all the goals achieved and the team would be welcome to check back in three or four months when the flowers are blooming.
Service in the community is a blessing to all and a bridge builder for missionary work. Those undertaking this wonderful service included Bishop Shead, the Lewis family, Peter and Luke Fagg, Thomas Warburton and Cassius Rosslee, Lauren Gladwinfield, Bryan and Linda Loynes, Stephen Harrison, James Bradley, David Brown, Dan Dudley, Peter Wilson, Nick Wild, Jo Hughes, Bradley Whitfield, Laurence McCormick, Helen Hughes, Terence Kendell and Martin Cook.

Hello from Mexico! I was excited to get your letter and hear about your birthday coming up. It sounds like you’re a little nervous about leaving Primary. Can I tell you about when I went into Young Women?
I was nervous about leaving Primary too. I was worried that I might not make any friends. I was scared of being one of the youngest girls instead of one of the oldest.
But it all worked out just fine. The bishop interviewed me before my birthday and told me the change would be a good thing. On Sunday, I still felt shy and stayed in the Primary room. Luckily, one of the Young Women leaders found me there. She said, “I thought I would find you here! Come on, it’s time to go to class.”
Sister Diaz welcomed me in opening exercises, and she gave me three books that I’ve come to love: For the Strength of Youth, Young Women Personal Progress, and a journal. As I looked around the room, I realized that I knew some of the girls there from Primary. Some of the girls I didn’t know said hi to me. Soon I felt peace instead of fear.
Things just kept getting better after that. Mutual activities have been special to me because they’ve taught me how to live the gospel and how to help my family and friends. And going to camp each year is so much fun! Now that I’m a Laurel, I hope to finish Personal Progress soon. I can’t wait to wear the Young Women medallion so it can remind me of how much I have grown nearer to my Heavenly Father over the years.
So don’t be fearful, my friend. Spread your wings and fly to Young Women. I promise you won’t be sorry.
Love,
Maribel

We are fortunate in our family to have a special member who has touched everyone’s heart. My grandfather is blind, but his handicap has made him all the more special to me.
My grandpa, Maurice Beckstead, began to go blind in 1967. My brother Shane was the last grandchild my grandfather was able to see. Grandfather now has three more grandchildren and one great-grandson. When we told him he was now a great-grandfather, his comment was, “I know, I’ve always been great!”
When he started losing his sight, it was hard for him to adjust. He had worked hard his entire life. He enjoyed working and was proud and independent. It was a difficult step in his life for him to accept the fact that he would have to take an early retirement because of his eyesight.
After Grandpa retired, he continued to work hard on his yard and garden, something in which he and my grandmother took great pride. Even with his failing eyesight, he would walk quite a distance every week to turn the irrigation water down to his property in order to water his garden, pasture, and lawns. One summer night his turn came at midnight, and it was a dark and frightening time in his life. After he had taken his water turn and was attempting to return home, he became lost in a cornfield adjoining the right-of-way to the canal. He lost his sense of direction and panicked. He was lost for over an hour, with my grandmother and the neighbors searching, thinking he might possibly have drowned in the canal. They had decided to call the police, but at that moment, a neighbor found him crawling along the side of the road quite a distance from his home. After that incident, his neighbors insisted that they turn the water on for him. He also started to use his cane, a need that was difficult for him to accept.
Grandpa has a terrific memory. He can remember birth dates and special events in great detail. He is also the family taste tester. He likes to sample special dishes and desserts we make for family dinners. And when Grandpa says it’s good, we consider it high praise. For his birthday, Father’s Day, or Christmas, it is difficult to buy him a gift because he can’t enjoy many things, so we usually give him chocolates or candy. When he receives these gifts, he hides them from everyone else so that when he and Grandma are alone, they can enjoy them. And boy, does he enjoy them!
He knows his yard and house by heart. If anyone moves anything of his, such as his shoes, hat, or cane, it makes it nearly impossible for him to help himself and he must ask for help. He always has a horse or cow that he feeds at a specific time twice a day. He usually cares for my uncle’s colt. He knows exactly how much grain, water, and hay to give it. He is always proud of his accomplishments, and whenever someone comes around, he takes pride in showing them how well the animal looks. Because he can’t see a clock, all of his children bought one that chimes on the half hour and the hour. He listens carefully for the chimes.
Grandpa loves to have the grandchildren perform. It doesn’t matter if it’s in marching, singing, dancing, reciting the alphabet, or just talking to him. He will sit and listen to the comments of other people around him, and when someone comes to see him he will say, “You should have seen my granddaughter the other night. She looked great. She was the cutest thing you’d ever want to see.”
My grandfather has taught me a lot through his example. I hope I can learn to be like him with his great sense of humor, his determination, and his love.

Mobile phones are expensive in Chile, but I set a goal in 2016 to earn enough money to buy one. For an entire year, I bought candy and alfajores1 wholesale and sold them to my friends at school. I saved everything I made. I didn’t go out to lunch, and I didn’t go to the movies.
I didn’t want to ask my parents for a phone. I wanted to be able to say I earned it myself. My dad encouraged me. “Carol, keep it up,” he would say.
I learned a lot. Nothing is free. Goals take effort, but we should never give up. When we earn things and realize how much work it takes to get them, we value them more.
I learned that I have to decide what I want to achieve and where I want to go. If I want to get married in the temple, I need to go to church and seminary and later institute and young single adult activities. And I need to date worthy young men. Achieving goals requires sacrifice now for something better later.
Carol, 15, Chile

Sophie had a problem.
Mother’s Day was coming, and she wanted to give Mom a gift. Mom was going to have a baby, and she had to stay in bed so the baby could grow stronger. Sophie thought staying in bed sounded like the most boring thing in the world! So she wanted to give Mom something special to cheer her up. But she didn’t have any money to buy a present.
After school Sophie went to Mom’s room. She climbed up on the bed and got comfy.
“Tell me about your day,” Mom said.
Sophie started telling Mom about a silly poem she wrote about parrots in polka-dot pants parading around the park. Then she thought of her problem. Her voice trailed off, and her eyebrows scrunched up.
“What’s wrong?” Mom asked.
“I don’t have any money to buy you a present for Mother’s Day!” Sophie blurted out.
Mom smiled and patted Sophie’s hand. “Oh, honey. The best presents come from the heart,” she said. “Besides, you and Dad and the new baby are all the presents I need.”
Sophie sighed. Mom was always saying stuff like that. But Sophie still wanted to get her a present.
That night Sophie knelt by her bed.
“Heavenly Father, please help me think of a present I can give Mom for Mother’s Day,” she prayed.
In the morning, Sophie hadn’t even opened her eyes yet when an idea popped into her brain! She hopped out of bed and ran to tell Dad what she wanted to do.
“That’s a great idea,” he said. “Mom will love it.”
Since it was Saturday and she didn’t have school, Sophie got to work on her idea right away. She got out paper, markers, and scissors. She got out glitter glue and stickers. She used a ruler to draw a rectangle. Then she carefully cut around the edges.
In her best handwriting, Sophie wrote, “This coupon is good for a hug and a kiss.”
Sophie made another coupon for setting the table. She made one for picking up baby toys. She made one for washing windows. With each coupon, Sophie thought about how much she loved Mom. Soon she had a colorful stack. She wrapped them in gold paper and tied a ribbon around the bundle.
On Mother’s Day morning, Sophie handed the shiny package to Mom.
Mom smiled as she opened the crinkly paper. Her smile got even bigger when she saw what was inside.
“Thank you, Sophie! This is the best present ever,” she said, pulling Sophie into a hug.
Sophie felt warm and happy inside. Mom was right. The best presents did come from the heart.

In our family, everyone helps.
Fofoa: Our family believes in working together. My brother Etuale and I gather firewood for cooking. We also help make food to sell. I remember one time when our family didn’t make enough money to pay an expensive water bill, so we all did our part to help. My sister sold barbecue. Etuale and I gathered coconuts and other food and then helped sell the food to raise money. By working hard as a family and trusting God, we were able to get the water turned back on.