Gospel Story Finder

A new convert, Joaquim, couldn’t seem to get enough of the Church and its activities. If he happened to see us missionaries during the day, he would stop what he was doing and spend several hours street-contacting with us. He would even arrive early for church just in case there was something he could do to help. Joaquim Pinto Dias and his family quickly became pillars of the Meier Branch in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, in 1970.
Called to teach Sunday School, Joaquim fulfilled his calling with exacting zeal. If the manual called for the lessons to be forty minutes long, that is exactly how long he taught.
And then, abruptly, he stopped coming to church. As is sometimes the case with new members, the crisis was caused by a seemingly trivial event. The Sunday School president, in trying to fulfill his assignment, had shortened the prescribed class time to solve a scheduling problem. When Joaquim had objected, the president had given him a tactless reply.
Shortly thereafter the Sunday School president was called to be the new branch president. When this happened, a still deeply offended Joaquim completely stopped coming to church, and no amount of reasoning from the members or the missionaries could change his mind.
I was one of those missionaries. After a month of fruitless persuading, my companion and I decided to visit Joaquim one more time. The usual arguments once again got us nowhere. Suddenly I heard myself say, “But Brother Joaquim, have you forgiven him?”
This question came to him as a thunderbolt. He had been offended, and logic told him that the new branch president should come to him and apologize.
He thought about what I had said, then he turned to his wife and asked if she thought it was possible that he had not forgiven his fellowman, as the Savior had commanded.
She answered in the affirmative, and the situation was resolved. He would be returning to church. We said “Good night,” and left.
As we walked down the street, the impact of my question to Joaquim jolted me as it had him. I realized that I had not asked the question; it was the Holy Ghost who had spoken through me. The words had simply tumbled from my mouth as the Spirit moved me.
The Spirit of the Lord had intervened after we had exhausted all our efforts. As the significance of the event filled my soul with joy, I felt as though I had been lifted toward heaven and I fairly floated over the cobblestone streets on the way home.

As part of human nature, many of us often struggle to follow those who precede us. And I am no exception. As a senior missionary, I would often hear, “Sister Smith did this” or “Sister Brown did that” or “That’s not how the Wilsons did it.” Sometimes it’s good to know a different way of doing things. We can often learn a lot from each other.
But at times, these comparisons made me feel inadequate. I didn’t know how to be Sister Smith or Sister Brown. I only knew how to be me.
One evening we had the opportunity to go to a teaching appointment with the young missionaries. As we introduced ourselves to the mother and her rambunctious son, we mentioned that we replaced one of the previous senior couples who had served there. To this statement she replied, “Oh, then you have big shoes to fill!” After that, the elders proceeded with their lesson, and we had a really nice visit.
My husband and I served in the Trinidad Port of Spain Mission.
Photographs courtesy of the author
On our walk the following morning, I mentioned to my husband how this well-intended woman’s statement about having big shoes to fill made me feel. He reminded me that the Lord tells us in Doctrine and Covenants 46 that we all have different gifts “that all may be benefited” (verse 9; see also verse 11). He told me I didn’t have to walk in a previous missionary’s shoes because I had my own.
And then it hit me: I brought my own shoes! I had no need to fill the previous sister’s shoes. I just needed to fill my own.

Allie looked around Grandfather Snow’s office in the Salt Lake Temple. “It’s late! We’re the only ones here.”
“Sorry, my dear,” her grandpa said with a smile. “I’ve been telling you too many stories.”
“Please don’t apologize. I’ve always loved your stories.” Allie hugged her grandfather, Lorenzo Snow, the fifth President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
“I’ll walk you to the front entrance and let you out,” he said. “The night watchmen haven’t arrived yet, and the doors are all locked.” They walked out of his office into the hall.
Allie had married Noah Pond in a nearby room in the temple just three years ago. Now Noah was away in Sweden serving a mission. Allie missed him. But she knew he was serving the Lord, just as she and her family had done in Hawaii.
“Wait a moment, Allie,” Grandpa said. “I want to tell you something. Do you remember when President Wilford Woodruff died?”
Allie remembered well. It had only been a year ago, and Grandpa Snow had been worried about the responsibility of being the next President of the Church. He had prayed that President Woodruff would not die. When President Woodruff passed away, Grandpa had come to the Salt Lake Temple as soon as he heard the news.
To succeed means to be the next in line to fill a position. Ever since the deaths of the Prophet Joseph Smith and Brigham Young, the Lord has chosen the man who has been an Apostle for the longest time to become the next President of the Church.
“It was right here that the Lord Jesus Christ appeared to me. He told me to go right ahead and reorganize the First Presidency at once and not wait as had been done after the death of the previous presidents, and that I was to succeed President Woodruff,” Grandpa said.
Grandpa held out his hand. “He stood right here, about three feet above the floor. It looked as though He stood on a plate of solid gold.”
Allie stood very still as she felt the Spirit confirm the truth of these words. The Savior had appeared in this very spot in the temple and told her grandpa about his calling as President of the Church! Grandpa continued to describe the Savior’s hands, feet, face, and beautiful white robes. He said they were so white and bright that he could hardly look at the Savior.
Then Grandpa put his hand on her head. “Now, Granddaughter, I want you to remember that this is the testimony of your grandfather, that he told you with his own lips that he actually saw the Savior, here in the temple, and talked with Him face to face.”
Allie hugged Grandpa at the door and quietly made her way home. Her heart felt warm, and she knew that Jesus Christ really had appeared to Grandpa. The Savior lived, and He was the head of His Church. This was truly a night to remember.

As a child, I was influenced by a lot of people, especially by my parents and my uncles and aunts, friends, teachers, stake president, and the prophet. But if I were to pick just one person who influenced me, it would be President Spencer W. Kimball. Living in El Paso, Texas, we belonged to the Mt. Graham Stake, which was centered in Arizona. President Kimball was our stake president at that time. His wife, Camilla, was first cousin to my father, so we were related.
Whenever President Kimball came to El Paso on stake business, he stayed at our house. At that time my father was on the high council. One of the things I remember about President Kimball was how businesslike he was and how fast he worked. He typically, like my dad and many of that generation, had bread and milk for supper.
He was a marvelous man. He took a special interest in me—at least that’s the feeling I had. Later I learned that everybody felt like that. He was the first Church leader to invite me to go on a mission. He wrote to me, telling me about his mission, and that influenced me.
When I received my mission call, I traveled to Salt Lake City to enter the mission home. At that time, missionaries were set apart by General Authorities. I was set apart by Elder Spencer W. Kimball, who was then an Apostle.
He also performed the marriage and sealing of my wife and me. On several occasions when we lived in Salt Lake City and there was illness in our family, he responded to a call for a special blessing. And when we lived in the state of Washington, he took time out to visit with us there.
I remember visiting with him after he had been called as President of the Church. What a humble man he was. Here he had been called to be the prophet, yet he and his wife took the time to have a family home evening with our family and all the children.

The clouds hung low and white over the small town of Liberty Bell that twenty-sixth day of December 1908. Sarah Moseley made her way from her family’s house at the end of the street toward the boardwalk, where her new dress would get a brief respite from mud-spraying wagon wheels.
Sarah’s family had been laboring under the stressful effects of no income in recent months, but her mother had managed to rummage up sufficient materials from an old attic chest to fashion a beautiful patchwork dress for Sarah. It was the only gift she had received for Christmas the day before, and she was fitly grateful for and proud of it.
As she continued along the street, she turned the collar of her frayed wrap up around her neck to ward off the biting chill of wind and lightly-driven snow. Suddenly someone wearing a tattered sheepskin coat stepped out in front of her. He had a tangle of red hair, and a crooked scowl on his face. Toby Wilder! Last week he had asked Sarah for some answers to a test in Miss Cornaby’s class, and Sarah had refused. Now he looked ready for revenge. “I would have passed that test if you had slipped me those answers,” he growled.
“There’s a right and a wrong to everything, Toby Wilder,” Sarah said, swallowing hard, “and cheating is wrong.”
Toby glared at her with a look that could have bent an iron poker, then pushed her back toward the edge of the boardwalk. “‘There’s a right and a wrong to everything, Toby Wilder,’” he mimicked. “You think you know all there is to know about what is and what isn’t, don’t you little Miss High-and-Mighty?”
“No,” Sarah told him, her body stiffening with growing fear, “but God does. And He’s told us in the scriptures about honesty.”
Toby glowered at Sarah. He glanced up and down the street through the haze of falling snow. No one was in sight. “Since you’re such good friends with God,” he said mockingly to Sarah, “why don’t you ask Him to keep you from falling down and getting mud all over your new dress?”
Shoving her roughly off the boardwalk, he laughed derisively and swaggered away as she pulled herself up from the street mire. Her eyes welled up with tears as she wiped at the icy ooze on her new Christmas dress and headed for the store.
The bell above the door jangled as Sarah stepped into John Walton’s Mercantile Store. The man behind the counter regarded her solicitously. “What happened, Sarah?” he queried.
“Toby Wilder,” she sighed.
Mr. Walton nodded. “That boy ought to be over somebody’s knee, getting redder than a near-set sun, if you ask me.”
“Yes sir!” Sarah heartily agreed.
“Warm yourself by the stove there.” When Sarah hesitated, he added kindly, “Go on child. There’s no sense in all that warmth going to waste, now, is there?”
“I guess not,” Sarah responded submissively. “It’s just that you’ve given us so much these past few months, all our food and such, that I just don’t feel right about hogging the only spot in front of your stove.” She motioned toward a customer who was stamping the snow from her high-button shoes just outside. “You have paying customers, Mr. Walton. They should be able to warm themselves before someone who—”
“Sarah Moseley,” Mr. Walton declared, “since when did I ever charge a body a cent for warming himself at my potbellied stove?”
Sarah smiled in gratitude and stepped in front of the stove. Mr. Walton came out from behind the counter, nodded to the woman who was making her way to a far corner, and pulled up a chair in front of Sarah. He sat down and spoke privately. “After that boxcar explosion at the depot last September, it’s a wonder your father is still alive. It’ll be a little while yet before he’s up and about.” He pushed a wisp of damp hair from Sarah’s eye. “Your father is a good man,” Mr. Walton continued. “He’ll pay me back when he’s able. Now give me that shopping list I know you have.” Sarah obliged him. “Besides,” he added as he stood with a little grunt, “it’s Christmastime, isn’t it? A time for giving? It would be a shame to deny a man the right to earn a celestial reward in the world to come.”
Sarah’s face wrinkled with curiosity. “What do you mean, Mr. Walton?”
“Christ gave His life for you and me, Sarah, not to mention for those that crucified Him. It seems the least I can do is give a can of beans and”—he checked Sarah’s list—“a box of baking soda and the like to people I love. Of course, that’s easy. The trick is giving to, or doing something for, someone you don’t like. Now there’s the real test. The problem is that I like everybody.” He laughed. “Well, almost everybody.”
Sarah watched Mr. Walton climb the ladder behind the counter. A ray of winter sun made his face radiant. “Why is it so important to be nice to people who are mean to you?” she asked.
Mr. Walton reached for a box of baking soda on a high shelf, then looked down at the girl below him. “Maybe because the Savior was. Maybe because it’s part of forgiving. It’s the same thing, wouldn’t you say?” He climbed down the ladder and began placing the few gathered items in a sack on the counter. “And maybe it’s because of a revelation the Prophet Joseph Smith received once that said, ‘For if you will that I give unto you a place in the celestial world, you must prepare yourselves by doing the things which I have commanded you and required of you.’”* He pushed the groceries across the counter to Sarah. “I have a sneaking notion that charity is one of those things, honey. And that forgiveness is another. What do you think, Sarah?”
“I guess you’re right, Mr. Walton,” Sarah answered, thoughtful.
It wasn’t until Sarah was outside again that she noticed something extra in her sack. A large candy stick. She puzzled over it a moment, then smiled at Mr. Walton’s kindness.
No sooner had Sarah started down the boardwalk in the direction of home than she spied Toby Wilder just ahead, leaning against a pole. His back was to her, and he was looking toward the sun as if he were aching for a little warmth on an otherwise bleak, unfriendly day.
Bracing herself, Sarah stepped up to him. “Toby?”
Toby whirled around. When he saw who it was, he growled, “What’s the matter, Sarah. Didn’t you get wet enough the first time?”
Sarah handed him the candy stick. “Merry Christmas,” she said.
Toby didn’t answer. He just stood there gaping.
Sarah glanced back in the direction of the mercantile store, where she could see Mr. Walton looking out the window, waving. She waved back, then turned and continued down the boardwalk toward home.

Almost four years ago, I went to live with my father, a faithful member of the Church for 20 years. I had not been attending church at all and knew little about the gospel.
Gradually I began going to church. Then one Sunday at stake conference, I heard Elder Adelson de Paula Parrella, an Area Authority Seventy, give a talk about tithing. Although I didn’t understand much about this law, Elder Parrella spoke with such confidence, faith, and spirit that I decided to pay tithing from that day forward.
When I began to pay tithing and offerings, something marvelous began to happen in my life. The Spirit began to fill my heart, and like the prodigal son, I was guided to return to the true gospel path. The Lord even blessed me so greatly that I was able to serve as a missionary in the Brazil Fortaleza Mission.
I know that when we are faithful in paying our tithing and a generous fast offering, the Lord can bless us temporally and spiritually.
Rafael Barcellos Machado, Parque Pinheiro Ward, Santa Maria Brazil Stake

1. Mathan’s great-grandma always had interesting things in her big purse. If Mathan was hungry, she had a treat. If Mathan was bored, she pulled out a pad of paper for him to draw on. And if Mathan got hurt, she always had a bandage. But the thing that he loved the most was Great-Grandma’s bottle of lotion.
2. Great-Grandma often took out her lotion and rubbed it on her hands. She said it helped keep her hands smooth and soft. Mathan thought this was important because he knew that Great-Grandma did a lot with her hands. She made delicious grape jelly, she sewed soft baby blankets, and she played the piano.
3. Sometimes Great-Grandma shared her lotion with Mathan. When he was feeling restless or unhappy, she would take his hands in hers and squeeze out the cool lotion. Then she would gently rub it on his fingers, the backs of each hand, and then the palms. The sweet smell of the lotion and the touch of her soft hands made him feel calm and content. “There now,” she would say. “That’s just what you needed.” And it was just what Mathan needed.
4. Over time, Great-Grandma got very old. She couldn’t make jelly or sew blankets or play the piano. She no longer carried her big purse full of treats, pads of paper, bandages, and lotion. Most of the time she didn’t even look at Mathan. She just sat in her wheelchair with her hands in her lap. Mathan thought she looked unhappy and tired. It made him feel sad.
5. One day when Mathan went to visit Great-Grandma, he brought a bottle of lotion with him. While she was sitting in her wheelchair, Mathan gently took her wrinkled hands in his and squeezed out the cool lotion. He gently rubbed it on her fingers, the backs of her hands, and then the palms.
6. When Mathan was finished with her hands, he carefully removed her slippers and rubbed the lotion on her feet. After he replaced her slippers he looked up to see Great-Grandma’s bright blue eyes looking at him. “Thank you, Mathan,” she whispered. “That’s just what I needed.”

Valian Fowler, a priest from the Rio Grande Ward, sums up his experiences from the encampment in these words: “I honestly can’t think of a campout when I felt the Spirit stronger. My father is a nonmember, and he came on the encampment with us. It was a great bonding time for us. He was in charge of the service project and spent most of his days at the encampment painting fences and cutting down trees and putting them in the gullies to help prevent erosion. We did many challenging and fun activities, but I can’t think of a time when all of us were smiling bigger and felt the Spirit stronger than when we were doing the service project. It was very challenging. We were all covered in sweat and rain, but I knew that we were doing the right thing. I could feel it in my heart. I finally know what they meant when they said ‘there is no greater happiness than when you’re serving others.’ I loved it.”

The Mia Maids of the Academy Park Ward in Kearns, Utah, recently held a combined Young Women activity called a PJ’s party. The idea was to help the young women think about three important things to remember before going to bed each night: Prayer, Journal, Scriptures. Each girl wore a pair of pajama pants they had made the previous month. They put together folders with scripture-study and journal-writing suggestions, and then each girl painted a prayer rug to place by their beds.
“My prayer rug is inspirational,” says Holly, one of the Mia Maids. “Every night my prayer rug is there reminding me to say my prayer before getting into bed. It really has changed my praying habits.”
Photograph courtesy of the Academy Park Ward

Elizabeth woke up early and lay in bed for a few minutes thinking about Gerald. Today was their last day together. Tomorrow morning his aunt and uncle would arrive from Connecticut to take him home to live with them. Elizabeth had no brothers or sisters, but for the past two weeks Gerald had been like a big brother and she didn’t want that to end. She watched the sun’s rays slanting across her bed and thought about the first night at the dinner table when Gerald had been so silent and shy, his almost white hair covering half his eyes. Neither of them had known what to say. Later when she had shown him around the farm, he was very quiet, looking a long time at everything but not saying much.
In the days that followed, he began to talk more as they rode horses through the sagebrush or gathered alfalfa for the rabbits. He never laughed, and Elizabeth thought he had the tiniest smile in all the world. Even though he was two years older than Elizabeth, he never acted bossy or like a know-it-all, the way the bigger boys at school did. He had told her about his parents’ deaths in a plane crash and about his aunt and uncle, whom he’d seen only a few times on holidays. Now they would be his new parents.
Elizabeth dressed slowly, wishing this last day would never end. When her father had first told her that a boy was going to stay with them for two weeks until his aunt and uncle could pick him up, she wasn’t sure she’d like that—a strange boy she’d never even seen before. But now she wished he could stay forever.
When Elizabeth went down to breakfast, she found that Gerald had already eaten and gone outside. She gulped her eggs quickly and ran out to find him. She searched around the chicken coops and looked inside the barn. Finally she saw him stooped down by a woodpile, peering between the boards. Elizabeth approached him quietly. “What are you doing?”
Gerald did not turn around. “There’s a baby rabbit in here,” he said in his quiet, pleasant voice. She stooped down beside him.
“Where?” she said softly. “I don’t see it.”
Gerald pointed between two boards, and Elizabeth saw the snowy white fur of the kit. Very slowly and gently, Gerald put his hand between the boards and then quickly grabbed the rabbit and pulled it out. It was very small and fluffy. He held it in one hand and stroked its ears with his finger. The kit blinked its pink eyes nervously, but did not seem too frightened.
“Last spring we had a terrific windstorm that blew over our rabbit hutches,” Elizabeth said. “Lots of rabbits got out and we never caught them all; this must be from one of them.”
“It’s as small and round as the white doorknob on our bathroom door,” Gerald said. “I’m going to call it Knob.” He stood up and tucked the rabbit into his shirt pocket.
Elizabeth followed him as he walked toward the canal, where some big white ducks were swimming on the still water. “Gerald,” she said as she caught up with him, “I think maybe you should leave that kit in the woodpile. Its mother is probably still nearby.”
Gerald looked at her, and the morning sun glistened on his hair. His eyes were very blue. “No,” he said, “this rabbit is an orphan like me. Your rabbits are all in pens.” He stared at the ducks, his mouth firm.
“Didn’t you hear what I said about the windstorm?”
“Yes, I heard, but Knob is an orphan.” He patted his pocket and smiled his tiny smile.
Elizabeth did not know what else to say. “Come on,” she said finally, “let’s go look at the new calf.”
They leaned their elbows on the rough boards of the calf pen and watched the wobbly black and white calf. From time to time Gerald took Knob from his pocket and stroked its little ears. Elizabeth could see how much he was starting to love the rabbit. She remembered the soft cocker puppy her father had brought her for her birthday, and she knew how Gerald felt. But she was worried about the baby rabbit, afraid that it needed its mother.
After lunch, she and Gerald sat on the sloping grass behind the house and ate cookies. “Gerald, that rabbit is probably hungry.”
He looked at her quickly, surprised. “That’s right!” he said, and broke a tiny crumb off his cookie and tried to poke it into the animal’s mouth. But it would not take it.
“It needs milk from a mother rabbit,” Elizabeth said.
“Do you think one of your mother rabbits would feed him?” Gerald asked.
“One of them has babies about that size. We could try.”
They ran down the dirt lane to the barn where the rabbit pens stood against the north side, out of the sun. Elizabeth opened the door to a pen containing a wooden nesting box that was open on one side. A doe was nursing her babies inside. “Just put it with the others. Maybe she won’t notice.”
Gerald took the kit gently from his pocket, looked into its eyes, and then placed it carefully in the box. The little rabbit sat still, blinking. Gerald pushed it up closer to the doe. The mother rabbit gave it a quick kick with her hind leg, and the kit tumbled into the corner of the box. Gerald put it up to her again, and again she kicked it away.
“It’s no use,” Elizabeth said. “If they won’t, they won’t.”
Gerald slowly picked up the rabbit and cupped it in his hands again, gazing fondly at it. He turned to Elizabeth, his eyes sad and helpless. “What will I do?”
“We’d better take it back to the woodpile.”
“No!” Gerald said, quickly tucking the rabbit into his pocket.
He and Elizabeth sat on a log in the shade beside the barn, both trying to think what to do. “Why wouldn’t she take him?” Gerald asked. “He looks just like her own.”
“But it’s not her own, and that’s why. She can tell by the smell.”
Gerald looked at Elizabeth closely and thoughtfully. “When my aunt and uncle come and get me, will they feel like that? That I’m not their own?”
Elizabeth wanted very much to say something to make Gerald feel better. She leaned over and sniffed his sleeve. “You smell OK, Gerald. They won’t notice.”
Gerald smiled the smallest possible smile. “They might notice. And when I do things wrong, they might say, ‘Well he’s not our own. We don’t have to put up with that.’”
Elizabeth thought for a few minutes. “I wish you were my big brother, Gerald.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“No, I really mean it. We could explore in the foothills and ride the horses all over and get on the school bus together. It would be a good feeling to have someone who belonged to you, who’d always be around, even if you fought sometimes.”
“Well, I wish I could stay, too, but I can’t.” Gerald stroked his shirt pocket with his finger. “It was nice of your dad to let me stay here, your mom too.”
They were both silent for a few minutes. Finally Elizabeth said, “People are different from animals. When the bunnies get big, the doe just pushes them away. And she really doesn’t care about them anymore. If Dad butchers them and puts them in the freezer, she still doesn’t care. People aren’t like that.”
“I guess not.” Gerald dug around in the dirt with a small stick.
“Folks can love someone besides their own kids, and if they do, they keep on loving them no matter what they do.”
“I hope so.” Gerald smiled a little bigger smile. Then his face lit up. “Once my mama fed a baby kitten with an eyedropper. You got one of those?”
“I think so. We could try it. Come on!”
Later, on the front lawn with a cup of warm milk and the eyedropper, Gerald took the rabbit from his pocket. Its eyelids were a little droopy. Elizabeth handed Gerald the eyedropper full of milk. He pushed it into the corner of the rabbit’s mouth and squeezed some milk in. The rabbit sputtered and coughed as the milk ran out of its mouth.
Gerald looked at her despairingly. “If Knob won’t eat, he’ll die,” he said. Neither of them said anything for some time. Gerald stroked Knob’s soft fur from its pink nose to its powder puff tail with his finger. He rubbed it gently against his cheek. Finally he looked up at Elizabeth. “Come on,” he said, “let’s take it to the woodpile.”
Elizabeth jumped to her feet. “OK,” she agreed happily.
At the woodpile, both of them carefully lifted off the boards and laid them aside. Peering down, Gerald saw some white fur way down on the ground. “She’s still in there,” he whispered. His face was sad but relieved. They removed a few more boards until they could see the rabbit better. Several little furry balls lay along its stomach nursing.
Gerald knelt down and took Knob from his pocket, looked at him for a minute, and then carefully put his hands through the boards and laid the little rabbit against its mother. It lay for a moment and then nosed into the mother’s fur and began to suck. Gerald half smiled at Elizabeth.
“He’ll be OK now,” she said. They carefully put the boards back and walked toward the house.
“Your aunt and uncle will be here tomorrow, I guess.”
“Yeh.” Gerald kicked a small rock through the dust. “I hope they’ll like having me.”
“If they like you as much as I do, you’ll be all right,” Elizabeth said. She smiled at Gerald, and he smiled back—a big smile this time.

When we face serious challenges, sometimes we find it difficult to trust in the Lord. But trusting in Him brings us the hope we need in order to face our challenges.
That’s what happened with members of the Gatrell family, who live in Sister Jean A. Stevens’s ward. Sister Stevens, first counselor in the Primary general presidency, said the family held tight to the gospel and to their temple covenants after Brother Gatrell was diagnosed with cancer. Doing so gave them hope in God’s promises that they would be together again after this life.
Through the difficult days before her husband passed away, Sister Gatrell said, “I knew the Lord was watching over us. If you trust in the Lord, truly you can overcome any of life’s challenges.”5

When I was called to serve as a counselor in my ward’s Young Women organization, I accepted the call, but I was concerned about how to do it. I felt unprepared, and I was struggling with a trial.
Three months before receiving this calling, following a high-risk pregnancy, my baby boy, Nicolas, had been born. He needed constant medical care. A few weeks after his birth, a small red spot appeared on his eyelid and began to grow gradually. Our pediatrician explained that it was a benign tumor and would disappear after Nicolas was a year old. But the tumor developed rapidly. It occupied his ocular cavity and would eventually cause permanent damage to his vision if not treated.
We made the difficult decision to start chemotherapy. Nicolas’s fragile body reacted negatively to the treatment. He had daily fevers, constant infections, and low weight. The process made him cry a lot. My calling became harder and harder to fulfill under these conditions. I didn’t know how I could do it.
Thankfully, my husband supported me. Together, we felt I should continue. The Young Women president also supported me. She was a faithful and patient sister. She helped me see qualities I did not know I had and helped me find ways I could serve that I hadn’t thought of.
Being with the young women each week helped me not fixate on the routine of injections, examinations, and doctors. It kept me from wasting time feeling sorry for myself or questioning why this was happening to my small angel. My calling was a blessing, and before I realized it, Nicolas was growing and the treatment had concluded. Nicolas became a happy and healthy boy who was full of energy.
Serving those valiant daughters of our Heavenly Father has helped me overcome feelings of inadequacy, develop eternal bonds of friendship, discover my talents, and improve in my responsibilities as a mother and wife.
The Lord does not always take trials from us, but I know with all my heart that He is always willing to help us have the strength to confront them.

The baby boy born to John Anderson Widtsoe and Anna Karine Gaarden Widtsoe came into this world with his wrist attached to the side of his head. He was their first child, and there was some doubt that he would live. But after a crude surgical operation to release the arm, the boy survived. They named him John Andreas Widtsoe, and thus began the life of a remarkable man whose warmth and generosity as a master teacher influenced the lives of countless people for good throughout the world.
When young John was about two, his family moved from storm-lashed Froya, the outermost island off the coast of Norway, to Namos on the mainland. Their new home was about 80 miles (128 km) north of Trondheim, the ancient capital of Norway. Here John’s father could expand his opportunities as a schoolmaster. A second son, Aasbjorn (later Osborne) Johannes Peder Widtsoe, was born in Namos. But within weeks of this birth, disaster struck—the boys’ father died suddenly, the result of a knotted intestine.
Anna and her two boys moved to Trondheim to be near her in-laws. However, she maintained her independence by living in a rented apartment, where she eked out a living as a seamstress. Anna was anxious that John should follow in his father’s footsteps, and one of her husband’s schoolfellows offered to tutor the bright seven-year-old, launching the lad on his astounding career as a scholar/teacher.
One day when John’s shoes were delivered from the shoemaker, Anna found a Latter-day Saint missionary tract tucked inside each shoe. The tracts sparked her curiosity, and when another pair of shoes needed repairing, she took them to the shoemaker herself to find out the meaning of the tracts. After finishing her business with the shoemaker’s wife, Anna was told that the shoemaker would explain what the tracts meant.
“You may be surprised to hear me say that I can give you something of more value than soles for your child’s shoes,” (John A. Widtsoe, In the Gospel Net, page 54) the shoemaker boldly declared to Anna.
She was perplexed and told the man that he spoke in riddles. But he pleaded with her to listen and said that he could teach her about the Lord’s true plan of salvation for His children.
Anna couldn’t forget her conversation with the humble, courageous shoemaker. And as other tracts came from the shoemaker, she struggled mightily, for she knew her Bible well. She worried about the new concepts and certain points of doctrine. But after attending meetings with the missionaries and other Saints over the next two years, she accepted the gospel and was baptized.
When Anna’s joy over her conversion wasn’t shared by friends and relatives and when she couldn’t persuade them to accept the gospel, she decided to emigrate to the United States with a group of Norwegian Saints intent on going to Zion. It was 1883, and in the fall of that year she arrived in Logan, Utah. She was determined that her family’s first obligation should be to Heavenly Father because of His many blessings to them. Her next obligation was to see that her boys received the best education possible.
John, then eleven, was extremely bright and a quick learner. Soon he was fluent in the new language. The little family’s plans suffered a setback one day soon after their arrival, when John was attacked by a rabid dog and confined to his bed for six weeks. After his recovery, he continued his education and worked part-time. His mother worked at her dressmaking, and she helped support the boys’ schooling with her sewing and with small earnings from some property that she had managed to buy.

Sis. Tew: My mother growing up really struggled with reading and so school was hard for her. She determined as she got married that her children would not have the same struggles. She started to read out loud to us. I have wonderful memories of curling up on the bed with my mom and sisters as she read out loud the Little House on the Prairie books. We didn't know that my mom wasn't a good reader. Because of that small act, all nine children in our family enjoy reading. And now her grandchildren are benefiting. We recently read the Little House Books to our children and then took them to DeSmet South Dakota to see The Little Town on the Prairie. Our children are also learning to love reading.

Each year we have a family vacation at Bear Lake. It is an exciting week of getting acquainted with grandchildren. For the past few years I have listened to their opportunities and challenges. They have let me know of the increased pressures of being in the world but not of the world. Movies, television, Internet, designer clothes, extreme fashions, Sabbath-breaking activities, et cetera, escalate the magnitude of their temptations. Moreover, peer pressures force difficult decisions about whether to follow the crowd or stand up for the principles taught by converted and committed parents and the Church.
This year I decided to be a little more aggressive in counseling my grandchildren. I wanted to provide them with a framework to resist temptations and thrive in today’s complex world. Our vacation at the lake extends for four days, so I decided to purchase a loose-leaf binder for each of them and include a topic for discussion for each day. Each insert included some scripture references and quotes that were intended to start fruitful discussions between the generations.
On the first day there was not much interest in discussions, but the momentum seemed to increase each day. The experiment had enough success that I would like to play grandfather to each of you young people listening today to see if we can stimulate some thoughtful discussions in your homes with your parents.
Topic number 1: Appreciation for the land in which we live. During one of the early conferences of the Church, held on January 2 of 1831, the Lord, through revelation, gave the Prophet Joseph Smith a vision of how He valued the land that He had created for His children. In Doctrine and Covenants 38:17–28 we read:
“And I have made the earth rich, and behold it is my footstool, wherefore, again I will stand upon it.
“And I hold forth and deign to give unto you greater riches, even a land of promise, a land flowing with milk and honey, upon which there shall be no curse when the Lord cometh;
“And I will give it unto you for the land of your inheritance, if you seek it with all your hearts.
“And this shall be my covenant with you, ye shall have it for the land of your inheritance, and for the inheritance of your children forever, while the earth shall stand, and ye shall possess it again in eternity, no more to pass away.”
The Lord has blessed us with lands of promise to enjoy during our mortal probation. The nations of the earth, if they would continue to follow the ways of the Lord, could be a blessing to His children here. You special young sons and daughters, He expects you to be especially mindful of the bounteous blessings you have received from Him.
With these blessings, of course, come responsibilities. We are expected to be subject to kings, presidents, rulers, and magistrates, and obey, honor, and sustain the law (see A of F 1:12). To obey, honor, and sustain, we must know the law and live it. We must be good citizens in our church, schools, and communities. We must also be prepared to make our contribution by giving service to others.
The best way I know of to make a contribution to the land we live in is to be prepared for the future. The Lord has promised us if we are prepared we should have no fear (see D&C 38:30). If we make an effort to obtain the best education available to us, we are in a better position to be self-sufficient and not to become a burden on the society in which we live.
I read in a newspaper a few weeks ago of the earning potential with increased levels of education. The difference between no high school degree and a high school graduate is an average income increase of 38 percent. From a high school diploma to some college, the increase is 20 percent, and from a high school diploma to a university degree, the increase is 56 percent. Yes, education does pay. It is never too early to determine the direction you want to prepare yourself for. Don’t wait until you register for college to decide what you want to study. It is such a waste of time and money to attempt to pursue an education without having a definite goal.
Topic number 2: Self-esteem. In the eighth Psalm of David, he gave us a vision of who we are and the eternal opportunities which are ours. He said:
“O Lord our Lord, how excellent is thy name in all the earth! who hast set thy glory above the heavens. …
“When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained;
“What is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him?
“For thou hast made him a little lower than the angels, and hast crowned him with glory and honour.
“Thou madest him to have dominion over the works of thy hands; thou hast put all things under his feet: …
“O Lord our Lord, how excellent is thy name in all the earth!” (Ps. 8:1, 3–6, 9).
Have you ever thought of yourself as a junior angel crowned with glory and honor? Every one of our Father in Heaven’s children is great in His sight. If the Lord sees greatness in you, how then should you see yourself? We have all been blessed with many talents and abilities. Some have been blessed with the talent to sing, some to paint, some to speak, some to dance, some to create beautiful things with their hands, and others to render compassionate service. Some may possess many, others only a few. It matters not the size or the quantity but the effort we put forth to develop the talents and abilities we have received. You are not competing with anyone else. You are only competing with yourself to do the best with whatever you have received. Each talent that is developed will be greatly needed and will give you tremendous fulfillment and satisfaction during your life.
The almost universal gift everyone can develop is the creation of a pleasant disposition, an even temperament. It will open more doors for you and give you more opportunities than any other characteristics I can think of.
Also, remember the promise of the Lord about caring for our physical bodies. If we keep them clean, nourish them properly, and get adequate rest, we will “find wisdom and great treasures of knowledge, even hidden treasures.” We “shall run and not be weary, and shall walk and not faint” (D&C 89:19–20).
Above all, we must live with hope. In the book of Ether in the Book of Mormon, Moroni reminds us: “And I also remember that thou hast said that thou hast prepared a house for man, yea, even among the mansions of thy Father, in which man might have a more excellent hope; wherefore man must hope, or he cannot receive an inheritance in the place which thou hast prepared” (Ether 12:32).
Live with hope that you can achieve and accomplish and develop the great gifts our Father in Heaven has given to you and one day “receive an inheritance” among the mansions of the Father.
Topic number 3: Love of family. The words that the Prophet Joseph Smith remembered from that tremendous visit of the angel Moroni to him on the night of September 21, 1823, included a special promise made to families:
“Behold, I will reveal unto you the Priesthood, by the hand of Elijah the prophet, before the coming of the great and dreadful day of the Lord.
“And he shall plant in the hearts of the children the promises made to the fathers, and the hearts of the children shall turn to their fathers.
“If it were not so, the whole earth would be utterly wasted at his coming” (D&C 2:1–3).
This great vision to the Prophet Joseph Smith reestablished the doctrine of eternal family units. The eternal family is central to the gospel of our Savior. There would be no reason for Him to return to earth to rule and reign over His kingdom unless the eternal family unit had been established for our Father in Heaven’s children. When we understand the eternal role of the family, the nourishing and developing of strong family ties take on even greater significance.
I have watched with great interest the addition of a new granddaughter in our family. There was an immediate bonding with her brother and sister. Her siblings held her with such tender and loving care.
Learning to appreciate what it means to belong to an eternal family is of great importance to us. Remember, you are part of that eternal unit that requires your best effort. Be certain you bring warmth, kindness, understanding, consideration, and a strong love to your eternal family.
The final topic I included in the binder was under the heading of “Love of God.” From the revelations received by the Prophet Joseph Smith in 1831, we read, “Wherefore, I give unto them a commandment, saying thus: Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, with all thy might, mind, and strength; and in the name of Jesus Christ thou shalt serve him” (D&C 59:5).
The Lord has used the heart as a way of describing the innermost nature of His children. The scriptures are filled with references to the heart, such as the pure in heart, an abundant heart, a cheerful heart, and so forth. In 1 Samuel we read, “For the Lord seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart” (1 Sam. 16:7).
In our hearts do we feel a sense of gratitude and devotion to the Father? Are we of one heart with Him to whom we owe everything? The test of our devotion to the Lord seems to be the way we serve Him.
We have implanted in our souls a desire to be free. The Lord understood this when He granted us our mortal probation. With that freedom, however, comes accountability. We are instructed not to idle away our time nor bury our talents and not use them. We are expected to make our lives better through our own initiatives and efforts. We must find our own relationship with our Eternal Father. We must gain our own testimony. We must decide whether to conform our lives to the Lord’s standards. We must choose as Joshua did when he said:
“And if it seem evil unto you to serve the Lord, choose you this day whom ye will serve; whether the gods which your fathers served that were on the other side of the flood, or the gods of the Amorites, in whose land ye dwell: but as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord” (Josh. 24:15).
I read an article the other day which stated that if an employer did not hire young, bright 16-year-olds today, with their advanced understanding and feel for technology, the business would be out of date in the next decade. What a marvelous age you live in. With all of your increased opportunities, however, comes the challenge of staying close to the Lord and being obedient to His law. This is the way you remain strong and able to withstand the multitude of worldly pressures.
My final entry in the binder I presented to my grandchildren was my personal testimony as to the truthfulness of the gospel of our Lord and Savior. I leave my testimony with each of you great young people that I know that God lives and that He directs His work among His children here on earth. I know that He sent His Son to the world to be an atoning sacrifice for all mankind, and those who embrace His gospel and follow Him shall enjoy eternal life, the greatest gift God has given to His children. I know that He directed the restoration of the gospel again here upon the earth through the ministry of the Prophet Joseph Smith. I know that the only lasting joy and happiness you will ever find during your mortal experience will come by following the Savior, obeying His law, and keeping His commandments. This is my witness to you, you great young people, in the name of our Lord and Savior, even Jesus Christ, amen.

One day while taking a math test, I couldn’t remember how to solve one of the problems. I had prepared for this test, but I could not remember what I had reviewed at home. I did, however, have faith that I could ask my Father in Heaven for help.
I decided I would accept the first prompting I felt. After the prayer, I had the feeling that I could solve the problem in a specific way. But I began to doubt because it seemed like an odd way to work the problem. So I went ahead and did it on my own as well as I could.
Once all the tests had been handed in, our teacher went over the test with us. I found that the feeling I had had after the prayer would have led to the right answer, but I had not listened.

I'm sure we can all think of people that we know that have demonstrated these gifts. One person in particular that I remember was Judy White. I became acquainted with her while we lived in Arizona. Both of us were employees for the electric utilities that sponsored the Washington Youth Tour. She and others helped me to organize our annual trip to Washington, D.C. She lived in a small home in a very small rural town in Duncan, Arizona. Although she was older and never married, she had a remarkable influence in her community.
She was an avid fan of all the local high school sports teams. She attended almost every sporting event and provided encouragement to all of the students involved. Although she had no children of her own, she treated nearly every student at that small school as if he or she was her very own. She volunteered her time for many school and civic projects. She gave freely of her time with the students for many years and became their dear friend.
She served faithfully in the callings she was given in the Church. She gave her best efforts to her employer at the local electric utility. When she attended several of our meetings in her employment capacity, it was if a breeze of fresh air entered into the room. She was always genuine, happy, friendly and humorous with everyone who was there. I was amazed at how she remembered not only the names of the people in our group, but she remembered the names of each group member's family and even the names of their pets. I was astonished at times by the way she simply loved and really cared about other people. She was like a magnet that drew people in around her.
She was never afraid to express her opinions even when they differed from others. Many people admired and respected her for that.
It was a sad day, when we learned that Judy passed away of a sudden heart attack. I remember attending her funeral at the Duncan Stake Center. When I walked in I was stunned by the throngs of people that were there. Every seat was filled. The overflow area and the cultural hall were filled to capacity. Although she had few family members, I said to myself, "Look at the impact just one woman had on her community."
Regarding gifts given to people, the Lord said, "To some is given one, and to some is given another, that all may be profited thereby."[8] Here was a woman who was given a gift and many were certainly "profited thereby." There are many gifts and we are commanded to seek earnestly the best gifts, "always remembering for what they are given."[9] The variety of gifts bestowed upon us are essential for God to do his great work in bringing to pass the immortality and eternal life of man.

President Monson grew up during the Great Depression, when money was scarce. When he was 12 years old, he worked hard and saved five dollars in coins. Tommy traded the coins with his father for a five-dollar bill. He tucked his precious five-dollar bill in the pocket of his jeans for safekeeping. He had never had that much money before.
Tommy’s family did not own a washing machine, so they sent their dirty clothes to the laundry each week. A few days later, the clean, wet clothes were delivered back to Tommy’s family, and they hung them on the clothesline to dry.
When it was time for his jeans to go to the laundry, Tommy forgot to take the five-dollar bill out of his pocket, and his money went to the laundry too! Tommy was sick with worry because he knew that the people who worked at the laundry usually checked pockets for change. Even if they didn’t find and take his money, he knew it would probably be lost in the washing machine.
Tommy needed that money, and he had worked very hard for it. He knew there was only one thing to do. He knelt and pleaded that Heavenly Father would keep his five-dollar bill safe until his jeans came back.
After two long days, Tommy watched the delivery truck pull up to the curb. As his mother unloaded the clothes, Tommy grabbed his jeans and ran to his room. With his heart pounding and his hands trembling, he reached into the pocket. At first he found nothing, but then his fingers touched a wet five-dollar bill. Filled with relief, he offered a prayer of gratitude. He knew Heavenly Father had heard and answered his prayer.
“Since that time,” said President Monson, “not a day has gone by that I have not communicated with my Father in Heaven through prayer” (“Stand in Holy Places,” Ensign, Nov. 2011, 84). President Monson wants everyone to know that as we pray daily, we will be entitled to Heavenly Father’s guidance—even in things as small as a five-dollar bill forgotten in a pair of jeans.

A lonely young Persian student was in Munich, struggling to find meaning to life in postwar Europe. He heard a knock at the door one day, and two Mormon missionaries stood before him. He was not the least interested in religion. The only thing that interested him about these two young men was their accent. He had mastered four languages, but English was not one of them.

He invited them in, but as soon as they began their discussion, he cautioned, “I don’t want to hear about God, nor how your religion got started. I only want to know one thing: what do you people do for one another?”

He waited as the elders exchanged glances. Finally, one of them said softly, “We love one another.”

Nothing the missionary could have said would have been more electrifying than this simple utterance, for the Holy Ghost immediately bore witness that these missionaries were true servants of the Lord. Shortly thereafter, he was baptized into the Church.

A girl in my school is in first grade like me. She wears thick glasses and sometimes has trouble doing simple things at school. She has to have someone help to get her lunch.
One day when I was walking into the girls’ rest room, I heard a group of girls laughing. They were laughing at this girl and making fun of her. I turned away and didn’t laugh. I hope I was being a good example to the girls who were laughing. I know we should be kind to everyone, especially to those who need special help.