Gospel Story Finder

I have seen many Christmas trees. Usually they have been topped with a lighted star or a lovely angel. But the most beautiful tree I have ever seen had a big red bow on top.
I wasn’t sure how to celebrate Christmas that year. My mother had been a widow for several years, and since I was single, we had continued many of our family traditions and had celebrated most of the holidays together. When my mother died just before Christmas, however, the old traditions suddenly seemed too painful without her.
The bishopric came to visit. They expressed concern about my being alone for Christmas. Looking around, the bishop asked why there was no Christmas tree or other decorations. I explained that I didn’t want to decorate a tree alone and so had decided not to have one. Christmas was so much of a family celebration that ignoring it seemed like the best way to make it through the holidays.
After they left, I went about my work. The bishop did not let the matter alone, though: He phoned the ward Primary president. I had just been called to be the Merrie Miss B teacher but would not start serving until the first of the year.
One afternoon, Michelle, one of the girls who would be in my class, called and asked if she could drop by the next evening about 7:30. I was surprised but looked forward to her company.
The doorbell rang at exactly 7:30, but it was not just Michelle who stood on my porch. It was all of the girls in my new Primary class—with a Christmas tree, lights, and decorations!
They pushed the large tree through the door and started setting it up in my living room. Their enthusiasm was contagious, and I was soon moving furniture to find just the right spot for the tree. I asked what I should do to help and was told to sit on the couch and just watch and enjoy. My next two hours were filled with the holiday laughter and love that only eleven-year-olds can create and share.
The girls told me their names and what part each had played in the project. Cindy showed me the hot-glue burns she had suffered while attaching ribbons to the backs of gingerbread cookies. Amanda couldn’t come that evening, so she had gone with her mother to buy the tree earlier in the day. Bethany was the tallest, so she was in charge of the lights. Lindsay joined in the decorating with a large box of candy canes. Rachel put a stocking filled with candy and a gift under the tree. Michelle told me that they had tried to find or make a star for the top of the tree but couldn’t, so they had brought a large red bow.
That bow topped one of the largest and most beautiful Christmas gifts I have ever received. Even before that tree was finished and lighted, my heart was full of the spirit of Christmas and of love for each girl in my future Primary class. That feeling was renewed each time I turned on the tree lights.
I have some new Christmas traditions now. I plan to have a tree every year, and it will always have candy canes, gingerbread men—and a big red bow on the top.

Another young woman in England is developing her gift for being a peacemaker. She says:
“I love making and listening to music, and it is one of the best ways I know to calm down. If I am in a rotten mood, I quite often go to the piano and take out my anger on it. This isn’t very good for the piano, but soon I feel fine again, and usually I will end up playing a hymn. This puts me in a better humour, and everyone else responds to the music as well, so we get harmony in the home for a while at least.”

After 11 exciting years of working at that job, I was in a meeting one night with those developing an essential part of the nuclear power plant. My secretary came in and said, “There’s a man on the phone who says if I tell you his name you’ll come to the phone.”
I said, “What’s his name?”
She said, “Harold B. Lee.”
I said, “He’s right.” I took the phone call. Elder Lee, who later became President of the Church, asked if he could see me that very night. He was in New York City, and I was in Washington, D.C. I flew up to meet him, and we had an interview that led to my call to be a mission president.
The head of the program I was working for was Admiral Hyman Rickover, a hard-working, demanding individual. I knew him well enough that I felt I needed to tell him as soon as possible that I was being called. As I explained the mission call to him and that it would mean I would have to quit my job, he became rather upset. He said some unrepeatable things, broke the paper tray on his desk, and in the comments that followed clearly established two points:
“Scott, what you are doing in this defense program is so vital that it will take a year to replace you, so you can’t go. Second, if you do go, you are a traitor to your country.”
I said, “I can train my replacement in the two remaining months, and there won’t be any risk to the country.”
There was more conversation, and he finally said, “I never will talk to you again. I don’t want to see you again. You are finished, not only here, but don’t ever plan to work in the nuclear field again.”
I responded, “Admiral, you can bar me from the office, but unless you prevent me, I am going to turn this assignment over to another individual.”
True to his word, the admiral ceased to speak to me. When critical decisions had to be made, he would send a messenger, or I would communicate through a third party. He assigned an individual to take my responsibility, and I trained him.
It wasn’t going to be hard for me to leave; I knew I had been called as a mission president by the Lord. But I knew that my decision would affect others. In the Idaho Falls, Idaho, area were many members of the Church whose jobs depended upon working in the nuclear program. I didn’t want to cause them harm. I didn’t know what to do. My heart kept saying, “Is this going to turn out all right, or will somebody be innocently hurt who depends on our program for livelihood?”
As I prayed and pondered about it, I had a feeling about the hymn “Do What Is Right.” A line from the hymn would come to mind: “Do what is right; let the consequence follow.” Other words from the hymn were reinforcing such as “God will protect you; then do what is right!” (Hymns, no. 237).
My last day in the office I asked for an appointment with the admiral. His secretary gasped. I went with a copy of the Book of Mormon in my hand. He looked at me and said, “Sit down, Scott, what do you have? I have tried every way I can to force you to change. What is it you have?” There followed a very interesting, quiet conversation. There was more listening this time.
He said he would read the Book of Mormon. Then something happened I never thought would occur. He added, “When you come back from the mission, I want you to call me. There will be a job for you.”

“Where’d you get those shoes? They’re ugly!”
Callie looked up from her book. Lisa had plunked down in the bus seat across the aisle and was making a face at her shoes.
“I don’t remember—they’re just shoes.”
Lisa had a pair of brand-new boots, trimmed with brass buckles. “They look like a discount store special to me.”
The words in Callie’s book swam before her eyes. Mom probably had gotten the shoes at a discount store. Since Dad’s hours had been cut at the plant, the whole family was on a budget. She tried to ignore Lisa.
But Lisa persisted. “So where did you get them?”
“What’s it to you, Lisa? Just bug off,” Callie said angrily. She looked out the window, glad that the next stop was Lisa’s.
“OK, OK! You don’t have to get mad! I was only wondering!” Lisa smirked as she left.
Callie watched Lisa walk up the driveway, her smart leather boots swinging stylishly.
That night Callie was helping with the dishes when she asked, “Mom, did you get my shoes at a discount store?”
“Yes. You needed some for school. Don’t you like them?”
“They’re OK.”
“OK but not great, I take it.”
“They’re fine, really,” Callie said hastily. She knew her parents were doing their very best to make ends meet.
“Did somebody say something about them?” Mom was concerned.
“Lisa did, but I don’t care—she’s just stuck-up.”
“Maybe so,” Mom said, “and not everyone has been taught to be kind, as you have.”
“Lisa certainly isn’t kind!” Callie purposely missed her mother’s point.
“Maybe she’s insecure.”
“Not likely!”
“Whatever she did,” Mom said, “you can choose to forgive her and not be angry. You’ll feel better if you do.”
Callie didn’t answer out loud, but she was thinking, Hmph! If you had seen what happened, you wouldn’t say that. Who wouldn’t be angry?
She was relieved when Lisa wasn’t at school the next day. That evening her dad was rushing to get ready for a church meeting.
“Callie,” Mom asked, “would you mind helping me with the grocery shopping tonight? We’ll drop Dad off and pick him up later.”
“Sure, Mom. My homework’s done, and that sounds like fun. Can we get an ice-cream cone on the way home?”
“You bet. With your help, we should have time for one—or we can get one after we get Dad later.”
When Callie entered the grocery store, she yanked a cart free and headed for the fruit section while Mom went to choose cereal. Everyone who saw Callie carefully choosing bananas and grapes smiled at her, and she smiled back.
She was in the pasta aisle when her pleasant mood was disrupted by a woman’s harsh voice in the next aisle.
“Now what are you doing?” the voice snapped. “Put that back on the shelf and stop trying to put everything you see in our cart. I can’t take you anywhere!”
Whoever the woman was talking to made some reply, but it was too soft and short for Callie to hear.
“What did you say?” the woman responded sharply. “Stop whining everytime you can’t have your own way.”
Callie had come to the end of her aisle. She decided to pass by the next one, then come back to it later. But as she hurried by, she almost ran into Lisa! Her head was down and her cheeks were red, but she had to have seen Callie go by.
How awful for Lisa’s mother to treat her like that! Mom would never talk to me that way! Callie stared down at her list, hoping that Lisa and her mother were not moving in her direction. She didn’t want Lisa to be humiliated anymore. Then she heard Mrs. Johnson at the checkout counter, barking at Lisa to hurry up.
Monday morning, Callie sat in her usual place on the bus, determined to act as if nothing had happened. Lisa walked straight to the back. She’ll probably never speak to me again, thought Callie, and I won’t have to worry about what to say.
But on the way home from school, Lisa sat behind Callie. “Did I mention that I saw your shoes at the discount store?”
Callie was stunned. Lisa was at it again! Should she say something about what happened in the grocery store? Then she remembered how ashamed Lisa had been, and suddenly it didn’t matter what Lisa said. Turning to face her, Callie said quietly, “I’m sorry you don’t like my shoes, but I can’t do much about it. Dad’s hours have been cut at work and we’re on a tight budget.”
Lisa blushed. All she said was, “Oh.”
Callie turned back around. She could have added “at least my mother cares about me,” but she hadn’t—and she was glad. She knew now what Mom had meant when she said that she didn’t have to be angry. She could also forgive.
Callie felt someone sit down next to her. It was Lisa! “Callie,” she said timidly, “I like your shoes. There’s really nothing wrong with them.”
Callie didn’t know what to say. “Thanks,” was all she could manage.
Lisa’s stop was coming up, but she obviously had something else on her mind. Finally, she faltered, “I guess you saw me and my mom at the store.”
Callie nodded.
“I know she loves me. I don’t understand why she always screams at me like that.”
Callie thought for a moment, then said softly, “Don’t worry about it, Lisa. She probably just hasn’t ever learned how to be kind—maybe no one ever taught her.”
The bus squeaked to a stop, and Lisa got up to get off. With a quavery smile she said, “Thanks, Callie. See you tomorrow?”
“You bet!”
Callie felt like singing as the bus moved on and she watched Lisa’s leather boots swing stylishly up her driveway.

For years, I have wanted to create a large poppy display and in November of last year, I voiced this to our Relief Society president, Yvonne Kerr, who expressed a similar desire. Because we were coming to the close of a horrible year of lockdowns, we felt that setting this up as a project for 2021 would be an ideal time to do it as it would give us something to focus on while we were restricted to our homes and by giving us a common purpose, we would not feel so isolated. Little did we know at that point that we were heading into further lockdowns and this project became a lifeline for many women. The culmination of this work was to be a display at the chapel where we would hold a special commemorative meeting, to which we would invite community leaders as well as our members and friends.
Yvonne asked me to pull a small committee together to make this happen and I knew exactly who to ask.
Esther Wilford became our internal communications director, whose job it was to keep the sisters and ward members updated with our progress. When she relocated out of our ward, we enlisted Julie Beveridge who also did a wonderful job.
Yvonne Kerr acted as our external communications director. She sent out all the external invitations to official delegates, war veterans and medal holders to attend our event.
Mandy Watson acted as the technical and structural engineer (to ensure the large display was stable). The fact that the structure is so sound is very much down to Mandy’s skills and hard work. Part of the display was the silhouette of a soldier. Mandy built all the framework and did all the sealing to make it waterproof before spending many hours as doing several coats of undercoat and paint. She really needs to be acknowledged more for her role in it all. I had the idea and vision, but she engineered the whole thing. Mandy has lots of experience with making sure structures and frameworks are safe and secure and we would need her skills when it came to putting the display together. Mandy is in the middle of restoring a very large, old house and so many of the materials that went into the framework and structure of the display came from her home—from the netting holding the poppies to the cobblestones that weigh the stands down, to the scaffolding outriggers used to stabilize the frame.
I had the easy task of chairing the committee and acting as a wool merchant and distributor. Because we commenced the project during a four-tier lockdown in Scotland, no one could get out to buy wool so I bought in bulk then coordinated with individuals, finding safe ways to deliver and distribute.
Thirty women made and contributed poppies. Because we wouldn’t physically collect poppies from sisters, every four weeks, Esther, and then Julie, would send a request on various messaging platforms to ask how many poppies had been made since the last count. Sisters would relay this to me, and I would keep a tally in a small notebook. We were hoping to reach a total of 1,500 poppies, feeling we could do a nice, decent display with that amount. However, I soon had to keep a record using a spreadsheet because within no time at all we had by far exceeded our initial goal. By the week before the display went up, we had received a staggering 5,589 poppies!
3,592 were made by sisters from the Alloa Ward. Another 262 by sisters from other wards around the country.
There were 967 poppies made by a friend of one of our members and a further 692 made by others not of our faith based up and down the country who belong to a Facebook crafting group. There were also 76 that came from a nonmember relative of mine in Holland.
We were grateful to all 30 women who made and added to the total, but recognition should go to a committee member, Julie Beveridge, who made a very impressive 1,373 poppies herself.
A brother who gave plenty of help throughout the project, Eammon Brereton, made a ‘Lest We Forget’ sign as part of the display.
We estimate that thousands of hours were spent by so many in the preparations for this event but they all felt that this truly has been a labour of love.
Other neighbour and local companies contributed the steel and used their equipment to cut out the soldier’s gun, others donated tenting fabric, and super heavy-duty guy pegs from rebar. A kind and generous benefactor donated £200 for the making of the soldier. A self-employed contractor came to the building on the final day of construction, and when he saw that we were rapidly running out of time, took the afternoon off to help us with some of the wire tethering and knocking in ground spikes.
On 22 October we held an outside lighting up ceremony, conducted by Sister Yvonne Kerr. Besides members of the ward, we had in attendance invited guests who included the lord lieutenant of Clackmannanshire, Lt Col (Retd) Johnny Stewart, and the most senior member of the Alloa Ward, Sister Dorothy Kendall, who pushed a button that lit up the monumental display. Esther Wilford beautifully sang Vera Lynn’s “When The Lights Go on Again, All over The World” and “I Vow to Thee My Country”. One of our Primary children, Emma Black, read the much-quoted lines from ‘For the Fallen’ by Laurence Binyon. People passing stopped to join the crowd, inside and outside of the fencing surrounding the grounds.
We tried to give each poppy its own space to clearly represent an individual. There are varying shades of red and a myriad of patterns, symbolizing the differences in those individuals who, all together have made a huge difference for each of us.
Just before the button was pressed to illuminate the display, we acknowledged to the assembled crowd, many who were not members of our Church, that as members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, we try to put Christ at the centre of all we do and it was in His name that on that night and during the season of remembrance, we honour those from World War I and World War II who fought and fell to give us our freedom, but the display also honours and gives reverence to those in the past and those who currently protect our land, shores, and skies from unseen enemies. They are the real heroes, and that really is what the display is about.
Yvonne Kerr, president of the Relief Society, said: “We really felt that there was a need for people who weren’t able to get together to be able to do something in unity. “It was a good way for the women of the Church to stay in contact with one another and to be able to serve and help other people.” She added: “As COVID started to progress, we really wanted to run with the idea, to be able to acknowledge that there were other people who had sacrificed a lot more than we got to sacrifice. We were very privileged to be able to acknowledge them by creating the poppies.”
Yvonne Kerr told the Advertiser: “It was very well attended. We were surprised by how many people came. It was really wonderful—a lovely event and a great tribute to those who served in our military services and a great way to thank them for what they’ve done for us.”

As a child, I enjoyed writing to my grandmother. She lived across the country, so I rarely saw her more than once a year. But as a teenager, I gradually became too busy to write, and our relationship slowly faded. When Grandma would come to visit for a few days, I would occasionally ask her a question or make a comment, but our conversations were seldom genuine or heartfelt. By the time I turned 16, I barely knew her, and I didn’t know how to talk to her.
On the last day of one of her visits, I was alone in the kitchen preparing dinner when she came in and sat down. I greeted her, but afterward I found myself at a loss for words. I could tell that she wanted to talk to me and had probably been seeking an opportunity for some time, but how was I supposed to strike up a conversation with a 75-year-old woman with whom I thought I had nothing in common?
I commented on what I was cooking, but that subject didn’t last long. Finally, I asked Grandma about what her life was like at my age. She told me stories about work and social activities, then talked about meeting my grandfather and falling in love. I realized that her life and desires as a teenager weren’t that different from my own.
A few months later, President Boyd K. Packer, President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, spoke about grandparents in general conference. In his talk, “The Golden Years,” he spoke of the wisdom and guidance older members of the Church can provide. His theme made me reflect on my relationship with my grandmother, and I realized I was missing out on a valuable friendship.
I decided to write to Grandma again. I still wasn’t quite sure what to say, so I just wrote about work, friends, family, and what I was doing. She responded to each of my letters and told me about other relatives, her garden, and her day-to-day activities. The next time we were together, talking to her was easy.
I’m grateful for the conference talk that came at a time when I was ready and willing to get to know my grandmother again. Through President Packer’s words, I realized that I had overlooked the “priceless resource of experience, wisdom, and inspiration”2 that my grandmother really is. Now I have come to appreciate this wonderful woman and have been blessed by her example and friendship.
Laura A. Austin, Utah, USA

I had only lived in Tokyo, Japan, a little while. It takes an hour for me to get home from school on the bus. One day a friend said that if we got off at the first bus stop, he knew the way to my house and would guide me home. I believed him. So I got off the bus at the first stop, thinking that he would get off, too. But he tricked me. He didn’t get off, and I was alone.
I tried to remember the way to my house. I started to walk, but I came to a fork in the road, and I didn’t know which way to go. I felt very bad and scared. I said a prayer. I told Heavenly Father that I had made a mistake, and I asked Him to help me get home. I felt better, and He helped me choose the right way to go. I got home safely and was grateful that He helped me. I learned that He really listens to our prayers and helps us solve problems.
Ian Robert Evans, age 7Tokyo, Japan

During that same summer, as many of you will remember, there was the death of George Floyd, which caused great unrest throughout the United States and here in Provo, including on campus. One of the ways in which people expressed their feelings about this event—and their feelings were very deep—was that professional athletes would put a message on the back of their jerseys about what they stood for, one way or the other. They were evaluated and criticized or praised, depending on what their message was.

Our football team that fall was in the midst of all of this and was trying to decide what to do. In a players-only meeting, they said, “So what is our message to the world? What are we going to say? Are we going to emphasize diversity, equity, and inclusion, or are we going to emphasize something else?”

Through their own inspiration, they came up with what was a perfect solution. The front of the T-shirt said, “We Are One.” Unity. On the back it said, “Love One Another.” Those two ideas are connected and are a great example of people, including students, receiving inspiration and following gospel principles here on campus.

Every time I turned around there was something new that I wanted to do. Then my teacher told my class we were supposed to write a book and turn it in. I was reluctant to even try because it seemed enormously boring to me. When I tried, I found that I liked writing, and I had all sorts of ideas to write down on paper. I am absolutely certain that I want to be an author. I wouldn’t even know I liked to write if I hadn’t been forced to do that assignment. My advice to you is to take every opportunity you can get to try new things. Don’t be judgmental before you try it.
Melanie Wise, 12Green River, Wyoming

In April 2010, Evelyn Vigil was concerned that her husband, Amado, was losing his faith. He had not attended any church for 11 years, having arrived at the conclusion that the true Church did not exist. Meanwhile, Evelyn had never stopped believing in God, and she went from one church to another, yearning to hear His word but never satisfied with what she heard. Some mornings she awoke in tears. On such days, she pled for guidance from her Heavenly Father. She asked Him why she never felt right in any of the churches she attended, even though she wanted so desperately to learn of Him. She also prayed that her family would someday find unity in one church.
“Our story began,” Amado recalls, “when we found a pair of elders—rather, when they found us. We were leaving the home of Evelyn’s parents, and we were carrying shopping bags. We noticed that the elders had seen us and were crossing the street toward us. One of them kindly asked if they could help us.
“They also asked if we would allow them to visit us. I said yes, mostly out of curiosity. Up to that point, I didn’t know much about the Church—only comments I had heard from other people.
“After I agreed to let the elders visit our home, I told my wife, ‘Don’t get too excited about this. Don’t get any illusions about me deciding to join a church. I’m just curious to see what they have to say.’
“The elders started visiting us. I was ready to politely tell them to go away if they said anything that didn’t seem right to me. But they were so kind, and I was impressed that they never said anything bad about other churches. They taught with such love and diligence, and they were patient when I asked many questions. They quickly endeared themselves to us.”
Bit by bit, Amado and Evelyn prepared themselves to be baptized and confirmed members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Evelyn’s biggest challenge was the Word of Wisdom. She was saddened by the realization that she would need to let go of her desire for coffee. Amado didn’t need to let go of any bad habits; he just needed to learn to grab hold of the truth. He believed what the missionaries were teaching, and he even recognized many doctrines and practices that he and his wife had felt were missing from other churches, such as eternal families, baptisms for the dead, and fellowship and organization in the Church. But he hesitated to commit to be baptized. He worried that he would join the Church only to find that he had made the wrong decision.
These concerns soon faded. Evelyn prayed for help and overcame her coffee habit, saying, “I’m not going to let this keep me from receiving blessings.” After about two months of indecision, Amado committed to be baptized. Now, according to Evelyn, he frequently says, “We need to embrace the doctrine.”
Amado, Evelyn, and Michelle were baptized and confirmed in early July 2010. “From the time that we were baptized,” Evelyn says, “I could feel that everything started to change. My family was united in the Church. We had found the restored gospel. We have had trials and sickness since then, but our Heavenly Father has poured many blessings on us.”
Amado observes: “The first change I noticed was unity in our family. It’s not that we were dysfunctional before, but we started to unite more. The doctrines of the gospel helped us. As Church leaders taught us about the sacredness of the family, we thought more about the value we should place on our family.”

One of the stories President Monson uses comes from his days as a deacon. He and the other members of his quorum were apparently assigned to be Eskimos in the ward’s road show. President Monson’s sister was playing the part of Lady Liberty. When his sister came down with a severe case of laryngitis just at the critical performance time, it was feared that she would not be able to speak her lines and the show would be impaired. The “Eskimos” decided to do something about this situation. They gathered in the room in the basement of their meetinghouse and knelt in prayer. They sought the Lord’s intervening Spirit in behalf of President Monson’s sister. At the appointed time, Lady Liberty was able to deliver her lines with a clear voice. President Monson’s sister remembered the experience as being a miracle in her life and was grateful for those Eskimos.

It was Mothers and Sons’ Night at the Fort Collins Second Ward, Fort Collins Colorado Stake. Thirteen priests in suits and ties sat proudly with their mothers as the Laurels served a delicious dinner of roast beef prepared earlier that evening by the priests themselves. Afterwards, a beautifully decorated cake with “MOM” written in the middle was cut and eaten and a program was presented. Bishop Owen Smith began by paying a tribute to all mothers. Quorum member Ron Wallace followed him with a musical number on his cello. The finale of the program was when the priests sang in two-part harmony all four verses of “There Is Beauty All Around.”
Quorum secretary and chairman for the evening, Paul Simons, then read from Alma the tribute to the mothers of the 2,000 stripling warriors: “Now they never had fought, yet they did not fear death; and they did think more upon the liberty of their fathers than they did upon their lives; yea, they had been taught by their mothers, that if they did not doubt, God would deliver them” (Alma 56:47).
As successful as the meal and program were, the highlight of the evening came when each boy pinned a corsage on his mother and told her of his love for her. Perhaps Sister Simons expressed the feelings of all the mothers present when she said, “It was thrilling to hear my son express his love in public—it was a warm, spiritual evening.”

Six priests from Long Beach Seventh Ward, California, representing over 80 percent of their quorum, received their Duty to God awards and became licensed scuba divers during last year. Scott Taylor, Steve Burt, Lee Johnson, Jim Daniels, Jeff Burt, and Daril Johnson received training and experience through their Explorer post that enabled them to pass the requirements for scuba divers’ licenses. As a result they have been bringing home lobsters, crab, and other delicacies from the southern California coast.

Children are so capable of learning the significant things of the kingdom. As we listen to them, we can better understand how they are applying what they are learning about the gospel. A father explained to his four-year-old daughter that the family had spent most of the day cleaning the house and every room was clean except one.

“Do you know which room is not clean?” he asked her.

“Mine,” she quickly replied.

“Do you know anyone who could help clean your room?” he asked, expecting her to answer that she could.

Instead she replied, “Well, Daddy, I know that any time you are scared, worried, or need help, you can get down on your knees and ask Heavenly Father to help.”

It is interesting to note that as we listen to our children, they can also teach us. A father shared an experience he had with his eight-year-old daughter. He said: “While I was contemplating remarks for my sacrament meeting talk on ‘Becoming like Little Children,’ I asked my daughter why we needed to become like little children. She responded, ‘Because we are all little children compared to Jesus, and because little children have a good imagination.’”

Surprised by the last part of her answer, he asked why we need a good imagination. She replied, “So we can imagine Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane and on the cross, and when we take the sacrament we can think about Him.”

As in all things, the Savior set the example for us in how we should love and teach our children. When He appeared to the Nephites in the Western Hemisphere, the scriptures tell us that as He spoke to the people, “he wept, … and he took their little children, one by one, and blessed them, and prayed unto the Father for them.”

Referring to this occasion, President Gordon B. Hinckley said, “There is no more tender and beautiful picture in all of sacred writing than this simple language describing the love of the Savior for little children.”

The key to accomplishing effective gospel teaching in the home is to invite the Spirit of the Lord to be with us. Some of the best counsel my husband and I received during some turbulent times of raising our children was to do all that is possible to invite and keep the Spirit in our home. Children cannot learn spiritual things and have spiritual feelings without the guidance of the Spirit.

As parents, we can share our testimony of Jesus Christ with our children often. The bearing of testimony, whether during family home evening or in a teaching moment, will invite the Spirit. President Boyd K. Packer also instructs us to “teach our young people to bear testimony—to bear testimony that Jesus is the Christ, that Joseph Smith is a prophet of God, that the Book of Mormon is true.”

President Hinckley reassures us: “Of all the joys of life, none other equals that of happy parenthood. Of all the responsibilities with which we struggle, none other is so serious. To rear children in an atmosphere of love, security, and faith is the most rewarding of all challenges.”

I know—with an exclamation mark—that children can receive a witness by the Spirit that brings conviction and commitment to their hearts! I bear witness that this is our charge, this is our opportunity: to diligently teach and testify to our children of the truthfulness of the gospel of Jesus Christ, that they might also hear the “voice of gladness.” In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Wilford Woodruff was born in Farmington, Hartford County, Connecticut, 1 March 1807. He learned the trade of a miller. He worked as a miller in a number of communities in his native state. He first learned of Joseph Smith through a newspaper article in the spring of 1832. He was twenty-five. Some nineteen or twenty months later he met Elders Zera Pulsipher and Elijah Cheney in Rushland, New York, where he had moved and was farming. On 31 December 1833 he was baptized by Zera Pulsipher. Four months later he first met Joseph Smith in the streets of Kirtland, Ohio. I would like to read to you about his first meeting with the Prophet Joseph Smith. He recorded,
Before I saw Joseph I said I did not care how old he was, or how young he was; I did not care how he looked—whether his hair was long or short; the man that advanced that revelation was a prophet of God. I knew it for myself. I first met Joseph Smith in the streets of Kirtland. He had on an old hat, and a pistol in his hand. Said he, “Brother Woodruff, I’ve been out shooting at a mark, and I wanted to see if I could hit anything.” And, said he, “Have you any objection to it?”
“Not at all,” said I. “There is no law against a man shooting at a mark, that I know of.”
He invited me to his house. He had a wolf skin, which he wanted me to help him to tan; he wanted it to sit on while driving his wagon team. Now, many might have said, “You are a pretty prophet; shooting a pistol and tanning a wolf skin.” Well, we tanned it, and used it while making a journey of a thousand miles. This was my first acquaintance with the Prophet Joseph. And from that day until the present, with all the apostasies that we have had, and with all the difficulties and afflictions we have been called to pass through, I never saw a moment when I had any doubt with regard to this work.

After completing this mission, serving two missions to the Fox Islands in eastern Canada, and being called as a member of the Quorum of the Twelve, Elder Woodruff, with others of the Twelve, was called on a mission to England in 1840. After arriving in England, he was directed through prayer to the area south of Liverpool, where he was told that “many souls were waiting for [the Lord’s] word” (quoted in Wilford Woodruff, 116).

Again I quote from Elder Woodruff’s account:
On Sunday, the 8th [of March], I preached at Frome’s Hill in the morning, at Standley Hill in the afternoon, and at John Benbow’s, Hill Farm, in the evening. The parish church that stood in the neighborhood of Brother Benbow’s, presided over by the rector of the parish, was attended during the day by only fifteen persons, while I had a large congregation, estimated to number a thousand, attend my meetings through the day and evening.
When I arose to speak at Brother Benbow’s house, a man entered the door and informed me that he was a constable, and had been sent by the rector of the parish with a warrant to arrest me. I asked him, “For what crime?” He said, “For preaching to the people.” I told him that I, as well as the rector, had a license for preaching the gospel to the people, and that if he would take a chair I would wait upon him after meeting. He took my chair and sat beside me. For an hour and a quarter I preached the first principles of the everlasting gospel. The power of God rested upon me, the spirit filled the house, and the people were convinced. At the close of the meeting I opened the door for baptism, and seven offered themselves. Among the number were four preachers and the constable. The latter arose and said, “Mr. Woodruff, I would like to be baptized.” I told him I would like to baptize him. I went down into the pool and baptized the seven. We then came together. I confirmed thirteen, administered the Sacrament, and we all rejoiced together.
The constable went to the rector and told him that if he wanted Mr. Woodruff taken for preaching the gospel, he must go himself and serve the writ; for he had heard him preach the only true gospel sermon he had ever listened to in his life. The rector did not know what to make of it, so he sent two clerks of the Church of England as spies, to attend our meeting, and find out what we did preach. They both were pricked in their hearts, received the word of the Lord gladly, and were baptized and confirmed members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The rector became alarmed, and did not venture to send anybody else. [Quoted inWilford Woodruff, 117–118]

At the heart of their celebrating, however, is the remembrance of Jesus Christ, and Finnish members use the season, like mission president Mel Luthy and his family, to live even more fully His teachings. On Christmas Eve in Finland, families often visit the graves of loved ones and leave lighted candles in the snow. An elderly sister, a widow, wished to travel from Helsinki to Porvoo so that she could visit her husband’s grave. She had, however, no means of transportation. The Luthys volunteered to share their holiday with her by driving her to the distant cemetery. It turned out to be a magical night—candles glowed and light danced. All was calm. All was bright.
Christmas had come to Finland!

Back to my personal story again. I started playing tennis when I was eight years old. This was, in large part, because my older cousin was playing tennis. I got into the sport through an after-school program in our district community—fast forward six years to when I was 14 years old. I had progressed in my tennis to a level where I was training full-time with the Guangdong Provincial team. For those of you who are not from the PRC, let me give you a brief background on the sports programs in Mainland China and how they relate to the Provincial teams.

Due to historical and political influence in Mainland China (especially for elite or international competitive sports) is treated as an opportunity to demonstrate the Chinese people's ability and display the superiority of Chinese government programs and philosophies.

Individuals are selected at an early age, generally between 5-13 years old, depending on the sport, by Provincial and National coaching groups to become athletes and live and train full time for their sports at national or provincial sports centers.

Most Chinese athletes in these national or provincial sports centers began training at a young age, training for long hours and generally for six days a week, all year long. This is done in hopes of one day competing for the Provincial teams and ultimately having the opportunity to represent the Peoples Republic of China in the Olympic Games. The Provincial sport centers throughout the country provide elementary school and high school equivalent academic programs for these athletes. However, research has shown that attention to education, time for study, and learning qualities is insufficient in preparing young athletes for future career development or success in a typical university setting. Research further indicates that many elite athletes in China are overworked and deprived from education opportunities. These athletes have little chance to succeed outside of their sports.

Therefore, when I was in my early twenties, it was about time to "retire" from the Guangdong Provincial team. I realized that I could play decent tennis but was definitely far from the top-tier athletes on the professional tour. Additionally, I realized that I did not have any solid educational background or skills. After months of deliberating, I decided to study abroad. I wanted to learn English, I wanted to develop other academic skills, and I still wanted to improve my tennis game.

Dr. Porter, Coach Porter, brought me to Hawaii. Coach Porter is a full professor and was the Exercise & Sports Science Department chairman here at BYU–Hawaii for many years. Coach Porter also coached our Men's and Women's tennis teams. You can look up at the rafters and see some of what he did while he was here. I first met Coach Porter in the early 2000s when Coach Porter was the technical and strategic consultant for the China Tennis Association. He was working with the National men's/women's tennis teams.

In 2008, Coach Porter helped me apply and be admitted to BYU–Hawaii. The Lord was directing my journey. When I first arrived on campus, I was asked to take placement exams in both English and Math.

There were four levels of math entrance exams at that time. Students would usually take two exams to get accurate placement. If the student did well on the highest-level exam, then they would be allowed to skip certain math courses in the G.E. requirement.

When the supervisor from the testing center learned I was from China, she suggested that I skip the first two math exams and take the more difficult exams. She said that based on her experience with students from China, they did very well on the math exams. She didn't know that I had not attended traditional Chinese school but "sports schools" and hadn't had a math class since my first year in junior high school. I explained that to her and asked if I could take the easiest math exam since I didn't want to embarrass myself or other Chinese students. I couldn't even pass the easiest exam, mostly because my English was so poor, I couldn't understand the questions.

When I took the English assessment exam, it was very simple. I just needed to write for 30 minutes in English on any topic I selected. At that time, I could only write down three basic sentences: my name, where I was from, and that I liked to play tennis. For the rest of the 30 minutes, I just sat staring at the national flags from different countries, looking at the coconut trees outside of the little circle, and thinking about what a beautiful place Hawaii was.

When I first came to BYU–Hawaii, the EIL program had a foundation level, an intermediate level, and an advanced level. I spent nearly two years in the EIL program and felt like I had earned a college degree when I was told that I could take a 'regular university course' just like all the other non-EIL students. Coach used to tell us about a quote that says: "That which we persist in doing become easier—not that the nature of the task itself has changed—but because our ability to do it has increased." The English language had not changed, but my ability to use the language had increased. (It still needs a lot of work, by the way.)

In this loving community, Coach Porter, all of my BYU–Hawaii professors and tutors, and all of my returned missionary teammates, like Isaac Hadley and others, helped me along my learning journey. My progression was slow. In fact, my GPA was embarrassing at the beginning of my EIL program. I think my first semester, I only earned a 2.6 GPA, and I was concerned about being eligible to compete for the school. I wanted to take easier classes, but Coach Porter told us,

"Taking an easier class may help your GPA, but it won't help you learn as much as choosing a challenging course and professor." Because of this advice, when I started taking regular university courses, I was willing to challenge myself. I remember taking an English 201 course from a professor who had a master's degree in history.

He chose Socrates, Aristotle, Plato, and other ancient Greek literature as our textbooks. We had many challenging assignments right from the start. During the first two weeks of the class, over half of the students dropped the course. I tried to "hang-in-there." I would wake up at 4:00 a.m. and open the textbooks and my English Chinese dictionary. After hours of reading and looking up words in the dictionary, I often felt that I didn't understand even a few pages' worths of information. Fortunately, my roommate and tennis teammate, Chandler Howell, would help me know what I struggled to make sense of. He was also patient with me when I tried to put my thoughts into words on paper. I believe that I received an A- for the course, probably in part, for just sticking it out. I am grateful for the English professor and his kind toughness.

I took religion classes, watched the examples of my coach and my teammates, and started to meet with missionaries. Then one Saturday, during a morning tennis practice, there was a slight misunderstanding on tennis court use. The coach was calm, but the person asked to move courts became very angry. I recognized them as a Bishop in the Church. I suppose my developing testimony wasn't strong enough, and I lost interest in the Church. Sometimes our actions are more important than our words.

After I graduated from BYU–Hawaii, I found that my love of learning increased. Not only did my ability to write in English improve, but my ability to write in Chinese improved also. I was able to publish two articles in Chinese sports magazines. I wanted to continue to learn. I applied for graduate school at the University of Hawaii, was accepted, and continued studying and learning.

Coach always told us, as players, to complete our reading assignments before attending class, sit in the first three rows, and ask the professor question in every class. I followed that counsel and continued to take challenging courses over the next five years; while also serving as the Assistant Women's Tennis Coach at U.H. Manoa; I earned both Master's and Doctorate degrees.

Later, between 2017 and 2018, while studying for my Doctorate, I started to understand English better from the scriptures. Up until then, I would usually read the scriptures in Chinese. I started reading more conference talks, and they helped me become more resilient and disciplined and an overall better person.

One talk I read that particularly impacted me was a General Conference Talk by Elder Marvin J. Ashton from 1989. The talk was "On Being Worthy." In this address, Elder Ashton taught us that the speed in our straight and narrow path is not as important as the direction we are heading. It is about moving forward toward eternal goals.

While reading this talk and others and reading the scriptures, I felt the love of our Heavenly Father, His hope for me to keep moving forward and make good decisions. These experiences are some of the primary reasons that helped me work through the challenges of my Doctoral program. Our Heavenly Father loves us; He will never fail us, no matter our background, where we are from, whatever our deficiencies are, if we will communicate with Him through reading the scriptures, following our Church leaders, and having meaningful daily prayer.

My interest in the Church grew. I realized that the messages from Church leaders and from my prayers made the most significant difference in my life. I began to ask, specifically, about the gospel's truthfulness; I received a testimony firsthand. Later that year, with Coach Porter's and others' help, I was baptized in the Laie chapel. It was a nine-year journey from when I first arrived in Hawaii, sat in the testing center, and stared at the flags in the little circle.

Our Father in Heaven loves us. He takes time and effort, and he is patiently guiding us in our learning of His love and sharing it with others. Is it difficult? Of course, it is, but it can be fun and rewarding as we learn how to become more like Him. He wants us to develop our love and share it with our friends, neighbors, community, and the world. I was blessed to receive His love here in Laie, and I am still receiving it now in Provo. He loves me, has blessed me, and expected me to bless and serve others.

One day when I was younger, my stomach began to hurt. As the day went on, it got worse. It hurt so bad I couldn’t even walk. At night, I woke up crying because I just couldn’t handle the pain. My parents rushed me to the emergency room. The doctors there thought my intestines were twisted and that I would need an intensive surgery, so they sent me to a hospital where it could be taken care of.
My family was really worried, and before I left, my dad and grandpa gave me a priesthood blessing. At the hospital, I was prepped for a special kind of X-ray, but the doctors found out I was fine. The pain started going away too. I really believe that the priesthood blessing made everything OK.
Hearing about this story growing up has really helped my testimony to grow. I know that the Lord can perform miracles today and that He is always there when I need help. Even though this experience was hard, I am thankful for trials like this in my life because they have strengthened my faith and my testimony.
Kailyn S., Nevada, USA

The storm came up quickly. It was blinding white. I was driving from one state to another, and I could hardly see. My white-knuckled hands gripped the steering wheel as I searched for any sort of landmark. I felt relieved when I made out two taillights from what must have been a semi-truck. Their red beam gave me something to follow.
I inched along behind the truck for almost an hour. I thought the cars passing me must be crazy for going so fast in this weather. I was certain that I would see the wreckage of one of them farther up the road.
Turns out the people in those cars had a far better perspective than I did. As I started to climb a mountain pass, my little car couldn’t keep up with the taillights. When the truck pulled ahead of me, I realized the “blizzard” was actually powder coming off its very snowy top. It was only snowing lightly, and I could actually see the road quite clearly.
Had I seen the whole picture from the beginning, I would have realized that the truck in front of me that I’d thought was a beacon was, in fact, the reason for the storm. Sometimes we get so caught up in our own personal blizzards that we miss the big picture. The Lord knows our big picture, even when we do not. If we trust in Him, we can avoid the personal blizzards that can be so harmful to us, and we can make it through the storm safely.
Kari B., Virginia, USA