Gospel Story Finder

Every Sunday Jonah wanted to be reverent in church, but sometimes it was hard to remember.
One Sunday, Sister Milner was leading sharing time. “Jonah, you can choose one picture to put on the board,” she said.
Jonah ran to the front before he remembered that he should walk in the church building.
Another Sunday, Stella had trouble remembering her scripture. “As I have loved you … ,” she said.
“Love one another!” Jonah called out before she could finish.
Sometimes Sam and Miguel would start acting silly with Jonah. Sister Fox would take Jonah to sit with Mom in Relief Society.
Jonah wanted to be in Primary. He liked his friends, the stories, and his teachers. But sometimes he still forgot to be reverent.
One day after church Mom said, “Jonah, it’s important for you to be reverent at church. What do you think you could do to remember?”
Jonah shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s hard to remember.”
“I know it can be hard,” Mom said. “Why don’t you think about it?”
That week Mom brought home a new church shirt for Jonah. “You’re growing up so fast,” she said. “Your old shirt is already too small.”
Jonah tried on the new shirt and buttoned all the buttons. He looked in the mirror. “Dad wears shirts like this,” he thought. “And Dad is always reverent in church.” Jonah smiled. “Maybe this can help me remember to be reverent,” he thought.
On Sunday, Jonah put on his new shirt. He buttoned the buttons and tucked the tails in neatly.
“You look like a missionary,” Dad said.
“The missionaries are reverent in church,” Jonah thought.
While he waited for Primary to start, Jonah sat quietly. He looked down at the buttoned cuffs of his new reverent shirt.
“That’s a nice shirt, Jonah,” Sister Milner whispered.
“It’s my reverent shirt,” Jonah whispered back.
Jonah sang the opening song in a strong, good way. He listened while Kim tried to give her first talk, even when she didn’t say anything for a long time. Sister Fox smiled at Jonah, and Jonah smiled back.
During sharing time, Miguel said something silly. Jonah stayed reverent. Then Sam poked Jonah. Jonah poked Sam and Sam poked back, but then Jonah felt his reverent shirt and remembered to sit quietly.
Pretty soon Jonah’s friends stayed reverent too. Jonah felt good, and Sister Fox let them go to class first.
“How was Primary today?” Mom asked after class.
“Can you please wash and iron my new reverent shirt for next Sunday?” Jonah asked. “I had a great time in Primary, and everyone else did too.”

My freshman year at BYU was like coming home. I felt so comfortable with the required standards. I began to ask questions about the Church, and my teammates were eager to share without pressuring me. They encouraged me to read the Book of Mormon. Bob Stephens, an LDS team member, and I hit it off and became close friends.
One day Bob and I decided to take dates on a ride up the canyon. As the four of us drove up a steep hill, the car engine died. We tried and tried to get it started, and nothing seemed to work. It was an embarrassing situation until a policeman came along and asked if he could help. We asked him if he could take the girls back. They volunteered to go for help while we stayed with the car.
While we waited I thought it was the perfect opportunity to ask Bob some serious questions about the Church. Generally speaking, football players are not the most articulate people, and Bob is no exception. However, when he began to answer my questions he sounded like a scholar. He answered every question with authority and conviction. I was deeply impressed.
Then I noticed an unusual thing was happening. Though it was cold and I didn’t have a coat on, I noticed I was feeling warm. I thought it must be because my arms were folded, so I stretched them out across the back of the seat. But the warmth stayed. It was a comfortable feeling, difficult to describe.
When I was through asking questions, I said, “I think the car will start now, Bob.” And it did, with the first turn of the key. It blew me away. I thought, This must be the work of the Lord so that I could have this chance to talk seriously with Bob. It seemed like a little miracle to me.
After that I asked to see the missionaries and with every discussion the gospel logically unfolded. I had resisted reading the Book of Mormon before because in the past I found the Bible difficult to follow and understand. But as soon as I began to read the Book of Mormon, I understood it and even enjoyed reading it. The more I learned through study and prayer, the more I knew the Church is true. It all made sense.

Unspeakable joy came over me as my husband walked to the stand to be sustained second counselor in the stake presidency. As he bore his testimony of his love for the Savior and of the gospel, he also gave thanks for his wife. I recalled the time I came home and found a poster my husband had made that said, “I love my wife because she has faith in me!”
It seemed not long ago that he emphatically announced, “They’d better not ever ask me to give a sacrament meeting talk, because that’s something I’ll never do.” He now is one of the favorite speakers in the stake.
I remembered, too, that my husband had said: “Just because you’re into dramatics, don’t think you can persuade me to be in a play. I’m just not an actor.” He was great in the lead part of a stake play.
“I’m not a reader,” he had insisted. Now he reads the scriptures faithfully every day and teaches them to all of us each morning.
“I don’t understand how to use the priesthood,” he once said. But since then he has blessed our family with the power of the priesthood on numerous occasions.
Yes, my husband has changed! Sixteen years ago he was a prospective elder.
What brought about this mighty change? For my sisters who stand in the puzzling situation of being missionary to their husbands, I would like to share a few insights. Since I speak from experience, I speak as a wife. But the principles could be used as well by a husband who has need of being missionary to his wife.
It is not easy to have faith in your spouse if he has disappointed you over and over. And for the woman who enjoys spiritual truths, it is frustrating not to be able to openly share them. Her desire to have her husband understand and appreciate the gospel becomes almost unbearable at times. And this is normal; for having achieved great joy, the natural consequence is to want to share it with loved ones.
But in these cases, a very delicate situation can arise. The man is the head of the house—the one who should lead, not be led. The woman, while being an equal partner in the marriage, should support and sustain her husband in his leadership role. But if he is not active or isn’t a member of the Church, she is placed in a very frustrating position. Often, if she wants to attend Sunday services, family home evenings, and other Church activities, she faces an inner battle and may even have open conflict with her husband—thus defeating her purpose to bring unity and spirituality into the home.
Where can a woman go for guidance and direction in her role as missionary to her husband? Great insights can be found through studying the scriptures. For example, I learned an important lesson when I studied about the council in heaven and the issues discussed there.
Satan proposed a plan of forcing everyone to obey the principles of their Father in Heaven. “I will redeem all mankind,” he said, “that one soul shall not be lost, and surely I will do it.”
But Heavenly Father did not want “to destroy the agency of man, which I, the Lord God, had given him.” Instead, he made available the plan of salvation through his Only Begotten Son, whereby we could enjoy freedom of choice. (See Moses 4:1–4.)
From this scriptural account we can conclude that trying to force another to accept the gospel is not pleasing to our Father. He cares not only that they return again to him, but also that they do so of their own free will and choice. He wants them to discover for themselves that the truths he has given are right and good and will bring the greatest joy. In order to do this, everyone needs to be free to experience and discover for himself.
Some true methods of exerting influence are listed in the Doctrine and Covenants:
“Only by persuasion, by long-suffering, by gentleness and meekness, and by love unfeigned;
“By kindness, and pure knowledge, which shall greatly enlarge the soul without hypocrisy, and without guile.” (D&C 121:41–42.)
These qualities, the Lord’s methods of persuasion, can become part of our very nature if we live worthy to obtain an endowment of his Spirit. I’ve learned that although a wife can encourage and be a light unto her husband, it is still the Spirit of the Lord that changes lives.
In Galatians 5:22–23 [Gal. 5:22–23] we find: “The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance.”
There are those who would counsel wives to pretend to have these qualities of love, gentleness, and meekness in order to establish a better relationship with their husbands. But in this pretense or guile, they bypass the Savior, who condemned hypocrisy.
I have found that the very core of our being must be purged of its natural inclination to criticize and to lose faith. To do this, we must obtain greater power than we alone possess. Heavenly Father can give us this ability to change—to make a faultfinding, sour disposition sweet again, as a little child’s. “Create in me a clean heart, O God,” we might plead; “and renew a right spirit within me.” (Ps. 51:10.) He can bless us with the ability to see better, to uncover beautiful and loveable qualities of character in our spouses.
Although it may not be easy to love those who have disappointed us, we are promised that the Spirit can endow us with the power to love even those whose actions make them difficult to love:
“Wherefore, my beloved brethren, pray unto the Father with all the energy of heart, that ye may be filled with this love, which he hath bestowed upon all who are true followers of his Son, Jesus Christ.” (Moro. 7:48.)
One woman who attained this loving nature with the Spirit’s help expressed it in this way: “There was a time when I was so frustrated with what my husband wasn’t doing that I didn’t appreciate the good he was doing. I was hung up on the letter of the law and forgot the more important things, such as love, patience, forgiveness, and faith. I seemed obsessed with impatience for him to change.
“Then somehow, I realized I was wrong. I knew my attitude towards my husband was without hope. I sought Heavenly Father for a change of heart, praying and fasting. Like a miracle, gradually my heart began to change. The more I felt the warmth of the Spirit in my life, the more I lost the compulsion to criticize. Not only that, but I was able to love and respect him in ways that I had overlooked before. I began deeply appreciating his patience with the children, his tolerance for others, his cheerful disposition, and his way of working with his hands—he could accomplish in one hour what many men would in half a day!
“Oh, of course I still wish he would become active in the Church, but I’ve gained a real tolerance for him to grow in his own way, and I pray that I will be the example of love that he needs in order to feel free to grow. I want him to see by my actions that the gospel of Jesus Christ is really wonderful, sweet, and exciting.”
Contrast this with the woman who uses bitterness, anger, hopelessness, and the spirit of contention as her tools of persuasion. In her frustration to have things right, she displays an example of what the gospel of Jesus Christ is not—pushing her husband further away and leaving him without a taste of its goodness.
Satan would thwart us in our attempts to influence with love, for it is truly our most powerful tool. He would have us be contentious and exercise coercion. He would have us neglect our own spiritual nourishment—prayer, fasting, study—for a fury of impatience. He would have us be as the Pharisees, nit-picking over practices and forgetting principles. It is right, for example, to have family home evenings. But it is not right for a wife to force her husband, through embarrassment, into this practice. There are times when wives of inactive or nonmember husbands must be content to leave part of the law undone and patiently wait for their husbands to lead the way. In such cases, the “weightier matter of the law” (Matt. 23:23) need not be left undone—for these are the gifts of the Spirit, which will help a wife “have no more disposition to do evil [complain, preach, judge], but to do good continually” to her husband (see Mosiah 5:2).
We have all probably experienced being caught up in the spirit of a meeting and enjoying the feelings of warmth and love. As we drive home, the feeling lingers. The whole world looks different—filled with love, excitement, and promise. The same children whose chatter may have disturbed us on the way to the meeting now seem to glow with angelic countenance.
Such is the influence of the Spirit, which is love, peace, and joy. We should plead for this influence daily. Only with it are we able to overcome and block Satan’s efforts to destroy our marriages.
One woman came up to me in tears after Relief Society one day and said, “I’m about ready to give up on him. I thought a year would bring some changes, but he’s not more ready to become active than he was last year. I feel like the Lord has failed me. Why should I keep trying if he’ll never change?”
After listening and searching for understanding, I asked, “You say you are still trying. Have you been devoting yourself to your own spiritual nourishment lately, as you were a year ago when you felt such promise for the relationship?”
“No,” she answered, “I haven’t felt like praying, and with moving to another home, I haven’t felt like I’ve had time for studying.”
“Well,” I confided, “I know that when I begin to lose faith in my husband and in our relationship, or when I start to become critical, I find that I have been starving my own spirit. But as I begin to restore a sweet spirit within me, I see my husband with new faith and love.”
A few weeks later, this woman called to tell me that through recommitting herself to a program of spiritual feedings, she once again had hope in her husband and in their marriage. She said, “I was wrong. There has been a change in him. It is so slight that I had overlooked it before.”
Each week when we partake of the bread and water in remembrance of the Savior, we are given the promise that if we keep his commandments, we will have his Spirit to be with us. And with his Spirit, spouses may know how best to truly be a help and a strength to each other.

I was born in Hong Kong, China. When I was young, I dreamed of living in a beautiful country surrounded by nature.
After I grew up and got married, my husband and I moved to Australia. He was a skilled mechanic and was granted a work visa, which allowed us to stay in Australia for four years. When we both became employed, we received an additional four-year extension on our visas.
During this time, we worked to improve our situation so we could apply for permanent residency. We couldn’t afford to pay for English classes, but a brother and sister in our ward helped us learn. Still, at the end of eight years, it looked like we would have to leave Australia. We fasted and prayed to find a way to stay. Our ward fasted and prayed for us as well.
Our situation looked hopeless. We started to pack and make plans for our return to Hong Kong. One night a friend called and asked about our visas. We explained our situation and he told us that he knew an immigration agent who might be able to help.
The next day we visited with the agent. He quickly put our minds at ease. He would submit the papers for an extension on a different visa—a permanent-residency visa that required us to move out of Sydney and into the countryside.
We moved to a city about one and a half hours north of Sydney. We found a home close to a chapel, surrounded by lush green Australian foliage. We loved our new home and ward.
Soon we were granted temporary visas. My husband and I continued to pray. He fasted every Sunday for six months. We read the scriptures daily and attended the temple weekly.
Then one day we received a call from the immigration agent. We needed to return to the office in Sydney and hand in our passports. They were handed back to us stamped with an approval for permanent residency. We thanked Heavenly Father for this blessing. We had faith that our prayers would be answered, and they were. And my dream of living in a country surrounded by nature had come true.

Many years ago, on my first visit to the village of Sauniatu in Samoa, my wife and I met with a large gathering of small children—nearly 200 in number. At the conclusion of our messages to these shy yet beautiful youngsters, I suggested to the native Samoan teacher that we go forward with the closing exercises.

As he announced the final hymn, I suddenly felt compelled to greet personally each of these children. My watch revealed that the time was too short for such a privilege, for we were scheduled on a flight out of the country, so I discounted the impression. Before the benediction was to be spoken, I again felt that I should shake the hand of each child. I made the desire known to the instructor, who displayed a broad and beautiful Samoan smile. In Samoan, he announced this to the children. They beamed their approval.

The instructor then revealed to me the reason for his and their joy. He said, “When we learned that a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles was to visit us here in Samoa, so far away from Church headquarters, I told the children if they would earnestly and sincerely pray and exert faith like the Bible accounts of old, that the Apostle would visit our tiny village at Sauniatu and through their faith he would be impressed to greet each child with a personal handclasp.”

Tears could not be restrained as the precious boys and girls walked shyly by and whispered softly to us the sweet Samoan greeting “talofa lava.” A profound expression of faith had been evidenced.

Colonel Thomas Kane, a special representative of James Polk, president of the United States, visited the Mormon pioneers in 1846 while they camped in Iowa, preparing to cross the Missouri River. He had read newspaper articles about the Saints, describing how they had frequently been persecuted and driven from their homes. As he walked through the woods near the outskirts of the camp, he came upon a lone pioneer who was secretly praying. Thomas stood quietly listening to the man humbly express thanks for the restored gospel and petition for the Saints’ protection during their travels.
Thomas was very moved by this experience, and he became a lifelong friend of the Mormons, although he never joined the Church.

Years ago, when our six children were young, we decided we wanted to make general conference more meaningful to us. We talked about how important it is to watch conference with clear minds and rested bodies. Conference is an important time to receive instruction from our current prophets. So we set a goal not to plan anything extra for a few days before conference or during conference weekend. We blocked out those days on our calendar, and each of us committed not to schedule extra activities on those days.
If you choose to take a similar approach, it will be unique to your family and your situation, but our family defined “extra activities” as attending school activities, having neighborhood children come over, doing things with friends away from the house, having parties or dinners with friends or relatives, doing projects or yard work in between or during conference sessions, saving school projects until the last minute, and accepting extra assignments at work.
When the week before general conference arrived, it was sometimes hard to say no to these activities, but most of the time our family members cheerfully made the right choices to meet our goal. We found that our younger children wanted to be part of general conference. I think it was because we talked about the importance of conference over and over throughout the week before.
I am happy to report that keeping our schedule simple the days before and during general conference completely changed our family’s experience. Our hearts and minds were prepared for conference. Our time was not cluttered with extra activities, so we could feel the Spirit as we sat and listened to the words of counsel from our leaders.
We have stuck to our goal conference after conference because it fills our home with peace. Though several of our children no longer live at home, we encourage them to still clear their calendar the few days before and during conference, as we do at home. We also try to schedule a time to watch a session of conference together as an entire family. I am hoping that as our children marry and have children of their own, they will continue to place a high importance on protecting their conference experience by clearing their calendars.

On a hot, humid afternoon in May 1895, two missionaries made their way up the rocky, but thickly wooded hills near Smithville, Tennessee. They had been rejected by the townspeople and so had gone to seek converts among the mountain folk, who survived on hilly, low-productive farms. Traveling on foot, without purse or scrip, the elders relied upon the Spirit of the Lord and the hospitality of the people to meet their needs.
Toward evening the missionaries arrived at the humble cabin home of my grandfather, Harvey Anderson Pinegar, and his young family. Grandfather had gone to a meeting to hear them preach and had offered them food and a place for the night, which they eagerly and gratefully accepted. Harvey and his family shared their food, beds, and lodgings with the elders. The three children slept in the loft, Grandfather and Grandmother placed straw pallets on the floor in the corner for themselves, and the elders slept in the only bed. In this humble mountain home the missionaries taught Grandfather and his family the true gospel of Jesus Christ.
Grandfather wrote in his journal,
“I investigated their doctern and I became convinced that they belonged to the only true church upon the Earth. So on the 14th day of May, 1895. … my wife and myself was baptized by Elder Owen M. Sanderson in Sink Creek a few rods above Jones’ Mill in the 7th District of DeKalb County, Tennessee, which caused great dissatisfaction with my folks, however I went on doing the will of my Heavenly Father. I knew the Doctern was of God and not of man.”
About one hundred people witnessed the baptism of Harvey and Josie Pinegar.
There was much opposition among the people in the area toward the “Mormon religion.” Harvey’s happiness at becoming a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was not shared by his brother, sisters, parents, and neighbors. Harvey soon discovered that he would be required to face opposition in the community and in his family. He was serving as a constable at the time. Upon learning of his having joined the Church his bondsmen gave up his bonds—one of these men was his own cousin.
Several times Harvey Pinegar’s cabin became a place of refuge for the missionaries. The elders would help Grandfather board up the windows and doors as a protection against mobs who threatened to tar and feather the elders.
Four years after Grandfather joined the Church, my father, then a young lad eight years old, accompanied his family and the members of two other families to a baptismal service. Grandfather was to baptize his young daughter and the daughters of a neighboring family on that cold December 3, 1899. As they traveled toward the stream at Reynold’s Mill, they were approached by three men on horseback. When the men asked where they were going, Grandfather explained their intentions. The leader threatened to bring a mob upon them if they carried out the baptismal service. Grandfather informed him that he and the 20 people with him would complete their errand regardless of what the man and his associates did. Grandfather and his party continued their journey to Reynold’s Mill.
Arriving at the mill they located a secluded spot for the baptism. The hill above the river was covered with trees, scrub oak, and ivy. My father, young John, was perched on a fallen tree that stretched out across a sandbar into the slow-moving stream. Here he could observe every detail of this sacred ordinance. Grandfather waded out into the stream to find the right depth and then returned to the riverbank for prayer. In the quiet of the prayer John heard the sound of a cracking limb. Opening his eyes and glancing quickly up the hill through the trees he saw the men who had stopped them earlier. They had arrived with a mob to carry out their threat. One of them was by a pile of rocks and was ready to pelt the baptismal participants. Suddenly all eyes were opened as a big redbone hound owned by the leader of the mob bounded down to within a few feet of my father. Young John looked fearfully at the hound as it growled menacingly. These men and their associates were determined to stop the baptisms from being performed. My Grandfather Pinegar courageously proceeded with the services.
Convinced now that these Mormon families were unafraid of his threat, the mob leader commanded his dog to attack Grandfather Pinegar. At this moment an amazing thing happened. The dog let out a low growl and his hair bristled like that on an angry hog’s back. Suddenly it bared its teeth and turned on its master, leaping at his throat and knocking him to the ground. The rest of the mob fled in fear when they saw the dog turn on its owner. As soon as the astonished leader could free himself from his dog, he left in hurried pursuit of his associates, with the dog yelping close at his heels.
A miracle had occurred! The Pinegar family and their neighbors thanked the Lord for their deliverance, and the baptismal service continued without further interruption.
That evening the families returned to Grandfather’s home. After darkness had fallen upon the mountain cabin, the troublemakers returned and again threatened to mob my grandfather and his Mormon friends. As they taunted him from the gate, Grandfather commanded them in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ to leave. The mob departed and did not return.
This experience told repeatedly to us by my father and grandfather has served as a source of strength to the members of the Pinegar family for generations. It has taught me appreciation for my grandfather’s loyalty to the Lord and has given me an assurance that right will prevail against all odds or opposition.
The courage of my grandfather and those who were with him to stand firm for that which is right brought assistance from the Lord. A quiet, peaceful strength came into their hearts, giving them the ability to face the opposition with courage and confidence. There have been occasions in my own life when the memory of this event in my grandfather’s life has given me the strength to resist persuasions to do wrong.
I am thankful for the loyalty and faith of my grandfather. His fearlessness established a heritage of faith in and love for the Lord. The sacrifices made by him and others of my forebears have made possible the many blessings of freedom and religious liberty that I enjoy today. I want to show my loyalty to my grandfather by also being loyal to the Lord.
We may prove our loyalty to the Lord by being obedient to parents, being respectful of our brothers and sisters, following Church leaders, and fulfilling our church callings and priesthood responsibilities. Loyalty includes being obedient to the laws of the land and the commandments of God. Loyalty to employer and employee, demonstrated by an honest day’s work and an honest day’s pay, is part of our loyalty to the Lord, for what we do unto each other we do unto Him. It means standing up for that which is right when our associates would persuade us to do wrong. It may mean standing alone in the defense of truth and right.
You may look into the lives of your family members and find similar examples of loyalty to our Heavenly Father that may be a source of strength and courage to you.
May each of us be grateful for the rich heritage we have received from our loyal ancestors, and may we strive with true faith to be true to these noble souls by being loyal to the Lord.

From the beginning, Abram wondered about the stories behind some of his discoveries. He tried looking in the library for information—nothing. He asked other people—no luck. His mom then called a professional archaeologist. Ron Rood, the assistant state archaeologist, came to Abram’s house. He was so impressed with nine-year-old Abram’s questions and notes about the discoveries that he invited Abram to a state dig site where he put Abram in charge of sketching. Abram has continued to work with Rood on other projects. This past summer, while working on a dig, Abram found a 1,000-year-old arrowhead. Now Abram regularly helps in Utah’s state archaeology lab.

The school bell rang as I finished copying the last spelling word from the board. I stuffed my books into my backpack. Kim, who sits between Eddie and me, left as Eddie rummaged around in his desk. Crumpled papers and books flew all over the floor.
“What are you looking for?” I asked.
“My spelling list for tomorrow’s test. My mom gets mad if I don’t bring it home. She says it’s the only way to keep making As, but it isn’t!”
I wish I always made As. I’m not very good at spelling. Dad helps me study every night, and I’d sure like to give him a 100 percent correct, A+ spelling test for Father’s Day, along with the shaving lotion I got him. He’d like that.
I laid my paper by my backpack and picked up a dirty, torn paper Eddie had stomped on. “Is this what you’re looking for?”
“Yeah. Thanks.” He shoved it into his pocket.
Erasing the board, Miss Clark said, “You boys had better get going.”
I helped Eddie stuff books and papers back into his desk, and we left. He lives next door to me, so we usually walk home together.
“Want to play a video game?” he asked. “Mom bought me a new one.”
“I’d like to,” I said, “but I have to study for the spelling test tomorrow. I don’t make As like you do, no matter how hard I study.”
Eddie looked at me funny. “You sit next to Kim. She always gets 100 percent.”
I wondered what that had to do with anything. “You sit next to her, too.”
He smirked. “Yeah, that’s the point.” He marched in the house and slammed the door.
When I got home I headed into the kitchen and tossed my backpack on the table. “I have some heavy studying to do to get that 100 percent on my spelling test tomorrow,” I said.
“Have a snack first,” Mom said. She placed a peanut butter sandwich and a glass of milk on the table.
“Thanks, Mom.” I gobbled up the sandwich and washed it down with milk, then dug around in my backpack for the spelling list. I couldn’t find it.
I dumped everything in my backpack out on the table. “Mom!” I said. “I can’t find my spelling list.”
Mom searched through the books and leafed through my notebooks. The list wasn’t there. She knew how much I wanted to give Dad a 100 percent correct spelling paper for Father’s Day, so she looked again. No list.
“Where do you remember seeing it last?” she asked.
“I laid it on my desk by my backpack while I helped Eddie find his list. Then Miss Clark said we’d better hurry.”
“Then it’s probably still on your desk. But you can call Eddie and ask him to give you the words.”
On the phone, Eddie started telling me the words, but he said the paper had gotten so dirty and torn that he couldn’t read most of it. “I told you, don’t worry about it,” he said. “You sit next to Kim.”
I hung up the phone. I had something to worry about, all right. I had trouble spelling. What difference did it make to me if Kim was a genius?
I told Mom all the words I could remember, and she wrote them down for me. I tried my best, but I couldn’t think of all of them.
“Don’t worry about it,” Mom said. “Remember, in our family we love each other no matter what. We care about making good choices and doing the best we can.”
When Dad got home, he helped me study. When I could spell all the words I had, he said, “Try to sound out the others. The important thing is to do your best.”
The next day, when time came for the spelling test, I sharpened my pencil and put my pink eraser by my paper. I wanted that 100 percent so much my hand shook.
I knew the first five words. The next one I had to sound out. I glanced past Kim to Eddie, wondering if he was having trouble, too. He was craning his neck, staring at Kim’s paper—cheating! So that’s what Eddie meant about sitting next to Kim! I kept my eyes glued to my own paper, afraid the teacher would think I was cheating, too.
Suddenly Miss Clark swooped behind Eddie. Without a word, she picked up his paper, crumpled it up, and threw it in the wastebasket.
Dad wouldn’t want a paper I had cheated on. He’d be disappointed in me, and I’d feel rotten about myself.
My back hurt from sitting stiffly while I sounded out words, erased them, and sounded them out again until they looked right.
I closed my eyes. “Please, Heavenly Father, help me keep my eyes off Kim’s paper and do the best I can,” I prayed silently.
Miss Clark called out another word. I felt more relaxed and could think more clearly. I finished my test and handed it in.
We got our papers back before the end of class. I covered mine for a minute, afraid to look at my score. Then I saw “100% correct, A+!” written in red ink. I couldn’t wait to get home to show it to Mom.
On the test I wrote, “To the best dad in the world, who helps me with spelling, and teaches me to choose the right and to do the best I can.” Then I put it with the shaving lotion.
I could hardly wait for Father’s Day.

For some, the temple is a goal that will not be denied. Adriano and Ana Maria Barros of the Porto First Ward were married there in 1985. During their engagement, they had kept a bank labeled “Temple Marriage,” putting money in it each day to save for the trip. She lost her job a month before the wedding, and it appeared they might not have enough for the temple trip and a start in married life too. They considered postponing marriage rather than settle for a civil wedding alone. But, exercising their faith, they went to the temple, and while life has not been easy financially, they have been blessed with what they need.

Thomas stood on the banks of the Mississippi River, his bare hands pushed deep inside the pockets of his overcoat. His breath came out in cloudy puffs, and his teeth chattered steadily.

Thomas watched as a chunk of ice bigger than a wagon wheel slowly drifted by. The ferry had been moored for days, and the muddy banks of the river were frozen and hard. The Saints who had hoped to leave Nauvoo ahead of the Canadian storm had been delayed; there was no hope of crossing the icy river before spring.

Thomas had never seen a storm like the one that hit Nauvoo that February 1846. The weather had been mild and warm the first half of the month, and President Brigham Young had exhorted the members of the Church to leave Nauvoo for the camp at Sugar Creek. Many families had followed his admonition. The ferry carried heavy loads of people, animals, and wagons across the river continually until the temperatures dropped. Almost overnight, the storm blew in with a terrible fury. Bitter cold winds pounded Thomas’s wood-frame house from the north, doors and shutters clattering loudly. Great mounds of snow piled up on the streets of Nauvoo. The stinging, harsh blizzard had gone on for days. This morning was the first time Thomas was able to see the ice-choked river.

“Thomas!” called his younger brother, Joseph. “Mama needs those eggs from Sister Patterson right away!”

Thomas looked back across the river one more time. “All right, Joseph. I’m coming.” He pulled his woolen scarf closer around his neck and met his brother halfway up the hill.

Joseph was a year younger than Thomas, but he was already nearly as tall. Named for the Prophet Joseph Smith, he had been born three days before the Prophet’s thirty-first birthday. Joseph’s cheeks and nose were red from the cold, and he was blowing on his hands to keep them warm.

“You run home, Joseph,” Thomas said. “Tell Mama I’m on my way with the eggs for her custard.”

Joseph nodded and loped off. Thomas could see their house up the road and knew that Joseph would soon be sitting in front of the warm hearth.

Mama rarely made her delicious egg custard anymore, especially since they had sold their best laying hens to the Pattersons. Papa said that the hens would never survive the journey west and that the family needed the money to buy more basic supplies. But this morning Mama had declared that they would have custard for dessert and had sent Thomas for the fresh eggs. He knew that his father and mother had been fasting and praying about the weather and that this special dessert was his mother’s way of expressing gratitude for the slivers of sunshine that had broken through the gray clouds today.

As the family gathered around the table to pray over their simple meal, Thomas could see that his father was discouraged. “There was trouble in town again today,” his father said. “Let us pray that the Lord will provide a way for us to leave Nauvoo before anyone is seriously harmed. We are packed and ready to go. There must be a way!”

Thomas bowed his head along with his parents and brothers and sisters, but in his heart he felt a twinge of fear. He did not want to leave Nauvoo.

Although most of their furniture and farming equipment had been sold to purchase a wagon and food supplies, their home was still cozy and warm, and there was always enough to eat. He had been just a little boy when his family was driven from their home in Missouri by an angry mob and forced to settle in the marshy wetlands of Commerce, Illinois. It had been cold then, too, and he remembered how he had cried for a cup of milk. But over the years, he had seen Commerce become the beautiful city of Nauvoo, a place where the Prophet Joseph Smith would stop and play stickball with Thomas and his friends, then invite them to his home for a glass of cool lemonade. Though it had been a year and a half since the Prophet’s death, he ducked his head to hide his tears.

“Thomas?” his Mama asked softly. “Are you well?”

His older sister, Mary Jane, quietly said, “He doesn’t want to go west, Mama.”

Papa put down his fork and folded his arms across his chest. “Is this true, Son?”

Thomas gulped. “Yes, Papa,” he whispered.

He heard his mother sigh, and he felt ashamed. It had already been decided that Mama would leave her piano and her cherished spinning wheel behind. But she reached across the table and put her hand on top of his. “We all wish we could stay in Nauvoo. Here we have a lovely home, a prosperous farm, good friends and family, even a beautiful new temple. But the Lord has promised us peace, and we will never find that here.”

Thomas nodded and tried to hold back the tears that still pushed against his eyelids. His father saw him struggling and slowly slid back his chair. “Mama, save us some of your custard. Thomas and I are going to check on the horses.”

Thomas put on his overcoat and scarf and followed his father out to the barn. The sky was clear, and the air was as sharp as a knife in his lungs. Inside the barn, his father lit a lantern and stamped his feet. “Mighty cold out tonight,” he said. “We must pray for our brothers and sisters who are spending this night in a tent or a wagon box.”

Thomas plopped down on a bale of hay. “Papa, if we had crossed the river with the others last week, we would be out there in a tent tonight!”

His father sat beside him, reaching out to stroke the mane of his favorite horse. “I know, Son. The Lord works in mysterious ways.”

“Then why can’t we wait until spring … or even summer? Why must we leave now?”

“You do not realize the danger that surrounds us. I was a close friend of the Prophet Joseph, and his enemies are my enemies.” Thomas felt his father tremble beside him. He looked up and saw the scar on his father’s cheek that had come from the leather thong of a bullwhip. He still remembered how his mother had cried over the wound, praying that God would forgive her for thinking terrible thoughts about the man who had whipped her husband. “And I think this is a test of our faith, Son. Will we follow the prophet—or not?”

Thomas blinked his eyes hard. Suddenly he remembered a very special occasion in his life.

Thomas felt his father’s arm around him. “Are you thinking about Brother Joseph, Thomas?”

“Yes,” was all he managed to whisper.

His father hugged him tighter. “When you are a grown man, your children and grandchildren will ask if you remember when you were baptized. Your heart will burst with pride when you tell them that you were baptized by the Prophet Joseph Smith. And then you will tell them how you followed another prophet of God through snow and cold and all sorts of trials so that they could live in a land of peace and enjoy all the blessings of the gospel without being afraid. For many generations, your family will honor you and be grateful for your sacrifices. Your life will be blessed, Thomas, in more ways than you will ever know.”

After Thomas finished his evening prayer, he crawled under the warm quilt. He could hear his mother and father talking downstairs. He was still afraid of what might happen on their journey west, but he felt a calm reassurance in his heart that all would be well.

The next morning, the family was awakened early by a whoop of joy. “It’s a miracle!” their neighbor, Brother Williams, shouted from the front gate. “The Mississippi River is frozen solid! Load up your wagons—we’re crossing over! The Lord has answered our prayers!”

Yes, He has, Thomas thought as he hurriedly dressed in the cold morning air.

Excitedly Tommy called out to his father, “The creek has overflowed and the back wheels of the wagon are standing in the water!”
Tommy’s father was out of the wagon in an instant. When he saw the situation, he helped Tommy pull the bed out from under the wagon and then hitched up both teams of oxen to pull the wagon out of the water. The ground was so slippery the oxen could not get a foothold.
“We will have to build a corduroy road,” said Tommy’s father.
To do this, Tommy and his father cut down many trees. They trimmed off the limbs and laid the poles side by side, close to and in front of the wagon; then with willows they bound each log tightly to the next one so they would not roll. When this was finished, they packed tough grass and pine needles on top of the poles so the oxen’s hoofs could not slip into the cracks.
Finally they coaxed the frightened oxen up onto the corduroy road and hitched them to the wagon. Father spoke to the oxen in a soothing tone, “Steady now, pull together.”
The oxen did pull together. The heavy wagon wheels rolled out of the mud, onto the tough grass, over the corduroy road, and up onto the road that the Camp of Israel would be traveling that day.
Tommy shouted, “Hooray!” and he could see by the look on his mother’s face that she was proud of her two “men.”

Emily told Mama, “My blanket’s name is Pinkie.” Emily got her blanket when she was a baby. Now she was old enough to know her colors, and she had given her blanket a name. Pinkie was fuzzy in some places and silky in others. Emily took Pinkie with her everywhere, except to church. That was because Mama said, “In Sunbeams you need your hands for other things.”
Pinkie had gone with Emily to Grandpa’s house for Thanksgiving. Now Emily’s family sat in the car heading home. At first Emily colored. Then she played I Spy. But now it was dark and the only sound was the hum of the engine.
Emily rubbed Pinkie’s silky edge against her nose. Rubbing her nose with Pinkie helped Emily think beautiful thoughts.
Daddy slowed down and pulled the car over to the side of the road.
“What’s going on?” Mama asked.
“There was a crash,” Daddy said. “We need to see if we can help.”
In the light from the headlights Emily saw a smashed car. She also saw a family huddling outside of it. There was a little girl. She wasn’t wearing a coat.
Emily knew that if she were that little girl she would be scared. She would be cold.
Emily handed Daddy her blanket. “Please give Pinkie to that girl.”
“Are you sure?” Daddy asked.
Emily nodded. She loved Pinkie, but that little girl needed beautiful thoughts right now.

“My earliest recollection of my mother is of her teaching me to pray. She always made sure I got to church on time, and she started me off in life with good habits. I remember a precious teaching moment between the two of us. A neighbor lady had passed away. She had been a very dear friend of mine, even though I was but a little boy. I could not understand why Heavenly Father had taken my friend away. I was peering out through the curtains as the mortician placed her body in his big car. My mother took me on her knee and talked to me about the Resurrection and life eternal, things I needed to know right then. Even though I was only five years old, the message really got through because it was a teaching moment that satisfied my need.

The Roberts Idaho Stake Young Women celebrated the 113th anniversary of the organization of the Young Women in an evening of old-fashioned fun with the theme “From Bonnets to Blue Jeans.”
Mothers and daughters were invited. Each one attending was given a bonnet to wear. Mother-and-daughter teams had contests churning butter, challenging each other in a spelling bee, and learning the Virginia Reel to the music of a fiddler.
Each girl had embroidered blocks which were then joined together and made into a quilt. The quilt was presented as a surprise to their recently released stake president as a gift of gratitude.

The Thordersons learned this one because they lived it. Even sports, which can pull some people away from family time, became a family activity under the 3F plan. Eric, the oldest, started the tradition by playing basketball in grade school, and the others followed him. Kurt said, “I just followed along because he needed somebody to play with. And then he went to junior high ball, and then high school, and that kind of dragged the whole family in.”
Jim agreed. “We all went to everyone’s games. Jed (the youngest) was practically raised at basketball games because we were involved in so many different leagues and stuff.” Julie, the only sister in the group, who is now on a mission at the Salt Lake Visitors’ Center on Temple Square, said, “Our parents were always there at everything we did, and so were the rest of us. If you went to all the different games everyone was involved in you were busy five nights a week!”
By supporting each other’s activities, the Thordersons realized that doing things together as a family really can be fun, and they learned about each other’s talents and likes so they could become closer as friends.

In a Friend magazine I read a story about a girl who made a visitor feel welcome. That Sunday we had a visitor in our ward, and I made a goal to always be kind to visitors or new members. I just got back from a vacation where I went to a different church building every week, and I remembered how I felt sitting by myself when no one would talk to me. Now I always try to make visitors feel welcome. I’m grateful for the chance I have to do this, and I hope it will help me grow closer to Heavenly Father.

Illustration by Bradley Clark
I had just sat down on the bus when a man across the aisle leaned over to me and said, “You have a beautiful soul.”
Needless to say, I was surprised. I had never been complimented on my soul before. Unsure how to respond, I just said, “Thank you.”
The man told me he could tell because of his work with his religious group. I listened to him as he gave me advice on how to keep my soul beautiful.
When the bus rolled to a stop, we both stood to exit and he imparted a final thought to me: “Be sure you don’t listen to those Mormons.”
Time seemed to stand still for a moment. This man had seen something special in my countenance, but he had no idea that it was because of my religion.
How was I going to respond? To be honest, my first thought was to say nothing and pretend I hadn’t heard him. I was worried that if I told him I was a member of the Church, he might respond negatively or even harshly.
But then a scripture came to mind: “For I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ: for it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth” (Romans 1:16). I realized that I was not ashamed of the gospel, and I knew that my soul could not shine for others if I did not stand as a witness. With my new resolve, I looked at the man and said, “Actually, I am one.”
The man stared at me and I stared back. To my surprise, he laughed and said he could not join the Church because he was too fond of coffee. I laughed too, and we went our separate ways.
To this day I am glad about the choice I made. I know that it can be difficult to stand as a member of the Church. Sometimes it can be terrifying! But when we stand for God, our souls can shine as lights to the world.

On another occasion, when Governor Carlin of Illinois sent Sheriff Thomas King of Adams County and several others as a posse to apprehend the Prophet and deliver him to the emissaries of Governor Boggs of Missouri, Sheriff King became deathly ill. At Nauvoo the Prophet took the sheriff to his home and nursed him like a brother for four days (Cannon, p. 372). Small, kind, and yet significant acts of service were not occasional for the Prophet.