Gospel Story Finder

It was a hot day in Foz do Iguaçu, Paraná, Brazil. I had traveled several hours and was tired. As a leader in the Church Educational System, I had matters to address with the bishop, who was meeting me at the church. However, he was unavailable for a few minutes when I arrived.
While I waited, a lady entered the church. She approached me and humbly asked for a small amount of money to buy bread. She explained that she and her husband were hungry, and despite being embarrassed for asking, she said she didn’t have any other choice. “Just for a little bread is all,” she added.
I was moved, and I took a little money from my pocket. She thought it was a lot. I told her, “Buy bread, milk, and some meat.”
She was grateful and told me that her husband had been promised a job for the next Tuesday. She wanted to pay me back as soon as he received his payment.
I told her that she didn’t need to. She insisted.
I told her, “Instead of paying me, you can come back to this chapel on Sunday morning. When you get here, tell anyone you see that you want to talk with the missionaries. OK?” She agreed.
The woman left. I resolved what had to be discussed with the bishop and continued traveling through Paraná, doing my work.
Many months passed, and another opportunity took me to that same meetinghouse in Foz do Iguaçu for a conference. The choir was beautiful and performed sweetly. When the conference ended, one of the members of the choir approached me. She stretched forth her hand, greeting me with a beautiful smile, and said with emotion, “Thank you, brother. You gave me not only bread to satisfy my hunger and my husband’s; you also gave me the bread of life. Thank you.”
I felt an immense joy as I recognized the woman as the one who had asked me for a little money several months earlier. I realized that the gospel of Jesus Christ—who declared Himself to be the Bread of Life—transforms the life of whoever accepts it.

After joining the Church, we decided to create Christmas traditions for our family that would focus less on materialism and more on Heavenly Father’s love for His children, embodied in His Son, Jesus Christ.
Aside from the tradition of decorating our home with a tree and garlands, each year our family holds a series of family home evenings to help us remember the Savior. For these meetings, we have compiled a book of our favorite Christmas songs and various drawings for the children. On the first Monday of December, we talk about the origin of Christmas, its symbols, and the ways people celebrate Jesus Christ’s birth around the world. We also read a favorite Christmas message from the Liahona of December 1986, the year my wife, Vani, and I were married. On the second Monday, we read from a favorite book about Christmas. On the third Monday, we read and discuss the First Presidency Message from the current Liahona.
The most special day of the month for us is 24 December. We invite friends and our extended family to our home for dinner and a Christmas program. In the program, the children present a musical number, we read the story of Christ’s birth, and I give a Christmas message I have prepared. We then enjoy a wonderful dinner my wife has prepared.
In these and many other ways, we have created family traditions to help us celebrate Christmas as the birth of Jesus Christ.
Antonio Carlos Pedrosa dos Santos,Visconde de Araújo First Branch, Macaé Brazil District

Another five years passed, and I came to stay at my parents’ home while I was changing employment. My father was the ward mission leader, and every afternoon the missionaries would visit him briefly to update and coordinate plans. One day they asked him, “Who is that young man there?”
He said, “That’s my older son.”
“Is he a member?”
“No.”
“We need to talk with him.”
But I said, “No, I’m not interested.”
Then one day my father agreed to let the missionaries teach a lady in our home. They came around 5:00 in the afternoon and began teaching her—and they knew that I was in the next room making a sandwich before leaving to see my friends. They taught about a boy prophet—Joseph Smith—and the First Vision. And from the other room, I listened.
When I eventually left the house, the Spirit started to work in my heart and some questions came into my mind: “Why don’t you do what the sisters taught this lady? Why don’t you study the history of Joseph Smith and ask the Lord if he was a prophet?” And I said to myself, “I’m happy. I’m doing good things. I don’t need it.” But the Spirit started to wrestle with me, and I decided not to see my friends that night. I went back home.
I asked my mom, “Where can I read the history of Joseph Smith?” She gave me her scriptures and showed me the Joseph Smith—History, and I read and prayed. I read the first paragraph, pondered, and asked Heavenly Father if what’s there is true. I did this with every paragraph until I completed the whole thing. My heart was anxious for an answer. I read and prayed all night, until 9:20 the next morning.
The Lord revealed to me that Joseph Smith was a prophet. I had a very sacred experience. As I finished praying, I promised that I would find the missionaries and be baptized because I had this sure knowledge.
I told the sisters, “I need to be baptized now.” They explained the lessons I needed to have and commitments I needed to make. But I said, “I don’t want to lose a single day with the knowledge that the Lord has given me that Joseph Smith was a prophet.”
The sisters called their zone leader. He agreed to an accelerated schedule for the lessons. He scheduled the baptismal interview and told me he’d also need to talk to the ward mission leader, and I said, “Don’t worry, I’ll talk with the ward mission leader. He’s my daddy. He’s been praying for years for me to be baptized.”
My baptism was an experience I will remember forever. What a sweet and wonderful feeling. I felt that I was a new man. I was clean. I felt so close to God, and I was very happy.

Lydia Kaminaga, like Hirobo Obeketang, was born into the Church but became less active during her teen years. But the story of her journey back is as remarkable as it is distinct.

Lydia and her husband, Kaminaga Kaminaga, both grew up in the Church. “I never had any doubt about the teachings of the Church,” says Kaminaga. “I’ve always believed them.”

But life moved differently for Lydia. When she was in seventh grade, she says, “I was the only Mormon in my school, and I felt left out. I did what my friends were doing. I got my priorities wrong.”

Lydia’s parents sent her to Provo, Utah, USA, to live with family, hoping their influence might inspire Lydia to live the gospel. Though she learned things that helped her later in life, at the time she wasn’t interested in Church activity.

Lydia moved back to the Marshall Islands in January 2002, just a month after Kaminaga returned from serving a mission in Japan. They met shortly thereafter. Although Lydia was not living Church standards, Kaminaga kept coming to her house pretending that he wanted to visit her nephew, Gary Zackious.

Eventually, Kaminaga made up his mind to talk to her parents about going out on dates—wholesome, clean activities—with Lydia. Although they initially tried to dissuade him, Kaminaga says he “finally told them, ‘There’s still a chance for her to change.’ When I said that, the whole feeling in the room changed. Her dad cried and said, ‘I’ve always wanted her back in the Church. You can try.’”

At first Lydia didn’t take Kaminaga seriously. After all, he was a clean-cut returned missionary, and she hadn’t been active.

“But he saw something I didn’t see,” Lydia explains. Since she wasn’t dating anyone, she agreed to go out with him. “He brought me back. Being his girlfriend, I had to set my standards straight. He reminded me of my covenants made at baptism. He reminded me of all the things I really missed a lot, like reading scriptures and family home evening. Kaminaga and I did service projects together. We read the Book of Mormon. We went to firesides. He showed me how to live differently. Going to church was not just sacrament meeting but also Sunday School and Relief Society too.”

As they spent time together on dates that were wholesome and uplifting, Lydia’s life began to change and her testimony grew. She still had to clear some things up, however.

“It was hard coming back,” she admits. “Repentance is not easy, but I have a really strong testimony of repentance. In a lot of ways, our dating was about getting to know each other more and about getting me back to church, to see things differently.”

“It’s about relationships,” adds Kaminaga.

Lydia and Kaminaga were married on November 28, 2002. A year later they were sealed in the Laie Hawaii Temple and attended Brigham Young University–Hawaii. Now they live in the Marshall Islands with their three children. Lydia serves as their ward’s Sunday School teacher for the young men and young women, and Kaminaga serves as the Young Men president.

I remember I learned a lesson one evening in a little country ward in Idaho while I was traveling for the University of Idaho. I traveled that wonderful state for eight years. I’ve been to every town and hamlet in the state. It was not uncommon for me to be away for two weeks. Then I’d go home, and as a stake officer, I would take a bath, change clothes, and be gone again. My wife used to say, “Well, when you’re home you’re gone.” Once when this happened, one of my little girls came to the door, waved, and said, “Come again, Daddy.”

I used to miss my family, and this particular time I was in Pocatello, Idaho, on Sunday. I got thinking about my family, so far away, and I thought, “Well, I’ll just run down to Whitney and see if I can attend sacrament service and renew my acquaintance with some of the wonderful people there.” So I drove down and arrived just as the meeting was about ready to start and the bishop was going into the church.

He invited me in with him. He had the custom of going up on the stand and sitting there ten minutes before the meeting started so he could see the people come in. He’d have his counselors down at the door. And as I sat there, I watched these groups come in. There were family groups with father, mother, children, and I knew practically all of them. I knew all of the parents and could identify the children by association.

Well, the meeting got started, and the counselor was conducting. He called on me to say a few words. And while sitting there, I’d been thinking, “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if you could be home every Sunday and go to church with your family? Just think what a joy it would be.” Well, as he introduced me, he said, “Brothers and sisters, wouldn’t it be wonderful if we all had a job like Brother Benson? He’s traveling this great state of Idaho all the time. He’s always on a trip.” I thought, “Yes, how true to life. Distant pastures usually look greener.”

I hope we can be happy where we are, be grateful for our blessings—now—here, accept the challenge that is ours and make the most of it, and don’t be envious of others.

In the spring, Jason planted three pumpkin seeds in the corner of the garden. His sister, Ellen, planted three tomato plants, and his brother, Tom, planted a row of corn.
The warm sun shone. The rain fell. All the plants grew, but Jason’s pumpkin vines grew the most. They spread all across the garden and had large, green leaves. By July, they had beautiful orange flowers. Jason kept busy pulling the weeds from around them and watering them with the garden hose.
Ellen’s tomato plants blossomed, too, but they had only small, yellow flowers. Before long, though, little green tomatoes appeared on them. And ears of corn began to grow on Tom’s cornstalks.
“Where are my pumpkins?” Jason asked.
“Look under the leaves,” Tom told him.
Sure enough, tiny green pumpkins were growing there.
Soon the first of Ellen’s tomatoes were large and red. Mother sliced some for sandwiches. Then Tom’s ears of corn grew big and plump, and they roasted some on picnics. The tomatoes and the corn were delicious, and Jason wished that he had planted them, instead.
“Just wait,” Ellen told him. “The pumpkins will get ripe.”
The pumpkins got bigger, but they were still green and hard when Tom and Ellen started back to school. Tom’s corn had all been eaten or quick-frozen for winter meals by then.
One night there was to be a frost, so the whole family went to the garden and picked all the tomatoes—even the green ones—still on Ellen’s plants. They would be made into spaghetti sauce or preserves.
“What about my pumpkins?” Jason asked.
“They’ll be all right. Pumpkins like frost,” Father said.
The next morning Jason ran outside and across the white, frosty lawn. “My pumpkin vine is black and dead!” he cried.
“But look at your pumpkins,” Mother pointed out. “They’re turning orange.”
Soon the pumpkins were bright orange. They were huge. Father cut one from the vine, and Mother made it into delicious pumpkin pies. Then, on the Saturday before Halloween, the rest of the pumpkins were cut from the vines. A couple of them were canned for winter pies and pumpkin bread, then all but three were given to friends.
The last three were for Tom and Ellen and Jason for jack-o’-lanterns. Tom and Ellen made scary faces on theirs, but Father helped Jason cut a big grin on his. Jason was very proud—pumpkins were worth waiting for!

For more than twenty years, Sister Cécile Pelous, a member of the Cergy-Pontoise Branch, Paris France Stake, has worked for the finest fashion houses in Paris—Dior, Cardin, and Ricci. She designs and makes dresses for the wealthiest women in the world.
But since 1986, this graceful, dynamic women has used her glamorous career as a means to do quite a different work. She spends three months every year serving the destitute of India. Working in the impoverished suburbs of Calcutta and in the orphanages of Bengal, she dedicates all of her savings, along with donations from French friends, to the relief of poor children—with the assistance of local people of goodwill.
Cécile discovered The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 1974 when she was visiting the United States on a tour. Her group happened to stop at Temple Square and attend a performance by the Tabernacle Choir. “It was an intense emotional experience,” she says. Later, she told her fellow travelers that listening to the Choir was the part of the tour that she liked best.
Months later, missionaries knocked on her door back in France. Cécile was not interested until one of them said he was from Salt Lake City. Remembering her experience there, Cécile asked the missionary if he represented “the church with the choir.” When he said yes, she let them in and listened to their message. She was baptized a few months later—in 1975.
Eleven years later, in July 1986, Cécile took her first trip to India. “I went to Calcutta during vacation, with the idea of helping my neighbor,” she says. “I took with me my first-aid certificate, my goodwill, and my suitcases packed with medicines.” She had read about and had heard lectures describing conditions in India. “I knew there was plenty to do,” she says.
The work she found to do was mostly among the elderly, babies, and handicapped children of Calcutta. “I found opportunities to get busy and stretch myself. Dirty clothes and sheets had to be boiled and washed, meals prepared, patients fed in night shelters and almshouses, and medical care given,” she says. “The dying had to be washed, and warmth and affection had to be given them to help them leave this world. There were babies to change and feed who were so weak that you would wish you could force your own health into their bodies.” She worked first with Mother Theresa’s Sisters of Mercy and then with other groups.
“I am not a heroine,” Cécile says. “My experience in India is one of love and friendship.”
During that first trip to India, Cécile also discovered a home for one hundred elderly people, most of them bedridden. “There were only two Catholic missionaries to cater to the needs of all, and one of them had been sick for three days. When another volunteer and I arrived, we immediately rolled up our sleeves and went to work,” she says. “Sister Thérésina, one of the missionaries, kissed me and said, ‘The Lord has sent you!’ and I believed her.”

My admiration almost had no bounds one day when a young man from Murray came in to be interviewed for a mission. He’d saved $2,900 for his mission from his Marine pay in three years and nine months and fifteen days. By doing odd jobs which others wished to escape, he had $2,900 for his mission. Just a boy without a job, without a place, without a home, without somebody to keep him busy. But he caught the idea and went out and did other people’s work on the ship, and saved his money for this important thing.

During his freshman year of high school Jed began each day standing at the lane a couple of hundred yards from his house waiting for Brenda to pick him up for early-morning seminary. They lived less than a mile apart in the table-top flatness of Nebraska. Not that Jed’s family were farmers. They’d moved there two years earlier. His father worked for the post office. They lived in the farmhouse because it had been foreclosed and the bank was renting it until they could sell the farm.
Jed was barely 14, small for his age. He wore glasses with brown plastic frames, although he planned to get contact lenses as soon as he could save enough money.
Brenda was 16 and tall, with long wheat-blonde hair. She felt most at home in jeans and a T-shirt, working with her father around the farm.
On the first day of school when she pulled into the farmyard, Jed ran out to the old battered pickup she drove and got in. She had the radio set to a country-western station. She put it into first gear and let the clutch out. The pedal stayed down. She grumbled, flung open the door, crawled under the truck, did something and then got back in.
“Linkage,” she said.
He had no idea what she was talking about. “Oh.”
That was all she said for the rest of the drive into town, a distance of 15 miles. It was obvious that because he was so much younger than she was, she didn’t figure they’d ever be friends.
In October Jed and his father were assigned to home teach Brenda’s family. Her father was strong, a man who took all that life dished out to him without ever letting on how bad it was. His face bore the scars of farm life. Not just the hard work, but the financial burdens too. He knew he might lose the farm if things didn’t get better.
As they rode into seminary each morning, Jed became fascinated with watching Brenda. Her beauty was like the plains itself—you could just about talk yourself into thinking Nebraska was drab, but then something would happen between the sun and clouds and land, and suddenly it became the most beautiful place in the world. Brenda was like that too. She used little makeup and never fussed over her appearance, but when the winter sun hit her hair just right on the way home from school, he’d look and think she was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen.
That was why he began drawing. He wanted to capture the way she looked in sunshine and in shadows. Almost every night he drew her face. He hid the drawings from his parents because he didn’t want to explain to them why he was drawing her. He wasn’t sure himself.
One day in March the pickup broke down on the way to town. Brenda pulled over, got out, and got some tools out. Jed got out and watched her work on the truck, feeling useless. After a few minutes, she’d fixed it and they took off again.
“I wish I could do things as good as you can,” he said.
She shrugged her shoulders. “You’ll learn someday.”
“How old were you when you first learned to drive?” he asked.
“Twelve. My dad needed help bringing in the crop.”
“My parents say I’ll probably have to wait till I’m 16.”
“What for? You’re legal now.”
“I know.”
That afternoon, on the way home from school, after they turned off the highway onto the seldom-traveled county road, she pulled over and stopped. “Switch places with me.”
“Why?”
“You want to learn how to drive or not?”
First she showed him how to shift gears. He tried it but killed the engine. She didn’t seem to mind. After several tries, he finally got it into first and they were moving down the road. She helped him get it into second, and then third, and let him drive a few miles.
He felt great. “Thanks,” he said when they switched back again.
She shrugged her shoulders. “No problem.”
After that she let him drive from the turnoff to the lane near his house. To Jed it meant much more than that he was learning how to drive. It meant he and Brenda were now friends.
That summer turned out to be a disaster for the farmers—too little rain and too many grasshoppers. Brenda’s father had to sell off some of his equipment, including the old pickup Brenda had used for school.
In August Jed’s father bought another car and let Jed get a driver’s license so he could drive to school each day. When school started in the fall, Jed picked Brenda up for seminary.
One day in October when he went out to the school parking lot to go home, he saw Brenda talking to Cory Steadman. Cory was a senior who played on the football team.
“Well, I’d better go to practice,” he said. “I’ll call you tonight, okay?”
“Sure. See you.”
Jed started the car. Brenda got in. “Seems like a nice guy,” Jed said.
She smiled. “He is. I think he’s going to ask me to the Homecoming dance.”
“That’s good.”
“I’ve never gone before. This’ll be my last chance to go to one. He doesn’t drink at all. And he goes to his church a lot.”
“Sure.”
“And there’s no LDS guys I could go with, except you, and you’re too young.”
“I know.”
“So I’ll probably say yes if he asks.”
“Sure.”
“Do you think you’ll go?” she asked.
“Probably not.”
“Why not?”
“Like you said, I’m too young. Besides, I’m saving up for contact lenses. In another month I’ll have enough money to get ’em.”
“I won’t know you without glasses.”
“Once I get contacts, girls’ll probably fall all over me.”
“Sure they will,” she said with a smile. He had never seen her in such a good mood before.
“I wonder how much a formal costs,” she asked.
“I don’t know. Probably not much.”
“I think I’d like a pink one.”
The next morning when Jed picked her up for seminary, he could tell by her smile what had happened. “He asked you to Homecoming, didn’t he?”
“Yeah. Is it okay if we stop by a store after school?”
“Sure.”
“I’ve got some money saved up,” she said. “I should be able to get what I want with that.”
After school they stopped by a store and looked at formals. Jed sat in a chair as Brenda came out wearing a low-cut formal.
“What do you think about this one?”
“Shows too much,” he said, then started to blush.
She looked in the mirror again. “You’re right.”
A while later she came out in another one. “What about this one?”
“I like it.”
“It’s the most expensive one.”
“How much is it?”
She showed him the price tag.
“That much for one dress?” he said.
“There’s another one that isn’t as much. I’ll go try that on.”
At that time he didn’t realize how sensitive he was to color and light and shadow, and how years later he would still be able to recall in detail her image as she tried on each dress.
Finally she picked out a formal and had it put on layaway. She was happy all the way home. When they pulled into her yard, he noticed a car from the bank in front of the house.
The next morning he stopped by for her as usual, but she didn’t come out. He turned off the motor and walked to the door. He knocked for the longest time, and then Brenda’s mother came to the door in a robe.
“Brenda?” her mother called out, “Jed’s here.”
“I’m not going today,” Brenda called out from her bedroom.
“If you stay here, I’ll put you to work, so you might as well go.”
There was a long pause. “All right. Ask him if he can wait.”
“I’ll wait,” Jed called out.
A couple of minutes later Brenda came out tucking her shirt into an old pair of jeans.
“You’re not going to school looking like that, are you?” her mother asked.
“What difference does it make?”
“You listen to me, young lady, you quit going around feeling sorry for yourself.”
As they pulled onto the county road, he asked, “Are you going to buy the formal today?”
“I’m not going to the dance.”
“Why not?”
“It’s a waste of money, that’s why.”
“But yesterday …”
“Why don’t you stay out of other people’s business?”
“Just tell me what happened.”
“The bank’s foreclosing on us. They’re having an auction the day after Homecoming. We’re going to have to move out of town so my dad can get a job. My parents need my money to help tide us over till we get settled.”
“I’m sorry.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “It’s not like it wasn’t expected.”
“Have you told Cory yet?” he asked.
“Not yet. He’s in Omaha on a field trip. I’ll see him tomorrow.”
Jed spent most of seminary that morning studying her face. He wished he was older, taller, and more self-confident. He wished he could tell her that as far as he could tell, he was in love with her. Or at least if it wasn’t love it was something—he wasn’t sure what. He knew he wanted her to be happy.
In school that morning he couldn’t concentrate. At noon he left school and drove to the department store.
“May I help you?” the saleswoman asked.
“I was here yesterday with a friend. She picked out a formal and put it on layaway. Last night she found out her father’s going to lose his farm. So she won’t be going to the dance.”
“I’m sorry.”
“She’s my best friend. She taught me how to drive. You saw her. Did you notice her face? Don’t you think she’s beautiful?”
The woman was getting restless. “Can you excuse me a minute while I wait on these other folks?”
“Wait, don’t go. I want to buy the formal for my friend. Don’t let anybody else buy it until I come back from the bank.”
Within half an hour, he’d bought the formal. He hung it from a hook in the back seat and drove around town, trying to figure out how he was going to get it to her. He knew she might not accept it if she knew he’d bought it for her.
He went to the post office just as his dad was about to leave for lunch.
“Dad, there’s something I’ve got to show you. It’s in the car.”
That afternoon after school, on the way out of the parking lot, he told Brenda, “On our way home there’s a garage sale I want to go to. Is that okay with you?”
“I guess so.”
He stopped in front of the house where the garage sale was being held. There were several tables of assorted clothing and some old toys and battered books. It was an impromptu garage sale, one which only lasted for an hour, but Brenda didn’t know that.
“You might as well look around,” he said. “I might be a while.”
She was annoyed at the delay, but got out of the car anyway.
He looked through a pile of shirts as slowly as he could while she wandered around looking at things.
“Jed, come here,” she called out.
He went over to where she was.
“Look at this,” she said.
There hanging among some drab clothing hung a pink formal.
“How much is this?” Brenda asked the woman who was having the sale.
“A dollar,” the woman said.
“Only a dollar?”
“If you look closely it’s got a stain on it.”
“I don’t see a stain,” Brenda said. “Where is it?”
The woman showed her a small stain on one tiny segment of the dress. It was barely noticeable.
Brenda pulled Jed aside. “I can’t believe this. It’s just like the formal I saw in the store—for only a dollar. With only the tiniest stain that’ll come out real easy anyway. Jed, loan me a dollar, okay?”
He reached into his pocket and gave her a dollar’s worth of change.
She rushed back to claim the dress. “Here, thanks,” Brenda said.
They got back in the car.
“Jed, I can go to the dance now. I can’t believe it. It’s like an answer to a prayer.”
“That’s great.”
On Friday night Jed walked into the school gym during the dance and stood in the shadows and watched Brenda dance with Cory. They looked good together. Jed had never felt better in his entire life.
The next morning Brenda came to their house and asked for Jed. He got up and got dressed and went into the kitchen where she was waiting for him.
“Hi,” he said.
“You bought that dress and then rigged up a garage sale, didn’t you?”
“Why would I do a thing like that?”
“I don’t know why. At the dance last night, one of the girls told me this guy asked her at the last moment to go with him. She’d looked at my dress and nearly bought it, but decided to go to another store first. When she came back, all set to buy it, they told her they’d just sold it to a guy who was going to give it to a girl so she could go to the dance. You know what I think? I think you used the money you were saving for contact lenses to buy the dress for me.”
“I’m not admitting to anything, so you might as well give up.”
“Well, whoever did it is the nicest guy in the world.”
“Did you have a nice time at the dance?”
“It was wonderful. Talk about extremes. Last night was great, and today is going to be awful. They’re having the auction over at our place right now. I’m feeling pretty bad. Do you think you could stay with me today?”
“Sure.”
They walked over to her place. Vehicles were lined up along the road. They could hear the auctioneer on the P.A. system. They stood on the edge of the crowd and watched for a while. Her parents watched their property being taken away from them one item at a time. It was too painful for Brenda to watch. She asked Jed to walk with her. They went to the one native tree on their property, an old gnarly cottonwood, and climbed it.
“After the auction, we’re going to stay in town tonight, and then tomorrow we’ll go see how Omaha is for getting work. … If you could give me a ride into town after the auction is over, I’ll have some things to take in too, if that’s all right.”
“Sure.”
They stayed away all morning. He took her to his home and they had lunch. He showed her some of the sketches he’d done of her. She said they were good, but he said he could never get her face the way it really was, because it was like trying to paint the clouds. She didn’t understand. He told her how difficult it was to capture the beauty of clouds, because they changed so fast, and each time was more wonderful. She said she didn’t know what he was talking about.
After lunch they went back to her tree and climbed it and waited. When they saw the stream of traffic going past their place, they got his car and then drove to her house. Her parents had left her a note.
He helped haul her things out to the car. When he came inside the last time, she called from her room and told him to go wait outside.
He went out and leaned on his car and waited. She came out, wearing the formal, dressed just like she’d been the night before.
“Jed, dance with me,” she said. She hummed a tune and they danced around the desolate farmyard until her tears came too fast and made her voice so she couldn’t sing anymore. “I’ll never forget you, Jed.”
“I’ll never forget you either.” He wanted to say more, but he was afraid he’d lose control.
That was the last time he saw Brenda. Years later, when he was serving a mission, his parents sent him the wedding announcement she’d sent to the family. He was glad she was getting married in the temple. He sent her a card and a gift.
After his mission, while majoring in art in college, he finally managed to do a portrait of her that did her justice. It was Brenda in her Homecoming dress, standing alone in the desolate yard of an empty farmhouse.

Her dad used to help run the family grocery store. “Karissa liked to come to the store with me,” he said, “and she always put on a green apron just like mine.” Once a man from the ward came into the store. Even though Karissa didn’t know him, she treated him like a friend. When he left, she stood in front of the door and teased, “You can’t leave until you say the magic word!” The magic word was “pretty please.” “Karissa isn’t scared of anyone,” her parents agree. “Age makes no difference. Everyone is her friend.” Right now she is learning to cook. She likes cracking eggs for a recipe best. She is also learning to play the piano. She can sing her favorite hymn, “I Stand All Amazed,” from memory, and she looks forward to being able to play it all the way through on the piano. “She is the first one to start singing ‘I Love to See the Temple’ whenever we drive past one,” her mom says. When Karissa visited her Grandma and Grandpa Burrup in Richland, Washington, she was able to see the Columbia River Washington Temple being built. The construction workers offered her a piece of granite from the temple walls to take home. Karissa doesn’t give up when problems arise. At a ward Christmas party, she was invited to sing a musical number. As she climbed onto the platform, she slipped and fell. Primary leaders rushed to help her, but before they could, she had already climbed back up. She sang her song the way she lives her life every day—with a smile.

Many years after that experience, when I was approaching age nineteen, my bishop, A. Palmer Holt, asked me to serve a mission. I told him that I couldn’t go. When he asked me why, I said, “I can’t go out and teach the gospel because my testimony isn’t strong enough. I like what I hear at church, but I don’t think that I could tell people to join if I don’t know for myself that it’s true.”
Bishop Holt did not criticize my lack of faith. He simply asked, “How long are you going to stay in this condition? Are you just going to continue because of your parents’ or your friends’ testimonies, or are you going to find out for yourself? You have to pay the price. I suggest that you pray about it and spend time seriously studying the scriptures.
The bishop’s counsel gave me much to think about. I had been attending the University of Utah at the time, but I didn’t register for the next quarter of school. Instead, I stayed home and for the first time made an honest attempt to truly study the Bible, the Book of Mormon, the Pearl of Great Price, and the Doctrine and Covenants. I prayed to Heavenly Father often, asking Him to bless me with a testimony.
About two months went by, and nothing happened. Then one Sunday I came late to testimony meeting and slipped quietly into the chapel to sit on the back row. As I listened to the ward members bearing their testimonies, I remember one sister in particular saying she knew that the Book of Mormon was true and that Joseph Smith was a prophet. I thought, I wish I could say that.
Suddenly I found myself on my feet, expressing my feelings about the gospel and saying that I knew it was true. I felt as though I were on fire. There was no doubt in my mind about the gospel’s truthfulness.
That testimony meeting was a turning point for me. It was an overwhelming experience, and ever since that day, I have known that Jesus is the Christ and that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is His Church upon the earth today.
I know that the promise given in Moroni 10:4–5 [Moro. 10:4–5] is true, that if you pay the price by spending time studying the scriptures and praying sincerely to Heavenly Father, you can receive a witness of the Holy Ghost. It happened to me, and my testimony has remained firm ever since.
Soon after that meeting, I was in Denmark, preaching the gospel as a missionary. It was wonderful to be able to promise people that if they would read the Book of Mormon and pray with sincere hearts, the Holy Ghost would witness to them of the truthfulness of the gospel. For me, that witness has returned again and again. I have learned that the Spirit comes in different ways. I had felt the Spirit before my experience in testimony meeting, but I simply hadn’t recognized it.

Because sacred music opens our hearts to the influence of the Holy Ghost, it is one of the means by which our Father in Heaven can bless and strengthen us. A sister who had struggled with serious health problems for many years was in constant pain. A few years ago, she underwent some prolonged and painful medical tests. Afterward, she was asked how she was able to withstand the tests. “I sang in my head every Primary song I could remember,” she replied. “The pain did not go away, but I was given strength to endure.”

Last year, students from Mesa Skyline Seminary in Arizona agreed to work together in creating a habit of daily scripture reading. They accepted the challenge to read the scriptures each day for at least 15 minutes. For every three days a student did this, he or she could write his or her name on a new wooden block.
As the blocks were earned and marked, they were glued together, eventually forming a replica of an ancient American city the students affectionately called “Zarahemla.” After seven weeks of reading and learning, a total of 1,750 blocks were cut, earned, and labeled with a name. The replica city was 12 feet in length, 8 feet wide, with a city wall, four corner towers, a large temple at the center, and hundreds of smaller buildings and shops within.
Building the city of Zarahemla “got me into the habit of reading my scriptures longer,” says Marissa Madsen, 16. “I really appreciated seeing something physically being built as a reminder of my testimony growing as I continued to read the scriptures.”
Randy Chavez, 17, agreed that the project was a big success. “It was nice to be unified as an entire seminary to achieve one large goal, and I felt excited to do my part. Because of the project, I read more frequently and longer.”

An example of changing one’s opinion of himself comes from a bishop I know. He used to wonder about a portion of his patriarchal blessing which states that he “will be a leader of men and will be called to many positions of leadership in the Church.” He just knew he wasn’t the leader type. But eventually he was called to serve as a counselor in the elders quorum presidency, and later as its president. He gained knowledge and experience and he continued to serve, first as president of two more elders quorums, then as a high councilor, and now as a bishop. “It’s strange how long it took me to learn that the Lord knows me better than I know myself,” he comments. “I still don’t desire leadership positions, but I know if they come, the Lord will provide the necessary help if I do all I can.”

Joel Herd of Rock Springs, Wyoming, responded quickly and correctly when a fellow student began choking on something he swallowed while in the school cafeteria. Joel applied the Heimlich maneuver he learned in his Boy Scouts first aid classes. The obstruction was cleared, and the student resumed breathing. Teachers nearby were called over, but by the time they arrived, Joel had taken care of the situation.

My dad had been doing a lot of family history work. I loved hearing about my ancestors who were pioneers, ancestors who fought in the American Revolutionary War, and ancestors who had been kings and knights in Europe.
“How would you like to come to the Family History Library with me on Saturday?” Dad asked one day.
“Sure!” I couldn’t wait to see for myself the royal names on our pedigree chart.
We arrived in Salt Lake City and enjoyed the summer morning sunshine as we walked to the library. I became more and more excited the closer we got. There inside that big building were the names and stories of my own family—pioneers, soldiers, knights, and all.
Once inside, Dad pulled up a couple of chairs in front of a computer. We sat down, and he began navigating through databases to show me where our family tied into a royal line.
“Hmmm.” His forehead furrowed. “I can’t seem to find it today,” he finally said.
I was very disappointed. We spent the rest of the morning looking through books that held stories of my pioneer ancestors. I enjoyed that too, but I still wanted to learn about my other ancestors.
“Don’t worry,” Dad said. “We’ll come back next weekend.”
The week flew by, and soon Dad and I were sitting in front of a computer in the Family History Library again. This time, Dad said, “Aha! Found it.”
He scrolled through names of kings and queens from all over Europe recorded there in my family history! There were so many names and dates that it would take many days to get them all into our family history software. “We’ll have to come back a lot to get all the information we need,” I said.
A woman working on the computer next to us glanced over and saw what we were doing. “I’m related to that line too,” she said. “I’ve been working here every day to get information about those ancestors.” Within minutes, she copied all of her information onto a disk and handed it to Dad.
As we walked back to the car, I thought hard. “Heavenly Father must really want us to find our ancestors, don’t you think, Dad?”
He smiled. “I think you’re right. If we had found the ancestors we were looking for last week, we may not have met our new friend here today. And had we not met her, we would not have been able to find so many of our ancestors so quickly.”
I knew that Heavenly Father had helped us discover almost 1,000 years’ worth of family history in one morning. He loves our ancestors as much as He loves us. We needed to help them just as He had helped us—by finding their names, learning about their lives, and making sure their temple work was done. Someday I will meet them, and we can be an eternal family.

One night, my family and some friends had a family home evening. We had the lesson and the closing prayer, and then had a treat. When it was time for our friends to leave, my mom and I told one of my friends about the Friend magazine. She is taking discussions from the missionaries and hadn’t heard about the Friend, so I let her look through it. She really liked it. I let her have the August 2007 Friend. I’m glad that I can share the gospel with others.

Ten-year-old David took a piece of bread from the sacrament tray and placed it in his mouth. He nudged the white-haired gentleman next to him and whispered, “Brother Graham, the bread is here.”
Brother Graham raised his head, opened his eyes, and smiled warmly at David as he took the sacrament. Then he passed the tray on, bowed his head, and closed his eyes again.
David tried to keep his mind on some of his favorite stories about Jesus as the bread and water were passed. But he couldn’t help wondering why Brother Graham always fell asleep during the sacrament, when he seemed wide awake during all the rest of the meeting. I guess being old is like that, he thought. You can fall asleep anywhere at anytime. That’s how Grandpa Owen is, but he’s a lot older than Brother Graham.
The last time he’d seen Grandpa Owen, he was sitting in a reclining chair with his feet propped up. Even though it was June, he’d had a fire in the wood stove and a blanket across his legs. While the family visited with each other, Grandpa dozed off. When he woke up, you could tell that he’d been sleeping because his eyes looked like he was trying to focus them.
When the water was passed, David decided to pay close attention to Brother Graham’s eyes when he opened them. They were clear and alert as he opened them to take the sacrament. And he smiled so warmly at David that he was sure that the older man hadn’t just woke up. Then what is he doing? David wondered.
When his family had moved to Smithfield the previous July, David had felt sad. Before, for years he had stopped by Grandpa’s every day after school. He’d spent a lot of his summers taking walks with Grandpa around the neighborhood, listening to him tell about how things were in the “olden days.”
When Grandpa couldn’t walk anymore, David had pushed his wheelchair. When even that became too tiring for Grandpa, David read to him. But since his Dad had been transferred and they’d had to move, David couldn’t do any of that anymore. He just swung idly in the hammock in the backyard.
“You look like a strong boy,” a deep voice had called out to him one afternoon through a knothole in the back fence. “Do you want a job mowing my lawn?”
“Who, me?” David sat up, startled. “Yes, I guess so.”
“Be at my front door in five minutes if you want the job.”
“Mom,” he yelled as he ran in the kitchen door, “I have a job!”
“Great! Doing what?”
“Mowing the lawn next door! But I have to be at his front door in five minutes if I want the job. Probably three minutes by now. Is it OK?”
“All right. But if you take the job, do the best work you can.”
David was out of breath when he rang the doorbell. “I’m Brother Graham,” the man who answered the door told him. “What’s your name, young fellow?”
“David Andersen,” he replied, taking the out-stretched hand.
“I’m glad to meet you, David. I’ve met your parents at church and have been meaning to get over to your house to meet you for several weeks now, but I’ve been in bed with a summer cold. Meanwhile my yard has grown shabby. I’m mighty glad to have someone take over the mowing for me. The pay’s modest, but I’ll try to be good company for you. Is five dollars enough?”
“That’s great!” David answered.
“Let’s go out back, and I’ll show you the shed where the lawn mower is so that you can get started.”
“Shall I start now?” David asked.
“Go ahead. I’ll sit over there on that bench under the tree and watch, if you don’t mind.”
David pulled out the mower, checked its fuel tank, and started it up. He mowed around the edge of the entire backyard. It made a neat rectangle. Then he moved the mower inside the first rectangle and made a smaller rectangle inside, making sure that the mower blade overlapped the first swath so that none of the grass would be missed. Just the way Grandpa Owen taught me, he thought.
“I can tell you’ve mowed lawns before,” Brother Graham praised him when he finished the backyard. “I think you’ll do just fine. When you finish the front yard, let me know and I’ll give you your pay.”
When David finished mowing, he surveyed his work. It looked great, except for the edges. He remembered what his mother had said: “If you take the job, do the best work you can.” When he took the mower back to the shed, he looked around for a trimmer. All he saw were hand clippers hanging on the wall. Thinking, It will go faster if I use our trimmer, he ran home and poked his head inside the kitchen door. “Mom, is it OK if I use our trimmer on Brother Graham’s yard? He doesn’t have one.”
“That’s fine,” she called from the laundry room.
He grabbed the trimmer and the long extension cord from its hook in the garage and headed back next door. Brother Graham was sitting under the tree, sipping lemonade. There was a second glassful on the table, and five silver dollars.
“I thought you’d be thirsty,” Brother Graham said, nodding towards the glass.
“I am,” David said. “But I want to trim the edges first. Do you have someplace where I can plug in this extension cord?”
“There’s an outlet next to the back door, and another one by the front door. I’ll go find another dollar for you. I didn’t realize I was going to get such fine service.”
David shook his head, “The trimming is on the house.”
After he finished the trimming, he and Brother Graham visited while they sipped their lemonade. Brother Graham reminded David of Grandpa Owen. David was happy when Brother Graham asked him to mow the lawn every Thursday—and to visit any time!
The next Sunday he invited Brother Graham to sit with his family. After that it became a tradition. Every week Brother Graham sat next to David, and every week, David had to nudge him before he took the sacrament bread and water.
It was Thursday, lawn-mowing day, before David next went to Brother Graham’s. His family had taken a few days to visit Grandpa Owen. When they’d arrived, he hadn’t recognized any of them. David thought, almost angrily, Why doesn’t Grandpa know me?
Brother Graham noticed David’s quiet mood when he came to collect his pay after mowing and trimming the lawn. Motioning for David to sit on the sofa, he handed the boy a cold glass of lemonade, then sat down himself.
Pictures of several families hung on the wall. On top of the piano was a picture of a young woman. It was an old-fashioned picture, so David guessed that it must be Sister Graham.
“That’s my wife, Martha,” Brother Graham said. Pointing to each of the family pictures, he named his children and grandchildren. “That’s my family, David. The older I get, the more I realize that all that matters in this life is a man’s family and the other people he grows to love—like his neighbors!” He winked at David.
David smiled.
“So there is a smile behind that sober face today, after all. Is something troubling you, Davy, my boy?”
Tears welled up unbidden in David’s eyes. “That’s what Grandpa Owen calls me. At least, that’s what he used to call me.” He told Brother Graham all about his grandpa and about how he didn’t even recognize David any more. “It just isn’t fair!”
Brother Graham sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. His lips were drawn tight. “I know what you mean, David,” he said after a few moments. Opening his eyes, he leaned toward David. “Martha didn’t know me, either, just before she died. It hurt a lot. Then one day I read a story in the New Testament that changed how I felt about it.
“You see, just after Jesus was crucified, two of His disciples were walking down a road, talking, and a stranger joined them. He asked them why they were so sad. They told him about Jesus and how He had been crucified. They told him how discouraged they were. They had believed that Jesus would free Israel from the Romans. They couldn’t believe that He had let Himself be crucified. They told the stranger that some of the women who were friends of Jesus had gone to His tomb and found it empty. They didn’t know what it meant.
“Then the stranger taught them from the scriptures why it was necessary for Jesus to suffer the things He had, and about the Resurrection.
“By then, they had reached their destination, and they asked the stranger to stay and eat with them. Then, when the stranger took bread and broke it and blessed it and gave it to them, they gasped in astonishment. The stranger was no stranger at all—it was Jesus! How could He have walked with them so long without their recognizing him? they asked each other. ‘Did not our heart burn within us … while he opened to us the scriptures?’*
“Then Martha’s not knowing me didn’t seem so hard. I just became even more thankful that because of our Savior and His Atonement and Resurrection, someday Martha and I will be together again. Her mind will be clear again, and just as the two disciples of Jesus Christ once again recognized, or “knew” Him, she will know me then—probably better than she ever did in this life. Your grandpa will know you, too, David. It will be one of the sweetest reunions in heaven, I’m sure.”
David wiped the tears from his eyes. He knew what the disciples meant when they said their hearts burned. “Thank you, Brother Graham. That helps me a lot.”
After a few minutes of silence David asked, “Brother Graham, may I ask you something?”
“Go ahead, David. Ask me anything.”
“It’s about church. Why do you always close your eyes while they pass the sacrament? At first I thought you were asleep. But I soon figured out that you weren’t.”
“I’m thinking about that story I told you, about the disciples of Jesus not knowing who He was. I try to remember what I’ve done during the week that would make it hard for me to recognize Him. Then I ask for forgiveness for the mistakes I’ve made and for help to do better in the coming week. I really want to know the Savior the first time I see Him face-to-face, David. I believe that He gave us the sacrament to help prepare us for that day.”
“That’s what I’ll think about, too, from now on—and that someday Grandpa Owen will know me again.”
Mr. Graham smiled. “I’m sure that he will.”

Our family rotates family home evening duty. My husband’s was the Monday following the conference. During Sunday afternoon’s session, Elder Zwick gave a lesson on maintaining our standards. My husband used this talk to emphasize the need to maintain our standards. I had downloaded the MP3 file from the Web site. We sat together as a family and listened once again to the talk. This gave us an opening to bring up the topics of choosing friends, making good decisions, and making a life plan with our 14-year-old son.
Gwen D., Washington, USA

“Come on, Sarah!” Kim called as she ran up the stairs. “I want to show you the new books I got for my birthday!”
“I can’t wait!” Sarah said, following close behind.
The girls sat on the bed in Kim’s room and pulled out the books. “You’ll love this one,” Kim said, passing Sarah a book with a dragon and a beautiful princess on the cover.
The girls read stories together until Kim’s mom said it was homework time. The girls agreed that the fun always seemed to end too soon.
The next day at school, Sarah and Kim sat down in the cafeteria for lunch. They were talking about Kim’s new books when three boys from the next grade walked by. One of them said something about Sarah’s glasses and laughed. Everyone around them laughed too. Sarah’s cheeks flushed pink. She looked over and saw Kim laughing too.
“Why are you laughing?” Sarah whispered, looking at Kim in surprise.
“Oh, they’re just teasing,” Kim said. “Don’t worry about it.”
On the way home from school, Sarah and Kim walked together as usual. But Sarah kept her head down.
“What’s the matter?” Kim asked.
“Well,” Sarah said, hesitating, “I don’t understand why, when it’s just us, you’re such a good friend. But at school, when that boy said those mean things, you laughed.”
“I didn’t really think it was funny,” Kim said. “I just laughed because everyone else was laughing.”
The girls finished their walk home in silence. Kim didn’t understand why Sarah was so upset.
Later that night, Kim thought of Sarah. She tried to imagine the kids at school laughing at her the way they had laughed at Sarah. Maybe they would laugh at her hair one day, or maybe they would laugh at the shirt she was wearing. Having Sarah laugh with them wouldn’t feel so good.
The next morning, Kim waited outside for Sarah. When Sarah came out of her house, Kim waved. “Hey, Sarah!” she said. “I’m sorry I laughed yesterday. I should have been a better friend. I won’t do that again, I promise.”
Sarah smiled. “Thanks,” she said.
At lunch, the girls were sitting together again when the boy who had teased Sarah walked over. He said the same thing and laughed again. This time, instead of laughing, Kim looked at him and said, “I think Sarah looks great in her glasses. I might even get a pair myself.”
The boy looked around. No one else was laughing with him this time, so he walked away.
Sarah smiled at Kim. “Thanks for doing that,” she said. “You really are a true friend.”