Gospel Story Finder

During my junior year in high school, I was very involved with my drama club and was getting ready for an audition. There was only going to be one play that year, and I was auditioning for the lead role, so I worked really hard to get ready for the tryouts. As the day of the audition drew near, I felt more and more excited.
On a Sunday before my audition, my Young Women leader announced an upcoming temple trip. We would be going to the Manhattan New York Temple, which was unusual for our ward, because it was about three hours away. She told us that in the next few days, she would need to know who was planning on coming. Then she announced the date of the trip. My heart sank. It was the same day as my audition. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. If I went on the temple trip, I might not be able to audition to be in the play.
I know that going to the temple is important, and I always look forward to going on temple trips with my ward. I love feeling the Spirit and taking time to be out of the world. At the same time, I loved performing with my drama club and being a part of a show with my friends.
It took me longer than I expected to make my decision. At first, I decided to skip the temple trip and go to the audition instead. I convinced myself that because there was only one show that year and because there would be more temple trips, it would be OK to miss just one trip to the temple—I would just go to the next one. After I made that decision, I still felt conflicted. I prayed about it and was not convinced that I’d made the right choice. I decided to skip the audition and go on the temple trip. I finally felt at peace, and I knew that the Lord was happy with my decision.
After I told my parents that I’d decided to go to the temple, my dad called my director and explained the conflict. The director told my dad that he would work with me so I wouldn’t have to miss out on the show. When my dad told me the news, I was filled with joy. I would be able to go to the temple and participate in the show! I didn’t get the lead that year, but I did learn a valuable lesson: when we choose the right, we are blessed.

When I taught seminary many years ago in Arizona, I showed a Church film to the students entitled And Should We Die. The movie is based on a true story about Latter-day Saints in Mexico who were persecuted for their religious beliefs by Zapatista rebels during the Mexican civil war shortly after the turn of the twentieth century. The movie focuses primarily on two LDS fathers, the branch president and his first counselor, who were imprisoned and sentenced to death. They were told they would be spared the firing squad if they would denounce their Mormon beliefs. Because they refused to do so, the two men, President Rafael Monroy and Brother Vicente Morales, were executed in front of their families and branch members on 17 July 1915.

My students were deeply affected by the movie; many were even in tears. In this setting I asked my sobered high school students—whose minds only minutes before had been on such things as proms, football games, cool cars, hot guys, and what they were going to do for fun on the weekend—“Would you be willing to lay down your life rather than denounce your faith and testimony of the restored gospel?” The question was designed to get the students to appreciate the sacrifices others had made for the gospel’s sake. It was also meant to stimulate self-examination of their convictions and commitments to the Lord. I didn’t expect anyone to answer. And, at first, only an outspoken macho young man on the back row said anything. He boldly declared, “Yeah, I’d be willing to die for the Lord.” I wasn’t sure that he was serious, because he was rarely serious about anything. However, this time he seemed very sincere. After a moment or two of dead silence, others began earnestly and in hushed tones (rare in a high school seminary class) to declare their willingness to die for the cause of the Master. A young woman with tears streaming down her face sweetly stated that she, too, would be willing to die for her beliefs, “because Jesus suffered and died for me.” It was one of the most remarkable occasions in my teaching career.

The moment I shall never forget, however, came after the bell rang to end our class. As the students were filing out of the classroom, one young man turned back to me and quietly asked, “Brother Top, would you die for him?” I hadn’t been expecting that, so a moment or two of silence passed that seemed like an eternity. I was so flustered I didn’t really know quite how to answer. Before I could answer, he turned and left the building. I have thought of that moment many times since. I have replayed it over and over in my mind, each time giving a response that I thought would adequately and profoundly declare my devotion to the Lord and his kingdom. Yet the young man never got an answer from me. I know what I should have said and what I wanted to say. But what would I really say—and more important, what would I do—when my life and soul depended on the answer?

Now, more than two decades since my seminary teaching days in Arizona, I still think of that lone student asking me as he was exiting my seminary class, “Brother Top, would you die for Christ?” I believe I now know the answer: “Only if I am daily living for him.” It is those daily acts of conviction, conversion, and consecration—the degree to which I am living for him—that will determine whether or not I could really die for him.

The lesson that most affected my life was a Primary lesson. It was so long ago that I don’t remember the teacher’s name, but the lesson penetrated my soul so deeply that I have never forgotten it.
When I was five years old I learned that God was my Heavenly Father and that Jesus Christ was my Savior and Redeemer. I learned that They love all people and that I could speak with God whenever I needed to because He always listens to my prayers. My faith increased, something within my heart grew, and little by little I gained a testimony of the Godhead. With the pure intent of a small child, I started praying with greater fervor, and I had many wonderful experiences with prayer.
I attended church for more than a year. Then other events made my going to church difficult. But I never stopped praying.
I was finally able to join the Church when I turned 20 years old. I was baptized with the sincere feelings of a child who says to her Father, “I’m coming back home.”
The seed was planted when I was a child and then germinated when I became an adult. I don’t know whether that teacher knows how much she helped me. But her lesson transformed my soul and kept my feet on the sure path, even while I had no contact with the Church for 14 years.
Estela Santana Leitão Cavalcante, Praia Grande Ward, Praia Grande Brazil Stake

My dear brothers and sisters, I desire more than anything this hour to bear witness, a personal witness, of the love of God for me, for you, and for all mankind. What man is sufficiently adequate to be able to express the depth of his gratitude in recognition of the love of God? How blessed I have been for so many years to be with you and to have found the pure love of Christ emanating from you. I am deeply indebted to you and to God.
The Lord said that charity is “the pure love of Christ,” that which is “most joyous to the soul,” “the greatest of all the gifts of God,” “perfect” and “everlasting.”
As difficult as charity is to describe, it is rather easily recognized in the lives of those who possess it.
An aged, crippled grandmother who subscribes to an afternoon newspaper, knowing it will bring her delivery-boy grandson to her home every day where, at her knee, she teaches him to pray.
A mother who, in hard economic times and scarcity of meat, seems to savor only chicken wings, to the puzzlement of all.
A man who suffers an undeserved public chastisement, but humbly receives it anyway.
Is not the common thread in these examples charity, a selflessness, a not seeking for anything in return? All of our divine attributes seem to flow from and be encompassed by this one. All men may have the gift of love, but charity is bestowed only upon those who are true followers of Christ.
The very power of God is found in His attributes of godliness. The power of the priesthood is maintained by these attributes. We seek these attributes, especially charity, the pure love of Christ.
Yet there stands the devil, the destroyer of this love, replacing it with anger and hostility. My friend William felt that way: hostile. It seemed that whatever happened, it was the Lord’s fault—an illness, a death, a wayward child, a personal weakness, an “unanswered” prayer—all of which hardened his heart. His inner anger, which could flare up in but a moment, was directed toward God, his fellowman, and himself. From his heart emanated unbelief, stubbornness, pride, contention, and a loss of hope, love, and direction. He was miserable!
These destroyers of peace blinded William to God’s feelings for him. He could neither discover nor feel God’s love. He did not see, especially in those dark moments, that God was richly blessing him even still. Instead, he returned anger for love. Have we not all felt that at times? Even when we have merited love the least, He has loved us the most. Truly, He loves us first.

One summer, as a teenager, I worked on an oyster boat off the coast of Long Island in New York to earn funds for college. The other members of the crew were seasoned oystermen, hardened by the harsh winter environment in which they spent much of their lives battling the icy ocean and raw wind to secure their catch. I was an enigma to them, easier to distrust than to understand. They shunned me as a company spy, then as a crazy kid who didn’t know how to be a man. Later, I became better at my duties and tried to build friendships. They offered to make me “a real man” by joining them on their all-night indulgences. I thanked them but declined, and the tension grew more intense.

The summer weather was beautiful and the ocean magnificent. We were engaged in relatively simple tasks, such as transferring small oysters to a more distant portion of the sound where the nutrients accelerated their growth and improved their flavor. Except when a dredge full of oysters was dumped onto the deck, signaling a flurry of intense activity, there was much time for contemplation. While my deck mates dozed by their shovels, I read and pondered the content of the Book of Mormon. I cannot adequately express the powerful awakening within me that came from those weeks of study of the Book of Mormon under singularly unusual circumstances.

We slept in envelope-type bunks sandwiched into the restricted space between the ship’s diesel engine and hull. One night at dockside I retired early since some of the crew planned unrighteous activity outside our boat. I was suddenly shaken into consciousness by the powerful hand of a deck mate, Toddy, a giant of a man. He was brandishing a hammer in my face, and his breath reeked of alcohol. Stunned, I realized that there was no way that I could escape him. I thought I had come to the end of the road. Then I heard what he was shouting, “Scotty, get your fins and mask. There’s a man overboard, and you can save him.”

That night I learned a lesson I have never forgotten. Publicly the crew members ridiculed me, but privately they respected me for my standards. The confidence that came from that knowledge let me quietly help three of them with some serious personal challenges.

When Rachel Chase started seminary, she had her older sister, Jessica, to take her and get her up on time. Rachel tried persuading her sister to be a little late and get five minutes’ more sleep. “But she told me,” said Rachel, “that it’s so important to be there on time, to be there for the whole thing. When she graduated, I had my third year by myself until my little brother was old enough to go. I found out you need every year to build up your testimony.”

Christina sat down in the chapel with her parents as the organist began playing prelude music. Today she and her family were quiet and sad. That morning Dad told the family that his engineering company might close. Christina knew that his business was struggling, but she hadn’t known how bad things were.

After the sacrament, Sister Stevens, a recently returned missionary, gave the first talk.

Christina thought about her own family’s hard times in the last year. Her father’s business had to cut salaries twice, so he now got paid only part of his original salary. During the summer, her family’s basement had flooded twice, damaging the carpet and furniture in her room. Now not only could she not buy the things her friends could, but she had lost some of her belongings because of water damage.

Christina listened in amazement to the small things on Sister Stevens’s list. She had never thought to be grateful for things like peanut butter, beds, or letters.

When Christina got home, she made her own gratitude list. She wrote down clean sheets, ice-cream cones, books, and many other things. It wasn’t hard at all to find things to be grateful for.

At dinner that evening, Christina looked across the table at her parents and realized she’d forgotten to list two of her most important blessings.

“I know I don’t say it enough, but I love you,” she said. “And I’m glad you’re my parents.”

Dad smiled. “Thank you, Christina.”

Mom looked like she was about to cry. “That’s the nicest thing you could have said to me.”

Months later, Dad’s business improved, and he was once again paid his full salary. But Christina never forgot the lesson she had learned about gratitude.

On one occasion, one of my daughters came to me and asked me to keep her cell phone for a week. She said that she felt it was consuming too much of her time and attention and she wanted to reset her priorities. I put her phone on a shelf and she reclaimed it a while later. I loved the desire for self-mastery she demonstrated and the introspective analysis she practiced as she sought to act and not be acted upon.[10]

1 Young Spencer Kimball spent many hours helping his father on the family farm. He tramped hay, planted seeds, weeded the garden, and painted the barn and house.
2 And every day Spencer milked the cows. There were no milking machines in those days, and it took the young boy quite a while to finish this chore.
3 Spencer liked to learn. He decided to use his “milking time” to learn new things, so he copied the words from Church hymns onto small pieces of paper and sang to the cows while he milked them.
4 He memorized many of his favorite scriptures the same way. Neighbors often joked about those cows being the most spiritual cows in the area!
5 From the barn doorway, Spencer’s father would watch him sitting on a three-legged stool, milking a cow and learning hymns and scriptures.
6 Spencer W. Kimball learned at a young age to be dedicated to the gospel and to seek after righteousness. He was well prepared to become the twelfth President of the Church.

He was a very traditional Navajo, and he taught us many of the Navajo ways. I learned not to be so inquisitive, because this is considered bad form in the Navajo culture. When I stopped asking questions, and when the mood suited him, he would tell us about his life. He took us out to the river and his other favorite places. He showed us foxholes and where the coyotes had been. He taught us to herd sheep. He showed us how he built the tall, black-robed figures that had ended our first visit. They were not designed to terrify sister missionaries but to frighten away coyotes that might harm his flock.
He loved his sheep and would take them miles each day in search of the best grass. He took the lambs inside with him when the nights were cold. He was a very caring man.

Let me share with you a true story of a young man by the name of Layne Johnson. I have received permission to share his life with you.
Layne Johnson is the son of Sheldon and Leatrice Johnson. They were our neighbors for more than 40 years, living in our ward, in St. George, Utah. Layne was born on September 17, 1954. He is the second child, having one older brother, and three younger brothers.
Layne was born handicapped, diagnosed with Down Syndrome. His parents were told that Layne would never be able to live a normal life, that he would not be able to learn to take care of himself, that he would not be able to go to school, and that he probably would live in a vegetative state, placing a terrible stigma and burden upon his parents and family. Sheldon and Leatrice were advised to place Layne in an institution and forget him. They were told there are places for babies like Layne who would never speak, or read, or understand, or have dreams and goals of their own.
Sheldon and Leatrice could not, and did not do that. Instead, they decided to raise him in their family, with the same family rules and expectations of him that were required of all his brothers.
Over the many months of adolescence they worked with him, giving him chores to do, expecting him to do his part.They did not excuse him from tasks he was able to do, but expected him to try to learn and to develop to the fullest of his abilities. He was subject to the same loving discipline as his brothers.
Layne grew up in the neighborhood with all the rest of the children, doing his best, and all his friends, including my children, loved him, and helped him. They did not belittle him, but they accepted him, encouraged him and cheered him on. Layne went to Primary and to a special elementary school which his parents helped to organize.
He worked on the farm with his father and brothers. While working on the farm, he learned to operate the farm equipment and continued to develop his mechanical knowledge and skills. He learned to water ski and participated in many other sports, competing in the Special Olympics where he did very well. He loved to go fishing with the family where he claims to have caught the biggest fish.
I became the bishop of the ward, and I was privileged to watch Layne continue in his progression. Layne received the Melchizedek Priesthood and was ordained an Elder. He received his endowments, and he went to the temple regularly. He filled every priesthood assignment with such diligence that few could match his commitment and faithful performance in the work of the Lord.
On June 7, 1977, he received a call to serve a special short-term mission to the Philippines Manila Mission where his brother Kris was serving. Layne, accompanied by his father and mother, went to the Philippines. There he faithfully served his mission as his brother’s companion until both Layne’s and his brother’s mission was completed. Then they all returned home together.
He earned his Eagle Scout Award on May 15, 1983, and continued to earn additional merit badges until he had more than any of his brothers. Elder Jeffrey R. Holland, seeing Layne’s picture in the local newspaper, wrote him a letter (dated July 21, 1983) from which I quote:
Dear Layne,
I was delighted to read in a recent issue of the Washington County news that you had received your Eagle Scout award. That is a wonderful accomplishment in your life and I don’t know who looked prouder –you or your parents. However, looking at all those merit badges nearly gave me a headache. How on earth did you get all those! I’ll bet you know more than any Boy Scout in the country. I always look forward to coming to priesthood meeting in the Third Ward where you so superbly lead the singing.
Layne had a remarkable musical talent. He learned to play the organ, and he was called to serve as the chorister for the ward priesthood meeting. He served faithfully leading the singing in the ward priesthood meeting for more than 25 years.
Layne was faithful in his callings; and he could not be tempted by adversity, deceptive persons, or the devil. On one occasion, I asked Layne if we could sing “Yankee Doodle Dandy” for our opening hymn in our priesthood meeting. He said to me, “Oh Bishop, you know we can’t sing that song! It is not in the hymn book.” Layne could not be tempted and would not do anything that was not right. He knew how our Savior lived His life, and Layne was committed to live his life like Jesus.
Layne got a job with J. C. Penny Company in St. George, where he worked in the stockroom for more than 25 years. He was a trusted employee there; having his own key he would arrive early to prepare for each day’s business. At the time of his retirement, he received a gold watch in appreciation for his many years of faithful employment.
Because of his job requirements, Layne found it necessary to have his own transportation. So he saved his money, purchased a motor scooter, learned to drive it, and obtained his license to drive it in traffic on the highways. He later purchased a car, and again demonstrated his ability to drive and obtained his driver’s license. He has driven his car over 40,000 miles without an accident.
Like most men, Layne had an interest in sports, and he became a fan of John Stockton of the Utah Jazz. He even had the opportunity to meet John and have his picture taken with him on the basketball floor. He carefully chose his idols, seeking those who were living righteous lives. He was overcoming the handicap that he was born with.
Leatrice, Layne’s mother, died from cancer in January of 1991 and Layne was filled with grief and loneliness. Those were difficult times for Layne. He felt alone. His brothers all had loving wives as their companions and he greatly missed and was seeking the comfort and love that only a mother or a wife can provide. His father later married again, and his new stepmother, LaVerna, was a special loving mother and she gave understanding support and encouragement to Layne. She filled the void in Layne’s life and was a great encouragement and motivator for him.
As time passed, the Lord, through his family and friends, provided the opportunity for Layne to meet Shauna Nichols. She also was a Down Syndrome child. She too had worked hard and achieved skills, knowledge and ability equal to that of Layne. They were both attracted to each other and they dated and became better acquainted over time. They decided they would like to be married and live their lives together in their own home independent of their parents. With the blessings of both parents, and after careful planning, they were married in the St. George Temple on the 26th of November, 1993. They began their married life with an eternal everlasting covenant to become one in harmony with our Heavenly Father’s plan. Shauna is a beautiful young wife, and she has that beauty clear through her body, heart, and soul.
Layne has had his greatest dream fulfilled. He has the loving wife he has long awaited.
The blessing of an eternal companion was provided to a righteous young man by our Heavenly Father. They presently live in St. George in a new home which they planned and built. They are active in the Church, holding callings, attending the temple regularly, and they are a model of righteousness. Sister Stucki made the observation to me that they “are pure in heart.” The Lord has sealed them up unto Him!
Layne and Shauna have become known throughout the world for their success in overcoming the handicaps of Down Syndrome. They have been invited and have spoken at many prestigious forums on Down Syndrome at state and national levels. Many articles have been written about them. A DVD on the lives of Layne and Shauna has been produced and distributed to special institutions that work with and strive to improve the lives of those who are mentally disadvantaged.
When I last visited with Layne and Shauna in January of this year, they told me they were happy, and everything is going very well for them. As I spoke with them, my thoughts took me back to the old fairy tale ending of “and they lived happily ever after.”

It was dusk as Micah knelt beside his bed with his younger brother, Noah, to say their prayers. He was still thinking about their neighbor, an older man named Sam. Just then Mom appeared in the doorway.
“I’m glad you two are going to say your prayers,” she said, smiling at the two brothers.
“I’m going to include Sam in my prayers tonight,” Micah said. “I’m going to ask him to come to church with us on Sunday, and I want Heavenly Father’s help when I ask him.”
“Do you think he will come to church with us?” Noah asked. “Our Primary teacher told us that Heavenly Father will be pleased when we invite our neighbors to go to church.”
“I know that Heavenly Father will help you ask Sam,” Mom said.
The next morning Micah and Noah awoke early. They were excited to talk with Sam. Sam had lived next door to Micah and Noah’s family long before Micah and Noah were born. Micah knew Sam had been very lonely since his wife died.
The boys made their beds without being reminded and quickly ate their breakfast before heading out the door.
“Are you scared?” Noah asked Micah.
“No. I think Sam is going to say yes,” Micah replied. “Well, maybe I’m a little scared,” he added.
The two ran toward Sam’s house. Micah was sure that Noah was as nervous as he was. What if Sam said no? What if Sam wouldn’t want to be their friend anymore and stopped taking them and Dad fishing?
They walked in silence up to Sam’s front door. Just as they knocked at the door, someone walked around the side of the house. “Hello, boys!” he said, walking toward them. “What are you two up to today?” Even though a large straw hat hid his face, the boys knew from the voice that it was Sam. And they knew that he was smiling.
“We came to visit you,” Micah said.
“Yeah,” Noah said. He quickly added, “Micah has something to ask you.”
Micah’s heart pounded in his chest. He took a deep breath and blurted out, “Will you come to church with us tomorrow? You can ride with us—we have plenty of room—and you can sit with us at church.”
“Well, I see your family leaving for church every Sunday, and I haven’t been to a church in a long time,” Sam said. “I think that would be OK for me to go to church with you this Sunday.”
“Yea!” both boys exclaimed at the same time.
Noah said, “We leave at 9:30. We’ll pick you up then!”
As the boys ran home, Micah turned and called to Sam, who was still smiling. “See you tomorrow morning at 9:30!”
As they entered their house, Mom and Dad were waiting for them.
“What did Sam say?” Dad asked. “Is he going to church with us?”
Micah grinned. “Yes. We said we’d pick him up at 9:30.”
That night when they said their prayers, Noah and Micah remembered to thank Heavenly Father for helping them ask Sam to go to church with them.
“I feel really happy,” Micah said.
“I do too,” Noah said.
The two boys climbed into their beds, and Micah remembered something their bishop had said in sacrament meeting the week before: “Every member a missionary!”

For the past two years our family has served a mission in Texas. It has been glorious and fulfilling beyond all expectations. When we first arrived, Sister Featherstone went to the Lord and said: “We don’t have much time. Please let me learn quickly so that the work will go forth.”
Later she said, “The Lord has answered my prayers. He taught me several great lessons. One of those lessons came after the first three or four weeks in the mission field. I was unable to find a few minutes each day to repair to a quiet spot. When I was home I would take about forty-five minutes in the afternoon and go out and curry down my Arabian horse. I would retreat into a world of my own for those few minutes.”
She could not find time for even a few minutes for herself in the mission field. She went to the Lord and knelt in prayer and said, “Please, Heavenly Father, help me to find some time for myself while I am here.”
And she said that just as clear as anything in this world the words came into her mind, saying, “My daughter, this is not your time; this is my time.” We have attempted to work with all our energy while we were on his time. And that work standard is compared to our work standard and not someone else’s.

Accepting a calling. Just before legal papers were filed for divorce, our Relief Society presidency was reorganized, and I was called to be secretary. Our new president later told me that my name came to her while she was meditating in the temple. Looking back, I see that Heavenly Father put me in a position to receive loving help, kindness, and concern from my sisters in the presidency during those stressful days during and after the divorce.
My Relief Society job required me to prepare weekly bulletins and a number of monthly reports. I began acquiring computer skills. As I carried out my other duties, I occasionally conducted meetings and found my leadership skills improving also. My self-confidence grew. When I had to go back to work again as a nurse after many years absent from the profession, I discovered the job required computer skills, and I was grateful for all I had learned through my calling. My improved skills helped me step more confidently back into the workforce.

Let me share the story of one of our most beautiful hymns, “Where Can I Turn for Peace?”
The poetess, Emma Lou Thayne, struggled for three years to help her oldest daughter through a severe mental illness. She’d done everything she could to find peace and help for a diagnosis she knew little about, calling it the “bleakest time I had ever known.”
In the midst of that heartache, Sister Thayne was asked by the Church to write music for a youth conference. One day, she retreated to a quiet room in the basement and penned these pleading, sacred words (in part):
“Where can I turn for peace?
Where is my solace
When other sources cease to make me whole? …
Where is the quiet hand to calm my anguish?
Who, who can understand?
He, only One.
He answers privately,
Reaches my reaching
In my Gethsemane, Savior and friend.
Gentle the peace he finds …
Constant he is and kind,
Love without end.” [18]
After writing those beautiful lyrics, Sister Thayne called her friend Jolene Meredith and asked her to compose the music. Sister Meredith had battled mental health struggles of her own. “She understood every word I’d written,” Sister Thayne recalled. “She sat at her piano … and as I read a line, she composed a line. By noon, we had our hymn.”
The two women privately referred to it as the “Mental Health Hymn”—and the Gethsemane they were both thinking of… included the mental suffering and emotional anguish that the Savior took upon Himself for all who suffer. [19]
What I love about this story is how these faithful women used their suffering for good!

Share in the fun of a happy Christmas feeling. On a piece of paper write the following list of words, cut out, mix up, and paste them in the blank spaces as you read this true story.
jars of jelly
candy canes for the tree
long-stemmed red roses
presents wrapped in red
bags of cookies
pieces of pink divinity
pieces of fruit
chewy popcorn balls
loaves of date bread
lace-trimmed handkerchiefs
pieces of fruitcake
pieces of candy
decorated gingerbread men
cakes
Mrs. Gallagher finished trimming her small Christmas tree. Beneath the tree she carefully placed each small figure in the manger scene.
“Dear me, dear me,” exclaimed Mrs. Gallagher, “Christmas is only twelve days away and I still haven’t felt a happy Christmas spirit. My tree looks lovely and I have received many cards and packages through the mail. Now why am I feeling sad?”
Mrs. Gallagher went to her bay window and watched the six children next door help their father bring in a large Christmas tree.
“Now there’s the answer to my question right before my eyes,” exclaimed Mrs. Gallagher. “I’m lonesome. My children are grown and can’t come home for Christmas this year. I won’t be able to share Christmas with my grandchildren.”
Mrs. Gallagher blinked and a few tears ran down the wrinkles in her cheeks.
“Say, I’ve got to do something besides stand here and cry,” said Mrs. Gallagher. “And I think I’ll start by making some ginger-cream cookies to share with my neighbors. Then I’ll sit at my old pump organ and play some Christmas songs.”
Mrs. Gallagher was taking the last batch of cookies out of the oven and was about to sit down at her organ when the doorbell rang.
“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Gallagher,” the children from next door sang out and Mary Lynn, the oldest girl, handed Mrs. Gallagher a package with a note on top.
The children stayed a little while to visit and to enjoy some fresh, warm cookies. As soon as they left, Mrs. Gallagher read the note and opened her package.
On the first day of Christmas
What did Mrs. Gallagher see?
One large loaf of bread.
“What a nice Christmasy thing to do,” said Mrs. Gallagher delightedly as she taped the note to her bay window. She enjoyed the bread and some ginger-creams with her supper that evening.
The doorbell rang before Mrs. Gallagher had even finished breakfast the next morning.
“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Gallagher,” said the children from next door again, and Erick handed Mrs. Gallagher a package with a note on top.
The children stayed just a minute. When they left, Mrs. Gallagher read the note and opened the package.
On the second day of Christmas
What did Mrs. Gallagher see?
Two ____________________.
“Another surprise!” exclaimed Mrs. Gallagher and she taped the note to her bay window. What thoughtful children I have living next door to me, she thought.
The next day the doorbell rang as Mrs. Gallagher was sitting down to lunch.
“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Gallagher,” called the children and Kathy handed Mrs. Gallagher a package with a note on top.
As soon as they left, Mrs. Gallagher read the note and opened the package.
On the third day of Christmas
What did Mrs. Gallagher see?
Three ____________________.
Mrs. Gallagher taped another note to her bay window. She was enjoying the visits and all of the presents but she had to admit she was a little surprised.
The next afternoon the doorbell rang and it was the children again. “Merry Christmas, Mrs. Gallagher,” they said all together and Robby handed her a package with a note on top. Mrs. Gallagher smiled when she read the note on the package.
On the fourth day of Christmas
What did Mrs. Gallagher see?
Four ____________________.
“Now isn’t that thoughtful of those children!” said Mrs. Gallagher. With a happy smile on her face she taped the fourth note to her bay window. The next day when the children came, she was standing near the window waiting and watching.
She opened the front door to greet them. Three-year-old Jeremy handed her a package with a note on top.
When the children left, Mrs. Gallagher read the note and opened the package.
On the fifth day of Christmas
What did Mrs. Gallagher see?
Five ____________________.
“Just what I love,” said Mrs. Gallagher and she was as happy as could be. “I wonder if the children will come again tomorrow morning,” she said to herself as she taped the fifth note to her bay window.
The children did come the following morning and every morning during the next week to wish Mrs. Gallagher a Merry Christmas. Every afternoon they worked in their kitchen preparing the next day’s note and gift for Mrs. Gallagher. This is what their notes said:
On the sixth day of Christmas
What did Mrs. Gallagher see?
Six ____________________.
On the seventh day of Christmas
What did Mrs. Gallagher see?
Seven ____________________.
On the eighth day of Christmas
What did Mrs. Gallagher see?
Eight ____________________.
On the ninth day of Christmas
What did Mrs. Gallagher see?
Nine ____________________.
On the tenth day of Christmas
What did Mrs. Gallagher see?
Ten ____________________.
On the eleventh day of Christmas
What did Mrs. Gallagher see?
.Eleven ____________________.
Mrs. Gallagher was more excited than ever on Christmas day as she waited and waited at her bay window.
“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Gallagher,” the children called as they climbed up the front steps. Cameron, the smallest child, handed her a package with a note on top.
Mrs. Gallagher smiled with delight and said, “Come in children. I have a Christmas treat for all of you too.”
While the children ate ginger-cream cookies, Mrs. Gallagher sat at her old pump organ and played Christmas songs for them.
“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Gallagher,” the children called out as they waved good-bye and, after they were gone, she read the note and opened the package.
On the twelfth day of Christmas
What did Mrs. Gallagher see?
Twelve ____________________.
On the bottom of the note it read, “P.S., We love you, Mrs. Gallagher!”
“What a happy Christmas this turned out to be,” said Mrs. Gallagher. She taped the note to her bay window beside the others.
She left them there all year. And whenever she was lonely she would stand at her bay window and reread her cheery Christmas messages.

Another false philosophy that appeals to the Mr. Hyde side of our natures is that peeking into pornography is harmless. This is a terrible deception. Pornography is as addictive as cocaine or any illegal drug. I recently received a heartbreaking letter from an excommunicated man whose soul is filled with sorrow and regret. With his permission, I quote the following from his letter: “I hope that this letter will confirm to any who have doubt that the path of destruction only reaps sorrow and grief and no sin is worth this price.”
He goes on to state: “I have brought grief and sorrow upon myself. Only now do I fully realize the great destruction that I have brought upon myself. No selfish or lustful desire is worth losing your Church membership for. I have brought terrible grief to my wife and two wonderful children. I am grateful for my wife’s great efforts to help me overcome my sins. My wife has been a victim of my sins and had to endure great sorrow and suffering. I long for the day that I can again be a member of the Lord’s Church and for our family to be an eternal family.”
The letter goes on to admit: “My sins are a direct result of my early childhood addiction to pornography. Without a doubt, pornography is addictive and is poison. Had I learned early in my life to apply the power of self-mastery, I would be a member of the Church today.”

Mary Fielding Smith remained faithful to the end of her life. She paid tithing, even in her poverty. When someone inappropriately suggested she not contribute a tenth of the potatoes she had grown that year, she responded, “You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Would you deny me a blessing? … I pay my tithing, not only because it is a law of God, but because I expect a blessing by doing it.”2 She established a farm in the Salt Lake Valley and taught her children the gospel. President Joseph F. Smith later said, “She taught me honor, and virtue, and truth, and integrity to the kingdom of God, and she taught me not only by precept but by example.”3

Our ward had just been divided, so when the bishop asked to see me, I was sure I would receive a calling in the new ward. I had been working with the young women and loved them. They were so receptive to the gospel and such a joy to teach. Surely the Lord would allow me to continue teaching them.
To my surprise, the bishop said the Lord wanted me to teach in Primary instead. Surely he was mistaken! He assured me, however, that he had fasted and prayed and felt strongly about my calling. I loved children, but what did I know about teaching them?
For 15 years of marriage the only sadness my husband and I shared was that the Lord had not blessed us with children. Our efforts to adopt had also been fruitless because of our medical challenges.
Trusting the bishop, I accepted the call to teach in the Primary, but in my heart I struggled. I was angry with the Lord for leaving me childless, and I resented this new calling.
“Why, Lord, art Thou asking this of me?” I wondered. “In Thy wisdom, I have been deprived of children of my own. Why should I be asked to teach other people’s children?”
I prayed and struggled and wrestled with the Lord, pleading through my tears for understanding. Finally I decided that since I had accepted the calling, I had better stop feeling sorry for myself and do the best I could.
That is when the blessings came. I quickly learned to love the children, and they learned to love me. I found that their love was great enough to help me fill the emptiness in my life. Soon I couldn’t go down the hall at church without at least two children holding onto my hands and others stopping for a hug as I passed by. In turn, my husband was called as a Scout leader. Before long our home was full of children and teens.

I remember a missionary in Japan who bore his testimony in one of our meetings. It was before the days of the language training missions. Japanese had been extremely difficult for him, so much so that his mission president thought he should be transferred to an English-speaking mission. The elder said, as he stood on his feet, “The Lord had called me to Japan, and I knew I had to have the language to do the work. I fasted all of one day and prayed through the night. I fasted the second day and again pleaded with the Lord for help because I knew that somehow with his help I could do it. The next day, something seemed to break. The shadows of my mind lifted. I could understand as I had never understood before. And now it seems that Japanese is a language I learned a long time ago that is coming back to me.”