Gospel Story Finder

The summer sun beat hot against my back, and beads of sweat ran down my forehead. I wedged a pole among the roots of the tree stump and was going to push on the end, when my mother called.
“Todd? Your father’s home!”
I dropped the pole and ran across the soft brown field toward the house. Ducking beneath a line of flapping sheets, I rounded the house and stopped short of crashing into our wagon.
“Here, son,” my father said with a smile. “Take this sack of flour and give it to your mother.”
As soon as we unloaded the wagon, I put the horse in the pasture and returned to the house. Father was giving Mother a bundle.
“Twenty yards of unbleached muslin,” he said as he handed her the paper-wrapped package.
She smiled. “Thank you, James!” she said happily. Then she undid the string and removed the paper. “You can add the string to the ball,” she said, handing it to me. “Then you can have the paper for your schoolwork.”
I wound on the piece of string, then sat and watched as the rest of the provisions were put away. At the very last, Father reached into his pocket and pulled out a stick of cinnamon candy. He rumpled my hair then handed it to me. My mouth watered and I was about to break off a piece when Mother reminded me she had cold meat and apple dumplings for lunch. At the table we bowed our heads while Father offered the blessing. As we ate, I listened to them talk.
“Ed Beesley was in town, Ellen,” Father said. “He offered me fourteen dollars an acre for our land.”
Surprised, I looked from Father, who sat eating contentedly, to Mother, who looked like she was about to explode.
“And what was your answer?” she asked in an uneven tone.
“Well,” Father replied as he slowly took another piece of meat, “that would be a total of seven thousand dollars.”
Mother’s eyes began to widen as she waited to hear the rest of the story. My father, however, took his time in the telling. “You could have almost anything you’d want … with plenty left over,” Father added.
“James Putnam!” my mother scolded. “Will you please get to the point?”
Father looked up and his eyes danced with mischief. “I told him no,” he replied simply.
Mother’s face turned into a bright smile as she went to his side. She kissed him, and they both laughed. “James Putnam, sometimes I just don’t know what you’re thinking.”
I smiled and poured milk over my dumplings.
Father carried the ax as we returned to the tree stump. “So you got all the digging done,” he said, smiling. “Good! But tell me, son, did you practice your writing today?”
“Yes, sir,” I nodded. “But I do hate it, Father.”
“You hate it!” he laughed. “You like printing. Why do you hate writing?”
I kicked at a clump of sod and shrugged. “My eye knows how it should look, but my hand does it all wrong.”
Father laughed again and lowered the ax to the ground. He took off his shirt and looked at the stump. “You mean your hand isn’t disciplined yet. Keep at it, Todd. Practice is good discipline.” He knelt beside the stump and felt around the roots. “You did do a lot of digging, but there are still some big roots down there. I’ll chop them loose then we’ll be able to get this stump out of here.”
He reached for the ax and I knelt beside him, watching. When the roots were chopped, he knelt beside me, resting.
“It’s a lot of work, isn’t it, son?” he puffed with a smile.
“Do you think you’d ever sell, Father?” I asked. “I mean, you wouldn’t have to work so hard.”
He was quiet for a minute, then he smiled. “Money comes and goes, but the land is forever. No, Todd, I’d never sell it. It will be our legacy to you.”
“What’s a legacy?”
“A legacy is something precious that you leave to someone you love. What you decide to do with it will be up to you. But people see things differently. Ed Beesley sees land as something you parcel off and sell. But land’s a funny thing, Todd, even when you have a deed, it’s not really yours. You’ve just paid for the right to use it.” He picked up a handful of soil. “Smell that promise of all green and growing things, Todd. It’s a lasting responsibility, and long after we’re gone, the land will still be right here for others to use. While I use it, I mean to treat it kindly, and with discipline, just as God intended.”
“What do you think God intended?” I asked quietly.
“I think He wants us to dig out dead stumps … and grow things. You see, when we treat the land with discipline, it treats us kindly. We leave a stand of forest for the deer and rabbits that live in our meadow. If we had no meadow, Mother wouldn’t be able to make rabbit stew. If we grew no crops, we’d have little or nothing to eat. If we didn’t clear stumps and rocks or didn’t plant seeds, no crops would come up and we’d have no one to blame but ourselves. So we discipline ourselves to hard work, Todd, just as you can discipline your hand to write properly. Then as time goes by, you will see the benefits of your effort.” Father got up. “We’ve rested long enough,” he said, “now let’s see if we can move that old stump and make way for growing things.”
He put his back to the pole while I gripped mine with both hands. Slowly we pried, then eased up. Then we pried again and pushed with all our might. With a groan the stump inched upward as the ground yielded its hold. My father laughed as streams of sweat ran down his face. And soon the stump lay upside down on the ground. He clamped a hand on my shoulder and shouted, “We did it, son! We did it!”
“Hello!” Mother called as she came across the field. “I’ve brought a cool drink of water.”
She ladled a cup for me, then she and Father went off to sit beneath the shade of a tree. I stayed to break clumps of dirt from the bottom of the stump. Then I dug my fingers into the damp brown earth and let it trickle through my fingers. It formed a soft mound of earth that I smoothed flat with my hand. Carefully I wrote my name with a stick. The lines were scraggly and uneven. But with practice … yes, I knew I could write better.
I scratched out my name and looked out over the fields. Long green lines marked our rows where parsnips and corn and carrots and beets were reaching up through the ground. Here and there a tree stump or a rock poked through the soil. It will take years to clear them, I thought. Then I smiled to myself. It’ll be a big job, but the land will be mine. And I’ll be proud to continue my parents’ work.

The day starts early. Everyone meets in the parking lot of a conveniently located, no-longer-in-business shopping center. The on-timers chastise the late-comers, the leaders gather everyone together for prayer, they all debate about who’s riding in which car, and pretty soon the parking lot is vacant once more.
Next stop is the commercial fishing dock at Port St. Joe where Brother Davis ties up the Randy F. And of course, before anyone heads out to sea, he’ll lecture them—just a little—about safety, good conduct, and the fine arts of clamming and scalloping.
“Ya’ll reach down there with your toes in the mud,” he says, his hands outstretched and his fingers wriggling ecstatically. “Nudge around till you feel somethin’ solid. Then catch yourself a good lung full o’ air, dive down and snatch it.”
“How do you tell if it’s a rock or a scallop?” inquires Dan Stone, second counselor in the Marianna Florida Stake presidency, who is not a Florida native.
“There are no rocks in Florida,” chimes one of the youth, and everyone laughs. It’s nearly true. Miles inland or miles out to sea, everything is sand, mud, or pebbles. Roads are paved with red clay from Georgia.
Brother Davis mixes humor and instruction well. Every person present is a strong swimmer, but there are still reminders about using the buddy system. “When one of you is under, one of you stays up. Then if there’s trouble you can holler.” There are reminders about staying with the group, staying close to the boat, about remembering that everybody has to help catch the food. “You don’t work, you don’t eat.”
And, of course, a mild reminder about appropriate conduct. “Ah ketch any of y’all misbehavin’, and ah’ll rip your limbs off.”
By the time other precautions (like making sure to wear T-shirts and to use sun screen to keep from burning) are issued, and farewells are said to a stray dog on the pier, a horn is blasting to warn that the drawbridge is being raised, and the good ship Randy F. is chugging out into the bay. “Can’t you go faster?” someone yells.
“Cain’t do,” Brother Davis replies. “It’s full throttle now, and we got 47 younguns aboard.”
Past a paper mill on the near side of Cape San Blas, past fishermen casting from the shallows, past a pelican perched on a piling, the boat lumbers through still, smooth water toward an obscure little lump of palm trees known as Black’s Island.
The constant throbbing of the engine stops. The boat staggers, like an out-of-shape runner stumbling over the finish line. Something whirs, chains clank, and the anchor splashes into the sea.
“The water’s deep here, so be careful,” Brother Davis says. “You can dive off the boat, but then make for the shallows over there. That’s where the clams are.” The bishop watches from a small four-man boat nearby, just to make sure everyone gets there safely.
It isn’t long before the whole group makes it out of the deep water into the chest-deep water covering a sandy shelf. It’s warm, like a swimming pool. Clear, like a swimming pool. Ripple-free, like a swimming pool. But boy is it salty!
“It tastes nasty,” says Kathy Shuler, 13. “And it stings your eyes.”
Soon there are buckets full of clams, and everyone moves on to the waist-deep water, where scallops hide in the sea grass.
“If you don’t have a mask or a snorkel, then you feel with your feet or watch to see them clapping their shells together,” Robert explains. “I only caught three by watching for them. Feet are more reliable.”
Troy Davis, 18, who has worked on fishing boats for about six summers, agrees. “Clamming is the same way. You bump something with your foot, then dig around and catch it before it tunnels any deeper. Clams won’t bite you. Every once in a while a scallop will give your toe a pinch, but it doesn’t hurt.”
Troy says he’s glad he came, that it’s fun to teach the younger kids about shellfishing. He’s graduated from Mosley High and from four years of seminary, and will soon be leaving on a mission. It isn’t hard to get him to talk about it, even standing out in the water.
A few at a time, the fishermen return to the Randy F. They take a few minutes to recuperate, then the clams and scallops have to be shucked; stoves heated up; cake, beans, soda, and salads unpacked and set out; seafood cooked; hushpuppies fried, and a heartfelt blessing said.
And then, of course, it’s time to eat.
Jeff Clark, 17, watches the hush puppies bobbing up and down in the hot oil, the corn meal turning from pale yellow to golden brown. “I usually go scalloping about twice a year,” he says. “But this is my first time to go clamming, and my legs are sore! I’m not used to digging holes with my feet.”
He and Troy talk a little about working on the seine boats, catching mullet and bluefish, sardines and herring. Then they talk a bit about Troy’s mission and wonder when his call might come. They remember the fun they’ve had on other youth outings, like the canoe trip on the Blackwater River.
“That’s legendary,” Jeff says.
“You know,” Troy says, “these other kids, these younger kids, they need to realize that the years they’re living now can be some of the best years of their life. They need to get the most out of these years that they can.”
Austin Davis, talking with someone else on the other side of the boat, is saying much the same thing.
“Six or seven years ago we went out and had a day like this on a shrimp boat,” he says. “Those kids are married now and have families of their own, but they still remember things like this. I’ve talked to kids who’ve served missions and come back, and they still remember doing things like this.
“It’s the same way for these kids. For some of them it’s their first time on the water. A lot of things in life they won’t remember, but these sorts of things, being out with their friends doing good things, that’s something they won’t ever forget.
“And I like these kids. I’d do whatever I could to help them. We’ve really got some jam-up kids.”
The conversations are interrupted for a short awards ceremony. Prizes are given for the worst sunburn, smallest scallop, biggest scallop, most scallops, biggest clam, smallest clam, and most clams. Winners receive sunburn lotion, lollipops, and leftover bottles of soft drinks. And everybody’s a winner, because everybody shares.
On the way home, it’s impossible to resist making one more stop. Not too far from Black’s Island, there’s an island so small it doesn’t even have a name. It’s more like a pile of sand. You can walk around it completely in five minutes.
Again the sand is white. It’s hot on your feet, but not hot enough to burn. An abandoned boat rests like a black skeleton on the beach. Horseshoe crabs scrabble for cover among the shells and sand dollars that nature has spread out like an exhibit in a design gallery. Sea oats, tall and green with golden tassles, bend in the wind as if waving in greeting—or in farewell.
Not everyone comes to this island. Some spend a few final moments diving off the boat again. Others, tired, rest eyes that are weary of salt water and sea spray. It isn’t long before the leaders are calling the adventurers back on board. It’s time to go home.
The next morning, in the foyer before priesthood meeting starts, three 12-year-old deacons are talking. They’ve already had their presidency meeting, made their assignments for passing the sacrament, even had a reminder from their adviser about being reverent and remembering the sacredness of helping people renew their covenants.
But now, for a minute, they remember yesterday.
Dale Estey brags about the sea urchin he caught in a net.
“But somebody threw it back in,” he says.
Wesley Davis says the favorite thing for him was diving off the boat, and seeing the leaders do the same.
Richard Stemphoski says that now if he’s ever lost, he at least knows how to find clams and scallops. “And I already know how to make a fire without matches, so I could cook them,” he says.
Over in another hallway, outside the room where the Young Women meet, Lacrisa Laster, Angela Pierce, and Karen Davis, all 16, and Michelle Laster, 14, complain—just a little—about how stiff their sunburn makes them feel. And they laugh—just a little—about how funny one of the leaders looked trying to breathe through a snorkel tube.
“We really had a great time,” Michelle says. “When can we go again?”
Austin Davis was right. The memories are already starting to build.

Roger met Janey at Welfare Square. Let me tell you about Janey.
She had been born with cerebral palsy. She was badly crippled, but she had been able to attend school and had recently graduated from high school. This was a tremendous accomplishment; but now, after several months of searching, her family had found it impossible to obtain employment for her. Her bishop asked if there was something Janey could do. She needed to keep busy. In answer to this challenge, the storehousekeeper suggested that Janey be brought to the storehouse the next morning.
After Janey had been at work seven hours, her mother came to take her home. Janey was smiling with pride. She had labeled a dozen cans. There was a pile of spoiled labels on the floor, but they weren’t important. The important thing was her smile. It was there because she felt useful and had pride in her accomplishment. She was willing and anxious to return the next day and continue trying.
Within a month’s time, Janey was doing a good job of labeling cans. She hardly wasted any labels. As her skill in using her hands increased, she was given greater challenges. At the end of three years she was assigned the delicate job of packing eggs after they had been candled.
Janey and her family are truly happy because she has learned through the welfare program to be a contributing member of society.
Roger and Janey fell in love with each other and were married in the Salt Lake Temple for time and all eternity.

Under the direction of the Caribbean Area Presidency and with inspiration from Elder Quentin L. Cook’s visit, Elder Claude Gamiette brought together the joint forces of the young single adults from the Barbados Bridgetown Mission through a historic initiative of the first young single adult trip to the temple. Representatives from the islands of Barbados, Grenada, Guadeloupe, Saint Lucia, Saint Maarten, Saint Vincent, and French Guyana came together for their first visit to the Santo Domingo Temple in the Dominican Republic, from July 20th to 28th, 2018.
Elder Cook of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles visited the Caribbean from November 10th through November 20th, 2017. During this visit he addressed members and hosted a young single adult devotional. He was accompanied by his wife, Sister Mary Cook, and members of the Church’s Caribbean Area Presidency and their wives: Elder Walter F. González and Sister Zulma A. González; Elder Claudio D. Zivic and Sister Dina Noemí A. Zivic; and Elder José L. Alonso and Sister Rebecca S. Alonso.
Elder Claude Gamiette was present during his visit to Guadeloupe and expressed his concern for the isolation that many of the young single adults in the islands feel. He wanted to break the isolation in a historic trip, the first time for many, to the temple.
“Young single adults feel alone from being a small group in their islands. This experience will inspire them to keep great relations among each other and create great temple experiences,” shared Elder Gamiette.
For eight days, these young single adults participated in a set of activities both spiritual and social, learning and interacting together in a journey that ended in tears of satisfaction.
Long before coming to the Dominican Republic, a committee compiled of representatives from these islands met in a coordinated effort to bring together all those around them to make this a successful experience. In a great ministering effort, Xavia, Faith, Ramona, Brittany, Jordan, Kelvin, Kenlyn, Andrew, Nia, Brittaey, Jonathan, and Zariah connected to plan activities and bring people together to come to the temple.
Starting Friday, July 20th, the very first group arrived, accompanied by Brother and Sister Eclar from Guadeloupe. Fourteen young single adults were the first, and more kept coming during the next two days for a total of over 50 attendants.
During the time of this trip, the YSA participated in indexing activities, devotionals, service activities, and a dating panel, as well as social activities with the young single adults from the Santo Domingo Institute of Religion. They even went out bowling.
“I have been pondering about my life, my expectations, and the roadblocks I’ve encountered. I have been needing guidance. The opportunity to enter the temple has given me the chance to be where my blessings are,” shared Brittany Henry, a 22-year-old young single adult representative from St. Lucia and a Young Women advisor.
For many this was their first time at the temple. For others this was the opportunity to renew the covenants they had made before they served their missions.
Sister Henry said that during this trip she has felt differently. She has gotten out of her comfort zone and has learned how things are done elsewhere just from making new friends here.
“It is not just a chance for temple attendance; it is also a chance to make sacrifices together,” says Brother Jocelyn Eclar, from Guadeloupe, first counselor to the mission president.

Like the Samarian women who went off to share the good news, Ralph did the same. In 2018, Ralph Desir was called to serve in the Vanuatu Port Vila Mission where he had the opportunity to share the everlasting waters of the Savior, Jesus Christ. He was blessed with many companions from diverse cultures, lived in eight different places, and learned Bislama, the native language of Vanuatu, which helped him to effectively create relationships with the people.
Elder Desir was blessed to see the gospel of Jesus Christ strengthen the people he taught as they overcame the challenges in their lives. Upon completion of his mission, he testifies of the truthfulness of the power of everlasting waters and knows how to allow those waters to continue to bless his own life and the lives of others.
Brother Desir testifies that “serving a mission was the best decision that I have made in my life. I have learned to be like the Savior and teach the gospel by example in all things. I love the gospel with all my heart, and I wouldn’t exchange my mission experiences for anything. One of the reasons I served a mission was because I knew how much it would bless my family and how much joy it would bring to my own life.”
Since returning from his mission, Brother Desir has served as first counselor in the San Nicolas Branch presidency, Aruba, and as a delegation leader for the Aruba, Bonaire, Curacao District that attended the youth conference in the Dominican Republic in 2022. He is now serving as branch secretary. He uses his proficiency in the Dutch, Spanish, English, Papiamento, and French Creole languages to continue to bless lives in Aruba and elsewhere.

Sometimes when I feel grouchy, I try to get rid of the grouchiness by reminding my mom and dad that I love them. I sneak up on them and give them a great big hug and a great big smile and say, “I love you!” They always smile back and say they love me, too. It makes me feel really good, and Mom and Dad say it gives them warm fuzzies. Jesus taught us to love others and to honor our parents.Ethan Fisher, age 4, with help from his family

“You want to work, and you don’t want me to pay you?” Residents of quiet neighborhoods in Fairfield County, Connecticut, can’t believe their ears.
It’s all part of a very special scavenger hunt held by the youth in the New Haven Connecticut Stake. They’ve had many similar activities, but none have been as much fun as scavenging for service projects.
On a Saturday afternoon in late autumn, 200 youth gathered for the activity before the stake dance that evening. Each service the youth performed for residents in various neighborhoods was worth a certain number of points, and the team that earned the most points in the allotted time would win an enviable prize.
They realized that scavenging for service projects isn’t like asking for a pink stocking with a hole in the toe, or a green birthday candle. “Everyone gets something out of this,” said Scott Halverson, a priest in the Trumbull First Ward. Service makes you feel good.”
The youth crowded into their advisers’ cars and drove to their assigned neighborhoods. They were a little apprehensive at first, wondering how people would react.
“Everyone was amazed,” said Curry Andrews, a priest from the Newtown Ward. “One guy took about ten minutes just deciding what he wanted us to do.” And the neighbors were even more surprised when they saw that youth enjoyed what they were doing.
Dave Blanchard, a teacher from the Trumbull First Ward, walked a huge dog. “The dog was giving the owner a lot of trouble, so we offered to take him for a walk,” Dave said. “The dog sure was hard to control. He would turn around and snap at me and all of a sudden he would run off. I could hardly hold on to the leash. It got to be funny.”
Jeff Blanchard, Dave’s older brother, carried items from a tag (yard) sale back into a man’s garage and stacked the boxes against the wall. “The guy asked for my phone number so he could call me anytime he wanted me to do some work for him,” said Jeff.
Becky Rupart’s team found themselves in a very well-to-do neighborhood. “It was a little bit scary, but that made it more fun,” said the Laurel from the Southington Ward. “We were surprised to discover rich people can be just as friendly as anyone else.”
Many people wanted to pay the youth, but naturally, they refused. “Although one man gave us a six pack of soda pop,” said Nancy Busby, a Laurel in the Trumbull Third Ward.
New Englanders are traditionally reserved and not accustomed to being open with strangers. Many New Englanders live a fast-paced life and are less involved with their neighbors. “I was kind of surprised this worked here where people keep to themselves,” said Leslie. “It’s fun to loosen people up,” Jeff added, “although one guy thought it was a trick. I guess it’s hard to trust a group of teenage boys.”
The diversity in people’s reactions amazed the youth. “It was really weird,” said Jeff. “You’d offer to do anything for a guy and he would tell you to go away because you were a stranger. I guess our experience going door-to-door is kind of like missionary work.”
And they found plenty of missionary opportunities along the way. Before they had even arrived at their assigned neighborhood, Leslie Randall’s team saw a man on his lawn. They got out of the car and showed him the list so he could choose which service he wanted. “He asked us to tell him about the Church,” Leslie said. They told him about Joseph Smith, and he responded, “I’ve heard that story before, but I’ve never heard it so well said.”
“It’s fun to give the people a good impression of the Church,” said Becky. “Maybe if the people meet the missionaries someday, they will remember us.” Some of the boys even left pamphlets with people in hopes that it would lead to something later.
“We are like the missionaries who represent the Church when they bring the gospel,” said Jeff. “We represent the Church when we bring service.”
Along with the missionary work, the youth enjoyed just being with each other. “Working together was the most fun,” said Leslie Randall. “At one house, two of us washed dishes in the kitchen, while two dusted the living room and one changed a diaper in the baby’s room. All the time we were singing a song.”
Diaper changing was the most notorious assignment of the day. In one group, all five teammates, girls and boys, pitched in together to complete the odious task. But in another group, Joanna McLay, as the only girl among four boys, found she was the one selected whenever her team encountered a diaper to change.
The competitors learned that they had to work quickly and efficiently. “The boys on my team practically grabbed the rake out of one guy’s hand, while I introduced the group and told him why we were there,” said Bret Smith, a Young Men’s adviser. The teams generally split into two groups, two people taking one house and the other two going across the street.
“We washed two cars at one house in record time,” said Curry Andrews.
When the time was finally up and the scores were tallied, Curry’s all-boys’ team found itself in second place, defeated by an all-girls’ team. “I don’t believe they beat us,” Curry said. “How could anyone work faster than we did?”
Next time Curry wants girls on his team. “Girls are allowed to go inside a house because people trust them,” he said.
Kelly Corkrin, a member of the winning team, won’t disagree. She found everyone her team met had a little something for them to do. “It made me feel good that the people trusted us and let us into their homes,” she said. “Nowadays, I’m not sure I would do that. I guess they were impressed that we weren’t just hanging out, wasting time.”
There were no hard feelings between the two top teams, however. Both first- and second-place winners received the coveted prizes: water squirting toys. As the winners loaded their weapons, everyone else ran to arm themselves with the same old tools they’d been using all day: water buckets and empty soap bottles. The activity ended with a splash.
1. Before the event, select a number of neighborhoods that a member of the Church is familiar with. Draw maps that tell how to get from the chapel to the neighborhood. Indicate the neighborhood boundaries that the team should stay within.
2. At the event, divide the group into teams of four to five youth. Give each team a task sheet, assigning each task a point value. You can use the suggested list, or come up with your own list of possible tasks.
3. Assign one adult driver to each team. Provide each team with a map of their assigned neighborhood.
4. The teams have one hour after travel time to earn as many points as possible doing tasks for residents of the neighborhoods.
5. Youth should introduce themselves as members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (the Mormons). They should let the homeowner know they are on a service scavenger hunt and would like to perform a service free of charge.
6. After completing each task, the team should ask the homeowner to initial the task sheet. No more than four tasks should be completed at any one home. Some tasks are worth more points than others. The team who earns the most points in the allotted time wins.
Task
Points
Total
Initials
1. Take out trash
1
2. Scrub sink
1
3. Sweep kitchen
1
4. Pick up yard trash
1
5. Feed the cat
1
6. Water the plants
1
7. Sweep the garage
1
8. Wash the dishes
3
9. Clean a window
3
10. Vacuum the living room
3
11. Bring in firewood
3
12. Read a story to a child
3
13. Walk the dog
3
14. Dry the dishes
3
15. Dust a room
3
16. Iron a shirt
3
17. Sing a church song
3
18. Change a diaper
5
19. Wash the car
5
20. Clean the car windows
5
21. Vacuum the car
5
22. Rake the front yard
5
23. Rake the backyard
5
24. Mop the kitchen floor
5
25. Tell about the Church
5
26. Homeowner’s choice
5

“Remember a long long time ago when you were just a little boy?” I mused. “Well, you couldn’t, of course, because you were only about 18 months old, but it was the night after Robby was born in the old Dee Hospital on 24th Street. Anyway, you and I were the only ones home, and I guess it was about midnight or later. I came into your room to see if you were covered up, if everything was okay. The light from the hall was shining on your face a little, and there you were, wide awake, just looking up at me and smiling—like right now. So I sat down on the edge of our old rocker, and we looked at each other. That’s all we did. We were all alone, just looking at each other through the bars of that crib—looking into each other—for maybe 15 minutes. And you know something?” I paused. “That was one of the finest experiences your old dad has ever had.”
He looked thoughtful, frowned a little, but it was a pleasurable frown somehow. “I can’t exactly remember,” he said slowly, “but, well, I sort of do in a way, like I can still feel it.”

Many years ago when our four children were small, my husband took a job in another state while I stayed behind until our two older children finished school for the year. We had recently been assigned new home teachers, who had the chance to visit only twice before my husband was transferred.
One night after putting the children to bed, I heard our baby girl crying in her room. When I picked her up, I noticed that she was burning with fever. I considered taking her to the hospital, but a quick perusal of our new insurance policy showed that it covered only residents of Idaho—the state where my husband now worked. The rest of us were still residents of the state of Washington.
I grew alarmed when I took our daughter’s temperature—105 degrees Fahrenheit (41 degrees C). I immediately knelt in prayer and fervently asked for help. An answer came that I would never have considered: “Call your home teachers.”
The hour was growing late, and I knew that the two men, Brothers Halverson and Bird, had undoubtedly retired for the night. But I picked up the phone and called Brother Bird anyway, quickly telling him what was wrong. Within five minutes, at 11:00 p.m., my home teachers were at the front door—in suits and ties.
By this time our baby’s cheeks and eyes were red, and her hair was plastered with sweat. She whimpered with pain, but Brothers Bird and Halverson were calm as they took her. Then, laying their hands on her head, they gave her a blessing and told her in the name of the Savior to be healed.
When I opened my eyes after the blessing, I could hardly believe what I saw. My daughter was giggling and squirming to be let down to play. Her fever was gone!
“I could feel her cool down as we administered to her,” Brother Bird said to me as we all watched my child in amazement. They soon left, after which I was up for several hours with a baby who wanted to stay awake and play. I didn’t mind a bit.
Many years have passed since that night when two ministering angels, in the form of home teachers, blessed my child. Soon afterward we moved to Idaho and lost touch with them, but I will always be grateful to two kind home teachers who came at the eleventh hour on the Lord’s errand.

And things with my friends weren’t the same as they were before my mission. I had always invited my nonmember friends to church, but when I got home and started inviting them again, they acted totally different. They didn’t want anything to do with the Church. I wasn’t sure what had changed, but I still prayed for them and shared spiritual messages with them. But I truly felt alone and as though I didn’t have any friends.
So many things changed while I was gone, and adjusting to those changes after I came home was hard.
During my mission, whenever I felt discouraged or thought I couldn’t go on, I prayed for help. So I knew I could rely on Heavenly Father again to help me adjust to this new life transition.
I got the impression that I needed to serve. Service had always helped me feel like I had a purpose. I went to see my bishop and told him about my desire to serve. He called me to be the Young Women secretary.
A few months later, I told Heavenly Father I wanted to progress and learn more in my life, and I asked for His help. The very next day, I was called as second counselor in the stake Primary presidency.
Being able to serve the young women and the children in Primary really helped me adapt to life after my mission. I was able to focus on helping them turn toward the Savior instead of focusing on my challenges. Over time, adjusting became easier as I strived to serve.
Something else that helped me adjust to post-mission life was sharing my testimony whenever I got the chance. Sometimes I even had the opportunity to share my beliefs during presentations in my university classes.
After my philosophy professor assigned me to do a presentation on justice and freedom, I showed a Church video called “Be Still, My Soul.” The video is about a woman who is arrested for drug abuse. While she’s in jail, she misses her children. After she goes through rehabilitation, she returns home a new person.
I ended my presentation with my testimony. I said we all have our God-given agency, but that He has given us commandments to help us understand how to not harm ourselves or others. I also testified that He lives.
My professor and classmates didn’t protest against anything I said. And my testimony left them feeling thoughtful. I’ve learned that you never know when someone might need your insight in order to believe that God and Jesus Christ really do exist.
Overall, just continuing to draw closer to Christ and helping others come to Him helped me adapt to life after my mission. I’m no longer a full-time missionary, but I can still pray, serve, and testify of the truthfulness of the gospel of Jesus Christ. I can still help others and do what I did on my mission—just in a different way.
Adjusting to life after a mission can be hard, but we can still find joy and purpose as we remember what we learned as missionaries and as we continue to be disciples of Jesus Christ. Heavenly Father will help us succeed as we strive to follow Him.
Milka Gajardo Flores loves to smile. She lives in Chile and is currently in her last semester at St. Thomas University, studying special education. She was recently sealed to her husband in the Santiago Chile Temple and serves in Primary with him. She knows that she isn’t perfect, but the love of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ is, and she testifies that They are always with us.

Flavia, a sister from a poorer part of South America, found little opportunity and means for training and regular employment until help came through the PEF to receive training in operating computers. With the help of LDS Employment Services, she found work in a good company after completing her training. She reports: “Today I am responsible for the financial consulting area of one of the largest hospitals in Recife using [a sophisticated] computer system. I was among the crew that implemented this financial system in the company.”

I was a typical high school football player with a typical football vocabulary. I was one of the captains of the football team at El Segundo High School and didn’t have the best reputation. Glenda’s locker was a couple of lockers from mine, and whenever she walked by I suddenly improved my language. I worried that if I offended her she would avoid me.
As the semester progressed so did our mutual respect and friendship. She was unique, but I did not understand why. One thing I knew for sure, though, was that she never attended the parties I went to.
So, when she invited me to a Christmas party at her home, I didn’t know what to expect. Although I enjoyed my friends, I had seriously considered changing my bad habits. I was searching for something different. I was interested to see what kind of a party she would throw. I put on my best clothes, poured on the cologne, and off I went.
Was I surprised! I was shocked to see everyone having fun, dancing, playing games, and drinking—soft drinks! After a while, I couldn’t believe that I was having fun too. I was surprised to meet Glenda’s parents at the party, since all the parties I ever attended occurred while the parents were away. Most everyone was a bit surprised to see me. Still, they were all smiles and treated me with kindness.
As the evening ended I offered to provide rides home to anyone who needed one. Fortunately, one particular girl I had my eye on during most of the party needed a ride. I drove all around town dropping people off until we were alone. I drove her home very slowly.
I asked her what she was doing for Christmas, and she told me her family was leaving for Argentina the next day. What a small world, I thought. I briefly explained to her that my family had immigrated from Argentina 11 years ago. She said her father had served a mission there, and they were going to visit some of her father’s old friends. Soon we were at her home, and I didn’t get a chance to ask her what a mission was, but the seeds of curiosity were sown and so was my interest in her.

Sixteen-year-old Mattie Hughes was thrilled when she heard about what the prophet had said. Becoming a doctor was her dream. And now President Brigham Young was actually encouraging women to become doctors!
Mattie knew that some medical schools were finally letting women in. Of course, she would have to get a college degree before she could go to medical school. And she would have to save a lot of money. It would take a lot of time and a lot of hard work. She knew that.
But Mattie thought of her little sister, Annie, who had died on the wagon trip to Utah. There had been no doctor to help when she got sick. Then Mattie’s father had died. Here in Salt Lake City, Mattie knew lots of people who were sick or hurt. If Mattie became a doctor, she could help them.
Mattie decided to have faith. The prophet had said women should train to be doctors, and she wanted to be one of them! God would help her find a way to go to medical school.
Mattie worked hard to save money. She got a job as a typesetter for a newspaper. She had to carefully arrange every letter of every word in the right order so the newspaper could be printed. After work, Mattie went to classes at the university to get ready for medical school.
Between home, work, and school, Mattie walked six miles (10 km) every day! She wore heavy men’s boots because her regular shoes weren’t tough enough to trudge through the mud. She wished she could ride in the mule-drawn streetcar instead of walking, but she was saving every penny for school.
Mattie worried she wouldn’t be able to save enough money. She knew her mother and stepfather would try to help her, but they had other children to take care of. What else could she do?
Mattie decided to hold a fundraiser and ask friends and ward members to share whatever money they could spare. They were happy to help. Mattie was only the third woman to follow President Young’s call, and they wanted her to succeed and become a doctor.
After the fundraisers, Mattie had enough to go to medical school! She traveled across the country to a university and studied hard.
Two years later, Mattie held her head high and marched onto the graduation platform to receive her diploma. She was finally a doctor! She had never felt so excited.
Mattie looked into the cheering crowd of strangers. None of her family or friends from home could be there, but she knew they were proud of her. Soon she would return home to care for them and teach them what she had learned.
After coming back to Utah, Mattie worked at the Relief Society’s hospital in Salt Lake City. She loved being close to the Rocky Mountains! And she loved her job as a doctor. She helped treat diseases, heal injuries, and even teach classes on how to deliver babies.
Becoming a doctor had been hard work. But Heavenly Father loved her and had helped her. Now Mattie would spend the rest of her life helping others. The author lives in Michigan, USA.

He came into our lives one cold March morning by meowing at the kitchen door. When Mom opened it, the huge black cat—wet, scrawny, and bedraggled—held his swollen, bloody left front paw in the air.

“Why you poor thing,” Mom said, “where did you come from?” She picked him up and got a towel from the bathroom and dried him off. As she was doing this, we kids came downstairs for breakfast. All activity stopped as everyone took turns petting the cat, who by this time was purring like a muffled motorboat.

“You’re as black as midnight,” Mom said, and so he was dubbed “Midnight.” Mom removed a large sliver of glass from the pad of his swollen paw, bathed it in warm water and Epsom salts, then bandaged it. Meanwhile we kids put some old clothes in a cardboard box to make a bed for Midnight.

Mom placed the box behind the old, wood-burning kitchen stove and told Midnight that he could sleep there till his paw got better. After that, she advised him, he would have to make his home in the barn, where there were grain-eating mice to catch. After consuming a saucer of milk to which Mom had added a few drops of cod-liver oil, he lay in his bed and slept till evening. Mom fed him again, and he went back to sleep.

The next morning he crawled out of the box, gingerly testing his paw on the floor. Mom fed him some more milk and cod-liver oil, then a small piece of meat, which he ate with relish. After he ate, Mom bathed his paw again and put a clean bandage on it. By the next day Midnight was favoring his paw only a little bit, and we took him to the barn.

A week later Midnight was making forages into the woods each day. One morning Mom heard him meowing on the back porch. Upon investigating, she found him there with a dead field mouse at his feet. He looked up at her as if to say, “Here’s a present.” Mom petted him and told him that he was a good cat and a good mouser. When he saw that Mom didn’t want the mouse, he took it in his mouth and headed for the barn.

Two or three times a week after that he brought field mice, ground squirrels, small snakes, butterflies, and young rabbits for Mom to inspect. Each time, he meowed to let Mom know that he was there, then looked up at her to see if she took what he brought.

One day Midnight brought a very young woodchuck. He was holding it in his mouth the way a mother cat carries her kittens. Mom took it from him and saw that it wasn’t harmed in any way. She couldn’t tell exactly how old it was, but she knew that it was still nursing. Always softhearted, she took the baby woodchuck in and made it a bed in a box. When she gave the baby creature a doll’s bottle filled with warm milk mixed with a drop of honey, it took to it like a duck takes to water. So that’s how Woody joined our family.

After that, Midnight stopped presenting his offerings at the kitchen door. But he came each day to see how Woody was getting along. He would look into the box and touch the baby with his paw, then look up at Mom.

Woody grew like a weed and was soon following Mom around as if she were his mother—indeed, she was the only mother that he knew. He became such a nuisance that Mom decided that he was big enough to live in the backyard. He didn’t seem to mind the change at all, and he scampered all over, examining everything in sight. At night he curled up with his small tail over his nose in an old easy chair on the back porch. One day Mom called for us to come and look—Midnight and Woody were playing together like a couple of young kittens. Woody chased Midnight for a while, then Midnight chased Woody. They even wrestled with each other. These playful antics went on for an hour or two every day till they wore themselves out. They shared the same water dish, and they would lie down side by side in the warm sun and sleep.

When Woody was about three months old, he started digging himself a hole under the stone fence that surrounded the yard. He worked on it every day till he got it to his liking. While Woody was busy digging his den, he wouldn’t play with Midnight, no matter what enticements he offered. So Midnight just lay on the grass and watched his playmate and thought his own thoughts. When Woody finished his hole, he went back to playing with his friend each day.

Woody had very good manners when following any of us into the vegetable garden. He wouldn’t touch a thing unless we offered it to him. Then he would sit on his haunches, take the offered vegetable, and eat it with gusto.

As fall came and the days became cooler, Woody seemed to eat all the time. Pop said that he was storing fat for the winter. Woody also pulled up grass, laid it in the sun to dry, then took it into his den. Pop said that Woody would use the grass to make a warm bed for the winter and to store as food.

When the weather broke and we had warm days during the winter, Woody came out of his hole and sunned himself. We took carrots, apples, and chunks of cabbage to him on these days. Other days we went to the edge of his hole and left food, which would be gone the next time we looked.

Spring came early that year. By the middle of March, all the snow was gone and things started greening up. Woody came out on a warm day and walked around the yard, inspecting everything. He and Midnight resumed their playing with each other. One morning in early June we heard a commotion in the backyard and howls of pain and growling. A stray dog had jumped the stone wall and was attacking Woody. Before any of us could come to his aid, a huge black streak cut across the yard—Midnight to the rescue! He leaped onto the dog’s back and sank his teeth into its neck and clawed at his head with his long, sharp claws. The dog let go of Woody in order to rid himself of his own attacker. But the harder he tried to shake Midnight off, the tighter Midnight held on. Finally the dog took off running, with Midnight’s claws still gripping his back. We watched, spellbound, as Midnight rode him like a steeplechaser over the stone wall, down the road, and out of sight around a turn in the road.

When we turned our attention to Woody, he had crawled to the edge of his hole, where he lay whimpering with numerous bites all over his body. As she had with Midnight, Mom washed and dried his wounds and bandaged them. When she finished, he looked like a mummy. Then, knowing some herbal lore, she made some strong catnip tea, cooled it, and forced a half cup of it down Woody’s throat by using an eye-dropper and rubbing his throat till he swallowed it. As soon as Woody went to sleep, Mom laid him in a bed that we kids made from a box and some old clothes.

By this time Midnight was meowing at the door. Mom let him in, and he headed straight for Woody’s bed and looked down at him. Then he looked up at Mom as if to ask, “Will he be all right?” We all petted Midnight and told him how proud we were of him for what he had done. Then Mom did something that I had never seen her do before. She got a big piece of steak and gave it to Midnight. After eating his reward, he lay down beside Woody’s bed. Mom didn’t say anything about him staying in the house that night.

Whenever Woody stirred in his sleep, Midnight scrambled to his feet to look at him. Then he’d gently stroke Woody’s head with his paw. If I hadn’t seen it for myself, I would never have believed it. I thought to myself that if two different species of animals can show love and affection like Midnight and Woody did, then why can’t people do the same?

After many days of tender nursing from Mom, Woody was up and about again. And in a month or two, new fur covered his many scars. But he had a limp in his right rear leg, and he was never really the same after the attack. He and Midnight played again in the yard, but Midnight saw that Woody wasn’t his old self, and he took it easy in their play.

As summer was drawing to a close, we noticed that Woody was less playful than he used to be, and he spent a lot of his time sleeping beside his hole. One morning in late fall, we found him lying on the cushion of the easy chair instead of by his den. He was dead.

When Midnight came from the barn for his daily visit, he looked at Woody and sniffed him and then walked to Woody’s den and back again. Then he walked back to the barn to be alone in his grief. Not long after that we discovered that Midnight was missing. Although we searched high and low, we never found any trace of him. Maybe it was too painful for him to stay around after his friend had died. Everyone in our family still cherishes the memory of the two animal friends who brought so much love into our lives.

I served for many years in the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles with Elder LeGrand Richards. He died at the age of 96. He told us that as a boy of 12 he attended a great general conference in the Tabernacle. There he heard President Wilford Woodruff.
President Woodruff told of an experience of being prompted by the Spirit. He was sent by the First Presidency to “gather all the Saints of God in New England and Canada and bring them to Zion.”
He stopped at the home of one of the brethren in Indiana and put his carriage in the yard, where he and his wife and one child went to bed while the rest of the family slept in the house. Shortly after he had retired for the night, the Spirit whispered, warning him, “Get up, and move your carriage.” He got up and moved the carriage a distance from where it had stood. As he was returning to bed, the Spirit spoke to him again: “Go and move your mules away from that oak tree.” He did this and then retired once again to bed.
Not more than 30 minutes later, a whirlwind caught the tree to which his mules had been tied and broke it off at the ground. It was carried 100 yards (90 m) through two fences. The enormous tree, which had a trunk five feet (1.5 m) in circumference, fell exactly upon the spot where his carriage had been parked. By listening to the promptings of the Spirit, Elder Woodruff had saved his life and the lives of his wife and child.
That same Spirit can prompt you and protect you.

Marie Purcell, of the Massey Park Ward in the Auckland New Zealand Papatoetoe Stake, experienced the joy of this work when she and her parents sealed her beloved grandfather, Afele Schwenke, to his family—a blessing he did not receive in his lifetime despite his faithfulness and service to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Years later, while reviewing family history records, Marie and her parents discovered that her mother’s sealing to her parents had not been recorded. Marie immediately felt a strong spiritual prompting—not only did her mother’s sealing need to be done, but also her grandfather Afele’s. His face came to her mind, and she knew that temple work needed to be completed.

Trusting this prompting, the family scheduled a sealing appointment. However, when they arrived at the temple, Marie realized they were not fully prepared with the required documents. They proceeded with other ordinances, but in the sealing room, both Marie and her mother felt a distinct sadness at leaving the ordinance undone.

Determined to finish the work, Marie and her parents scheduled another appointment. On April 6, 2024, they returned to the temple, fully prepared. Marie and her father would stand as proxies for her grandparents.

When the sealer called her mother’s name, a deep feeling of peace washed over them. Marie remembers tears flowing as they completed the ordinance.

Through the Atonement of Jesus Christ and the sacred work of the temple, Afele Schwenke and his wife, Soala, received the blessings of eternity.

As saviours on Mount Zion, we can offer our ancestors the same gift of exaltation Christ offers to us. Reflecting on the experience of sealing her grandparents, Marie shared, “I testify that the joy that comes from participating through family history brings eternal happiness.”

“I have felt those on the other side of the veil through this great and marvelous work. And I know that they embrace with excitement receiving these sacred ordinances, as I embrace with joy on this side of the veil uniting my eternal family.”

The sealing power reminded her that the blessings of the Atonement extend beyond the veil. As Doctrine and Covenants 128:22 invites, “Shall we not go on in so great a cause?”

It was a cold, rainy day, and my friends and I were playing kickball. One of the players was a girl who gets teased a lot and does not have many friends. She didn’t have a coat although it was raining hard. She was soaked! It looked as if she had just jumped into a swimming pool! Her nose was red and she was shivering. I felt sorry for her, so I took off my coat and let her borrow it until recess was over. Even though I was cold on the outside, I felt warm and cozy inside.

As a small boy in grammar school, I had a teacher who made the story of the legendary British King Arthur and his knights of the Round Table come alive. She caused me to become so obsessed with stories of knights that I played and dreamed that I was one.
One evening I dreamed that I was a white knight on a white horse riding over the green countryside of England. Suddenly, without warning, a knight dressed in black armor and mounted on a black horse appeared at the edge of the forest. We studied each other carefully, lowered our lances, and charged at full gallop. The lances struck target and both of us were knocked off our horses.
I scrambled to my feet knowing that swords would be drawn and that hand-to-hand combat was imminent. Fear gripped my heart as I saw my opponent rushing toward me flashing a long, gleaming sword. Instinctively, I reached to my side and drew forth from the scabbard my weapon. That is when the dream turned into a nightmare! For in my hand was a small insignificant dagger—not a long, gleaming sword. I woke up sweating in my fright, screaming for help.
Many times since that nightmarish experience, I have wondered about the serviceability of the Saints, particularly the young Latter-day Saints. When God calls you to serve, are you positioned in the scabbard and ready to be drawn? When the Lord draws you forth as his instrument in combating evil forces, what does he have in his hand—a long, gleaming sword or insignificant dagger?

Jackeline Martinez Roman of the Colon Ward, Quito Ecuador Colon Stake, was recently selected as second runner-up in the Miss Quito contest, part of the annual celebration of Ecuador’s capital. She was nominated by her employers. Jackeline, along with the girls selected as Miss Quito and first runner-up, will spend time during the year raising funds for the elderly and underprivileged and attending activities sponsored by the city.
Jackeline hopes her new position will offer some good opportunities for missionary work. In fact, Miss Quito and the first runner-up have already asked about the Church and its beliefs, and Jackeline was happy to explain.
Although born in Ecuador, Jackeline lived for nine years in Maryland in the United States, where she attended school. She has served as seminary president and as a teacher in the Primary and Sunday School, and she is presently serving as Primary secretary.

President Grant was always ready to give. After an energetic conference talk in San Diego, the President invited Joseph to play golf with him. “I had never played golf, … but I couldn’t very well turn him down,” Elder Anderson reminisced. The President arranged for a lesson and a pail of golf balls to practice with, and then they played a number of holes. The next day in Los Angeles President Grant suffered a debilitating heart attack. On the way to the hospital, he whispered, “‘Joseph, you made some very good strokes yesterday.’ I said, ‘Yes, President, I’m afraid you’ve converted me. I will have to get some clubs and get busy.’ ‘Don’t you worry about the clubs,’ he said, ‘I’ll take care of that. I’ll buy them.’”