Gospel Story Finder

When I was finally blessed with the foundations of a testimony in this great latter-day work, it was not yet the end of my journey to baptism. Why? Because I was aware I would have to sacrifice many friendships and relationships I’d had with people my entire life. I knew there were people who meant a great deal to me who would never want anything to do with me again — and they didn’t. I had spiritual leaders in my life tell me I was turning my back on Jesus Christ and what He’d done for me. More than anything else, that hurt me deeply. I investigated and learned more of the Church because I love my Saviour so much. If I didn’t love and believe the Bible as much as I did, or have the foundations I had, I would never have believed the Book of Mormon.
A few weeks later, I realised something: Jesus Christ walked the walk to Calvary for me, the least I could do is walk the walk to the baptism font, and beyond, even if I had to do so alone, without the friends I’d had for decades. I did so. Every sacrifice I made to join the Church of my Lord Jesus Christ was far outweighed by the bounteous and sacred blessings He gave me.
It was a long journey which took very close to 10 months. But the walk through the valley took me to the truth, to the temple, to my beautiful wife, and closer to my Saviour, Jesus Christ.

by Karen Booth
They came to experience a part of their past—to share in the pioneer spirit and courage their Mormon forefathers felt over 135 years earlier. One hundred and fifty Scouts from Mormon and non-Mormon troops from the Las Cruces and Silver City New Mexico stakes and surrounding area joined at the foot of Cooke’s Peak, New Mexico, for an annual commemorative outing in honor of the first Mormon Battalion to travel west in 1846.
In recreating this journey, Scouts encountered many of the same things their forefathers found along the way to California. Events were planned so the young men could apply Scouting skills to simulated battalion experiences. If the boy completed all the trials successfully, he was given a patch to be worn on his uniform.
One night was spent camping on the trail so the Scouts could become acquainted with pioneer travel. That night they ate a sparing meal consisting of jerky gravy on biscuits. This was similar to what the soldiers ate after leaving Tucson, Arizona, when their rations were very low. The first night was concluded around a campfire, with Scouts performing skits that depicted events experienced by the battalion.
The following morning, the main part of the adventure began as the boys set out to hike 15 miles carrying gear on their backs. This was the equivalent to an average day’s march for the battalion. Professors from New Mexico State University assisted the boys in plant identification. To understand the war-like atmosphere, the boys dragged a cannon borrowed from a local fraternity and loaded and fired it. They also held a black powder musket shoot. In the course of the hike, the boys came upon a simulated massacre and decided who was supposedly in need of immediate medical attention and practiced their first-aid skills.
Like their battalion forefathers, the Boy Scouts who completed this trip learned a great deal about the environment and what a powerful teacher it can be. They also learned more about themselves and that their individuality is the greatest asset they can give to a group. All left the trip with a sense of accomplishment and enrichment in celebrating the pioneer spirit.

Open Anna Sterligova’s copy of the Book of Mormon, and you’re in for a surprise. It is filled with brightly colored illustrations—illustrations she created herself.
Anna is a 15-year-old art student in Moscow, Russia. She wanted to record some of her own feelings and emotions about the Book of Mormon as she studied it. So in addition to underlining, cross-referencing, and putting notes in the margins when she read about a scriptural event that had particular meaning to her, she illustrated it.
“It made the stories come to life for me,” she explains.
The stories, of course, were already alive for her, powerfully so. Anna loves the Book of Mormon. She studies it on her own and at family home evening, reads it at meetings of the Pokrovsky Branch, and masters its verses for seminary. She particularly likes to share her testimony of it with friends.
And that’s where Zenaida Akimova comes in. An older woman in the neighborhood, Zenaida was a friend of Anna’s mother, Alla, and was quickly becoming a friend of the entire family (which also includes Anna’s father, Konstantin, and her brother, Aleksander, also known as Sasha). Zenaida knew they were members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but she wasn’t sure exactly what they meant by that.
“Keep learning more about it,” Anna invited, “and you’ll see what we mean.”
Zenaida thought about what she already knew. For example, this family treated each other well.
“They were always kind and courteous to each other,” she says. “But most of all they genuinely cared about each other.”
She knew—and had personally witnessed—how important the Church is in their lives. She knew about family history, since Alla had told her about the hundreds of names she has researched. She knew the Sterligovs went on trips to a sacred place called a temple. She knew about Konstantin’s commitment to service as president of the Moscow Russia East District.
Soon Zenaida was meeting with the missionaries, praying, coming to church. She was asking more and more questions, getting more and more answers. Thanks in part to Anna’s constant comments about the Book of Mormon, Zenaida longed to read and understand that holy scripture.
But there was a problem. Zenaida is legally blind. She can’t see well enough to read. She doesn’t know Braille, and even if she did, there is no Braille edition of the Book of Mormon in Russian.
So Anna and Alla developed a plan. Each evening they would read aloud and record several chapters from the Book of Mormon. The following morning, they would deliver the audiocassette to Zenaida. She was thrilled as she learned about Lehi, Nephi, and other prophets. Tape by tape, week by week, her testimony became firmer and clearer. Like the colorful pictures in Anna’s copy of the Book of Mormon, the stories came alive in Zenaida’s mind.
When Anna was busy, Alla recorded. When Alla was busy, Anna recorded. Sometimes Sasha or President Sterligov read into the tape recorder. But every day, verse by verse, chapter by chapter, the tapes were prepared.
“I wanted Sister Akimova to have the same experience with the Book of Mormon that I had,” Anna explains. “The first time the elders showed me the book, I knew it was true. I had no trouble believing it, no doubts. So it was easy for me to tell her how I felt about it and easy to record it for her, since I read it every night anyway.”
Now it is one week before Zenaida’s baptism. She has come to meet with the missionaries once again in the Sterligovs’ apartment. There is a feeling of happiness and hope in the air.
“I am ready to be baptized,” Zenaida says. “I am looking forward to the day. This family has been so great to me. I have my Book of Mormon tapes because of them, and I can listen whenever I want to. I have their example and their love, and with that, I’m ready to begin a new life. I may not be able to see clearly enough to read, but thanks to Anna and Sasha and President and Sister Sterligov, I am starting to see exactly what the gospel means.”
And Anna? She’s still sharing the Book of Mormon with friends. Of her more than 60 pen pals, four have an interest in the gospel. She has sent them copies of the book.
“One young woman lives in a little town in Siberia,” Anna says. “There are no missionaries there, and she is far from the closest branch of the Church. I write to her about the things we learn in the missionary discussions, and she likes that. She knows about the Bible, and I told her we study the Bible, too. But I told her the Book of Mormon, Another Testament of Jesus Christ, makes the Bible more complete. She said to send her a copy so she could see what we mean.”

We visited teenage mothers who had just given birth. One was a young girl of just 14 whose baby had been born dead. The sisters put their hands on her shoulders, comforted her, and gave her much wise advice. My eyes filled with tears as I watched these wonderful women of Zion who had laid aside their own problems, which were many, to give of what they had.
“Ye are … willing to bear one another’s burdens, that they may be light” (Mosiah 18:8).

Covenant keepers strive to be obedient “at all times … and in all places”18 because of their love of God and His promised blessings. One evening, while walking with my husband, we passed by an outdoor wedding reception in progress. We didn’t know these people, yet there was an immediate impression of virtue. Their choices of music and dress were lovely. The radiant bride’s gown was unquestionably modest, as were her bridal attendants’ dresses. This family chose not to mix the ways of the world with the sanctity of that day.

Now, may I say a word to the marvelous youth of our Church. Thank you for your righteous examples to your friends, teachers, leaders, and families. I recognize that many of you are the only member of the Church in your family. You may even attend church alone. I commend you for your commitment and righteous example. Be patient and continue to live righteously. There are many who can help you. President Thomas S. Monson said, “Even an exemplary family … can use all the supportive help they can get from good men [and women] who genuinely care.”19
Look around in your ward and stake for leaders and friends who are examples of the believers and learn from them.
When I was a young woman, I identified examples of the believers. In addition to my parents, one was my aunt Carma Cutler. I vividly remember her speaking at a stake standards night when I was 16. She taught of the importance of being chaste and worthy of a temple marriage. I was deeply touched by her testimony. I had observed her virtuous life since I was a very young girl, and I knew it was consistent with her teachings. I wanted to follow her example.
Young men and young women, you can start today by being an example of the believers in faith and in purity. Strengthen your faith and testimony daily through scripture study and prayer. Keep your baptismal covenant, which will keep you pure and worthy of the guidance of the Holy Ghost. You can start today to be that example for others to follow.
And you never know—you might be the example my little Ruby will need someday. For now, Ruby has a wonderful start on the path to eternal life. Her parents are setting patterns of righteousness in her home, starting each day with a resolve to be examples of the believers. Hopefully, using her agency, Ruby will choose to follow.
I am grateful for the plan of happiness, and I testify it is the only way that Ruby—and each of us—can be pure again and live forever in the presence of our Father in Heaven. May we each start today. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

When President Nelson invited the women of the Church in October 2018 general conference to read the Book of Mormon before the end of the year, Matthew, Andrew, and Isaac, along with their father and younger brothers, decided to offer Mom their support. “We’ll read it with you!” they said. Every morning before seminary, they woke up to read together.
Matthew was going through a hard time when the family started reading every morning. He says, “I wasn’t doing well in school. I struggled with my personal scripture study and my relationship with Heavenly Father, and I kept it all to myself. I didn’t talk about it with my parents.”
However, as Matthew spent more time reading the Book of Mormon, the gospel began to take first priority in his life. He also put more effort into school. He worked hard and got his grades up.
“I also realized how much Heavenly Father and my parents love me and how much they help me. And I have a greater testimony of Jesus Christ. He has helped me overcome bad habits and helped me get my life headed in the right direction. I’m so glad we took President Nelson’s challenge as a family. It changed my life.”

My mother loved that scripture and lived its principle. The greatest affliction of her life was the death of her husband, our father, after only 11 years of marriage. This changed her life and imposed great hardships as she proceeded to earn a living and raise her three little children alone. Nevertheless, I often heard her say that the Lord consecrated that affliction for her gain because her husband’s death compelled her to develop her talents and serve and become something that she could never have become without that seeming tragedy. Our mother was a spiritual giant, strong and fully worthy of the loving tribute her three children inscribed on her headstone: “Her Faith Strengthened All.”

During 2008, Asenaca Ramasima won what are probably the two most prestigious awards for students at the Fiji LDS Church College. First, she was selected as dux, or top student in the school. That award carries with it a tuition scholarship. But she also received the Lion of the Lord Award, given to an exemplary seminary student. She treasures this second award even more than the first, because it is a reminder of how she has tried to apply faith in her Heavenly Father in her own day-to-day life.
Life has already dealt Asenaca an ample share of hardship, even though she is only 19. And yet she seems to radiate joy—joy in the knowledge that she has an eternal family because they were sealed in the Suva Fiji Temple in 2001 and joy in the knowledge that she is known and loved by her Heavenly Father.
Asenaca is the youngest of five children, after four brothers. When their father died, she recalls, their oldest brother, then serving as a missionary, urged all of them to remember that their father was not lost to them; he would always be close.
Her brothers became breadwinners for the family, while their mother became a spiritual bonding agent to hold them together. The children have benefited as they have followed their parents’ examples.
“My father was an inspiration for me. He always taught us, ‘Work hard, work hard,’” the soft-spoken Asenaca says. Working hard in school has been her way of honoring her father and helping her mother. The scholarship that comes with the dux award is a valuable contribution Asenaca has made toward the costs of her own education.
Parental example also gave her a foundation for her spiritual education. “We were taught every day at home through family scripture reading and teachings from our own parents,” Asenaca says. Her mother, she adds, continues to build on this foundation for her family.
Asenaca’s own regular scripture study helps her maintain and strengthen her faith in Jesus Christ. She makes time for scripture study no matter what her schedule may be.
Faith in Jesus Christ has in turn helped her stay close to her Heavenly Father so she can call on His guidance. “I know He is always there,” she says. “If I do what He wants me to do, He will be there for me, and His Spirit will confirm what is right.”
That guidance is important when some young women her age try to talk her into “having fun” the way they do—drinking, smoking, putting chastity aside. But “those things are against my conscience,” Asenaca says, and because of her faith and the safety she feels in Heavenly Father’s guidance, “I can say no.”
Service in the Church, she says, has helped her build some confidence she would not otherwise have. That will be important when she finishes her schooling at the Church College, because then she hopes to be able to attend Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah, or BYU–Hawaii to study accounting.
Those places are a long way from her family’s home in a rural area on the outskirts of Suva. Would it be a bit scary to go so far from home? Asenaca thinks about this question for a moment, then gives one of her broad smiles. Yes, she answers—but she will do it to meet her goals.
It is easy to believe that Asenaca will do what she says. So far, she has done very well at meeting her goals. And like other faithful members in Fiji, she has found both spiritual growth and temporal progress through exercising faith and keeping the commandments.

Shortly after we married, my husband and I moved to a faraway town in eastern Bolivia where we were the only members of the Church. My husband was a new convert, and we wanted to comply with all the commandments of the Lord.
Every month we would save our tithing in an envelope until we could deliver it to our bishop. My husband had a strong conviction that if we complied with this law, we would be blessed and protected.
We lived in a hot, expensive, uncomfortable hotel room while we looked for a home to rent. For many days our search proved fruitless. The only house we could find was a small, pretty one whose owner lived in another city. Many outsiders had tried to rent the home, but they could never find the owner.
One morning just as we had finished praying about our situation, a young man knocked on our door. He told us that the owner of the home had returned for a short visit. My husband rushed out to meet with her while I continued praying that we might get the house. When he returned, he reported that the lady had rented the house to us at an incredibly low price. What added to our joy was that the home was already furnished. At the time, all we had was two large boxes and a suitcase full of our things.
The law of tithing does not have to do with money but rather with faith. My husband wasn’t earning much, but as we faithfully paid our tithing, the Lord blessed us to find a good home and enabled us to provide for ourselves.

Even though Father was deaf, he understood his daughter Alice. She pronounced her words carefully and looked right at him so he could read her lips easily. So Father kept her with him whenever he could. When he was doing business, she helped him understand what other people said. When he was working on the farm, Alice was good company.
Alice and Father tended grapevines and peach orchards, harvested honey from beehives, and cut ice from the pond. Alice gathered eggs from their chickens. Whatever they cut or gathered or harvested, Father and Alice took one-tenth to the tithing office.
They didn’t pay their tithing with money, most of the time. If they harvested thirty bushels of peaches, three bushels went to the Church. If ten jars of honey came from the beehives, one jar went for tithing. It was the same with grapes and eggs and whatever else they had. Even chickens and cows sometimes went along to the tithing office in the farm wagon!
One Monday morning early in the summer, Alice and Father were mending a fence where the farm bordered the roadside. Alice heard the thudding sound of horses’ hooves on the dirt road and the rumbling of a farm wagon. She looked up and saw Brother Johnson driving with children in the back. Father looked up too.
“Good morning, Brother Ashdown!” Brother Johnson called. “My peas are ready for harvest. I’m paying the children twenty-five cents a bushel to pick them. Does Alice want to come?”
Father looked down at Alice.
“He wants me to pick peas for a quarter a bushel,” Alice repeated. “May I go?”
Father nodded. Alice climbed into Brother Johnson’s wagon. Father waved and smiled as she rode away.
Alice worked hard all day long and picked two full bushels of peas. Before she left at the end of the day, Brother Johnson dropped two shiny quarters into her hand. Fifty cents could easily buy enough candy to last a month, or ribbons in every color of the rainbow for Alice’s hair, or maybe even a toy! She ran all the way home and bounded into the kitchen where the family was just sitting down around the table for supper.
“Look!” she said. “Fifty cents of my very own!”
“Those are good earnings for a day, Alice, for a girl your size,” Mother said. “Now please wash up before you sit down and eat.” Alice obeyed, then settled in for a plate of stew, new potatoes, and sweet green peas from the family’s garden.
“I’m pleased you’re a hard worker, Alice,” Father said from across the table. “Do you want to pay your tithing on that money?”
Alice nodded yes.
“You’ll owe five cents tithing then. Should I give you change?”
Alice looked at the two coins next to her plate. Five cents less and she wouldn’t have two quarters anymore—only one quarter and two dimes. Five cents suddenly seemed like a lot of money.
“Maybe you’ll make some more money in a day or two,” Father said. “I believe Doctor Stringham has a field of peas that needs picking.”
“Think about it overnight, Alice,” Mother suggested. “You need to decide if you want to pay tithing.”
Lying in bed that night, Alice tossed and turned. She wanted to do the right thing. But it seemed so hard to let go of five whole cents. She thought about her last trip to the tithing office with Father. On their way home, Alice and Father had met a man Father knew, Mr. Singer, who wasn’t a member of the Church.
“Alice, ask your father for me where he’s been today,” Mr. Singer instructed. Alice did.
“We’ve been down to the tithing office,” Father said.
“Well, William,” Mr. Singer said, “you’re surely devoted to that Church. I’m always amazed to see you going by my place on your way to meeting every Sunday. Especially when you can’t even hear what’s being said.”
Alice gulped and repeated Mr. Singer’s words slowly to Father. She worried that his feelings would be hurt, but she knew it was important to let him know exactly what was being said.
Father straightened his back and looked hard at Mr. Singer. “Well, I do sometimes understand what’s said, but even if I don’t, I get the spirit of the meeting by being there. And I teach my children that we’re a Latter-day Saint family that goes to our meetings every Sunday. Same with taking Alice down to the tithing office. You have to teach children by example.”
Mr. Singer nodded. “You’re a good man, William Ashdown,” he said. “You take care now!”
As Alice lay in bed and remembered what Father had told Mr. Singer, she thought about all the other times she’d gone to the tithing office with Father. She always felt warm inside when she heard him say, “That’s a full tithe.” She knew it was one way he showed how much he believed in the gospel. She remembered Mother telling her that if they paid tithing, the Lord would open the windows of heaven and send down more blessings than they had room to receive. She thought about how the grapes and peaches and eggs all went to help people who needed food. And she knew her own five cents would help someone too.
Alice crept out of bed quietly and made her way downstairs where Father and Mother were sitting.
“Father, I want to pay my tithing. Will you figure the change for me?” Alice asked.
“I certainly will, Alice,” Father said.
Alice traded Father one quarter for two dimes and a nickel. She put the nickel in the pocket of her pinafore that she would wear on Sunday so she could give it to the bishop. But before then, she picked peas for Doctor Stringham. Alice earned forty-five more cents to keep—and another nickel for her tithing!

As Eduardo’s and María’s gospel knowledge grew, so did their testimonies. When their son Osvaldo died following a traffic accident in 2001, their testimonies—coupled with powerful spiritual experiences during prayer and in the Buenos Aires Argentina Temple, where they and Osvaldo had been sealed—helped them deal with their loss.
“Perhaps some parents would have gone crazy,” Eduardo says, “but we felt a calmness that said, ‘Your son is well.’ Of course we wept. He was a good son, and we miss him. But we have been sealed in the temple, and we know where he is.”

It was right before Derek’s mission that he began to wonder if he was wrong about Grandpa Reilly’s attitude toward the Church. Derek, who was almost 19, had just graduated from high school and had also received a full-ride scholarship to a prestigious college. The school would not hold his scholarship for the two years that he would be serving a mission, and suddenly he had second thoughts about making that great of a sacrifice for the Lord. Derek had a firm testimony of the gospel’s truthfulness, but could he throw his education and the rest of his life away for the Church?

Derek eventually decided that, realistically, he could not afford to sacrifice his education and career to knock on doors in some far corner of the world for two years. He told his grandfather about his plans first, thinking that Grandpa Reilly would secretly be pleased at the news.

“I’m taking that scholarship, Grandpa,” Derek said. “The time’s not right for a mission.”

“You’re what?” Grandpa demanded. “So what makes you up and decide all of a sudden that you’re not going on a mission?”

“Look, Grandpa,” Derek started to explain patiently, “I know that everyone will be upset, but I have to do what’s best for me. The school won’t hold my scholarship if I serve a mission, and I have to think about the long run.”

“Don’t tell me about the long run!” Grandpa Reilly exploded. “You’re going to regret not going for the rest of your life. A career won’t make much difference then. Don’t think about other people, either. You’re not serving a mission for your father or mother or your bishop or for anyone else; you’re doing it for yourself and the Lord and the people that you teach, and those are the people that count. I may not know much about religion or your church, but I do know that a mission is the best thing that could happen to you, and you’ll be denying yourself the chance of a lifetime if you don’t go.”

Shocked by the unexpectedness and force of his grandfather’s outburst, Derek could do nothing but stare in astonishment. Derek had never known Grandpa Reilly felt that way about the missions his grandsons served. When Derek finally collected his wits enough to further press the matter, Grandpa would say nothing more about the subject.

A week later, Derek sent in his papers and also mailed a letter to the college saying that he had to decline their scholarship so that he could serve a mission. Shortly after he received his mission call to Portugal, the college wrote to inform him that the admissions board would be pleased to reconsider a scholarship offer after his mission.

Like Solomon, many others rallied around Joseph and joyfully accepted the truth. They joined the Church in New York, but left their homes to follow him when the Lord directed him to go to Ohio. (See D&C 37:1.) Among those who were prepared to receive the gospel in Ohio were Newel and Elizabeth Whitney. One evening at about midnight, the Whitneys were praying, asking God how they could obtain the gift of the Holy Ghost. Elizabeth recorded their experience:
“The spirit rested upon us and a cloud overshadowed the house. It was as though we were out of doors. The house passed away from our vision. … A solemn awe pervaded us. We saw the cloud and we felt the spirit of the Lord.
“Then we heard a voice out of the cloud saying:
“‘Prepare to receive the word of the Lord, for it is coming!’
“At this we marveled greatly; but from that moment we knew that the word of the Lord was coming to Kirtland.”11

Sungja’s next oldest brother, Cho Yong Hyun, had listened to the missionaries with his siblings. Their parents were busy running the family restaurant, and Joong Hyun, the second son, was frequently charged with caring for his younger brothers and sisters. His siblings all learned to love him and trust his judgment. “I really respected my older brother, so when he first introduced the gospel to me, I could accept it,” Yong Hyun says.
But Yong Hyun’s conversion was not based on his brother’s testimony alone; he received his own strong witness of the truth, and once a member, he dedicated himself to serving faithfully.
That dedication led him, while he was a college student, to want to serve a mission—a choice his father opposed. But Yong Hyun won his father’s consent by promising to be a better student when he returned, and he kept that promise.
Father and son would clash over the Church again some years later when Yong Hyun was offered a position with the Church Educational System. He was doing well in his job with an oil refining firm at the time, but he accepted the Church position and has served as CES coordinator in the Gwangju area of southern Korea since 1986. His father opposed the change, considering it unwise for his son to leave a good position with a prestigious firm to work for a relatively unknown church that had started in America. His father said later that he had cried bitterly over Yong Hyun’s decision and had come close to disowning him. Fortunately, the rift was healed.

Randy McGee has imagination. He’s unintimidated as well. He’s also the cheerleader at Thomas Jefferson High School in Washington who had “lost so many school elections” he decided to run for an office he could win! He invented the office of Archduke, and his campaign included the wearing of a red cap and the handing out of a job description with his picture to student voters. The student council admitted that his speech got the most raves at the election assembly, and Mormons in the area appreciated the good publicity in the local papers. As Archduke, Randy spreads good cheer, stirs up goodwill efforts between schools, and acts as chief pepper-upper at games. “As far as I know,” comments Randy laughingly, “I’m the only Archduke in the USA”.

Brose just can’t seem to please his pa. When Pa expected to find him weeding the garden, Brose was tending only the pumpkin patch. Granny had given him pumpkin seeds, and Brose forgot about all the other vegetables. Pa had given up teaching him to play the fiddle—Brose had ten thumbs, Pa’d said. And when he offered to let Brose drive the wagon home, Brose had paid more attention to listening to a bird than to hitching the horses to the wagon. When he’d yelled, “Giddap,” the horses had moved but the wagon hadn’t! Now Brose couldn’t even do a girl’s work right. He’d put the wool he was supposed to card too near the fireplace!
Brose jerked the wool away from the heat, but part of it was already scorched. Ma had told him before that scorch marks would not wash out. Now the whole family would have a streak in their socks to remind them that, even at carding wool, Brose was no good.
Brose was unusually quiet the rest of the evening and the following day, but no one seemed to notice. He went to do chores with Pa and Jeremy, but this time he didn’t even ask if he could try to milk one of the cows. He remembered too well what had happened only a few days earlier.
Pa had been in a hurry, needing all the help he could get. “Seems like you ought to be able to milk Old Brin, Brose,” Pa’d said. “She never kicks. She’ll stand right still for you.”
The cow had stood still, and Brose had done his best, but when he’d finished, Brose knew he hadn’t gotten as much milk as he should have. Pa had taken one look at Old Brin and said, “She doesn’t look dry to me, Jeremy. She hasn’t let Brose have her milk. Better strip her out.”
And Brose had suffered as he watched Jeremy’s smooth, regular milking finish filling the bucket. “I tried,” Brose had said. “I tried to milk her dry.”
Jeremy had poured the milk through the white sack they used as a strainer on the neck of the milk can. “Oh, you’ll get the hang of it, Brose,” he’d replied as he picked up his wooden milk stool and went on to the next cow. “All it takes is practice. Right now, though, come over here and hold Whitey’s tail for me.”
Hold Whitey’s tail! That’s the kind of job I always get, thought Brose. A two-year-old could hold a cow’s tail! Or Jere could just tie it around the cow’s leg, the way he usually does. I won’t do it! But he did. He held it tightly. Whitey tried to swish her tail back and forth, but Brose held on. Not once did he let go of it, and not once did it hit Jeremy in the face.
After the milking was done, Brose walked over to the pumpkin patch. There they were, big and orange and beautiful in the autumn dusk. And they were his. He had raised them all by himself.
He remembered Granny saying, “When pumpkin pie time comes this fall, your pumpkins might be just what we need.” Now he wondered what she’d meant. He had plenty of pumpkins all right, but Granny ought to know as well as anyone how scarce sugar was. They could roast pieces of pumpkin on a bed of coals in the fireplace—Brose’s mouth watered at the thought of a big piece, hot, steaming, and with a big blob of Ma’s fresh-churned butter melting and running down the side—but without sugar, how could Ma make pies?
Brose decided to cut one of the pumpkins right then and clean out the seeds and take it to the house. The evening had turned chilly, and Brose shivered a little as he took out his pocketknife. He glanced up at the sky. It felt cold enough to snow, but the sky was cloudless.
His knife blade was small and a little dull. It took a while for Brose to hack through the tough stem of the pumpkin vine. Then he worked the knife into the top of the pumpkin and began cutting out a piece from the top. He had just finished scraping out the seeds when he heard Pa call.
He had forgotten again! It was time to feed the calf, and here he was in the pumpkin patch! Leaving the pumpkin on the ground, he ran as fast as he could. But he was too late to get the calf bucket ready. Jeremy already had the milk in it. Brose grabbed the bucket and went to feed the calf. That was when he made another mistake!
Later he remembered that when Pa had first given him the job of feeding the calf, he’d told Brose to always hold the bucket tightly while the calf was drinking so that none of the milk would spill out.
“That’s why we feed him on the bucket, Brose,” Pa had explained. “It saves milk. This little feller doesn’t need all the milk Whitey gives. We can feed him enough to grow on and have the rest of her milk for us. But be careful. Every person—and animal, too—in this valley knows what it is to be hungry. We mustn’t waste a thing.”
When Brose set the pail down in front of the calf, he noticed several burrs on its back. While the calf was drinking, Brose pulled a few out, but there were some so far back that he couldn’t quite reach them and hold on to the bucket at the same time. Brose only let go for a moment.
But, of course, it was that same moment when the calf gave an extra hard bunt with his nose! Brose grabbed for the bucket, but he was too late. He could only stand there and watch the milk seep into the ground.
What should he do? Just take the bucket back to the barn and not say anything to Pa? Even as he thought it, Brose knew he couldn’t do that. After all, it wasn’t the calf’s fault. That’s just the way calves are, bunting and pushing. It wouldn’t be fair to make the calf go hungry because of my carelessness, he decided. I’ll have to tell Pa.
Brose went to bed early that night, and it wasn’t until the next morning that he thought of the pumpkin. He hurried out to the patch and found it right where he had left it. It didn’t look spoiled or anything, but there was some water inside.
That’s strange, Brose thought. How come? It didn’t rain last night.
He learned over to take a closer look. There were drops of moisture oozing from the inside of the pumpkin. When he tipped the pumpkin, some of the liquid spilled onto his hand. Brose put the pumpkin down and looked for something to wipe off his hand. Not seeing anything handy, he tried licking it off his fingers. To his amazement it tasted sweet! He took another taste. Yes, it was sweet! Brose grabbed the pumpkin and ran to Granny Dodd’s cabin.
“Granny!” he cried. “Granny!”
He found her at her woodpile, gathering chips in her apron.
“Granny! Look at this! Taste it! Taste it, Granny! It came right out of the sides of the pumpkin! It’s sweet, Granny!”
Granny stood up, letting the chips fall to the ground. She looked at Brose, then carefully dipped a finger into the liquid and tasted it.
“I do declare, Brose! It’s sweet, all right, just like the sap from a sugar maple back home.” Granny had that same sort of smile that Brose had seen when she gave him the seeds. “Now what do you suppose a body might use it for?”
“Pie, Granny! Pumpkin pie with whipped cream!” Brose tasted it again, just to be sure. “It must have been the cold night that did it, Granny. Here. You keep this one. I’m going to cut open about half a dozen and leave them out in the frosty night air.”
The following evening Brose ate his dinner in a hurry, feeling he would burst with excitement if Granny didn’t come pretty soon. Finally he saw her coming across the field that separated the two cabins.
“Pie!” cried Jeremy. The sound in his voice was all Brose had hoped for. His brother’s eyes were about as round as the pie was when Granny held it out piled high with whipped cream. “Is it really pumpkin pie?”
Pa just sat and stared as though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
“The sugar,” said Ma quietly. “Where did you get it?”
“Brose got it,” said Granny, cutting the first piece and handing it to him. “He raised this sugar right in his pumpkin patch. It’s pumpkin sugar.”
Brose turned to see Pa looking at him, and there it was—that very look of approval and pride he had been striving so hard for—all over Pa’s face. Brose was in no hurry. He could wait for his pie, just like Pa and Jere. He handed the plate across the table. “Here, Ma,” he said. “You have the first piece.”

Misha Sukonosov never imagined that attending English classes with the missionaries in Chernihiv would lead him to the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. But that changed after several months of attending the classes.
Misha loved the spirit he felt as the missionaries taught him English. And when he finally accepted their invitation to attend Church meetings with them, he was surprised to feel the same spirit at church.
Finally, one of the elders invited Misha to simply do what he knew was right and be baptized.
Misha knew it would take a great deal of courage to go against his family’s traditions. In Ukraine most people are lifelong members of the predominant church. His family was no exception.
His mother wanted him to wait a few years to be baptized, so he agreed to wait until he turned 16. In the meantime he attended church every week and began serving as branch pianist.
“That helped me come every Sunday, because I had to come or there would be nobody to play,” Misha says.
Finally, when the wait was over, Misha was baptized in the Desna River on July 1, 2006. At the time, he had no idea how quickly his family would follow his example.
His mother, Olga, started coming to church to learn more about her son’s new religion. She came so often that the branch president asked her to play the organ in sacrament meeting so Misha could be called as the music director.
After six months of hearing the members’ testimonies, including her son’s, Olga developed a testimony of her own. Misha baptized his mother in December 2006.
Olga still plays the organ every week. Misha, now 17, keeps busy by helping the branch presidency, serving as a branch missionary, and leading the hymns in sacrament meeting.
“I know the Church needs me,” he says. “I am so grateful for these chances to serve. The Church helps me as I help others.”

Approximately seven years ago, a sister from the Ashton 1 Ward, Ashton Stake, was working in a local care home where she met and started talking with visitors from the local Royal British Legion. During the conversation the visitors mentioned how challenging it was to get volunteers to assist with the annual Poppy Appeal. The sister, Helen Hubbert, immediately offered to be a volunteer for the RBL and their Poppy Appeal. Helen also told the visitors that she was confident she could get others to assist through family, friends, neighbours and members of her church community. The British Legion were delighted and discussions followed to put a plan together and find an appropriate venue for the appeal.
The plan was to create a rota that would run for 10 days, Monday to Saturday, 10.00am until 9.00pm. The venue was a local supermarket, where the volunteers would man some tables with displays and items to sell such as poppies, poppy wreaths, metal lapel poppies, poppy brooches, and poppy related items for children. Helen set about getting the rota filled with volunteers. It wasn’t easy, but with the help of family, friends, neighbours and members of the Church, the rota was filled.
Over the next two weeks, all the time slots were filled with volunteers, with help from families, youth, Primary children, full time missionaries, church members as well as some of Helen’s neighbours, all helped raise a substantial amount of money for the Poppy Appeal. It had been a positive experience for all involved. Helen’s enthusiasm, drive and organisational skills had made it happen. The question was, could and would Helen be willing to help the following year, the answer was yes. This time people, including members, were offering their services without being asked, again the rota was quickly filled and yet again a substantial amount of money was raised for the poppy appeal.
Sadly, the Poppy Appeal was interrupted during the COVID-19 lockdown and so there was no face to face Poppy Appeal in 2020. Helen was back in 2021 with the same enthusiasm and drive and a substantial amount of money raised for the RBL. In 2022, Helen was taken ill and sadly passed away in October. Her good friend Ashleigh Hughes, also a member of the Ashton 1 Ward took up the mantle to keep that commitment that Helen had made seven years earlier to support a charity that was close to her heart. Ashleigh has kept Helen’s legacy going, by organising the volunteers and correlating with the British Legion. During November 2023, members, along with friends, helped raise almost £18,000, a truly remarkable effort by one group of volunteers.
The British legion said that Helen has created a community with pride that had brought people together.
Helen has created a great tradition of service where people ask to volunteer and who want to do their part. What a great legacy to leave.

As a young boy living on a small farm in Fielding, Utah, I always wanted a horse. When I was old enough to take care of one, my dad bought me a big black horse, and I named him Smokey.
I loved Smokey and took care of him the best I could. One morning when I went out to feed him, he was not in his corral. I hunted around and found him in the haystack, which was fenced off from the corral. He had been making a mess—tromping on the hay and ruining it. All the gates were closed; Smokey had obviously jumped over the fence. His manger had hay in it, so there was no reason for him to go into the haystack.
A few days later Smokey was gone again. This time I found him out in the pasture. Soon he started jumping out of both the corral and the pasture. I had to ride my bike all over town looking for him. Sometimes Dad and I drove for miles before finding him and bringing him back.
Dad decided to buy some hobbles for Smokey. Hobbles are like handcuffs for horses to keep them from running away. “That will fix old Smokey,” Dad said.
It didn’t even slow him down. Jumping fences became a game to him, and he wasn’t much fun anymore. He was wild. I couldn’t catch him, and I couldn’t ride him very much. Finally Dad said, “We’ll teach old Smokey a lesson.” We tied a heavy log-chain to Smokey’s hobbles so that wherever he went he would have to drag an eight-foot (2.5-m) log-chain between his legs. We thought surely this would stop him.
But that night Smokey tried to jump the fence again. The chain caught and tripped him. He fell into the fence and got cut up in the barbed wire. We got him out and called the veterinarian, who came and patched him up.
My home teacher, whom I called Uncle Claude, was a real horseman. He had an idea for Smokey, so he traded a gray horse to me for Smokey. Uncle Claude raced chariots, and he thought that if he could team Smokey with a horse that was a good chariot racer, he could break Smokey’s bad habits and they could win some races. So Uncle Claude hooked Smokey up to the chariot, and they practiced a few times. Smokey seemed to be doing just fine—until the race. All of a sudden he veered off to the right and tried to jump over the fence that ran alongside the track. It almost killed Uncle Claude, and Smokey hurt himself so badly that he had to be put to sleep.
I’ve thought about my old horse many times since then. He had no good reason to jump over the fence that first time he got into the haystack. He was like some young people who decide that they want to be disobedient. Once we jump that first fence, it becomes easier to jump other fences—breaking the commandments and the principles of the gospel—and before long we can destroy our lives through disobedience.

“I must have missed the bus,” I thought. For 15 minutes, I had been waiting in the icy gutter that was my bus stop, with no bus in sight. The day was unusually cold. Despite my puffy coat, I couldn’t stay warm. I felt hopeless, standing in the dark, in the cold, waiting for a bus that had probably already come and gone.
Finally, I sent a plea heavenward: “Heavenly Father, please just help me get to school.” It was simple but desperate and pleading.
A car on the other side of the road pulled over and turned around. As it neared, I saw the public transportation logo on the car. A woman leaned toward the open window and asked, “Are you waiting for bus 14? I’m pretty sure it already went by. Hop in. I was just patrolling the area because people can freeze on cold mornings like this.”
I thanked her repeatedly.
“Thank you for using public transportation,” she responded.
I sent another thanks heavenward as I warmed my hands.
A lot of the time, our blessings come through other people. No matter how small a blessing is, I know that I still need to thank the Lord. He is mindful of me, so I need to be mindful of Him.