Gospel Story Finder

Terry leaped out of the car and watched her family mingle with the crowd. Grandma was already kissing Mother. Grandpa was shaking Dad’s hand. Everywhere she looked there were relatives and more relatives. But where was Becky?
Two ice-cold hands grabbed her waist. “Gotcha!”
Terry screamed and jumped, then turned and saw Becky grinning at her. Becky’s black hair was pulled back into braids, and her brown eyes twinkled. “Welcome to the family reunion, cuz!” she said, merrily.
Terry wondered if she had changed as much as Becky had. Last year Becky had had short hair and glasses. Of course, last year I was two inches shorter, she thought. And my brown hair had been straight, not permed.
But outside changes didn’t matter. Inside they were the same, and seeing each other only once a year didn’t put a dent in their friendship. Instead it made them use their time together to its fullest advantage.
“Come have dinner,” Terry heard Aunt Georgia say as the whole group headed toward the backyard, where long tables were piled high with food.
Becky grinned at Terry. “I’ve saved us a place near the corn on the cob.” She escorted Terry to their seats, and they gingerly sat down on the makeshift benches.
“What plans do we have?” Terry asked, reaching for the corn with one hand and the mashed potatoes with the other.
Becky lowered her voice. “Are you tired of being treated like a kid?”
Terry nodded. “Every year it’s the same: ‘You’re too young. Let one of the older kids handle it.’ When do we get to be older kids?” She waved her corn for emphasis.
Becky agreed. “We’re nine years old and deserve some respect!”
“But how do we prove that we’re old enough to do the same things that the older kids get to do?” Terry asked.
“We should do something spectacular,” Becky decided.
“Well, I don’t know about spectacular,” Terry said, pausing to slap a mosquito. “But maybe we could do something responsible and helpful. Grown-ups love that.”
Becky’s eyes widened as she looked around the farm’s backyard. “I know!”
Terry was puzzled until she saw what Becky was looking at. “You mean … ?”
“Sure! It’s a chore that Grandma has to do every day.” Becky paused to eat a bite of dessert. “Won’t she be pleased when we do it for her?”
“I don’t know,” Terry said, doubtful. “She doesn’t even let any of our aunts do it for her. Maybe there’s more to it than we know.”
“What could be so hard?” Becky smiled. “Unless, of course, you’re”—she giggled—“chicken.”
Terry laughed too.
“Tomorrow morning, early,” Becky finally whispered through her giggles.
“OK,” Terry replied. “I didn’t eggs-pect to sleep late.”
This remark sent them both into another bout of helpless laughter.
When the sun rose the next morning, Terry’s eyes popped open as if an alarm clock had rung. She reached over to shake Becky. Grandma and Grandpa would be getting up soon to do the chores. The rooster crowed, and the cows were mooing by the barn gate.
Becky and Terry wiggled out of their sleeping bags on the front lawn and ran sleepy fingers through their rumpled hair.
Quietly they crept to the back of the house and eased open the kitchen door. All was quiet.
Hanging on the wall next to the door was the egg basket. Every morning Grandma collected the chickens’ eggs.
Terry smiled, envisioning Grandma’s face when they presented her with the basket full of eggs. This would prove that they weren’t little kids anymore.
Outside the chicken coop, they could hear the hens clucking and the rooster crowing. It seemed very loud. Terry hesitated and saw indecision in Becky’s face as well. “Chicken!” she whispered and swung back the bar holding the door in place.
They had imagined that the chickens would be in neat little boxes, clucking gently, with eggs in piles on the floor. It wasn’t at all like that.
When they walked in, the chickens were suddenly silent. Then, as if they had been waiting for just this moment, they launched an attack. Three chickens cornered the girls while the rest surged like a tidal wave of feathers through the open door, the rooster in the lead. Then the three attacking chickens sought freedom themselves.
“What are we going to do now?” Terry whispered in a quavery voice.
Becky offered a one-word solution: “Panic!”
The girls ran into the yard. They tried to catch the chickens but without any luck. In desperation, they ran into the house, yelling, “The chickens are out! The chickens are out!”
Soon the backyard was filled with pajama-clad adults and children chasing chickens. The chickens seemed to view this as great sport. They used the small children for cover and ran between the legs of adults trying to grab them. They hid under the porch, and a few even flew as far as the lower branches of the oak tree, where they roosted and watched the fun below.
Uncles were shouting, aunts were waving bathrobes, children were laughing, and chickens were clucking. Grandma Christensen came out of the house, surveyed the backyard filled with feathers and family, then turned and went back into the house.
Huddled by a window in an upstairs bedroom, Becky and Terry hoped to hide out until the excitement died down.
Suddenly they heard a quiet voice behind them. “Interesting circus outside, isn’t it?”
With a gasp they turned to face Grandma Christensen. She stood just inside the door, looking past them out the window.
“Now I wonder how those chickens could have gotten out?”
Terry and Becky exchanged guilty glances. “We let them out,” Terry said, solemnly. “We’re awfully sorry.”
“It was an accident,” Becky asserted. “We were just trying to help.”
Grandma looked them both over sternly, and then her eyes softened. “Well,” she said briskly, “they’re out. Now, how are you going to get them back in?”
“Us?” They looked at each other and then at the feathers flying in the yard.
“Well,” she continued, “you were inventive enough to get them out. Just show the same ingenuity in getting them back in. Consider it a challenge.”
Numbly they nodded. As Grandma turned to go, Terry asked, “How did you know we’d be up here?”
For the first time Grandma smiled. “Because this is where I hid when I left the gate open and let my father’s cows into the garden.” She went out, closing the door behind her.
Five minutes later Terry and Becky went downstairs. By that time the yard was a combat zone. Chickens were still running and clucking all over the yard. The rooster sat on a windowsill, just out of reach, crowing directions to his troops. In the human ranks, enthusiasm had been replaced by desperation. Several chickens had three of the younger cousins backed up against the barn and pecked their toes whenever they tried to move.
The two girls went over by their grandmother. “We need everyone out of the yard,” Terry explained.
Grandma smiled. “That’s easy.” She went to the porch and rang the dinner bell. “Breakfast everyone!”
The yard cleared miraculously. Only Becky and Terry and the chickens were left.
Becky and Terry went into the barn, took bowls from a shelf and filled them with chicken feed. By the time they stepped outside again, the chickens were clucking contentedly and beginning to forage in the yard.
Becky and Terry snuck around to the chicken farthest from the coop and began laying a trial of chicken feed. Soon the chicken began to follow. As the girls walked through the yard, leaving trails of cracked corn and grain, more and more chickens followed them. Terry felt like the Pied Piper. Even the chickens in the trees were intrigued enough to investigate. Soon all the birds were following the girls.
The chickens were so intent on their breakfast that they didn’t even notice when they entered the chicken coop. Both girls dumped their bowls at the very back of the coop, and soon it was a riot of noise as all the chickens fought for their fair share.
Using the clucking and squawking as cover, Terry and Becky quickly tiptoed to the door. After gently dropping the wooden bar into place, the girls leaned against the outside of the coop and sighed with relief.
Becky looked at Terry and started to giggle. Terry giggled too. Soon both girls were leaning against the door, barely able to stand because of their laughter.
“That wasn’t eggs-actly what I was eggs-pecting to happen,” Becky choked out at last.
“Well, now we know that if we chicken out, we have to chicken in again,” Terry said with as straight a face as she could manage.
“Maybe it’s just as well that we only see each other once a year,” Becky said with a final giggle.

As I think back to the events in my life leading to a cold morning in New York City in February 1910, I am convinced that God had been mindful of my existence. That morning the caretaker of the Italian chapel delivered a note to me from the pastor. He was ill in bed and wished me to come to his house, as he had important matters to discuss regarding the affairs of the parish.
As I walked down a street near the harbor, the strong wind from the sea moved the pages of a book lying on a barrel full of ashes. The appearance of the pages and the binding made me think that it was a religious book. Curiosity pushed me to approach it. I picked it up and beat it against the barrel to knock off the ashes. It was printed in the English language, but when I looked to the title page, I found it was torn away.
The force of the wind turned the pages, and I hastily read Alma, Mosiah, Mormon, Moroni, Isaiah, Lamanites—except for Isaiah, all were names I had never before heard. I wrapped the book in a newspaper I had bought nearby and continued my walk toward the pastor’s house.
After a few words of comfort there, I decided what I should do for him. On the way home, I wondered who the people with the strange names might be. And who was this Isaiah? Was he the one in the Bible, or some other Isaiah?
At home, I seated myself before the window, anxious to know what was printed in the book. As I turned the torn pages and read the words of Isaiah, I was convinced that it was a religious book that talked of things to come. But I did not know the name of the church that taught such doctrine, because the cover and title page had been ripped off. The declaration of the witnesses gave me confidence that it was a true book.
I then bought some cleaning fluid and some cotton at the neighborhood drugstore and began cleaning the pages. For several hours I read the remainder of the pages, which gave me light and knowledge and made me wonder about the source from which this fresh revelation had come. I read and reread, twice and twice again, and I felt that the book was a fifth gospel of the Redeemer.
At the end of the day, I locked the door of my room, knelt with the book in my hands, and read chapter ten of the book of Moroni. I prayed to God, the Eternal Father, in the name of his son, Jesus Christ, to tell me if the book were of God, if it were good and true, and if I should use its words with the words of the four gospels in my preaching.
I felt my body become cold as the wind from the sea. Then my heart began to beat faster, and a feeling of gladness, as of finding something precious and extraordinary, comforted my soul and left me with a joy that human language cannot find words to describe. I had received the assurance that God had answered my prayer and that the book was of greatest benefit to me and to all who would listen to its words.

Thirty years ago, while I served as a missionary in the Near East, my companion and I were assigned to visit a branch that had been torn apart by apostasy. We approached our assignment humbly and prayerfully. A crucial meeting was scheduled involving the disaffected parties. After we had fasted and prayed earnestly, my companion stood with confidence and spoke with the tongue of an angel. That young, inexperienced elder’s words healed wounds festering in the hearts of men much older than he, prompted confessions, and literally saved a branch of the church.

It’s not unusual to see two girls giggling as they try to stay up on ice skates. But how often do they do it while working on Personal Progress? In this case, it’s one of many things young women in the Centerville Ward of the Fremont Stake in northern California have done to help one of their own. The skating activity was tailor-made to fit the needs of Jennifer Beck, who has Down syndrome.
Motivated by the spiritual growth and blessings they had seen others receive through participation in Personal Progress, the stake Young Women presidency prayerfully sought guidance about how to help Jennifer, a Mia Maid. Their prayers were answered when they found the following instruction:
“Value Experiences and Value Projects may be modified according to personal or local circumstances, interests, and needs with the prior approval of parents and Young Women leaders. … After careful consideration by parents and leaders, modifications may be appropriate to meet the needs of young women with disabilities” (Guidebook for Parents and Leaders of Youth [pamphlet, 2001], 19–20).
That was how to bring Personal Progress to Jennifer!
The young women and their leaders were asked to read through the Value Experiences in the Personal Progress book and to select one that they felt they could help Jennifer complete. They were encouraged to modify the selected value experience to better suit Jennifer’s abilities by asking themselves, “What is the intent of this Value Experience? What is it that Jennifer is supposed to learn from this experience?”
Each young woman made a written commitment to carry out the Value Experience they would share with Jennifer. All of the commitments were organized onto a calendar indicating who would meet with Jennifer each month and what experience would be completed. This commitment calendar ensured that Jennifer would experience Personal Progress on a regular basis without being overwhelmed. It also helped the Young Women presidency, Jennifer, and her parents to track what she had accomplished.
Since then, Jennifer has had regular Personal Progress experiences that have helped her feel the Spirit and better understand her own divine nature. “Suppose 23 girls took a special interest in you,” her mother, Judy, says. “When people spend time with Jennifer, she feels a bond that makes her life much richer.”
The young women and leaders who have partnered with Jennifer have also received unexpected blessings. “When I met with Jennifer to complete the sixth Value Experience, in Choice and Accountability, I felt like I received more than I gave,” remembers one of the stake leaders. “Hearing her simple yet pure understanding of the Young Women theme and what it means to be a daughter of God taught me so much about His love for each one of us. I felt her testimony of Jesus Christ when I met with Jennifer to create a collection of pictures of the Savior for a sacrament picture book.”
Laura Dunford worked with Jennifer to teach her the principle of tithing. “We made a little box for savings, one for spending money, and most importantly, one for tithing,” Laura explains. “It was really fun. Jennifer is wonderful, and I love her.”
Emily Topham helped Jennifer perform service. “I knew she liked to cook, so I decided to help her make a pizza dinner for her family. We laughed a lot, and afterward she told me her family enjoyed the yummy food. We were both happy to make someone smile.”
At Christmastime Jennifer was able to participate in a hand-bell concert at an interstake pageant. This was a thrilling experience, one she remembers and often talks about.
Jennifer also recalls working in the ward nursery, learning about service by collecting donations for a humanitarian project, learning about listening to clean music and watching appropriate movies, and of course ice skating.
With diligent effort and some help from her friends, Jennifer Beck completed her Personal Progress goals and received her Young Women Medallion. The young women and their leaders in the Freemont Ward appreciated this opportunity to share spiritual experiences with Jennifer, and they continue to be blessed by her sweet testimony and loving spirit. They truly have become united.

One day I was driving my family through the nearby mountains for a family home evening activity. As we made our way among the sharp curves I asked them if they felt I had diligently served the Lord in the preceding week. They all agreed that, as a bishop, I had put in many hours. I asked, “If I have truly sought first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, how many of you have faith that all these things shall be added to me and that God will take care of us?” (see Matt. 6:33.) There was some hesitation at first, then a general agreement that God was bound by the scriptures to do so.

“Well, then,” I replied with cheery confidence, “it has been a hard day and I’m tired of being careful. I think I will just let go of the wheel and let God take us to our destination.” Pandemonium broke loose in the car. Four of our five children were embarrassed at having insufficient faith to turn the wheel over to God. The two-year-old’s faith was unshaken—she didn’t care who drove. My good wife came to the children’s rescue when she turned to me and spoke in their behalf, “We believe God could get us to our destination, but he has no need to do so. You are already in the driver’s seat. Please keep your hands on the wheel and drive carefully.”

“Yes,” I said. “Serving God and building his kingdom can be the most joyous endeavor of life, and it can bring blessings. But it doesn’t excuse us from using judgment and caution in the daily affairs of life. In fact, we can get additional light on those subjects too. End of lesson.”

When I was a sophomore at the university, I was looking for my future career and I was considering dropping out of that university and transferring to another. Because of this, I did not enjoy my university life at that time. Are you enjoying your campus life? I was struggling a bit with my future career. Let me tell you my story.

One day, I received inspiration that I should pray like Enos did. I knew that Enos prayed mightily. After I had that inspiration, I set the date that I would pray as Enos did. To prepare for that date, I fasted. I also came up with questions that I would ask Heavenly Father and I wrote down thoughts of what I wanted to do and what I wanted to become.

I started praying and felt incredibly good, but I had a tough time getting answers to my questions. I prayed for a while, meditated, prayed again, and so on. My soul was hungry like Enos’ soul. I kneeled and cried to Heavenly Father in mighty prayer.

I prayed all day long as well. The answer Enos received was, “Enos, thy sins are forgiven thee, and thou shalt be blessed.”[3] The answer I received was different. I received specific answers and advice. For me, every time I prayed, I felt Heavenly Father’s love so strongly that it prompted me to think about my future deeply.

I started praying in the morning, meditated repeatedly, prayed again, and my thoughts of my future gradually solidified, and my heart became increasingly calm and peaceful. Through this fasting and praying, I got two promptings. The one was good advice that I should visit two professors to receive their counsel. The other one was that I would be a university professor. I followed those promptings. I visited the professors’ offices and asked them for their counsel. They gave me good advice to help me make good decisions. I did not quit university or change schools, and I studied hard to go on to graduate school.

Two years later, I went to one of the best graduate schools in Japan, then started teaching at a university, becoming a professor at the age of forty. That experience strengthened my testimony of prayer, receiving revelation, and of Jesus Christ.

Young Women General President Bonnie Cordon was invited by artist Joseph Brickey to a warehouse in Orem, Utah that had been converted into his art studio. There, she observed his work on his latest commission—an “enormous” mural for the temple visitors’ center in Rome, Italy. The 27-foot-tall by 50-foot-wide painting would serve as the backdrop for the statues of the Christus and Twelve Apostles. He handed President Cordon a paintbrush and palette of paint and invited her to paint a flower on the masterpiece. “I knew I was not qualified,” President Cordon recalled. “I said to him, ‘I’m not a painter.’ To which he kindly replied, ‘That’s okay, I am.’” With tentative, tiny brush strokes, she added purple paint to his masterpiece. “My simple offering, when touched by the master’s hand, created something I never thought was possible,” she said.[16] “Christ never asked us to give more than we have to give. Rather, He asks, pleads, and invites us to learn of Him, come to Him, trust Him, and let Him make us more than we are. . . . When we put Christ in His proper place, when we come to Him and get to know Him, there is nothing that He can’t equal us to. With Christ, we can be kinder. With Christ, we will feel loved. With Christ, we will always have a friend. With Christ, we will be happy. For with Christ we are enough. We are powerful. We are more.”[17]

I learned a very important lesson when I was your age. Upon my return from my mission, I took up selling cars at Ballard Motor Company as part-time work while I attended the university. I worked hard and became quite successful. I was taking many classes in business and knew that as a part-time salesman I was earning considerably more money than the professors who were teaching me in the business school.

So I said to myself, “If I quit school and put full-time effort into sales, I could really become financially secure.”

Big mistake! I only had one year left to graduate. In making that decision I lost my focus on what mattered most.

For many years I have wished that I had graduated. Now, in my business career I don’t believe a degree would have affected my capacity to earn money, but the fact that I would have held a degree over these many years would have been a wise thing for me to have accomplished. So I congratulate each one of you on your day of graduation from Brigham Young University.

A while ago I met a boy, and this week I had the privilege of spending some time with him and his family. This boy has muscular atrophy. He is a remarkable young man, loved by everyone in the ward. He has always wanted to do the things the other fellows do. He has succeeded in Cub Scouting. He is now a First Class Scout and is progressing.

While Jay was a deacon, he passed the sacrament with the others. He can’t walk or stand on his feet, so his dad lined up with the other boys, holding Jay with his strong arm around his waist and helping him hold the tray, since his hands are not strong enough to support it. Jay’s father thus assisted his son from row to row as he passed the sacrament. Jay did a great job as a deacon collecting fast offerings too. His dad carried him from door to door. Can you imagine that scene on the doorstep?

Jay bears a strong testimony; his attitude and outlook are amazing. He gives talks and does well. He has sung in Church, and always when he does these things, his dad is there to hold him in his arms and stand by him and support him.

In all my life I never heard a sweeter story nor a more moving one. God bless such a father, and God bless such a son, and God bless us who have so much and who have yet a little time, that we may take another look at our boy or at the boy who needs some additional help outside his home. God bless you boys to appreciate your dads, to be patient and gracious and forgiving.

It was a long process for Sukardi of Indonesia and his family to find closure and hope following the 2004 tsunami that devastated the coasts of Southeast Asia.
“We thought it was the end of the world; it was unbelievable,” said Sukardi, looking back to December 26, 2004, the day a massive underwater earthquake struck off the coast of Indonesia, causing a tsunami that killed more than 225,000 people in 11 countries. “But we are alive, and we are together, and we are happy.”
Sukardi, like thousands of others, lost family members and friends, his home, land, and nearly his life. After being washed away with the tsunami, he managed to grab hold of a coconut tree and cling to it as he waited for the floodwaters to recede.
Joined by family members, each with similar survival stories, Sukardi now resides in a home built with the help of Latter-day Saint Charities, an arm of Church Humanitarian Services, as part of the Church’s efforts to assist tsunami survivors.
The Church’s emergency relief efforts during the months immediately following the tragedy provided commodities such as food, hygiene kits, medical supplies, and clothing. Because of members’ significant donations, the Church began planning longer-term relief. As part of that long-term effort, fishermen and carpenters were given jobs constructing more than 130 replacement fishing boats. Men were hired to use large, wide-tracked backhoes to help reconstruct the dikes around shrimp farms. Sewing machines, looms, hand tractors, and other tools were donated to encourage a return to self-sufficiency.
“All of the first year was focused on reestablishing livelihood and helping individuals get back to work,” said Brett Bass, director of Church Humanitarian Services. “Then we looked at our resources, identified the most pressing needs, and refocused our efforts on permanent reconstruction.”
The Church’s efforts included constructing community centers, homes, schools, medical clinics, and clean water systems—all made possible by a tremendous outpouring of humanitarian generosity. In the time of need, Church members from around the world contributed to help make these efforts possible.
The Church’s monumental efforts in Indonesia concluded in December 2007. Major projects included building 902 homes and 3 community centers, constructing 15 schools, building 3 fully equipped health clinics, rebuilding a hospital wing, and completing 24 village water projects.
Abdul Samad lived in a hastily constructed community barracks for two and a half years before he and his family moved into their new home. He lost his wife and her mother in the flood but now hopes to make life better for his remaining family, three daughters and a son.
Each of the 902 homes built and donated is 44 square meters. The hundreds of recipients frequently said they believe their homes were the best homes built, that they would pass them on to their children and grandchildren. They loved the colors used and the tile on the floors and expressed gratitude for having something solid and reliable in their lives again.
“When the earthquake hit and the tsunami followed, the first thing they did, if they were in their house, was run outside,” said Jeff McMurdo from International Organization for Migration, which partnered with the Church to build homes. “From the moment it started, they were running. So when they get the keys to a house, they are able to get some measure of closure to the whole tragedy of the tsunami experience.”
The Church continued rebuilding efforts by partnering with Islamic Relief and the Adventist Development and Relief Agency to build 15 schools, along with training new teachers and developing curriculum and education support systems.
Many of the area’s teachers were killed in the tsunami, creating a significant teacher shortage. Kamaruzzaman, a teacher from Banda Aceh, is one of just two surviving teachers from his school. With the loss of buildings, teachers, and children, the education system operated in a very makeshift fashion until these new schools were constructed.
“They have been going to a temporary building for school—a community hall where there are about 40 students in the room,” said Kamaruzzaman, who is now a head schoolmaster of a newly built school. “The students now have a better school that’s more helpful to learning. They now have a more hopeful future.”
Each school building was furnished with desks, whiteboards, and libraries to provide a quality learning environment for children. As more teachers became available, an emphasis was put on training and developing new curriculum.
Herliana, an education coordinator for Islamic Relief, said she is very proud to be a part of this project. “There were no schools; there were few trained teachers left,” she said. “This has been a great contribution to the communities. Together we are making a big difference in the lives of the children, teachers, parents, and families.”
Fauziah, an animated and smiling woman, is now a water operator for her small village near Bireuen in Aceh Provence. In this position, she keeps records and collects water-usage fees from those who use the community’s new water system.
In partnership with International Relief and Development, the Church completed 24 village water projects that consisted of renovating wells, installing storage tanks, improving sanitation, and upgrading delivery systems. These efforts are providing clean water to 20,000 people.
“Before, it was hard to get good water and it took a long time to go get it,” said Fauziah as she expressed gratitude to have access right outside her home. “Now our children will be healthier and will have a better future.”
Bath and laundry facilities were also built in the villages, and residents received training on how to take care of the facilities and keep them clean.
While each village also received personal hygiene training, the more elaborate efforts to improve healthcare moved forward with the completion of three fully equipped health clinics and the rebuilding of a hospital wing.
“This is much-needed,” said Syarman, a community leader in the Bireuen district, where access to medical care previously required a 15-kilometer walk. “Our people will be able to get needed medical assistance near their homes. It is better than before, and we are grateful.”
The Church also arranged training for doctors and medical staff and provided needed medical equipment.
For Bill and Linda Hamm of Anchorage, Alaska, USA, the work presented a personal challenge: they were called to serve as humanitarian service missionaries to oversee tsunami relief efforts in Indonesia. “We were exhilarated by the challenges and overwhelmed by the opportunity,” Brother Hamm said.
This opportunity was also extended to Jim and Karen Greding of Thousand Oaks, California, USA, a couple called to oversee the completion of the projects after Brother and Sister Hamm’s 18-month mission concluded. With the assignment to be present and to check on the work being done, these individuals acted as representatives not only of the Church, but also of the many individuals who made contributions.
“We were to oversee the quality of the work and to make sure the money allotted for projects was being used properly,” Sister Greding said. Church representatives were present at every stage of the process, an act that, combined with their funding methods, distinguished the Church from other organizations.
“We regarded our finances as sacred funds and made every effort to see these funds used efficiently and not be wasted,” said Bill Reynolds, director of field operations for tsunami relief. “Many organizations provide funding and wait to see what is happening through infrequent reports. We provided sequential funding that relied on benchmark expectations that we personally oversaw. The organizations we worked with knew that if we said we wanted something done and in a certain way, they needed to meet those expectations.”
The Church focused on helping Indonesia and its people take a simple step forward, a step away from tragedy and pain, a step toward reestablishing life. While these efforts played just a small part among the many individuals and organizations that offered aid to the tsunami victims, the missionaries were able to share their love, the love of the members, and the pure love of Christ.
“We were not permitted to proselyte, but we were representing the Lord and tried to share our testimonies through our work by being kind, polite, or simply by smiling,” Sister Hamm said. “Sometimes we had the opportunity to explain where the funds came from, and we told about our prophet and how he called for a 24-hour fast, with the money that would otherwise be spent on food to be donated to a special fund. I think the Spirit bore witness and they understood that there were individuals around the world who loved them.”
Evidences of the tsunami are still very much apparent, but the people have expressed gratitude for every effort that has been made on their behalf.
“This is simply an experience you can never forget, and anyone who travels to these areas will not be able to miss the evidences of destruction where the land became sea permanently, where so many lost their lives and loved ones,” Sister Greding said. “But many who were suspicious of Christians have changed their hearts. Some stared at us, but most in their limited English said to us, ‘Thank you, mister.’ We heard that often.”

One summer many, many years ago, my mother decided it would be a great project for her children to refinish the dining room chairs. The chairs were painted a dark cherry color, and my mother had discovered that underneath that paint was good, hard maple wood.
I will never forget that experience. We began by applying a nasty solvent called toluene to all the painted surfaces, and then we scraped the paint off. Once the paint was removed, we had to sand the wood with several grades of sandpaper in order to remove the very last bits of paint and to prepare the wood for a new finish. When the sanding was finally done, we applied a finish to highlight the grain and enhance the wood’s natural color. In the final step we sealed the new hardwood finish with two coats of varnish. Those chairs were transformed!
I think about that experience every time I read Alma’s penetrating question to the members of the Church in Zarahemla:
Behold, are ye stripped of pride? I say unto you, if ye are not ye are not prepared to meet God. Behold ye must prepare quickly; for the kingdom of heaven is soon at hand, and such an one hath not eternal life.1
The words “are ye stripped of pride?” evoke in me images and smells from that summer. I think of toluene and scraping and stripping and sanding to get down to bare wood. When I think of the finishing process with a vibrant color and the protecting sealing varnish, I think of the description of the Savior as “the author and finisher of our faith”2 and the words of King Benjamin to his people:
Therefore, I would that ye should be steadfast and immovable, always abounding in good works, that Christ, the Lord God Omnipotent, may seal you his.3

Third checklist item: Live the commandments. Never feed the foxes! What does that mean? Breaking commandments is like feeding foxes. In England where we live, my wife and I had heard that foxes were right in town. We wanted to see a fox. A neighbor told us that if we left food for the foxes we probably would see one. Our butcher gave us some bones. Each night we would place some bones out in the backyard. Soon a fox came to eat. Then a few more. Now we have at least five foxes racing through our flower garden, digging up the lawn, and leaving a shambles every night, sort of like a furry Jurassic Park.

What started out as a curiosity is now a problem, and sin is much the same. An indiscretion can begin a process that can make a mess of a whole life. Remember, if you don’t start feeding the foxes, they will never tear up your yard. If you avoid making the seemingly small and harmless mistakes, your life will be free of many larger problems later on. Be a courageous young man by living straight. Create happy memories for yourselves and those around you.

One bright, warm Saturday morning, gangs of teenagers invaded the little town of Guadalupe, Arizona. They were all dressed alike. They were spraying paint, breaking up concrete, hanging out at the park, and having a loud, noisy time.
Of course, they were also laying sod, repairing mailboxes, cleaning up empty lots, building handicapped ramps, landscaping homes, restoring the median in the middle of the main road, interviewing residents for town and family histories, furnishing some temporary homes, and, in general, doing good wherever they went.
Persuading more than a thousand teens to donate their muscles and their time on a Saturday was due to the efforts of the East Valley Youth Service Committee, an organization combining youth in Gilbert, Arizona, from St. Anne’s Catholic Church with the youth from five Gilbert LDS stakes.
The whole idea of interfaith service projects got started when Father Doug Lorig of St. Anne’s Catholic Church wrote a letter to Salt Lake City asking how the youth in Gilbert of both the Catholic and LDS faiths could become united. The answer came through President John Lewis of the Gilbert Arizona Stake. The youth could become united as they served together.
But where? Who needed lots and lots and lots of helping hands?
The town of Guadalupe was the answer.
Guadalupe is the name of a major road that runs through the towns of Tempe and Gilbert, Arizona. Everyone knows Guadalupe Road. It’s a major thoroughfare lined with fast-food restaurants, gas stations, churches, and neighborhoods. But most teens didn’t know what is at the end of Guadalupe Road, right where the street ends. At that spot, just a little over a mile square, is the tiny town of Guadalupe.
Several members of the East Valley Youth Service Committee were assigned to do some calling. Their quest, to find some places that needed service. One young woman contacted Mary E. Hoy, the assistant town manager of Guadalupe. “She called and said, ‘We’d like to do a project in your town. What would you like us to do?’” said Mary. “I had a couple of pages of things that needed to be done because we have so much need here.”
To Mary’s great surprise, instead of picking one or two items off her list, the report came back that the committee had anticipated being able to do almost everything on her list. “The town has been very excited,” reports Mary. “They love the idea of these teens coming to help.” With nearly 1,500 teens and their adult leaders attending, the town’s population doubled for that one day.
Mary’s list included turning a flood retention basin into a park, painting a mural on a noise wall, replacing or repairing all mailboxes, building ramps for houses of handicapped residents, hauling rubbish from the lots of elderly residents, painting homes and repairing roofs, interviewing families for the town’s historical record, beautifying the town’s center street median, and collecting furniture for and landscaping around emergency housing.
The first meeting was at a public auditorium, when the whole idea of working together in service, in addition to gathering support and donations from the community, was presented to anyone interested. Chad Heywood, 16, of the Freestone Park Ward in the Gilbert stake, said, “I’ve had a lot of kids come up to me and ask how they can get involved in it. It’s a fun thing to do now.”
Jennifer Barger, the adult volunteer supervisor from St. Anne’s Catholic Church, said, “I think the more they got involved, the more eager they were to participate. It’s a growing thing, with each other and with the town. It’s been quite a neat experience.”
As the planning for the project progressed, the teens involved started to discover a change in their attitudes. Aubree Wright, 17, of the Gilbert Ninth Ward, Gilbert Val Vista Stake, said, “The first couple of meetings, I was not feeling like I wanted to go. The more I went, it just became such a neat thing. I was looking forward to it. I’ve seen it in other kids too. You can tell that it’s starting to touch them.”
You might not think that getting together on one Saturday and hauling sod or painting a house would do all that much for world peace. But each action, each person doing one good thing, can begin to change the world. Standing shoulder to shoulder with shovels and rakes in hand with God’s children of other beliefs and cultures can make a difference. Melissa Geiger, 19, of St. Anne’s Catholic Church, was asked to be a youth representative on the planning committee. She said, “It sounds like an enormous task, making peace in the world. We can start small and meet on a common ground of service. That was our basis.”

As a teenage boy, I struggled a lot with my identity. I wondered why I was on this earth and who I was supposed to become. When I was about 13, the principal of my school gave every student a copy of the New Testament with English and Japanese side-by-side. “It isn’t for religious purposes,” he said. “It is a very good translation, so use it to study English.” When I opened it up though, it gave scripture references for when you feel lonely, need answers to your questions, or are struggling. I could relate to all of those situations!
I read about Jesus Christ. “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28). “Take up [your] cross, and follow me” (Matthew 16:24). The words resonated with me even though I didn’t fully understand them. I wondered who Jesus Christ is and what it means to have Him as a Savior. I wondered if I was the only one feeling such a connection to what was supposed to be a textbook.
A few years later I met some missionaries for the first time. My parents had warned me about the young Christians who were going around preaching. As I was walking home, a tall American missionary with a kind smile stopped me. I didn’t know what to do. I was afraid he would talk about his church. If he had, I might have run the other way! All he asked was how to find the post office. I told him and then walked home.
As I walked away, I felt something. If I see the missionaries again, I thought, I will talk to them.
Not long after that, I ran into a different set of missionaries. I was shocked that God would hear and answer the prayers of a boy like me, until I read about Joseph Smith. I had read in the New Testament to pray always, but God appearing to a man? It felt both radical and right. Rather than run away, I set up an appointment to have them teach me.
A month into meeting with the missionaries, they invited me to be baptized. I didn’t want to turn them down, but I was hesitant to leave the tradition of my parents and everyone around me. There were two paths before me, and I knew there was only one way to know which one to take—I had to pray like Joseph Smith. I asked Heavenly Father, in the name of Jesus Christ, if the things the missionaries had been teaching me were true.
That was my turning point. From then on, I knew for myself that the restored gospel is true. No one could take that knowledge away from me. I knew which path to follow, and nothing could change that.
I had many questions when I was younger. I learned that I am a child of God, He loves me, He has a plan for me, and He wants to answer my prayers. This knowledge changed my entire perspective on life. I learned that who I am and what I do is significant.
Before I learned that I was a child of God, I wanted to blend in with everyone. I was afraid of standing out. But after I learned that I am a child of God, I realized I can stand out; I can be different.
Praying and realizing that I am a son of God gave me the courage to explain my feelings to my parents, but they didn’t quite understand. They thought I was rebellious and too immature to make the decision to be baptized. They were embarrassed that their son was following this strange religion rather than their traditions. I knew who I was and what I wanted, but I also wanted to honor my parents and hoped they would honor my religion.
I explained my situation to the sister missionaries. They had an idea—they could come talk to my parents so that they would feel better about this religion. I told them I was afraid my parents wouldn’t want to talk to them. Then one of the sisters suggested that we fast together.
When I didn’t eat breakfast, my mom was worried. “Why didn’t you eat?” she asked. I explained that I was fasting, and that made her even more concerned.
“First you are going to this no-man’s land of religion, and now you are not eating. I’m worried. I’m shocked! I’m going to call those missionaries.”
She did call the sisters, and somehow they got themselves invited to our house for dinner!
We had a great time. The missionaries taught my parents the hymn “I Am a Child of God” (Hymns, no. 301), and we sang it together. My father loved that. After dinner with the sisters, neither of my parents was worried about me going to church. And I felt I was able to honor them by living the gospel because it really encompassed everything they had taught me. I thought if I loved them long enough and treated them kind enough, eventually they would understand. It took 35 years after my baptism, but my mother was baptized and went through the temple just a few years ago!
Knowing that I’m a child of God has impacted many of my life decisions. I also know that as we follow the Spirit and do what Heavenly Father asks of us, even when it seems hard, He will bless us. That is always the best choice.

The Pacific Area Presidency invited members and friends of the Church to make extra efforts to serve during February 2021—“Come and Help” month.
In South Australia, members of the Onkaparinga and Happy Valley wards chose to serve at The Stables Christian Centre at Huntfield Heights.
The volunteers dismantled two large sheds and many old tables and desks. They also sorted items for rubbish removal and recycling. Many overgrown trees and bushes were cut, the large woodpile was tidied up, and flooring and furniture were rearranged to be under cover.
They also cleaned donated medical equipment and packed it in a container to be sent overseas. Desks, tables, and other usable furniture donated by schools, were cleaned up to be either sent overseas or sold in their “Op shop”—a store to raise funds for shipping containers to Africa, Papua New Guinea, and Vanuatu.
“We appreciate that your Church has joined us in this clean-up,” Lynne said, “as the work is quite extensive. We are well on the way to restoring the site so that we can invite families, vulnerable people and people with disabilities to enjoy our unique property that we see as the Lord’s place and a place of blessing.”
The morning was a great success, providing needed service and accomplishing much more than was expected.

Now to the present for an interview I had with a handsome zone leader in the Brazil São Paulo Interlagos Mission. I said to the missionary, “Tell me about your family.” He then relayed the following. He was born into a wealthy family. His father had a responsible position in a multinational corporation. They moved from Brazil to Venezuela. He was one of seven children, all members of the Church.

When the missionary was fifteen years old, his father was shot and killed by a fleeing thief. In a family council it was decided to return to Brazil and invest their savings in the purchase of a small home. A year and a half later, the mother informed the children that she had been diagnosed with cancer. The family used valuable savings to help pay the medical expenses—but to no avail. Six months later the mother passed away, leaving the young family alone.

Our young missionary, Elder Bugs (pronounced Boogs), now sixteen years old, went to work, first selling clothing, then later computer supplies. He used his hard-earned money to support the young family. He said, “We were always blessed to have enough to eat. I would work during the day, then help the children with their studies at night. I especially miss my little sister. I taught her to read.”

Elder Bugs continued, “Then the bishop invited me to come in for an interview. He called me on a mission. I told him I would need to speak with my family first. In our family council, they reminded me that Dad had always taught us that we should be prepared to serve the Lord as full-time missionaries. I accepted the call. When I received my letter from the prophet, I withdrew all my savings. I bought a new suit, a pair of pants, white shirts and ties, and a new pair of shoes. I gave the rest of the money to the bishop (enough for about four months of support for the family). I hugged my little family and left for my mission.”

I looked at that brave young man and I said, “But Elder, with you away, who is taking care of your family?”
“Oh,” he said, “my brother is sixteen. He is the same age I was when our mother died. He is taking care of the family now.”

I had an opportunity recently to talk by telephone with Elder Bugs. He has been home from his mission for six months now. When I asked him how he was doing, he said, “I have a good job again and I am caring for the family, but oh, how I miss my mission. It was the greatest thing I have ever done. I am now helping my younger brother prepare for his mission.”

Like any self-respecting teenager in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I attended seminary for four consecutive years. This meant long hours of gospel learning in addition to Sunday and family study hours. It was sometimes a difficult and trying experience.
I began seminary in 2017 in our Pare Ward of the Arue Tahiti Stake. I was in 9th grade in school at the time, and I was eager to be part of this youth group.
During my first year, I woke up before 5 am every weekday to get to seminary on time. I did my readings, and I was very attentive in class. I realized seminary contributed to deepening my relationship with God. Without Him, I would not have been able to successfully pass my school’s National Certificate Exam at the end of year 9.
Over the next two years, I gradually became lax in my duties, missing seminary or arriving late more often. I lost my desire to attend seminary, so I was less consistent in my efforts.
Accordingly, my 10th year in school was difficult, but I was unaware at the time of how this was related to my performance in seminary.
In year 11, I started going out with classmates who dabbled in things our Church doesn’t recommend, like alcohol and cigarettes. I even felt a little ashamed of not being like these friends and not hanging out more with them.
Consequently, my annual grades were low and if I had to take the bachelor exam that year, I doubt I would have passed.
Then, the COVID pandemic changed our daily lives, which I thank God for. When seminary classes started up on our smartphones, it was as if to counteract the evil that is also rampant on there.
Although I still had moments of weakness, I decided to hang in there and tried to sincerely follow the lessons of seminary, to benefit from God’s help in my studies.
I am grateful for my parents. Without them, I would have dropped out of seminary and followed the same path as my nonmember friends. As my favorite seminary teachers, they watched over me, making sure I stayed connected to God.
Then, healthy social relationships with the youth of the ward became my lifeline. Our activities together renewed me each time I was not in the mood. Among these friends was Corail Sommers, who never judged but always listened and encouraged and raised me up by her example.
In their own ways, they each contributed to my personal balance.
The discipline of daily immersion in the scriptures paid off in my last year of seminary, which was also my 12th and final year of school.
My seminary study habits allowed me to be better organized. While I’m not a fan of reading, I strove to read daily. It allowed me to maintain my relationship—even a fragile one—with Heavenly Father.
That year, I passed my bachelor diploma with honors. I got my driver’s license on my first try. I received my call to serve a mission in Paris. All in all, the hand of God was in my life the whole time I was in seminary and at school.
Looking back, I testify that God will always help because He loves us.
Seminary is exactly what we need as young people to help us to trust God and to let him prevail in our lives. He always trusted me.

Loading up the bus to take a group of Latter-day Saint youth on a tour of Church history sites seems like it could only happen in the United States. But on one bright Saturday in May, youth from the Cardiff Wales Stake, with lunches stuffed in their backpacks and plenty of enthusiasm for the outing, set off for a special activity to commemorate the restoration of the Aaronic Priesthood and to uncover the roots of the gospel in the British Isles.
And the roots run deep, back 160 years, to the time when Wilford Woodruff and Brigham Young walked along the roads in the villages that the bus was now driving through.
With many teenagers in one vehicle, the noise level in the bus is high as they cross the border from Wales into England. Everyone is talking and having a great time. The Welsh youth just love being together any chance they get. They love being around friends who believe the same way they do. Charlotte Forward, 15, of the Cwmbran Ward enjoys being with her friends Kathryn Elliott of the Blackwood Ward and Rachel Griffiths of the Newport-Gwent Ward. They really only get to see each other at stake activities, and spending all day together is a huge treat. Charlotte says, “Wales is a beautiful place to live. Everyone is so great to be with. We all get along in the stake. Everyone seems to be related in some way, especially our family. I’m something like the seventh generation in the Church. Some of my ancestors emigrated to Utah, but some stayed. Now there seem to be Forwards everywhere.”
The bus pulls into the village of Ledbury. It’s a fairly ordinary country town these days except for the charming old covered outdoor market on the main street. Andrew Dearden, the stake Young Men president, tells the youth that the first missionaries in this area were asked to preach in the market square. A few of the young men, who will be serving missions themselves in a few years, get out of the bus and walk under the old roof of the market. Would they have the nerve to stand in that spot and start talking about the gospel to the local townspeople? How would they react if the crowd did not want to listen?
Some of them are astounded that the missionaries 160 years ago had such success spreading the gospel. Clive Wilkinson, 18, is looking forward to his mission. But he is in awe to think that back then, hundreds of people in this area listened to the missionaries and believed. Some of those early converts heard Wilford Woodruff give a single sermon and asked to be baptized.
“It’s amazing that people would be converted listening to just one talk,” says Clive. “I’m a stake missionary, and when we go out with the missionaries now, it’s nothing like that. We’re lucky to get in the door. It’s amazing that the missionaries back then could come over here with this new religion which no one had heard about, and people would have so much faith to just believe them and be converted straightaway like that.”
The next two stops are very different from each other, but both are mentioned often in Church history. The first stop is for lunch at the Malvern Hills. This is the spot where Wilford Woodruff dedicated the area to the teaching of the gospel. After finishing off their sandwiches and crisps (potato chips), the group hikes up a trail, leaving the roads and houses behind, to the grassy slopes at the summit. From there they look one direction and can see Herefordshire spread out at their feet. Then they turn and can see into Wales toward their homes.
The second stop is even more significant. It’s the John Benbow farm. Although the farm itself is privately owned now, the small pond where hundreds of converts were baptized has been purchased and is maintained by the Church. The group relaxes on the freshly cut grass and tries to imagine the impressive scene when Wilford Woodruff was a missionary here.
Although there wasn’t a lot to see except the pond at the Benbow farm, the youth were quiet. The peaceful spirit of the place seemed to penetrate every heart. “It felt really special,” said Suzy Taylor, Blackwood Ward, “to think those people had actually been here. It was nice to see where our leaders were talking about.”
The final stop was at the remains of the Gadfield Elm chapel. Just the rock walls stand. The roof is gone, and the nettles have grown up inside. But the chapel was the first building owned by the Church outside of the United States. It is easy to imagine what it must have been like 160 years ago, as people walked down the winding country road to the chapel. What is hard to imagine is the power and spirit that must have been there when Wilford Woodruff preached. In one evening, they learned the truth, and it changed the course of their lives.
The seeds that were planted then still bloom in the youth that come back to visit the places where such miracles took place. “It’s quite amazing, really,” said Joseph Parry of the Caerphilly Branch. “These places are around us. I’ve always thought of Church history as being in America. It was actually in Britain, too.”

It was in the Queens Ward that Robert, a college sophomore, met Mary Crandall, also a college student, whose family had recently moved to New York from Los Angeles. “After I met her, I never went out with anyone else,” says Elder Hales. “We were together every evening after work for the first two months sharing family activities. She’d help me wash my car, and I’d help her baby-sit her brothers; it was as though we were never going to be apart.” At the end of the summer, they both went back to college in Utah—Robert to the University of Utah and Mary to Brigham Young University. The following summer, on 10 June 1953, they were married in the Salt Lake Temple.

Since I was little, my dad always encouraged me and my siblings to study at Brigham Young University–Hawaii. However, one day during my mission in 2016, I received an impression to go to BYU–Idaho. After returning from my mission, I prepared for the English proficiency exam as part of the school application. My test results fell short, and I was not admitted to BYU–Idaho. However, as an international student from Taiwan, I was admitted to BYU–Hawaii.
During my time as a student in Hawaii, I continued to prepare to transfer to Idaho. This question always came to me: “Why wasn’t I accepted to BYU–Idaho if I received the prompting to go there?” It seemed like the answer would never come.
To my relief, after two years of schooling in Hawaii, I was accepted to BYU–Idaho in the fall of 2019. I was very excited to go. While attending BYU–Idaho, I pondered greatly about God’s purpose for me being there. The schoolwork wasn’t easy during the first couple semesters. However, I learned to strive by relying on God as I accomplished many hard trials and tasks. I learned that “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me” (Philippians 4:13).
The following year, I met my husband during his first week at BYU–Idaho. We became good friends, and it soon dawned on us that we loved each other and wanted to marry. Only then did I realize the most significant reason for the delay in being accepted to BYU–Idaho: meeting my husband.
I graduated from BYU–Idaho in 2023 and am studying in the Master of Music program at Michigan State University. Looking back, I notice all the blessings I’ve been given and, most importantly, what kind of person I have become. From my struggles in being an international student in two different environments, I’ve learned to respect other cultures, to become more independent, and to trust God in my trials. Sometimes we may not know God’s plan for us in the face of trials, but I know that if we trust and have faith in Him, everything will make sense in the end—and we will become better because of it.