Gospel Story Finder

Mommy stopped at Austin’s bedroom door. She looked around the messy room. There were books, trucks, puzzles, blocks, and stuffed animals scattered all over. Mommy stepped over the clutter and into the room. “Austin, did you make this mess?”
Austin looked up from his stack of blocks. “Not me, Mommy.”
“Then who made this mess?” Mommy asked. She knelt down next to a large dump truck. “Dump truck, did you make this mess?”
“Mommy!” Austin giggled. “Dump trucks can’t make a mess. Trucks can’t even talk. But I can.” He snatched up his truck. “Brrrm. Brrrm.” Austin drove the truck into the toy box.
“Who made this mess?” Mommy asked. She scooped up a handful of puzzle pieces. “Puzzle, did you make this mess?”
Austin said, “Puzzles can’t make a mess. Puzzles don’t have fingers to use. But I do. I can pick the pieces up like this.” Austin dumped all the puzzle pieces into their box on the shelf.
“Who made this mess?” Mommy asked. She stood up and leaned over the bookcase. “Books, did you make this mess?”
Austin rolled his eyes. “Books can’t make a mess. Books can’t even jump from high places. But I can.” Austin climbed onto a chair and jumped into Mommy’s arms. She put him down. Austin bent over and picked up some books. He climbed back onto the chair and set the books on the shelf.
“Who made this mess?” Mommy asked. She gathered together three teddy bears. “Teddy bears, did you make this mess?”
“Teddy bears can’t make a mess,” Austin said. “Teddy bears can’t even turn somersaults. But I can.” Austin crouched low, tucked his head under, and flipped over. He stood up, gathered the bears in his arms, and laid them on the windowsill.
“Who made this mess?” Mommy asked. She picked up a stuffed lion. “Lion, did you make this mess?”
Austin said, “The lion can’t make a mess. The lion can’t even give hugs. But I can.” Austin gave Mommy a hug. He took the lion and gently placed it on the bed.
“Know what, Mommy?” Austin said. “Toys can’t make a mess, but I can. I made this mess.”
Mommy leaned over and gave Austin another hug. “Austin, you made this mess. But you cleaned it up, too. You are my big helper.”
Mommy’s face grew serious. “You did something besides making a mess, Austin. You told Mommy a lie. But you cleaned that up, too, by telling the truth. Toys can’t tell the truth. But you can.”
Austin smiled. Being a big helper felt good. Being a truth-teller felt even better.

Alison knew it was going to be a bad day. The world outside was gray and drizzly. Mommy told her she had to clean her room. And—worst of all—there was a big bowl of cold oatmeal on the table that she still had to eat.
“I wish it was tomorrow already,” she mumbled.
Mommy looked up from the computer where she was working. “Oh, things aren’t that bad, are they?”
Alison nodded without saying anything more.
“Well, then,” Mommy said, “why don’t we play the Thank-You Game. Find a reason to be grateful for everything you can. No complaining is allowed. If you can do it the whole day, I’ll give you a surprise.”
“That’s a funny game,” said Alison.
“I’ll help you begin. Why are you grateful for oatmeal?”
Alison thought a moment. “I guess it’s better than a bowl full of bugs to eat.”
“Well, that’s a start,” Mommy chuckled.
Alison gobbled down her oatmeal, to get it over with. “I’m grateful I have orange juice to help wash the oatmeal down,” she said.
Then she went to her room. It was a mess! How can I be grateful for a messy room? she wondered. “I know—I’m grateful I have all these toys to play with.” She hummed as she put them all away.
The drizzle outside turned into a freezing rain that tap-tap-tapped against the window. Alison pressed her nose against the frosty glass.
I’m grateful the rain comes so that the flowers don’t get thirsty, she thought.
When her room was tidy, she got out her play dough. She made funny shapes with it and squished it through her fingers. “I’m grateful for things that feel good in my hands,” she giggled.
Alison was having a busy day. Soon her eyelids began to grow heavy.
“I think it’s nap time,” Mommy said.
Alison was going to complain, but she remembered that it wasn’t allowed. She climbed onto her bed and reached for her stuffed rabbit. “I’m grateful I have Charlie to snuggle with,” she told Mommy.
The Thank-You Game got easier and easier. It wasn’t turning out to be such a bad day, after all!
That night Mommy looked pleased. “You played the game really well, Alison,” she said, “Here’s your surprise,” She gave Alison a strip of bubble-gum-scented stickers along with her usual hug and kiss.
Alison smiled. “It turned out to be a really nice day,” she said. “I’m grateful for bubble-gum stickers and hugs and kisses and you!”

The Savior’s words were written for us. It’s OK if we’re weak, as long as we don’t stay weak, as long as we do something about it. Katie is a young woman who did just that. Let me share her story with you.
“All my life I have wanted to be good, but I got to the point where I wondered, ‘How can anyone really know if the Church is true?’ I took Moroni’s challenge and for five months prayed and read my scriptures every day. One night I sat on my bed almost in tears, giving up. I decided to pray. I said, ‘Heavenly Father, help me to please just know you are there. I’ve done what Thou hast asked according to the Church and I just really need to know.’ Immediately I felt like someone had wrapped their arms around me. I didn’t hear a loud voice or see an angel, but I felt Heavenly Father telling me, ‘Sweet Katie, you’ve known all along.’ It was like a kind and loving father comforting his little girl” (letter).
One of the main functions of the Holy Ghost is to testify of truth. The Spirit testified to Katie that the gospel is true. Katie had paid the price. As the Savior said, she went to her home, studied His words, and prayed—for five whole months. Katie is developing her talent for spirituality. She can use this gift to govern her life.

On Friday morning, Johnny looked happy. He had finally decided on a project. “Let’s go through our toys and clothes. Richard’s family is having a hard time since his dad was hurt. We could give them some of our things.”
“What a great idea, Johnny,” Susan said. “I’ll write a note, and we can sneak up and deliver the things without them seeing us.”
The children were amazed at the many nice things they found that would be just right for someone in Richard’s family. They decided to give puzzles, a teddy bear, a ball, a baseball mitt, books, and some outgrown clothes that were still as good as new.
Mom came by and added two good blankets and some canned food to the pile.
“Wow,” said Johnny. “This looks great!” The children carted their box to Richard’s home. They left it by the front door with a note that said:
To Richard’s family—
Here is a gift to let you know we care.
The Sunshine Club

Chieko Nishimura Okazaki had goodly parents too. Her grandparents moved from Japan to Hawaii. Her parents worked hard on a plantation. They were Buddhists, Buddhism being the main religion in Japan. They did not know about Jesus Christ. But they knew about goodness. What did they teach Chieko?
She said, “They taught me to be kigatsuku (key-got-sue-koo). That means to do good without being asked. When my mother was sweeping the floor, she would say, ‘Chieko, what would a kigatsuku girl do now?’ I would think for a minute, then run to get the dust pan and hold it for her. Or when she was washing dishes, I would pick up the dishtowel and begin to dry them. She would smile and say, ‘You are a kigatsuku girl.’
“My parents taught me other things. They taught me to work hard and to always do my best. That’s why I could work hard in school, go to the university, and become a school teacher and even a principal. They taught me to always love the truth. That is why, when I found the Church, I loved it and was baptized a Latter-day Saint.”
Chieko respected, honored, and loved her parents by helping without being asked and by following the righteous principles that they taught her. Now she is the first counselor in the General Presidency of the Relief Society. Her father is dead; her mother is still a Buddhist. Sister Okazaki says, “I know that she is proud of me because I still try to be kigatsuku, and I love her very much for teaching me good things.”

One day as I was riding the bus to school, some boys who sit in the back were throwing paper balls everywhere. That didn’t really bother me, until I heard one of them say, “Hey, let’s throw them at those Mormons.”
These boys didn’t like me, my friends, or any of the other “Mormons” who ride the bus. They threw paper balls at us and swore a lot.
I wanted to shout at them and tell them to be quiet. I wanted to really lose my temper, but then I had a peaceful feeling. A thought came to mind that said, “It is okay to be proud to be a member of the Church. Try not to listen to their bad language.” The thought brightened my day, and I’m glad I chose not to lose my temper.
That night I prayed that they wouldn’t do the same bad things again the next day, and they didn’t. I’m so glad that I had the Spirit of the Lord with me, and I’m glad that my prayers were answered.

Just a few days before the first conference session, a group of more than fifty people arrived at the Tahiti Papeete Mission office. Mission president Raymond Baudin was acquainted with the Saints from the various island groups of French Polynesia, but he did not know any of these people. He assumed that they were a group of nonmembers interested in attending the conference.
But they introduced themselves as Latter-day Saints from the little island of Taenga, located in the Tuamotu Archipelago. The mission president couldn’t believe it! Church leaders in Papeete had not thought that there were any Church members on Taenga. The people explained to President Baudin that nearly the entire population of Taenga was Latter-day Saint, and that every single Taengan had made the three-day voyage to Tahiti by schooner to see the prophet of the Lord!

As Alvin was dying, he asked that each of the Smith children come to his bedside for his parting counsel and final expression of love. According to Mother Smith’s account in her History of Joseph Smith, “When he came to Joseph, he said, ‘I am now going to die, the distress which I suffer, and the feelings that I have, tell me my time is very short. I want you to be a good boy, and do everything that lies in your power to obtain the Record. [Joseph had been visited by Moroni less than three months before this time.] Be faithful in receiving instruction, and in keeping every commandment that is given you.’”
Alvin died on 19 November 1823. Lucy Mack Smith writes of the pall of grief surrounding his passing: “Alvin was a youth of singular goodness of disposition—kind and amiable, so that lamentation and mourning filled the whole neighborhood in which he resided.”

One item that is always on the agenda of every class or quorum presidency each month is the members they don’t see very often or at all. The deacons have only a couple of members they don’t see regularly. In the presidency meeting, Mark Jones asks, “Have any of you seen Francisco?”
Royden answers, “Not recently. I think the last time I saw him was two weeks ago.”
Mark says, “I’ll talk to the bishop about it. I think he has a problem getting a ride to church.”
Royden then brings up a project he’s trying to work out. Their ward is so spread out that long-distance telephone calls are required to reach from one area to another. Royden is trying to figure out who can make calls to whom without using long-distance telephone service.
“It’s like the food chain,” explains Royden. The others look at him blankly.
“It’s like bears and deer and grass,” continues Royden. “Something eats something that eats something else, and so on.”
“Oh,” says Jay Venable, first counselor, “like a phone web. That’s a good idea.” And they are soon figuring out a plan to contact the other quorum members without running up phone bills.

Lisa’s ‘Helping Hand’
Ward member Sister Lisa Howe and her husband, Wes, have been a regular driving force behind the Christmas-day meals provided at the Telford chapel for the homeless and vulnerable in the borough, working in conjunction with local businesses, who reduce the cost of the food and other goods they provided. Between 120-150 meals are provided every year. Before Christmas 2020 this has been a combination of sit-in and home-delivered meals. Bishop Pointer says, “We work in partnership with the local charity KiP@Maninplace, which identifies the homeless who require a delivered hot meal. We also work with the local council and other local organisations to identify lonely and vulnerable residents, and we extend an invitation to them for somewhere warm to sit, enjoy the company of others, and have a hot Christmas day meal.”
However, there is a twist to this Christmas tale—Sister Howes only has the proper use of one arm. In September and October 2020, as a gift for Lisa, her family raised funds to have a mechanical left arm fitted. Bishop Pointer says, “Lisa’s family want to help her get a bionic arm and ward members wanted to assist as Lisa has blessed so many lives within the ward (and beyond). Church members have contributed over £4,000 through a multitude of activities within their families, and circles of friends, including car boot sales. By the end of December 2020, the £15,000 target was met, and Lisa is already going through the process of getting that bionic arm.”

I would like to express my deep gratitude to you for your article on being a nanny. Hopefully it will open the eyes of many girls thinking about it.
My first three months as a nanny were spent being interrogated and degraded, being made to feel worthless in any task I tried. As the phone bill rose to over $200 a month I was told I was immature and needed to count on myself, not my family or friends. I had no other means of support or companionship and had to grow up or get out. I couldn’t be a “quitter,” so I promised myself I’d make it through my entire term.
I’ve been here over 11 months. It has taken its toll on me spiritually, emotionally, and physically. At times I didn’t know if I was going to explode or go crazy. I was ready to cry at any moment. I’ve put on over 20 pounds. My total self-image has been shaken.
K. Malaine MarolfStone Mountain, Georgia

Julie Ann Voigt of Sacramento, California, was selected to participate in the “America’s Youth in Concert” 1976 program sponsored by the Universal Academy for Music in Princeton, New Jersey. The program demonstrated the high quality and fine character of American youth while enriching and expanding the musical and cultural horizons of the young musicians.
Julie is 18 years old and a graduate of Hiram Johnson High School in Sacramento. She is an active Church member and loves to sing and to do artwork for her ward (Sacramento Seventh Ward).
Julie was selected for the concert tour after participating in a nationwide audition. She first performed in Philadelphia on the 200th birthday of United States and then flew to New York City to give a performance at Carnegie Hall. She then traveled to Europe to participate in concerts in London, Paris, Geneva, Innsbruck, Venice, Florence, and Rome.

Jane hurried out of the classroom to the front of the school building. Her big brother, Ronnie, was waiting for her. “Mum said we have to go straight home today because we mustn’t be late for my baptism,” Jane said excitedly. “After tonight I’ll be a real Church member. It’s the most important day of my life, so far!”
Ronnie smiled at his sister and teasingly messed up her hair. “Well, we can’t be late, then. Let’s go.”
When they got home, dinner was nearly ready and Dad was home from work early. When he saw Jane, he smiled and said, “I haven’t forgotten that today’s the big day.”
After dinner, Jane, Ronnie, Mum, and Dad all got in the car and set off for the chapel, twenty miles away.
As they arrived at the chapel, Mum looked at her watch. “We’re just in time—the service should start in ten minutes.”
Brother Jones, the custodian, hurried up to them. He looked worried. “I just arrived about half an hour ago. I had planned to come earlier to fill up the font, but we had an emergency at the station. I’m ever so sorry. The water is running now, but at this rate, it will take a couple more hours to fill the font. There are huge kettles of water heating in the kitchen, and I’ve a plan I’m working on. …”
Jane didn’t listen to what her dad and Brother Jones said next. She went outside and sat on the wall next to the car park. She knew she’d have to wait a long time before her baptismal service could start.
She looked down the road that led up to the chapel. The chapel was on a hill, so she had a good view. At the bottom of the hill was a big red fire engine coming up the road. I can’t see any smoke—I wonder where the fire is. She looked around her. As the fire engine came closer to the chapel, Jane ran inside to get Ronnie so that they could both watch it pass by. By the time they got back outside, the fire engine had stopped in front of the chapel and the firemen were unwinding the big hose on the side of the engine!
When Brother Jones came out of the chapel, Jane remembered that he worked at that station. He showed the firefighters where the font was, and Ronnie and Jane watched while they filled it. Soon the font was full and the fire engine was gone.
While the ward members poured the heated water into the font, Jane dressed in her white clothes and sat down next to her dad. After the opening hymn, Ronnie offered the opening prayer. Mum and the branch president gave talks; then Jane and Dad went to the font. Dad got in first. “Oh! It’s a bit cold,” he said.
“I don’t mind,” Jane said as she went into the water. She felt so wonderful that the cold water didn’t even bother her. After she changed her clothes, she was confirmed a member of the Church by her dad. The branch president, her dad and mum, Brother Jones, and Ronnie shook her hand and congratulated her.
“Now I’m a member of the true Church,” Jane said proudly. “I feel really good. Thank you, Brother Jones, for getting a fire engine to fill up the font, just for me!”

I used to be guilty of judging by appearance back in the days when I could see, before I lost my sight because of diabetes. I remember in particular my girls’ chorus teacher in junior high school. She was about as plain as a person could be, and she wore drab clothing. Even in conducting the choir she seemed to be a shy, backward person with about as much personality as a soda cracker. I am ashamed to admit that we girls made many rude remarks and cruel jokes about her behind her back.
One day at the end of the school year, some friends of mine thought it would be funny to leave an anonymous note on her desk telling her what we really thought of her. I was elected to do the dirty work. But as I went into the empty room to leave the note, I couldn’t do it. Instead, overcome by what I now suspect was the Spirit, I quickly wrote a note thanking her for her efforts in leading the chorus and telling her I had enjoyed singing.
As I was leaving the note on her desk, she entered the room. I was frozen to the spot as she walked to the desk, picked up the note, and read it. As I watched, I was astonished to see tears come to her eyes and flood down her cheeks. She clutched the note to her heart and in her mild way said, “Thank you.”
As I looked into her eyes at that moment, I believe I saw her clearly for the first time. I felt like I saw straight into her soul and sensed at once her loneliness, her pain, and her gentle goodness. At that moment, I loved her with a love that was far more powerful than anything I had ever felt for my favorite teachers. The Lord permitted me to see her heart as he sees it.

When I was a teenager, my Young Men president invited the young men in our ward to read the Book of Mormon by the end of the year.
I didn’t accept that invitation. I’ve usually been someone who is ready to take on any challenge, but I was at a really low point spiritually.
Interestingly, during this time, I was “preparing” to serve a mission, but I was only going through the motions. My testimony was weak, and I told myself I would serve just to make my parents happy. I had decided that after my mission, I would figure things out for myself. I would believe what I wanted to and do my own thing.
Although I was exerting myself in my schoolwork at the time, I had fallen into a pit of spiritual idleness. I felt so distant from God that I started questioning His existence. I had doubts concerning the authenticity of the Book of Mormon and Joseph Smith’s call to be a prophet. I struggled with self-esteem and self-hate, and I had no strong conviction regarding the purpose of life.
“I was in the darkest abyss” (Mosiah 27:29), so I had little desire to read the Book of Mormon.
One night, I was reading a novel when an impression came to me that I believe and know with all my heart was from the Spirit. I found myself getting deeply wrapped up in the plot of this book, and then the thought came to me that I had never studied the Book of Mormon seriously—at least not as seriously as I was reading and pondering this particular book.
I had casually studied the Book of Mormon, taken notes, and prayed about it multiple times before, but I’d been missing a crucial part of Moroni’s admonition in the last chapter of the Book of Mormon: to ask “with a sincere heart, with real intent” (Moroni 10:4). I knew that it was the perfect time for me to ask my Father in Heaven again for answers. I felt spiritually hungry, and this time the answer actually mattered to me. Without realizing it, I had arrived at a spiritual crossroads, where my faith in the gospel hinged on knowing whether or not the Book of Mormon was true.
The same night I received that impression, I began to read the Book of Mormon—but this time with purpose.
Now eager to accept my Young Men leader’s invitation and finish reading by the end of the year, I read my pocket-size copy at every opportunity possible: on the train, during bus rides to school, in between classes, in between chores, before and after meals, and before bed. At every possible opportunity, I read. And every time I read, I kept praying: “I need to know. I need to know.”
One day my family and I went to the Manila Philippines Temple, but I forgot to bring my temple recommend. I did have my tiny copy of the Book of Mormon with me, though, so I sat in a waiting area and continued to read. Occasionally, I would stop to admire the beauty of the temple—the chandelier, the staircase, the stained-glass windows, and the people coming and going ever so reverently with great love for the Lord in their hearts.
At some point while I was reading, I received a very distinct impression from the Spirit in my mind. When it came, it spoke to me on many different levels. I was actually so shocked when it hit me that I sat up a little straighter. I felt such a powerful feeling that I could not dismiss it as a passing thought or a fleeting emotion.
“Totoo ‘to,” is what I heard in my mind.
A simple yet profound statement in my native tongue, Tagalog, that means, “This is true.”
I had received a confirmation that the Book of Mormon was true—that it was the word of God. I finally knew it with all my heart because I knew that impression had come from heaven.
But that’s not all that I learned.
Growing up, I had read the Book of Mormon and learned about the gospel in English. As a matter of fact, during the first few years of my life, I had a better grasp of English than Tagalog. But receiving this spiritual impression out of nowhere in Tagalog—the language native to my country—spoke truth to my heart.
I knew in that moment that God knows me in a very real and personal way.
I knew that He really is there. I knew that He speaks my language, that He loves me, and that He is aware of my struggles and weaknesses. I had that confirmation, but there was something else I needed to know for sure, so I sought out the answer immediately: “Heavenly Father, is Joseph Smith really a true prophet?” The feeling came again, this time more powerfully into my heart: “Totoo ‘to!”
I knew then that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. He saw both the Father and the Son. Through Joseph Smith, the gospel of Jesus Christ was restored in its fulness.
What peace and comfort and knowledge did I receive! At that moment, I wanted to rush out on the temple grounds, waving my small copy of the Book of Mormon in the air and exclaiming, “Totoo ‘to! Totoo ‘to!” I felt like Alma when he exclaimed, “Oh, what joy, and what marvelous light I did behold” (Alma 36:20).
After this experience, my reason for going on a mission immediately changed. Soon my papers were in, and I got my call to serve in Colorado, USA. I was so excited. I knew that someone out there was experiencing what I had gone through—crying out for help and longing for happiness and truth. And I knew that through the gospel of Jesus Christ, they would find that help and happiness, just as I had.
I hope that we may all come to know: “Totoo ‘to!”

My parents died while I was still living at home. As the youngest and the only unmarried member of the family, I was devastated.
Alone and vulnerable, I became so distraught that I had to leave school. Concerned about my emotional state, my brothers and sisters took me to nearly every hospital in the area. The doctors said I was in shock and needed complete rest in a peaceful place away from books and anything that required concentrated thinking.
Life became even more difficult, especially as I saw my friends continuing their studies. The fact that they still had their mothers also caused me pain; my mother had been everything to me. I longed to die so I could rejoin my parents.
But my Father in Heaven had other plans for me. In His wisdom and love, He inspired my brothers and sisters to take me from the city where I had been going to school to another city to be near them. I stayed with my sister Alphonsine. She and her husband and children were so kind to me that I began to feel better. Even more importantly, my sister’s oldest son, Faet Nadege, introduced me to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It was my association with the Church and the power of the gospel that finally calmed my mind and healed my wounded heart.

Thirty years ago I had responsibility for much of the work in the South Pacific. A Brother J. Vernon Monson was called, together with his wife, to journey to faraway Rarotonga in the Cook Islands, there to serve as district president.
Later, in a letter to me, he reported: “We are most grateful for the progress being made, and I would especially like to mention the goodwill and wonderful relations that have developed with the representatives of government and the business community toward us and the Church.
“One thing climaxed the development of this public acceptance,” he wrote. “It was in having our nephew and niece, Dr. and Mrs. Odeen Manning, render an outstanding service here in the Cook Islands. Dr. Manning is an ophthalmologist, and I wrote to him outlining a proposal whereby he might render service to the people of Rarotonga. My proposal included the following: (1) No remuneration; (2) He must pay his own expenses; (3) That he turn his practice over to the other doctors to handle for the three months he would be away; (4) We would furnish them free board and room while in Rarotonga; and (5) That he bring his own surgical instruments, as none would be available in Rarotonga.”
Brother Vernon Monson’s letter to me continued: “The Mannings airmailed their reply in two words: ‘Offer accepted.’ As preparations began, the government of the Cook Islands assigned competent doctors to assist Dr. Manning and to learn from him. In all, 284 patients were examined, with most being fitted for glasses. Fifty-three patients had serious eye operations, such as cataract surgery.
“The entire three-month program was wonderful and most heartwarming. Truly we were blessed. It has buoyed up the Saints, who gained new pride in being members of a faith which would bring medical service to these islands.” The letter ended.
Years later, my wife and I were guests on a BYU-sponsored cruise to the Holy Land. One evening as we were seated on the ship’s deck, the man sitting next to us turned to me and said, “Elder Monson, my name is Odeen Manning from Woodland Hills, California. I am an ophthalmologist by profession and served a brief medical mission to Rarotonga when my uncle and aunt were serving there.”
I acknowledged that I was aware of his sacrifice and his service. I asked Dr. Manning, “As you reflect on this experience, would you wish to share with me your feelings concerning it?”
He responded with emotion, saying, “It was the most spiritually rewarding experience of my life.”
I believe it was more than coincidence that my wife and I would be on the cruise vessel at that particular time and in that particular area of the deck, sitting next to a man we never before had met. Heaven was close as Dr. Manning and I embraced, and thanks were expressed for his service—not only to those who were blind and now could see, but also to our Lord and Savior, who declared, “Great are the promises of the Lord unto them who are upon the isles of the sea.”

Brother Tony Wong was assigned to speak during a stake priesthood meeting. “I think the stake presidency wanted me to talk about whether emigration was right or wrong. But I didn’t know,” he says. He read books, checked references, and prepared for two weeks, but the night before the meeting, he still had no idea what he was going to say.
“I decided I’d better do something, so I knelt down and prayed. Then I opened up the scriptures.”
Again, the answer and comfort were found in Ether: “Wherefore, whoso believeth in God might with surety hope for a better world, yea, even a place at the right hand of God” (Ether 12:4).
“The reason for emigrating is looking for a better world,” Brother Wong explains. “People think it will be safer, nicer, or happier somewhere else. This scripture made me realize something. When I talked at that priesthood meeting, I didn’t talk about emigration—I talked about belief in God and Jesus Christ.
“If you ask me if I am going to emigrate, I’ll tell you no. People are worrying and fearing, but we’re forgetting that we have the gospel, we have the Helper. The gospel offers hope and the assurance that Heavenly Father knows what is going on and that he is in charge.”

I’m going to do it!
Do what?
Run for student council.
Good for you!
What does the student council do?
They solve problems together and try to make the school a better place.
Hmmm, sounds like family council.
Sort of. But don’t try running for the position of Dad. At least not yet.
So, Mandy, what’s next?
I need a slogan!
How about, “Mandy is dandy, she’ll give you free candy.” I’d vote for that!
Just kidding.
Hmmm. Posters. Talking to lots of people.
It sounds a little scary. But I think I really want to do it!
I’ll help put up posters.
I’ll pass out candy!

I looked around the chapel for the people whose names had just been read by the bishop as he welcomed a new family into the ward. I resolved to introduce myself and get acquainted right after sacrament meeting.
I thought about Sister Shaw’s parting testimony at an earlier sacrament meeting. “This is my last Sunday here,” she had said. “Before I leave I feel impressed to share an experience with you.”
Sandy Shaw had lived in our ward during the past year while her husband attended school. I’m not sure when I first noticed her, but she seemed to have a special friendship with Neva Gillman, the Spiritual Living teacher in our ward.
I thought about the story Sister Shaw told.
“I felt loved and secure in my home ward,” she had said. “I had lived there all my life. When my husband and I moved here, I was terrified to attend a strange ward, and didn’t want to go for several weeks. But soon I felt a great emptiness in my life and vowed to attend the next meeting.
“I entered the church with great fear. As people went to their classes, I hoped someone would introduce himself or herself and show me the way to go. I knew I should say something to someone, but my tongue wouldn’t work. People walked by, visiting with their friends. Some even smiled at me. It wasn’t long until the doors were closed and the halls were empty. Crying in despair, I turned and left.
“That night I turned to the one person I knew I could count on: Father in Heaven. ‘Dear Father,’ I pleaded. ‘I have always been active, but I’m afraid to go to a strange ward. I can’t do it alone.’
“The next morning I opened my door to a nervous stranger who said, ‘Hello. My name is Neva Gillman. I really don’t know why I’m here, but I had the strongest impression to come by and ask if you would like to come to Relief Society with me.’
“Smiling through my tears, I invited her in.”
Sister Shaw’s testimony had made me take a good look at myself. How many times had I seen new people come to church, and, because I didn’t know what to say, walked by them or smiled and said only “hello”?
Never again!