Gospel Story Finder

When our youngest child, Amanda, was two years old, she was diagnosed with leukemia. Her case was difficult, and her cancer did not go into remission following chemotherapy. She then had to have a bone marrow transplant.
While my husband and two sons were home in Utah, I stayed with Amanda in another state from September until the first part of January. We missed celebrating Christmas together, but with the end of follow-up care, we returned home.
On our first visit to the hospital for a checkup after returning home, doctors again found leukemia cells in Amanda’s blood. The transplant had failed. Hearing the news, I felt as though I were sinking right through the floor. Our family had been through a lot of worry, work, separation, and difficult times. Now we would lose our daughter anyway.
I returned home that afternoon to my two sons. While we waited for my husband to come home from work, we got out our copies of the Book of Mormon and began to read. We were in 2 Nephi 9. As we read, the following words spoke to me:
“I speak unto you these things that ye may rejoice, and lift up your heads forever, because of the blessings which the Lord God shall bestow upon your children.
“For I know that ye have searched much, many of you, to know of things to come; wherefore I know that ye know that our flesh must waste away and die; nevertheless, in our bodies we shall see God. …
“For as death hath passed upon all men, to fulfil the merciful plan of the great Creator, there must needs be a power of resurrection. …
“O how great the goodness of our God, who prepareth a way for our escape from the grasp of this awful monster; yea, that monster, death. …
“And he cometh into the world that he may save all men if they will hearken unto his voice; for behold, he suffereth the pains of all men, yea, the pains of every living creature, both men, women, and children, who belong to the family of Adam.
“And he suffereth this that the resurrection might pass upon all men, that all might stand before him at the great and judgment day” (2 Nephi 9:3–4, 6, 10, 21–22).
As I read these words, the Holy Ghost filled the room. I felt that my Heavenly Father knew the news I had received that day. I felt that the words the prophet Jacob had written more than 2,000 years before were written to me for that day and came directly from the Savior. He knew the pain and sadness I felt after hearing that our daughter would die. And He was there to comfort our family with His promise that He had prepared a way and that one day, through the power of the Resurrection, “in our bodies we shall see God.”
Amanda lived for almost another year, but I have never forgotten that day when the words of the Book of Mormon spoke to me in my need and the Lord gave me hope, comfort, and understanding of His plan.

Belonging to Relief Society is critical for newly baptized sisters and, by extension, their families. While serving with my husband as he presided over the England London South Mission, I met many new converts—like Gloria, a single mother. When she joined the Church, she joined Relief Society. It was a safe place where she could ask questions about her newfound faith. She heard women openly share their experiences, which led her to experiment upon the word of God. She’s received her patriarchal blessing; she’s been to the temple; she serves in the Church. I think of President Hinckley’s counsel to me: “[Women] need to be together in an environment that bolsters faith.” Relief Society provides such an environment.

One man I know of was called to a position of service in the Church, but he felt that he couldn’t accept because his investments required more … of his time than he could spare for the Lord’s work. He left the service of the Lord in search of Mammon, and he is a millionaire today.

But I recently learned an interesting fact: If a man owns a million dollars worth of gold … , he possesses approximately one 27-billionth of all the gold that is present in the earth’s thin crust alone. This is an amount so small in proportion as to be inconceivable to the mind of man. But there is more to this: The Lord who created and has power over all the earth created many other earths as well, even “worlds without number” (Moses 1:33); and when this man received the oath and covenant of the priesthood (see D&C 84:33–44), he received a promise from the Lord of “all that my Father hath” (D&C 84:38). To set aside all these great promises in favor of a chest of gold and a sense of carnal security is a mistake in perspective of colossal proportions. To think that he has settled for so little is a saddening and pitiful prospect indeed; the souls of men are far more precious than this.

One young man, when called on a mission, replied that he didn’t have much talent for that kind of thing. What he was good at was keeping his powerful new automobile in top condition. … All along, his father had been content with saying, “He likes to do things with his hands. That’s good enough for him.”

Good enough for a son of God? This young man didn’t realize that the power of his automobile is infinitesimally small in comparison with the power of the sea or of the sun; and there are many suns, all controlled by law and by priesthood, ultimately—a priesthood power that he could have been developing in the service of the Lord. He settled for a pitiful god, a composite of steel and rubber and shiny chrome.

“Hurry and finish breakfast, Tom,” David cried impatiently. “If the farm trucks go by, we won’t have a ride out to the strawberry fields and we’ll miss work today.”
Tom moaned as he stood up and reached for his straw hat. He was so stiff and sore from squatting and crawling along the rows that he only wished the delicious berries grew on trees instead of slithering along so low on the ground. At first Tom had been enthusiastic about his job, but he hadn’t realized what hard work it would be. He was from the city and was visiting his aunt and uncle. His cousin, David, was used to farm work, but Tom certainly wasn’t.
Tom thought about his friend, Mike, whom he had met yesterday while picking berries. Mike had to work hard every day. His whole family were migrant farm workers who traveled all over the country to harvest crops when they were ripe. Even their small children helped in the fields. They were very poor and lived in tents or whatever shelter was provided by the people they were working for. The family moved from job to job in an old pickup truck. The children were seldom in one place long enough to go to school, and that was the only thing he had heard Mike complain about.
Tom and David climbed onto the back of a big truck that stopped for them. It was already crammed with pickers so they sat on the tailgate. Most of the workers were boys but there were also a few women and girls, all eager to earn extra money during the short picking season.
The area around the packing shed was crowded but Tom searched until he found Mike. He wanted to work beside him again today. Each worker was given a flat carrier with eight empty strawberry boxes. Tom envied Mike’s speed. His nimble fingers finished a tray of boxes while Tom was still filling his third box. Mike’s younger sisters were fast workers too. They often laughed and teased each other, but they never stopped working.
Tom stood up and groaned as he straightened his aching back. Mike had gone for more empty boxes when Tom heard a strange sound and glanced down at his feet. He froze. A large rattlesnake was coiled between the rows, head raised, only a few inches from his tray! Afraid to move, Tom stood still, his heart pounding with fear.
“What’s wrong, Tom? What is it?” Mike shouted. He had started back from the end of the row when he noticed Tom’s white face.
“A rattler! A big one!” Tom called back tensely, still standing perfectly still. Perspiration was trickling down his forehead and stinging his eyes but he was afraid to move and wipe it away.
Mike dropped the boxes and grabbed a heavy stick, then raced toward his frightened friend. He leaped into the next row and warily approached the snake. After Mike had killed the snake, he lifted it with the stick and carried it to the edge of the berry patch. Tom sagged down and wiped his face with his sleeve. His breath came in ragged sighs and he was ashamed of his trembling. He had never been so afraid.
When Mike returned, he could see that Tom was embarrassed about being so frightened. To put him at ease, Mike said, “You did just right, not making any sudden moves, Tom. That snake was in striking position. I’m used to them and I wouldn’t want to kill a ‘good’ one because they eat grain-stealing mice and other pests, but I’m deathly afraid of rattlers and any other poisonous snakes.”
Tom appreciated his new friend’s tactfulness. Someone else might have laughed and made jokes about his fear. I owe Mike my life! he thought, shuddering.
He and Mike worked side by side for two weeks. After work they sometimes went to the large fenced area where the big geese were kept. Tom had been surprised when Mike told him that the big birds saved the growers a lot of work. They ate the weeds but would not bother the berry plants.
Tom’s muscles gradually adjusted to all the stooping and duck-walking between the long rows. He also became much better and faster at the work. His sunburn had peeled and now his face, arms, and legs were nearly as tanned as Mike’s.
Besides the physical benefits gained from his first job, Tom had learned a lot about people, not only about Mike and his family but about the other migrant workers as well. He had learned respect for the hardworking, nomadic people and had gained a new appreciation for his permanent home and the opportunity he had of going to school regularly. He had never really thought of these blessings before meeting Mike.
“I have enough money for my new bicycle, for the county fair, and some for my savings account,” David said on payday, proud that he had earned it himself. “How much do you have, Tom?”
“None,” Tom said softly. He had been staring out their bedroom window. He knew Mike and the other pickers had moved on north during the night. He would never see his friend again.
David was surprised. “How could you work for two whole weeks without getting paid?”
“I didn’t collect any pay,” Tom mumbled awkwardly.
“Why not?” David persisted. “You earned it and it was hard work. We’d better go over to see Mr. Grant and collect while he still has your work record.”
“He doesn’t owe me any money,” Tom said. “I didn’t want to tell anyone, but I gave it all to Mike. You see, his family is trying to buy a house where his grandmother lives so he and his sisters can stay in school. They hope to have enough money by this fall. Mike saved my life and I wanted to help them. I told Mr. Grant to give his parents all my pay.”
David looked down at the bills and change scattered across his bed. He was silent for a minute, thinking of all the hard work Tom’s money represented. Then he said thoughtfully, “I guess I could have given them some of mine too. I hope you won’t be sorry.”
“Don’t worry,” Tom said cheerfully. “I’ve never felt so happy about anything in my whole life. It’s the first time I’ve ever helped anyone all by myself and that’s a good feeling.”

This is a question that my father taught me to carefully consider years ago. As I was growing up, my parents assigned me chores around the house and paid me an allowance for that work. I often used that money, a little over 50 cents a week, to go to the movies. Back then a movie ticket cost 25 cents for an 11-year-old. This left me with 25 cents to spend on candy bars, which cost 5 cents apiece. A movie with five candy bars! It couldn’t get much better than that.
All was well until I turned 12. Standing in line one afternoon, I realized that the ticket price for a 12-year-old was 35 cents, and that meant two less candy bars. Not quite prepared to make that sacrifice, I reasoned to myself, “You look the same as you did a week ago.” I then stepped up and asked for the 25-cent ticket. The cashier did not blink, and I bought my regular five candy bars instead of three.
Elated by my accomplishment, I later rushed home to tell my dad about my big coup. As I poured out the details, he said nothing. When I finished, he simply looked at me and said, “Son, would you sell your soul for a nickel?” His words pierced my 12-year-old heart. It is a lesson I have never forgotten.

When I was five years old, I became very ill. It turned out that I had polio, a disease that was completely unknown to the small-town doctor. I lay for several weeks on a World War I army cot in our front room beside a coal stove. Afterward, I could not walk. I remember very clearly sliding around on the linoleum floor and pulling myself up on chairs, learning to walk again. I was more fortunate than some. A friend walked with crutches and steel leg braces all of his life.
As I moved into school, I found that my muscles were weak. I was very self-conscious. I knew that I could never be an athlete.
It did not help a lot when I read about the man who went to a doctor to find a cure for his inferiority complex. After a careful examination, the doctor told him, “You don’t have a complex. You really are inferior!”
With that for encouragement, I set about through life and determined to compensate in other ways.
I found hope in my patriarchal blessing. The patriarch, whom I had never met before, confirmed to me that patriarchs do have prophetic insight. He said that I had a desire to come to earth life and was willing to meet the tests that would accompany life in a mortal body. He said that I had been given a body of such physical proportion and fitness to enable my spirit to function through it unhampered by physical impediment. That encouraged me.

“Last year my father was injured in an accident. With help from others, we have been able to overcome the financially difficult time that followed. At first I felt resentment toward God. But now I am thankful to him. I am not different from other youth, but I have something different from the others. I know God lives. I wish we experienced only happiness. But because of my testimony, I will accept either happiness or misfortune in life.”
—Kim, Hae-Young, Seoul, Korea

Let me provide another example of disconnecting gradually and physically from things as they really are. Today a person can enter into a virtual world, such as Second Life, and assume a new identity. An individual can create an avatar, or a cyberspace persona, that conforms to his or her own appearance and behavior. Or a person can concoct a counterfeit identity that does not correlate in any way to things as they really are. However closely the assumed new identity approximates the individual, such behavior is the essence of things as they really are not. Earlier I defined the fidelity of a simulation or model. I now emphasize the importance of personal fidelity—the correspondence between an actual person and an assumed, cyberspace identity. Please note the lack of personal fidelity in the following episode as reported in the Wall Street Journal:

Ric Hoogestraat is “a burly [53-year-old] man with a long gray ponytail, thick sideburns and a salt-and-pepper handlebar mustache. … [Ric spends] six hours a night and often 14 hours at a stretch on weekends as Dutch Hoorenbeek, his six-foot-nine, muscular … cyber-self. The character looks like a younger, physically enhanced version of [Ric]. …

“… [He] sits at his computer with the blinds drawn. … While his wife, Sue, watches television in the living room, Mr. Hoogestraat chats online with what appears on the screen to be a tall, slim redhead.

“He’s never met the woman outside of the computer world of Second Life, a well-chronicled digital fantasyland. … He’s never so much as spoken to her on the telephone. But their relationship has taken on curiously real dimensions. They own two dogs, pay a mortgage together and spend hours [in their cyberspace world] shopping at the mall and taking long motorcycle rides. … Their bond is so strong that three months ago, Mr. Hoogestraat asked Janet Spielman, the 38-year-old Canadian woman who controls the redhead, to become his virtual wife.

“The woman he’s legally wed to is not amused. ‘It’s really devastating,’ says Sue Hoogestraat, … who has been married to Mr. Hoogestraat for seven months.”5

Jensen: I guess going on a mission is something you always have in the back of your mind, but I hadn’t made the commitment as early as I should have. Then when I started having a lot of success in sports, I wondered if I couldn’t motivate people with that example instead. I remember sitting down with Coach (LaVell) Edwards. The things he said had a great influence. He said that if I was thinking about a mission I should go and that he would support my decision. I remember talking to my dad and my old high school coach and some of those people that had been an influence on me. I decided that a mission would really help me in a lot of ways.

Luis bounced up and down in the back seat and sang a silly song. “Please settle down, Luis,” Dad said. “I need to focus on driving.”
“I can’t settle down,” Luis said. “It’s just so awesome!”
Dad smiled. “I’m glad you’re excited to meet your new baby brother.”
When they got to the hospital, Luis raced to Mom’s room. He knew where it was because Mom had been there for five days already. She had to stay at the hospital because Baby Ian was sick, and Mom was a little bit sick too. Luis had asked to see Ian at least a bajillion times, but Mom always said, “Not yet.” She said that the doctors would decide when Ian was strong enough for a visitor.
Today the doctor had called. Today was the day!
When Luis walked into Mom’s hospital room, she was already holding Ian. Luis ran over to see his new baby brother. Ian was tiny. He looked way smaller than Luis’s baby cousins. And there was something different about his nose and ears. He looked like a little elf!
“Hi, honey,” Mom said. “Come wash your hands, and then you can hold the baby.”
Luis washed his hands with special soap. He climbed onto the hospital bed next to Mom. She leaned over to hand him the baby. Dad helped Luis put his hands in just the right place.
Luis looked down at Ian. “Hi, Ian,” he said. “I’m your brother, Luis. You’re going to sleep in my room, and I can show you all my toys, and we can play at the park.”
Baby Ian looked right at Luis. Luis thought he was the best baby ever.
When Luis’s arms got tired, Dad took a turn holding Ian. Mom held one of Luis’s hands and looked into his eyes.
“Luis,” she said. “Do you remember in Primary when you learned about the plan of salvation?”
Luis nodded. That had been a good day. Sister Lopez had a moon and a star and a big planet earth on sticks. Luis got to hold the sun.
“Do you remember how we lived in heaven before we came to earth and how we are going back to heaven when we die?”
Luis nodded again.
“Baby Ian is still very sick. And the doctor says that he won’t live very long. He is going to die soon and go back to heaven.”
Luis looked at Mom. He looked at Baby Ian in Dad’s arms. Then he frowned. His throat felt tight. “But I love him. I want him to stay here and share my room and play with me. Doesn’t he want to stay too?”
Mom put her arms around Luis. “Of course he wants to be with us. We’re his family. But he will see us again.”
“He will?”
Mom nodded. “Dad and I were married in the temple. We were promised that our family could be together forever. You and Ian will always be our children.”
“That means that Baby Ian will always be your brother,” Dad explained. “And you’ll see him again in heaven.”
Luis was sad. He felt kind of mad too. But he thought about meeting Baby Ian in heaven and smiled just a little. He reached out and rubbed Baby Ian’s soft hair. “We’ll be brothers in heaven? That’s awesome.”
Mom kissed Luis’s cheek. “It is awesome.”

The 49 Montgomery Alabama Stake youths piled out of their vehicles. Rakes, shovels, and axes were unloaded from auto trunks as they began to tackle the weeds, leaves, and debris around the old Magnolia chapel. They were continuing a tradition of service for the Church that stretches back nearly 80 years to the night of Saturday, May 8, 1897, when Henry McCoy and Grover Surginer passed a group of riders hurrying through the dark, wooded lane. The men’s faces were covered, which caused the pair to wonder.
“I recognized one of the horses, though. It belongs to John Garrett,” one of them commented as they continued to the bowery erected for the conference sessions being held in Magnolia.
When the men got to the crossroads where the bowery was located, they discovered that the seats, made of planks and sawed blocks, had been heaped together and ignited. The two men quickly put out the blaze.
The next day the members met again in conference despite the blackened ends of the seats. For them, persecution was nothing new. The missionaries had been tarred and feathered before and had eggs thrown at them. Converts reaped the ire of relatives and neighbors alike, but they didn’t quit. Service to the Church has continued into modern times.
Some of the youths were directed to begin digging around a stubborn four-foot stump. It wasn’t long before thick roots had to be chopped through with the axes as the young people laboriously dug deeper in their attempt to remove the old stump. It had been a stately tree when the Church took hold in that part of the state.
The tree had been young when Olivia Tucker McCoy joined the Church. In her diary she wrote: “We were baptized Oct. 3, 1897. My husband’s father had given him the place he settled on with the understanding that he would help him work and pay for that place and the one his father bought, but as it was his father’s he never got the deed. So, after we joined the Mormons his father told him he would have to move.”
Their little daughter had been burned in a fire in December, and they asked for time before moving the child but were ordered out. On January 3, 1898, “We put her in the wagon on a bed, moved to what they called the Coates place, and rented the same from Jim Smyly.
“The Christmas of 1898 I spent with my sister, a Mrs. Guinn, the one I lived with when I was married. But the folks didn’t seem just the same. You see, I had joined the Mormons and I was reminded of it.”
Nor did the early Saints forget it either. In 1913, with the aid of Elder Sellers from Vernal, Utah, and Elder Joseph E. Ward from Parowan, Utah, the Magnolia chapel was built. It stands now as the oldest LDS chapel in Alabama.
Before construction began, a mob gathered to drive the elders out. Mrs. Willie Autrey, a nonmember, stepped out with her gun and turned the mob away. So the Magnolia chapel was built and has stood through the years as a monument to the dedication of area Saints, early and modern.
The youths raked the weeds and leaves from the Church’s cemetery. The area around the building began to look neater, although the stump was not yet removed. The diggers were making progress when they stopped briefly for lunch.
Despite the persecution in the early days, a number of families joined the Church. Later many moved west—the Martins, Sealeys, Cranfords, Torberts, and others—leaving only a few to use the chapel and the adjoining cemetery.
Today, the old LDS chapel in Magnolia is used for socials only. A newer, larger building stands next door and is used by the 50 members of the Magnolia Branch.
The young people returned to work. The ancient, worn-out fence was pulled down, the rotted wood piled for a bonfire. That afternoon they held a testimony meeting, followed by a hot dog and marshmallow roast, which concluded at 7:00 P.M.
Perhaps as they worked or relaxed, they recalled some of the stories told about the chapel, including the time it caught fire during a conference in 1937. The blaze was caused by a defective flue to the pot-bellied stove. A bucket brigade was formed, and water drawn from the well was passed up to Heber B. Martin, who doused the burning wood.
The chapel has been the scene of a number of talks by various Church authorities, including mission president Charles A. Callis, who presided over the Southern States Mission for about a quarter of a century and later became a General Authority.
Sometimes as many as 30 missionaries would be in attendance at the conferences in Magnolia. Today, conference is held in the Montgomery stake center 100 miles east of Magnolia, but the small chapel, while no longer in official use, still stands as a reminder of the heritage of the Alabama Saints.

The first time I attended a Church meeting, I heard many words that didn’t make sense to me. Who were the Beehives? What was the Aaronic Priesthood? the Relief Society?
If this is the first time you have attended a Church meeting and you are feeling confused by something you don’t understand, do not worry! I was clueless too. But I still remember the impressions, the new feelings of peace and joy I experienced. I did not know it then, but the Holy Ghost was whispering to my ears and to my heart, “This is right.”

Sister Christine Altieri joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints when she was ten years old. Although she did not marry a Church member, her husband, John, supported her in her beliefs. One by one their children were born: Corie (15), Lauren (13), Brittany (12), Michael (10), Chandler (7), Ty (5), Abigail (2), and Drew (11 months). Their family shared a lot of happiness and love. But one thing was missing: Dad had never joined the Church. He attended regularly and participated as fully as he could without being a member. But his family wanted him to become a member so that they could be sealed together as an eternal family.
Michael was going on eight. His dad had never had the opportunity to give a name and a priesthood blessing to or baptize any of his children. A few months before his birthday, Michael decided that, “All I want for my birthday is for Dad to baptize me.” Michael, his mother, brother, and sisters fasted and prayed harder than ever that their father would decide to join the Church and be able to baptize Michael.
Weeks passed, then months. “We kept praying and praying and praying,” Michael recalled. The week before he turned eight, his mother said, “It didn’t work. We need to talk to the branch president about your baptism and who will perform it.”
“But Mom, we’re praying, we’re praying.”
The next Sunday Brother Altieri volunteered to talk to the branch president about Michael getting baptized and to take care of all the details.
In sacrament meeting, the family was stunned with joy when the branch president announced an upcoming baptism—not Michael’s, but his father’s! The family’s prayers had been answered! Brother Altieri was baptized that week, and the following week, Michael’s dream was realized when his father baptized him. Michael said, “I had really wanted him to baptize me, and it finally happened. It felt really good.”

Eight-year-old Katie didn’t remember until her bus pulled up to a rumbling stop in front of her house. Whitney and Jessie were already knocking at her door. The other girls were probably inside. “Oh no,” Katie thought with a sigh. “It’s Tuesday, and that means Primary activity day.”
“Race you to the door,” her brother said as he scrambled down the bus’s narrow black steps.
“Go ahead,” she called after him. “I want to be last today.” Katie hated activity days. “Well, not exactly hate,” she thought as she trudged across the grass. Her mom was the activity-day leader, and they had done a lot of fun things like making bread, learning to polka, and putting together their own journals.
But Katie just felt uncomfortable at activity days. When everyone came, there were eight girls all laughing and talking. She’d try to join in, but whenever she said something, somebody would say, “Oh,” and then go right back to what they were doing as if she hadn’t said anything.
Today wasn’t any different. When Katie tried to show everyone her new guinea pig, Squeakers, a few of the girls giggled at his soft fur, but as soon as the doorbell rang they raced to the door and forgot all about her.
When her mother told the girls to gather around the kitchen table to make invitations for their daddy-daughter dance, they scrambled around so they could sit next to their friends. Nobody tried to sit next to Katie.
And when the girls were playing tag on the lawn waiting for their moms to pick them up, Katie was sure that nobody noticed that she wasn’t there. They were too busy having fun without her.
“I don’t want to go to activity days anymore,” Katie said that night as her mother tucked her in bed.
Mother looked surprised. “Why not? I thought you liked activity days.”
“I would if it wasn’t for them,” Katie said.
“Them?” Mom asked.
Katie nodded. “Alyssa, Whitney, Jessie—all of them. They’re all a bunch of brats.” Katie knew that she wasn’t being very nice, but that’s how she felt. Mother sat down on the edge of the bed. “What have they done?”
“Nothing—that’s just it,” Katie said, trying to swallow the lump that had swelled up in her throat. “Nobody likes me.” The words sounded as awful as she felt.
Mother wrapped her arms around Katie and gave her a big hug.
“It’s hard to make friends with a big group. In fact, I’d say it’s impossible.”
Katie gulped. Impossible? Mom was supposed to make her feel better, not worse. “Then I’m definitely not going anymore,” she said.
“Impossible with a group,” Mother said. “But you could make friends with an individual. That’s one of the things I love about the gospel. Heavenly Father knows and loves each one of us individually—not just as a big group. Can you think of one girl you’d like to get to know better?”
Katie thought for a moment. There was Alyssa, Jessie, Whitney, Natalie, Hayley …
Katie stopped. Hayley. She hadn’t really thought of Hayley before. Hayley always came to activity days. She just wasn’t as loud as the other girls. “What about Hayley?” Katie asked.
“Why don’t you give her a call and invite her to play tomorrow?”
The next day Hayley arrived just as they’d planned. Katie showed Hayley her guinea pig and let her hold him in her lap. Hayley laughed at the funny whistling noises he made and the way he nibbled at her clothes. Katie found out that Hayley had a lot of pets—a rabbit, two dogs, and four cats!
They spent the rest of the afternoon jumping on the trampoline and making up stories with Katie’s dolls. Katie never knew that Hayley was such a good storyteller. They both had fun creating the latest doll fashions out of scraps of fabric they got from Katie’s mother.
Two hours seemed more like two minutes. Before they knew it, Hayley’s mom was picking her up.
On the next activity day, Katie raced her brother to their door and joined the girls who had already arrived. Katie and Hayley exchanged grins and began talking about all the things they’d done.
“OK, girls,” Katie’s mother announced. “Time to gather around the table.”
“Let’s sit over there, Hayley,” Katie said, pointing at the chairs on the other side of the table. Everyone was laughing and talking. It was fun to have a friend at activity day. Maybe Hayley and Natalie could come over next week.

By Talia Rodríguez, Switzerland

Prayer is an integral part of ministering like the Savior. Prayer can begin our search to know whom to bless. It can help us come to understand heaven’s will regarding how to bless. Prayer is also a key step in learning how to perform our duty.

My husband, Mario, suffered from COVID in the early days of the disease before vaccinations. The bishop asked an elder in our ward, Moroni, to give him a priesthood blessing.

Because he didn’t want to contract the virus and spread it to his family, Moroni needed heaven’s confirmation before proceeding. He knelt in prayer with his wife, waiting for peaceful assurance. When they felt at peace, his wife told him, “Go with your armor, Moroni.”

When he entered our home, we saw a warrior of the Lord. My husband shed tears of joy when he saw the brother bravely coming to give him the blessing he desired. It was an indescribable experience.

The Savior came through His servant, our dear brother Moroni, who laid his hands on Mario’s head and blessed him as Christ would.

“When Jana came home from the hospital, we felt a special close feeling between her and the rest of us. We had already decided as a family that even though Jana would not be able to do some things like other children, we were going to enjoy her a lot,” says Jodie. “She would always have care and love in our home.”
For the first month of Jana’s life, Jason, Jodie, and Jill didn’t see their new sister. When Jana was finally able to come home after a four-week stay at the hospital’s intensive-care unit, her brother and sisters were elated. “When we brought Jana home from the hospital, a special bond developed immediately between the other children and Jana,” says Sister Miriam Morrell, their mother. “I knew right then that Jana would never lack for care and love.”

The large, three-story building did not seem very promising. Nevertheless, Elder Brian McGavin stepped up and knocked on the drab, red double doors. While tracting, he had learned to be very thorough. Almost immediately he and his companion, Elder David Birrell, were greeted by a cheerful young student and ushered into a guest room. They had discovered the Po Ai orphanage.
Although the elders’ apartment in Taipei, Taiwan, was near the orphanage, they had never before found it among the winding streets, crowded with brick huts and foliage. The facilities of the orphanage were scant—two large bedrooms crammed with bunk beds, a kitchen, classroom, and the guest room.
The director of the orphanage, Mrs. Wu Mei-hen, entered the room with several members of her staff and listened politely to the missionaries’ message. After a short “What now?” pause, the missionaries began explaining the Family Home Evening Program.
Mrs. Wu and her staff responded with unexpected enthusiasm, and the next Monday was set for a trial family home evening.
How do you hold a family home evening for 30 orphans, ranging in age from 2 to 18? The elders weren’t quite sure, but they forged ahead anyway. The children were all given name tags and a short lesson was delivered. Just before the closing prayer everyone sang “There Is Beauty All Around” in Mandarin. Soon the evenings at the orphanage became a district project, and other missionaries helped with the Monday family home evenings.
After one of these evenings Elder McGavin wrote his mother about the success they were having teaching the children about the Church in spite of the poor conditions of the orphanage. Sister McGavin, the Laurel adviser in the Holladay 24th Ward, Salt Lake City, happened to be with some of her girls when she read the letter from her son. Immediately they began discussing ways they could help the Po Ai orphans.
After talking with the Explorers, the Laurels planned a bake sale to raise money for shoes and desks for the orphanage. The girls went to work baking cakes, pies, and cookies, while the Explorers put together a band to provide entertainment for the sale.
By coincidence a member of the ward, Sister Ann Burchett, was planning a trip to Taiwan. She was quickly drafted by the youth to present the money they had earned to the orphanage.
The day Sister Burchett arrived at the orphanage, the students planned a special family home evening. They greeted Sister Burchett by singing “There ls Beauty All Around” and presented other skits and songs. Mrs. Wu accepted the money from Sister Burchett and announced it would be taken directly to a carpenter so desks could be built.
A local newspaper, the China Post, wrote an article about the family home evenings, the efforts of the young people in Salt Lake, and the visit of Sister Burchett to the orphanage. The article quoted Confucius, “There is nothing to compare with the happiness of welcoming a friend from afar.” Because of their concern the LDS youth from Holladay were indeed friends from afar.

I guess I should start out by saying that I’m just a regular, ordinary, ten year old who lives on a very ordinary street—North Maple. I’ve been going to Primary since I was little, and, of course, I’ve been planning on going on a mission as long as I can remember. But practicing being a missionary is something I haven’t done much—that is, until about a month ago. And that’s where my being a regular, ordinary boy is so amazing. I mean, if I can do it, anybody can!
You probably should know that I’m the only member of the Church in my whole school, except for my little sister. A lot of people know we’re Latter-day Saints. It isn’t hard to figure out, since my family doesn’t go to the local sport club’s Sunday soccer games, we have family home evening every Monday night, and we read the Book of Mormon every day. Sometimes my friends tease me about all the things Latter-day Saints can’t do. One time Nick even wanted to know if Church members could drink milk—and he was serious!
Anyway, when my best friend’s family moved, I resigned myself to living out my days never having any members my own age in my school class. There were two other people in my Primary class, but they didn’t go to my school.
About a month ago, the Millers moved into our neighborhood. Right away Mom took over some of her homemade enchiladas, and Dad helped Mr. Miller carry in their furniture. I was pretty excited to find out that they had an eleven-year-old son who likes baseball cards.
Jeff invited me up to his room a few days later. There were still boxes and stuff all over the place. I was busy admiring his coin collection, when I noticed that he had a picture of Jesus Christ on his nightstand. Whoa! My thoughts started spinning. The whole rest of the room was pretty much a mess, but this picture looked like something he had unpacked right away. I knew he wasn’t a Mormon—I’d already found that out—so I asked him about the picture.
Jeff wasn’t embarrassed or anything. He said that his whole family had prayed a lot before they moved to decide whether his dad should take a job in Chicago or come here. They had felt very good about their decision. He said they didn’t know why they were supposed to move here, but they knew that Jesus Christ loved them and they were sure that He would bless them to know why someday.
Well, I started getting pretty tingly all over, and then I did a very scary thing for a regular, ordinary, ten year old. I told him that my whole family loved Jesus Christ, too, and that we prayed every day. I said I knew that someday his family would know why they had moved to this neighborhood.
Well, since then, Jeff and I have become good friends. He came with me to Primary Activity Day two weeks ago and asked a lot of questions about the Church. Some of the answers were easy, and others I had to find out from Mom and Dad. Even Mr. and Mrs. Miller are starting to ask about the Church. We’re having them over to our house next Friday to hear a missionary discussion with the elders. Who knows? Maybe I will live to see another member family live on North Maple Street.

Seminary students know there is an art to breaking in a new copy of the scriptures. The Ada Branch of the Norman Oklahoma Stake demonstrated the technique at a Super Saturday.
At the beginning of the seminary year, Jim, Alice, Chris, and Santee purchased brand-new copies with a sturdy black cover of imitation leather, designed to withstand being handled, used, held, and opened quickly in scripture chases; studied in cars on the way to Super Saturdays; and carried to class. When new, the pages stick together a little around the edges until fingers are slid between to separate them. Ada Branch’s scriptures had no sticky pages.
But still a few more refinements need to be made. The Norman seminary has a rule against using tags or bookmarks for marking references, but if in the heat of a scripture chase competition your book just happens to fall open to the right place because the page has been wrinkled, that’s fair. The pages are high quality, tissue-thin paper designed to resist tearing. They can withstand a little wrinkling. Of course, if you don’t know the reference, you won’t know which wrinkled page is the correct page. So Ada Branch was studying hard, learning references.
Seminary scriptures reach their ultimate usefulness when the student knows the feel and form of his own book so well that in looking up verses, it responds like a well-oiled instrument, an instrument of learning.
The Bibles of the Norman Oklahoma Stake seminary students were well oiled with use and study. Hands were itching to flip the pages to the correct reference. Students were on their toes while sitting down. It was Super Saturday with three favorite seminary activities—scripture chase, seminary bowl (which combines a New Era bowl with seminary lesson review), and a dance.
A Super Saturday in Oklahoma is like Super Saturdays all over. Seminary students drive miles from all over the far-flung stake and gather to compete and get to know each other better. During the car ride to the stake center, students quiz each other on past seminary lessons and recent copies of the New Era that might be used for questions in the seminary bowl. They create memory hooks to remember scripture references. “For the scripture about clean hands and pure heart,” said Chris Wade of the Ada Branch, “just remember palms to remind you of Psalms.”
“How am I going to remember the reference for the scripture that says, ‘I know that my redeemer liveth’?” asked another member of the Ada Branch team.
“I know how we can remember,” said Santee Wade, also of the Ada Branch. “Since it’s Job 19:25–26, how about this? I make 25 to 26 dollars an hour on 19th Street at my job.”
Making the extra effort to get an edge over their competition means extra study. One girl was overheard saying, “I studied every minute I could this week in between classes at school.” Since seminary is either held early-mornings or taken by home-study, it’s hard to get together with your team to review. Chris and Brad Hammock of the Noble Ward recruited their mother and sister to give them clues about things they studied in seminary and read in the New Era.
Competition is fun for these students, and, as Lana Lazenby, Norman Second Ward, put it, “It makes everyone study harder.”
The competition, held at the stake center, is split between two rooms. Home-study seminary students first compete in scripture chase while the early-morning students are holding a seminary bowl. The bowl competition consists of three teams of four with substitutes coming in and out between questions at each captain’s discretion. On the table in front of each student is a box with a button and a light. A quick tap on the button sounds a buzzer and lights the light. The first one to hit his button gets to answer the question. If he is wrong, then the buttons are reactivated and the other teams are given a second chance to answer.
The director asks a toss-up question. The team member that pushes the first button must answer the question without any help from team members. If the answer is correct, then the team is given a bonus question and the team may confer before giving the answer.
As each team seemed to gain momentum, the questions and answers flew fast and furious. “What project were the youth of the Bountiful Stake working on in the New Era article entitled ‘Captains of Ten’?” “Who became leader of the Israelites after Moses?” “What was the theme of the message by Elder Thomas Monson in the New Era article called ‘Crisis at the Crossroads’?” “Name the first five books of the Old Testament.” With good-natured groans at answers that just missed the mark and cheers with correct responses, the competition was exciting. After competing for her team, Marcia Garrett, Shawnee Ward, said, “I think this is great. But I read everything that they didn’t ask.” And Sandra Johnson, also of the Shawnee Ward, was plagued by a problem that many experience when under pressure. “With all these questions, my mind went blank.”
One team that did well had prepared. “We were hot,” said Melissa LeBlanc, Noble Ward. “We’ve been practicing on questions for the past few weeks.”
Although Danny Ellis’s Noble Ward team didn’t win the bowl competition, he summed up the feeling of many of the participants. “We got beat,” said Danny, “but we didn’t lose.” There are no losers when students are learning about the gospel.
At the Norman Oklahoma Stake Super Saturdays, competition is good-natured and fun. It’s a chance to review seminary lessons and get to know other members of the stake.
A New Era bowl is competition between two or more teams consisting of four members each. Questions based on selected copies of the New Era are asked by a moderator, and the first person from any team to answer correctly scores a certain number of points for his team. The team is then entitled to answer a bonus question. The team members may confer about it, but the answer is given by the captain.
Organization. The bowl should have a moderator who asks the questions, a judge who decides if an answer is adequate, a timer/scorekeeper, and as many teams of four as can be comfortably accommodated. If too many teams want to compete, perhaps two bowls could be held.
Game Apparatus. The ideal situation is to have an arrangement of buzzers with lights and a button in front of each contestant. When the first light is activated, it electronically exempts all other lights and buzzers from working. If this type of equipment is not available, the first person to raise his hand would be called on. The judge would decide whose hand was up first.
Time. The bowl can be held in two halves of about ten minutes each. Substitutions to teams can be made quickly only between questions, but the clock is not stopped. A short intermission of a minute or two can be held in between halves to let the teams relax for a moment.
Scoring. A toss-up question or question open to everyone is worth ten points. The player who hits his button first must answer the question immediately with out help from his team members. If he answers incorrectly, his team is penalized five points, and the other teams are given an opportunity to answer the question. If the other team also answers incorrectly, they are not penalized. The moderator then gives the correct answer and goes on to the next question.
If the player answers the question correctly, his team is awarded the ten points. The team may now answer the bonus question, which is worth five points. There is no penalty for answering the bonus question incorrectly. All team members may confer before the captain answers the question.
The game is over when the time runs out.

I was 26 when my husband and I lost our first child. Kennedy was diagnosed with a brain tumor when she was only 13 months old. After three surgeries, five rounds of chemotherapy, and many medications and treatments, she passed away in our arms at 20 months old.
I was devastated to lose my beautiful, curious, and energetic little girl. How could this happen? How could I move on? I had so many questions, but I didn’t have any answers. A couple of days after the funeral, my husband and I visited the gravesite, still covered with beautiful pink flowers and ribbons from the funeral.
As I thought about my daughter, I saw a tiny baby bird, too young to fly, hopping on the grass. This bird reminded me of Kennedy because she loved animals. The bird hopped over to the grave and played in the ribbons and flowers. I smiled, knowing this is exactly what Kennedy would have wanted. The bird then hopped toward me. I didn’t dare move a muscle. The little bird hopped right next to me, leaned against my leg, closed its eyes, and fell asleep.
I can hardly explain the feelings I had in that moment. I felt as if I was getting a hug from my Kennedy. I could not hold my daughter, but this little bird—a creation of our Father in Heaven—could come and rest its tiny head on me, reminding me that Heavenly Father understood my pain and would always be there to comfort me and help me through this trial.
I still didn’t have all the answers to my questions, but this tender mercy reassured me that Kennedy and I are both loved by our Heavenly Father and that through the atoning sacrifice of His Son, Jesus Christ, I have the hope that Kennedy, my husband, and I will one day be together again as a family.