Gospel Story Finder

Long ago when the earth was new, all the birds that flew in the sky were gray. They were awed by the rainbow’s shimmering beauty, for they had no color. Great Bird, who ruled the skies, would call a meeting after every rainfall so all could admire the splendid colors of the rainbow arching over the earth.
One evening as the sky glistened with the red, yellow, green, blue, and violet of the rainbow, Great Bird made an announcement: “Too long have you just admired such gleaming colors. This night you may share them. You may each choose one color from the rainbow to tint your feathers.”
Almost before Great Bird was through talking, the parrot streaked through the sky and snatched the green. “This is my color. All mine,” he screeched.
“I want the yellow. Give me the yellow,” cried the canary, darting in and out among the feathered bodies.
“Don’t touch the blue,” shrieked the jay.
The cardinal fluttered his wings over the rainbow. “I’ll take the red. It was meant just for me.”
A large duck reached through the crowd and captured the violet ribbon. He wound it tightly around his neck, then flapped to a nearby pond.
Great Bird flew to a tree and watched the fluttering and flapping, the shoving and pushing, the calling and crowding as the birds flew to the rainbow in search of beauty. But sitting beside Great Bird under a leafy branch sat a small gray finch.
“Why are you not grabbing for a color, little finch?” asked Great Bird.
“I was waiting my turn,” answered the finch gently. “But now I’m afraid all the colors are gone.”
“Never!” cried Great Bird, and he called his flock back as they were about to fly away.
While the other birds passed before him, Great Bird took a bit of color from each one and passed it to the finch. The cardinal lost a bit of red; the canary a touch of yellow. The parrot surrendered some green and the jay some of his blue. Finally, the duck unwound the violet ribbon from his neck and passed a strand to the finch.
The little finch glistened with all the hues of the rainbow. Like the rainbow, all the colors melted softly into one another, tinting the feathers with a glow.
Great Bird looked at the gentle finch. “While the rainbow is a symbol of thanks for rain, your beauty is a thank-you for waiting your turn,” he said. “Little finch, wear your colors as a medal for patience.”
To this day, after a rain, the sweet song of the finch can be heard over the rainbow, telling all to wait their turn.

Through it all, my parents were great. They have always taught me how to make decisions. I remember when I was 14 and I was invited to play on an all-star team made up mostly of 16-year-olds. That was very exciting, but then I found out the team played every day—including Sunday. As soon as my coach said that, it just mortified me inside because I knew there was this great opportunity but there was also the issue of playing on Sunday.

I really didn’t know what to do, only that I had to make a decision before I talked to the coach. So I got down on my knees to pray, and I had this feeling that I should not play on Sunday. When I told the coach about not wanting to play on Sunday, he was totally fine with that idea. He told me he respected my decision, and that I could still play for the team.

Moving to a new place is never easy, but moves overseas can be especially difficult. Kristine Murrow wasn’t sure what she would find when she moved to Landstuhl, Germany, where her father is filling a military assignment.
But as soon as she contacted LDS youth in the area, “I was immediately welcomed, accepted, and brought into the close-knit group. Because we are stationed overseas, people move in and out all the time and no one is ever left out,” says Kristine.
Kristine also discovered that many of the LDS kids in Germany, like other areas of the world, set high standards of excellence in academics, drama, sports, and student council.
“I was astounded that people were involved in so many activities and still had time for Church activities,” she says. “Even early-morning seminary is looked on as a blessing and a joy to attend.”
For Kristine, the move to Germany was one in which she learned about love, friendship, and support. “Because of the love I have been offered here, I have learned the value of true friendship,” says Kristine.

Brother Decker kept working with us each troop meeting. He taught us how to plan our own program, built up our enthusiasm with songs and games, and helped us with advancement. In September we had a Court of Honor where nearly everyone advanced a rank and over 50 merit badges were given. A district camporee followed soon afterwards, an overnight event held at Sugar Loaf Mountain on Sycamore Creek. Brother Decker let us set up camp just the way we wanted it. Our patrol leaders assigned boys to dig the latrine, rope off the wood-chopping area, make the grease pit, etc. It was a Boy Scout troop run by the boys!
Saturday was given to merit badge work. Brother Decker had classes on nature and was gone most of the day. At 3:00 P.M. we had our closing ceremony, and awards were given to the outstanding troops, with suitable prizes. There was one for the troop that showed the most improvement from last year, and others for similar things. When they were ready to announce the first-place winner, we glanced over and saw the prize sitting on the table, a dutch oven—just what we needed most in our troop equipment. And the winning troop was–756!

Our stake president was the final speaker. He talked of the importance of showing love in families and told the story of the last time he saw his father alive. His parents were at the bus stop to bid him farewell as he left for his mission. In parting he shook his father’s hand, hugged and kissed his mother, and turned to board the waiting bus. As he stepped aboard the bus, the Spirit prompted him to return to his father and say good-bye again. We listened raptly as he told us that he stepped off the bus and went to his father to embrace and kiss him one final time. His father did not live to see him again.
In concluding he bore testimony of the importance of showing love to one another in our families. We were all deeply touched and inspired by his message.

From journal entry #222, dated August 1, 1978, addressed to "Whomever," Elder Lively wrote, “I must be the most happiest missionary in the mission. Tonight, the Romo family accepted baptism for August 12th. Yahooo! Every time we challenge a family, I get a tingling feeling all over my body, just like I used to before the beginning of a basketball game. Boy, I know that my Heavenly Father is looking after us because he has blessed us with such great families. I love my mission so much not only now because things are going so good but also when the times were rough and hard.” We talked to the Romo family about fasting to find out if the message being taught is true, and they said—sure, no problem, we will do it. Everyone is very excited about the whole thing.” Until tomorrow!
The missionaries dared to extend the invitation to fast and pray because they were not afraid that they would lose a golden family if the family didn’t accept it; instead, they were fearful that the family wouldn’t receive the blessings and power that God had in store for them. Elder Lively added journal entry #238, “To whomever, August 26, 1978, Saturday, the Romo’s baptism was just great. Everything went smoothly, just like it was supposed to.”

When I joined the Church in Taiwan as a teenager, paying tithing was not difficult because I had little income. After I graduated and began working, it became a little harder. There were always so many things to buy and so little money to buy them with. But each year at tithing settlement, I could honestly tell the branch president that I had paid a full tithe.
Then last year my mother had to be admitted to the hospital intensive care unit. I was sorely worried about my mother and also about how we would pay for her care. The following Sunday I remembered I hadn’t yet paid my tithing that month. Thinking I would need all my money to pay the hospital, I decided to put off paying my tithing until the next week. As Sunday approached once again, a small voice reminded me that the Lord has promised to open the windows of heaven when we pay tithing. “Now is the time to give my faith a test,” I thought.
I withdrew some money from the bank and placed it in a tithing envelope. I felt a little hesitant, but summoning my courage, I gave the envelope to my branch president. Although I felt reluctant to let go of the envelope, I decided to leave the matter in God’s hands.
Just a week later, I received a telephone call informing me that our insurance company would soon be sending a check. “For how much?” I asked. The amount was many times more than the tithing I had paid. I know that when we are faithful, God will never forsake us.
Lu Chia, BYU Chinese Ward, Brigham Young University Sixth Stake

Young Tommy Monson had always wanted a pony. He often admired his friend Henry’s Shetland pony. Wouldn’t he love to have one too!
One December, right before Christmas, Tommy’s mother took him to the toy department of a store in Salt Lake City. The store was going to give away a Shetland pony! To enter the contest, children had to write a note telling why they wanted the pony for Christmas. Tommy carefully wrote his note and placed it in the large box right next to the live pony in the toy department.
Finally the day came when the winner of the pony was going to be announced. Tommy and his mother waited in the excited crowd. Tommy was sure he would win the pony. He had already made a home for it in his sister’s playhouse in the backyard and stacked a pile of hay nearby. But when the name was chosen out of the box, it wasn’t Tommy’s name. Another child took the pony home, and Tommy was heartbroken.
As they left the store, Tommy and his mother walked past a man ringing a bell beside a small kettle to collect money for the poor. Tommy’s mother stopped and dropped in a big silver coin. Then she asked, “Tommy, do you have any money you would like to give to the poor for Christmas?” Tommy reached in his pocket, pulled out two nickels, and dropped them into the kettle, one after the other. It was all the money he had.
President Monson still remembers that day. “I didn’t win the pony,” he recalls. “But I received a far greater gift, even ‘the smile of God’s approval.’” It was a good Christmas after all.

How do you remember to choose the right? Elder L. Tom Perry of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles tells a story about a young boy and his friends who found a package of cigarettes: “They decided to go down on the cliff alongside some large boulders and smoke. … They lit up, and the young man said that as he was looking down at the smoldering cigarette that he held between his fingers, he saw his CTR ring. He quickly put the cigarette out. … He chose to choose the right, as he remembered what the emblem stood for” (Ensign, Nov. 1993, 66).

After Joseph brought the gold plates home, treasure seekers tried for weeks to steal them. To keep the record safe, he had to move it from place to place, hiding the plates under the hearth, beneath the floor of his father’s shop, and in piles of grain. He could never let his guard down.
Curious neighbors stopped by the house and begged him to show them the record. Joseph always refused, even when someone offered to pay him. He was determined to care for the plates, trusting in the Lord’s promise that if he did everything he could, they would be protected.1
These disruptions often kept him from examining the plates and learning more about the Urim and Thummim. He knew the interpreters were supposed to help him translate the plates, but he had never used seer stones to read an ancient language. He was anxious to begin the work, but it was not obvious to him how to do it.2

President Paulo Kretly of the Mozambique Maputo Mission shared this experience: “It is common in Mozambique [for] couples to live their lives together [without being married because] African tradition require[s] an expensive dowry to marry, a dowry most couples can’t afford.”
Members and missionaries thought and prayed about how to help.
The answer to their prayers was that they would emphasize the law of chastity and the importance of marriage and eternal families. And while helping couples to repent and legally marry, they would teach of the happiness that only comes through following Jesus Christ.
This is a picture of couples from two different cities in Mozambique. Married on Friday, they were baptized with their older children on Saturday. Friends and family were invited to “come and see,” and hundreds did “come and see.”
Following the baptism, one sister said, “We needed to choose whether to follow the traditions of our fathers or to follow Jesus Christ. We chose to follow Christ.”

It had been a great day at school. Jeff had spent all recess playing dragons with his best friend, Ben. After two years at his new school, Jeff was glad to finally have a best friend. Ben liked the same things as Jeff did, and they always had lots to talk about.
When Jeff got home, he saw Mom waiting for him. She didn’t look happy at all. His smile faded away. “Jeff,” Mom said, “I got a call from the principal today. She said you’ve been bullying a boy in your class.”
“I have not!” Jeff said. He knew that being a bully was wrong. A bully made people sad and afraid. Jeff had never done anything like that.
“Are you sure?” Mom asked. She made room on the couch for Jeff. “The principal said you and Ben told Sam to go away, that he’s not in your club, and that he can’t join unless he jumps off the top of the slide.”
Jeff looked down. Sam asked to play with them almost every day. But Ben was his best friend, and they liked playing by themselves. That didn’t mean he had been a bully, did it?
“Is it wrong for Ben and me to play alone?” Jeff asked. It didn’t seem fair that someone called him a bully just for playing with his best friend.
“You two can still spend lots of time together. But when Sam is around, it’s wrong to make him feel left out and alone. The principal said you called Sam names for not jumping off the slide.”
“I did not!” Jeff said. But Ben had. And he had laughed.
“Remember how you felt when we first moved?” Mom asked.
Jeff nodded. School had been really lonely at first. He had prayed a lot to find a good friend.
“What do you wish people had done?” Mom asked.
“I wished they’d invited me to play games at recess. Or sit with them at lunch.”
“Isn’t it amazing that you have such a good friend now?” Mom said. “You can be someone who helps people who are lonely, like you used to be. I’m going to give you a challenge. Tomorrow I want you to find out three cool things about Sam. Then tell me after school.”
“I can probably do that,” Jeff said, staring at his shoes. He hadn’t meant to be a bully. He wanted to be kind like Jesus. Tomorrow he could tell Sam he was sorry. And he could tell Ben that he wanted Sam to play too.
“Hey,” said Mom. She tipped Jeff’s chin up. “You are a good, kind boy. Sam would be lucky to have you as a friend. And guess what? I bet you’ll find out you’re lucky to have Sam as a friend too.”
Jeff smiled a little. Ben could still be his best friend. It wouldn’t hurt to have another friend too.

Stakes in the Ogden, Utah area performed a service that not only delighted thousands of visitors to Temple Square in Salt Lake City during the Christmas season, but brought joy to dozens of children in Israel. The Young Women made stuffed dolls dressed in the native costumes of nations throughout the world. The dolls were tied with wide red ribbons to Christmas trees in both the North and South Visitors’ Centers on Temple Square. Each girl researched the country her doll was to represent and tried to make the costume look as authentic as possible. She then attached a note with her name and address to the doll.
After Christmas, the dolls were transported to Israel where they were given to Arab orphans in Bethlehem. When the first doll was delivered, a small girl wearing glasses named Ikhlass received it. She clung to her new doll throughout the day, taking it with her as she played, ate, and slept.

“Mom, my coat’s gone!” Brad said. It was time to go home from church, but Brad couldn’t find his coat on the rack.
“Are you sure that’s where you hung it up?” Mom asked.
“Yes. It was right here.” Brad’s coat was bright blue and red. It was hard to miss.
“Maybe it got moved. Let’s look around the building,” Dad said.
Mom, Dad, and Brad split up to check different rooms. They looked in the lost-and-found box, in the chapel, in Brad’s Sunday School classroom, in the Primary room, and on every coat rack. They even looked in the bathrooms, but they didn’t find the coat.
“Somebody probably took it by accident. I’m sure they’ll return it next week as soon as they realize it isn’t theirs,” Dad said.
“In the meantime, you can wear your old coat,” Mom said.
Brad frowned. He didn’t like his old coat. It was thin, faded, and too small for him. He loved how his new red-and-blue coat made him look like a superhero.
“Someone probably saw how cool my coat is and stole it,” Brad thought. How could that happen at church? Everyone there was supposed to be honest. Brad wouldn’t let that robber get away with it. He had a plan. Next Sunday, he would watch carefully to see who was wearing his coat. Then he would snatch it back and yell, “Stop, thief!” They would be sorry they ever took it.
Brad could hardly wait for Sunday to carry out his plan. But the next Sunday was too warm for coats, and so was the next Sunday.
The Sunday after that, Brad looked around suspiciously in Primary at all the boys, wondering who stole his coat. Was it that tall boy? Or maybe it was a girl. He felt like he couldn’t trust anyone. Brad didn’t like that feeling.
After church Brad hurried around the building, watching families put on their coats. But he didn’t see his coat anywhere. He even checked the lost-and-found box again … but no coat. Where could it be?
On the way home, Brad thought of a new plan. He would pray. He knew Heavenly Father could find lost things. That night Brad prayed and said, “Heavenly Father, please tell me who took my coat. I want it back.”
Brad waited for the robber’s name or face to come to mind. But instead he started thinking about his friend Carl. Brad usually sat by Carl in Primary. They joked and laughed together a lot. But Carl hadn’t been to church in a few weeks. Brad missed him.
What if Carl had taken his coat? Maybe Carl was afraid to come to church now because he thought Brad wouldn’t be his friend anymore. Brad wanted Carl to come to church again. If Carl had taken his coat, Brad decided, he wouldn’t yell at him. He would forgive him.
Brad climbed into bed, feeling better.
The next Sunday in Primary, Carl wasn’t there, but a new boy was. He was wearing a red-and-blue-striped tie.
“Cool tie,” Brad said, sitting by the new boy. “It makes you look like a superhero.”
The boy smiled.
Brad smiled too. He wasn’t looking for robbers anymore. He was looking for friends.

Elisabeth reminded me that I can see only a tiny sliver of what the Lord sees. This thought kept me going after each failed infertility treatment. I could not understand why the Lord kept directing us down paths that seemed like failures because they didn’t end with us having a baby. Now, looking back, I can see how each of those seeming failures was an important stepping-stone on our path to understanding His timing.

President James E. Faust, in his address of the Young Women general meeting in March, warned, “You young ladies may have a hard time buying a modest prom dress. May I suggest that you make your own?” (Ensign, May 2000, 97).
This is exactly what happened in the Salt Lake Stake.
To encourage the young women to dress modestly, the stake Young Women leaders decided to include a fashion show in a special night for Laurels and their dads, brothers, or other priesthood holders.
“It was a lot of hard work to adjust the pattern to cover my shoulders,” says Elaine Barnhurst of the 19th Ward, whose project was to make her medieval-style dress from a sheet and curtains. “But it was a fun night and really cool to know I had actually made it myself.”

Superior Branch of the Missoula Montana Stake put on its very first road show. With only five active members in the Mutual, the youth recruited members of the branch presidency and a couple of Primary children to participate with them. With the help and confidence building of their leaders, they wrote their own script, made their costumes, and found help with providing live music. Those participating were Vince Price; Shaleen, Lane, and Deana Morgan; Rick, Buffy, and Grant Seemann.

The news reached me on a telephone that seldom rang. My two sons and I were working in the yard of a mountain home we built as a place of retreat from my heavy responsibilities as president of Brigham Young University. The caller was Elder Boyd K. Packer. He told me about the revelation on the priesthood, which was just being announced. We exchanged expressions of joy, and I walked back to my work. I sat down on the pile of dirt we had been moving and beckoned to my sons. As I told them that all worthy male members of the Church could now be ordained to the priesthood, I wept for joy.

“Seminary makes me a morning person.” At least that’s what Patrick Hildoer of the Acworth Ward in Atlanta, Georgia, says. And for him, it’s just one of the real pluses about regularly attending early-morning seminary. “There is something about seminary that energizes me.”
He’s not the only one in his class who feels that way. Kittye Bowen says, “If you start the day off uplifted, it’s going to be hard to bring you back down the rest of the day at school.”
Amy Caldwell of the Mars Hill Ward really noticed a difference when she had to give up seminary for several weeks. “I had a basketball practice every morning. I missed four days of seminary each week. It was horrible. When I went to seminary, I could feel the Spirit so much more throughout the day.”
“I had a friend tell me once,” said Kerilyn Graham of the Acworth Ward, “ ‘Oh, that’s why you get such good grades. You start your day with the Lord.’ That’s true. We start our day with the right attitude and the right perspective.”
Getting a good start to the day is just one reason to go to seminary. Most of the students in the Cartersville Georgia Stake seminary classes talk about what a boost it gives to their testimonies.
Brian Collier of Mars Hill Ward said, “When I have missionary experiences at school, I can always remember what I learned in seminary and the good lessons I’ve been taught. It makes talking to people about the Church a little easier.”
Brian goes on, “My favorite lesson was when we got a chance to bear our testimonies of the Prophet Joseph Smith. The whole year, my testimony has become stronger. I just felt a peace that I had knowledge of the truthfulness of the gospel. I don’t remember everything that I said, but I do know that I know.”
For Tyler Weeks, also of the Mars Hill Ward, learning of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon made for a memorable seminary year. “I’d read the Book of Mormon before, but reading it again, knowing how it is from God, gave me a new perspective.”
Each year seminary provides the chance to study a new set of scriptures. And each year it gives students a chance to build on their previous knowledge. Memorizing scripture mastery verses each year gives them a pool of great scriptures to remember and apply to situations that come up in their lives. The goal to attend all four years is a worthy one.
When Rachel Chase started seminary, she had her older sister, Jessica, to take her and get her up on time. Rachel tried persuading her sister to be a little late and get five minutes’ more sleep. “But she told me,” said Rachel, “that it’s so important to be there on time, to be there for the whole thing. When she graduated, I had my third year by myself until my little brother was old enough to go. I found out you need every year to build up your testimony.”
Shelby Hailstone has a little sister who will be starting seminary soon. “She says she’s glad she doesn’t have to go to seminary because it’s so early. I call her every morning after class and talk to her about the lesson. She thinks it’s the neatest thing. Although she’s not looking forward to waking up, but she loves the lessons. That’s what she can’t wait for—the Spirit of the Lord she knows she is going to feel every day.”
One day on the school bus, Rachel Chase and Lauren Smith, both in the Acworth Ward seminary, were talking about what a good seminary lesson they had that day. Curtis Clinch repeated something his pastor had told him about the Latter-day Saints being one of the fastest growing religions.
Rachel agreed and said, “It kind of makes you think, doesn’t it, Curtis?”
He answered, “Yeah, it kind of does.”
Rachel asked, “Do you want to come to seminary with us?” Instead of Curtis answering, Heidi Hetzer, another friend who had been listening to their conversation, surprised them by saying, “Oh, I do.” Rachel arranged to pick up both Curtis and Heidi, and they have been going ever since—especially after their baptisms a couple of months later.
Heidi said, “I’ve known Rachel and her brother, Stephen, since they moved to Georgia. I’ve seen how close their family is. And I’ve known other members. They all seem happier than the rest of us. I’ve been interested in the Church for a while, but I didn’t have the opportunity to learn more. So when Rachel was talking to Curtis and invited him to seminary, I just said I wanted to come. After that first day in seminary, I went to school with a newfound happiness. Since then, it’s been lasting.”
In fact, on her baptism day, Rachel’s dad noticed her happy attitude. And her friends asked if she was wearing different makeup or something because she had a glow about her.
Heidi said, “Rachel invited me over to talk to the missionaries, and I went to a fireside that same night. I dove right into the Church.”
Curtis had a similar experience, although he thought Rachel was kidding when she invited him to seminary. “She asked me again and came and picked me up. I really liked it. The lessons are powerful and very detailed. Everyone is really welcoming. I didn’t mind waking up early.”
Curtis’s mother didn’t think he would keep it up. When he continued to get up by himself, she came and checked out seminary. “She said it was good and supported me.”
Other class members have invited friends. Mostly they want to see what their friends do every morning so early instead of getting an extra hour of sleep. The seminary students report that their friends really enjoy visiting class.
Most seminary students have a favorite lesson that somehow connected with them and affected the decisions they are making in their lives.
Kelly Cadogan remembers how impressed she was by the great sacrifices made by the pioneers. Stephen Chase remembers the folk dancers from BYU–Idaho coming to their class and reading scriptures about happiness. Tyler Graham remembers the lesson on the Word of Wisdom. Chris Erni can remember the lesson on Joseph Smith and the Spirit that testified of the Prophet. Riley McRae remembers the lesson about showing compassion for others and going out of your way to be kind.
Frank Wheat’s favorite lesson was more personal. He said, “Our teacher asked about our full names and what each of our names came from and what they stood for. I was named after both my grandfathers. Even though one died before I was born and the other died shortly after my birth, it made me think about how I live my life. Maybe they are looking down on me and asking, ‘What are you doing with my name?’ I’m trying to live a good life because of that.”
So why become a morning person? For teens in Georgia, seminary is worth getting up for each morning, and the payoff for their time and energy is a big one—a testimony of their own. As Kitty Bowen said, “After four years of waking up every morning and studying the scriptures and growing to know that the gospel is true for yourself, it’s like that one final leap of developing your own testimony before you have to go off to college. It’s like a prep class for the real world.”

The recital room at the Finnish high school was quiet, even though the hallway outside was not. Outside, students rushed from one class to another, their chatter and laughter filling the hall.
But here in the recital room, with its gilded trim and arching windows, the noise was distant and muffled. Here, where 15-year-old Säde (pronounced saw-day) Metsätähti was about to touch the keys of a black enamel piano, there was peace.
Säde could have played many things—Rachmaninoff or Beethoven, Phil Collins or Billy Joel. She’s learning to be a good pianist, and with practice can work her way through most pieces.
But right now, she only had time to play and sing one song. And so she played her favorite. The tune was simple, but memorable, the kind of melody I knew I would find myself—later in the day—unexpectedly humming.
Saria Karhunen, 16, joined Säde on the chorus. They’ve been friends since they were children, and somehow that showed as the harmony of their voices built power in the song. Säde’s brother Vesa, also 16, watched the two young women and listened. Even though he’d heard the song over and over again, he knew it was his sister’s favorite, and it still made him smile.
The girls finished. “Singing that,” Saria said, “is like singing a prayer.” Säde nodded her agreement.
In English the song is titled “Look Inside” (see page 10). But the Finnish version, translated by Säde’s mother Virpi, expresses the idea even more strongly. “Sydämees kun katsot,” it says, “When You Look to Your Heart.”
The second bell rang, and that meant the brief performance was over. Säde, Saria, and Vesa are on a strict schedule at the Puolalanmaen Koulu, a school for students with musical aptitude. They had been granted only a few minutes for a photo session with the New Era.
The magazine was also allowed a short time in Säde’s Swedish language lab, where, listening on her headphones, she diligently repeated phrases from her textbook. Even though the school caters to students with an aptitude for music, there are plenty of other courses required. For example, in addition to music and Swedish, Säde has classes in math, Finnish, gymnastics, English, biology, geography, and French.
She also studies seminary every day, and meets once a week with the other seminary students in her ward. That meeting would be tonight, and the New Era would take photos there, too. But for the next few hours, Säde had to return to school. As she said good-bye, she left a parting thought.
“That song I played for you,” she said. “I know other people wrote the words and the music. But every time I play it, I feel like it’s my song. I think everybody—everything—has a song of its own, if you just listen close enough to hear it.”
Because of what she said, for me the next few hours were filled with music, the kind of songs even rocks and trees sing if you’re listening. And Turku (toor-koo), the city where Säde lives, was a perfect place to hear them: The medieval songs of cold stone walls and wooden villages, of lives lived in search of fire and food. The Renaissance songs of castles and courtyards. The sea chanteys and songs of the river, for this is a town of both river and sea.
Walking through flower stalls of the open-air market, I heard the songs of spring. Wandering past the museum dedicated to composer Jean Sibelius, I could hear in my mind Finlandia, the anthem of a nation yearning to be free. The Olympic theme, beating like my heart, pounded inside me as I neared the statue of Finnish runner Paavo Nurmi, born in Turku, winner of nine gold and three silver medals. Near the cathedral, I imagined organs and choirs, their praises vaulting higher than the ceiling.
By then it was evening, time to walk back across town, past the windmill, through the park, over by the sports arena to the LDS chapel on the other side of the city.
“When you look to your heart,” I thought, and sure enough, I started humming the tune. Then I heard another song, faint but getting stronger. Was it a hymn like “Come, Come, Ye Saints”? Or the Primary song “I Am a Child of God”? Or was it my own personal song, the one my soul sings when I feel the joy and hope of being a Latter-day Saint?
It was activity night at the chapel, and seminary students, institute students, Scouts, family history workers, and other ward members had gathered for various purposes, but all as brothers and sisters. Did each one, I wondered, hear a song just like me? Did they all make a chorus together?
In seminary I listened.
“How can you get closer to Jesus Christ?” asked Auli Haikkola, the teacher.
“Study the scriptures,” said Aki Keskinen.
“Pray,” said Todd Katschke. “Go to church.”
“Talk about the Savior with your family,” said Jukka Merenluoto.
“Do good for someone else,” said Joni Mikkonen.
“Most people in Finland don’t talk about religion,” Maria Sokoli explained. “They go to church once or twice a year. They don’t understand how it can be such a big part of my life.”
“My friends respect me,” said Heidi Hankiala. “But it still gets tough when they all drink and do other things I won’t do.”
“Maria, Heidi, Saria, and I all grew up in the Church,” Säde explained. “Most of the people in this ward have grown up with the gospel. But now the Church is growing fast, and I see the day when it will grow faster and faster, when there will be lots of young people joining, not only in Finland, but in Russia, in Eastern Europe—all over the world. The Church is the hope of the future, and the youth are the hope of the Church.”
I could hear their song now, pulsing to a crescendo, the song of belief, of faith, of peace, of answers—the song of young Latter-day Saints all over the world.
I wanted to explain what I was feeling. As I interviewed the seminary students, I tried. But my words sounded like an echo compared to a symphony. We talked about how seminary helps prepare young people for missions, about getting up early to study the scriptures, about prayer and families and priesthood and the Spirit and a dozen other things youth all over the Church have in common. But still I wondered if I was the only one hearing the marvelous music.
Too soon, the conversations were over. The youth said good-bye and departed. The seminary room was deserted and the building was almost empty, too. Only a few people lingered.
That was when I heard the song again.
Waiting for her mother, Säde had found a piano. Not an elegant one like the black enamel grand in the recital room at school. This was a brown upright, with a key or two chipped and a scratch in the finish. But the melody she played on it was the same.
The song of faith continued.