Gospel Story Finder

At first I thought the bishop was joking. Me, a Relief Society president? I wasn’t married, and I wondered what I could offer the women in my ward. But the bishop smiled kindly and reassured me that Heavenly Father wanted me to serve in this position.
In the week that followed, I was in a daze. Nothing seemed to sink in. But the next Sunday as I heard my name called and watched as members raised their hands to sustain me. I felt the mantle of the calling settle onto my shoulders. From that moment I began the most wonderful spiritual journey of my life.

“Thanks for the ride!” I yelled, waving at the red car as it pulled out of the driveway. I was excited to be hanging out with two new friends, Steve and Mark. It had taken a while to persuade Steve’s older brother to give the three of us a ride to the town’s music store, but we’d had a lot of fun there. We had just come back to Mark’s house.
“Is anyone else as hungry as I am?” I heard Steve ask. I realized then that my stomach was growling. I hadn’t noticed with all the fun I was having.
“Do you guys have any money? Maybe we could get a pizza,” suggested Mark. We went inside and pooled our money on Mark’s kitchen table. We found we had just enough for a small pizza but not enough to have it delivered.
“Hey, Mark, maybe your parents can give us a ride,” Steve said.
“No, they just left to see a movie,” Mark said with a frown.
I tried to make a joke, “Too bad none of us has a driver’s license. Then we could go down and get the pizza ourselves.”
Steve and Mark looked at each other. “I have my learner’s permit,” Mark said slowly. “My parents say I’m a pretty good driver, even though I’m only 15.”
“Didn’t your parents take the car?” Steve asked.
Mark answered, “They took my dad’s car, but they left my mom’s.”
We stood still for a moment, looking at each other. I began to feel nervous.
“Let’s just go outside and sit in the car,” Steve suggested. “We could just see how we feel.”
Mark looked at me. “What do you think, Danny?”
I shrugged. I really didn’t think that we should do it, but I also wanted my new friends to think I was cool.
“Let’s go,” said Mark, and he led the way through his back door and into the garage. Mark climbed into the driver’s seat, and Steve sat in the passenger seat next to him. Hesitantly, I entered the car, sat in the backseat, and shut the door behind me.
It had started out as a joke, but now I felt terrible. I imagined what my parents would think if they knew I was going along with this. What if we got caught? I would feel awful. I knew the Holy Ghost was telling me this was wrong. Then a thought hit me. My friends weren’t bad people. They were probably having the same feelings I was having.
Mark put the key in the ignition, and the engine roared to life. I couldn’t take it any more. “Guys, we really shouldn’t be doing this,” I said quietly. Mark and Steve both looked back at me. I felt myself blush. They were going to make fun of me. I just knew it.
“Yeah, you’re right.” Steve agreed, nodding. “What would our parents think? What would our teachers quorum leaders think?”
Mark also nodded and took the key out of the ignition. The growl of the engine died, and relief came flooding into me. “Sorry, guys. I’m just hungry,” Mark said. He then looked up and smiled. “Hey, I have a bag of chips and half a loaf of bread. Why don’t we make sandwiches?”
“That sounds great!” I said, grinning.
We climbed out of the car and headed toward the house, laughing and joking again. I knew then that all three of us were glad about the decision we had made.
I don’t know what would have happened if we had taken the car. Maybe we would have been caught, maybe we wouldn’t have. But I know that the choice we made was right.

Twenty Scouts and their leaders of the Lanakila Ward, Honolulu Hawaii West Stake, hiked over 50 miles through the world’s largest dormant volcano, Haleakala. The volcano, called the House of the Sun, stands 10,025 feet above sea level on the island of Maui.

The group struggled through the changes in altitude as well as differences in temperature that sometimes tested their endurance. But they were rewarded with some amazing sights. They happened upon some silversword plants, famous because they are found only in that particular volcanic crater. At the summit they had a panoramic view of four of the Hawaiian Islands through the mist-filled, chilly air.

Besides earning their Historic Trails Awards, the group helped repair the trail by filling in the dangerous eroded shortcuts made by other hikers. Following their week-long hike before they left for home, the group presented an inspiring sacrament meeting to the members of the Hana Branch.

The boys and their leaders had many experiences that brought them closer together and which taught them to rely on our Heavenly Father for guidance and protection. They were glad to return home but were glad to have been on what they considered to be a great adventure.

A wise first step is to guide each deacon to a spiritual awareness of the sacredness of his ordained calling. In one ward, this lesson was effectively taught pertaining to the collection of fast offerings.

On fast day, the ward members were visited by deacons and teachers so that each family could make a contribution. The deacons were a bit disgruntled, having to arise earlier than usual to fulfill this assignment.

The inspiration came for the bishopric to take a busload of the deacons and teachers to Welfare Square here in Salt Lake City. Here they saw needy children receiving new shoes and other items of clothing. Here they witnessed empty baskets being filled with groceries. There was no money exchanged. One brief comment was made: “Young men, this is what the money you collect on fast day provides—even food, clothing, and shelter.” The Aaronic Priesthood young men smiled more, stepped higher, and served with a willing mind in the filling of their assignments.

Q: Experience has a lot to do with that also, doesn’t it?
Freed: Yes, that’s a good point. At one point in my career I said to myself, “Well, I’ve lost plenty of matches by underhitting the ball; from now on, when the big point comes up, I’m going to lose it by overhitting. I’m really going to sock the ball.” So I started losing them by socking the ball! But I really did better in the long run by hitting hard. I lost some good points when I did that, but it loosened me up, and later I won a lot more because I was a little more cool.

Andrew faces challenges in life, like a life-threatening peanut allergy. He has to be very careful to not eat any peanuts. “The hard part is that you have to read the labels for everything you eat,” he says. “I can’t eat things like birthday cake at parties, just to be safe. My mom brings another treat for me.” He has to carry medicine with him at all times in case he accidentally eats peanuts. But the challenge has helped to strengthen his faith. “Every year before school starts I receive a priesthood blessing, and we pray that I will be safe. I feel like the priesthood blessings have protected me.”

It was a period of rapid economic growth for Kirtland and Ohio. Money and credit were scarce on the American frontier. Population, business opportunities, and land prices were all increasing rapidly, and LDS businessmen saw the need for a bank to print and circulate notes as an aid to paying debts and further stimulating an inflationary economy. On November 2, 1836, Joseph Smith and others organized the Kirtland Safety Society Bank and applied for a state charter. During the previous eight years more than 400 new banks had been established in the United States for similar purposes. But the Kirtland application arrived in Columbus, the capital of Ohio, just after anti-banking forces won control, and government officials refused to issue any new bank charters. The Mormon applicants then decided to create a joint stock company to issue notes and take in money. They called it the Kirtland Safety Society Anti-Banking Company and overprinted that name on the bank notes already prepared.
When Kirtland notes began circulating in January 1837, backed by a limited amount of gold, they were accepted at face value. Residents used them to purchase goods and pay old debts. But before the month had ended, the bank had to stop redeeming its notes in gold coin. The demand for gold was greater than available supplies. When other banks in the area learned that the paper money was redeemable only in land they refused to accept the Kirtland notes. These difficulties for the company were multiplied when the United States entered an economic panic which forced hundreds of banks to close.
Joseph Smith resigned as cashier of the Kirtland Anti-Banking Company early in the summer of 1837, several months before the firm closed its doors permanently. Like a number of others, the Prophet was left deeply in debt by the company’s failure. He had invested in land and had purchased merchandise for his store on credit, but could not easily sell his assets to get money to pay his debts.
Some of his associates failed to separate Joseph Smith’s role as prophet and businessman. He was struggling like others to earn a living, and closure of the business was not related to his integrity as a religious leader. Yet some in Kirtland became bitter and attempted to replace him as president of the Church. A faction turned against him as a prophet. Their apostasy led to threats against his life and against the lives of his supporters. Brigham Young and others publicly defended Joseph Smith and then joined the Prophet in fleeing from Kirtland to escape assassination or harassment.
The departing Church leaders traveled in the cold of winter to Missouri. They arrived in the early spring of 1838 at Far West, where members came to their assistance with animals and money. That summer many of the loyal members remaining in Kirtland decided to join the Saints in Missouri. Under the direction of the seventies, a group of more than 500 people known as the Kirtland Camp traveled by wagon over rough frontier roads to Far West and then became settlers at Adam-ondi-Ahman.

Kelly and the other fifth-graders had just come in from lunch when Mr. Aragon announced, “Our class is going to begin a special project tomorrow that I think you’ll find exciting. Are you all familiar with Victoria Benson School?”
Kelly nodded along with the rest of the students, but instead of feeling excited, she felt uneasy. Victoria Benson School was right next to their own school, Easton Elementary. The students at the two schools were approximately the same ages, but there was one big difference. Victoria Benson students all had mental disabilities.
“We’ll be visiting the school once a week,” Mr. Aragon continued. “You’ll be acting as tutors, helping the students one-on-one with the work they do in class.” As he explained some of the details of the special project, the students became more and more interested, until it seemed to Kelly that she was the only one who was still uneasy about the project.
She and her friends had sometimes watched the Victoria Benson students through the fence at recess. Some of their faces looked different around the eyes, and their speech was slow and slurred. They seemed awkward when they ran or threw a ball. As she knelt by her bed for prayer that night, she remembered the words to a Primary song her class had learned last year:
If you don’t walk as most people do,
Some people walk away from you,
But I won’t! I won’t!
If you don’t talk as most people do,
Some people talk and laugh at you,
But I won’t! I won’t!
I’ll walk with you. I’ll talk with you.
That’s how I’ll show my love for you.*
I know that Jesus loves the Victoria Benson students, Kelly thought as she turned out the light. Maybe I will, too.
When her class entered Victoria Benson School the next day, Kelly had the worst case of butterflies in her stomach she’d ever had. But the Primary song kept running through her mind: “I’ll walk with you. I’ll talk with you. That’s how I’ll show my love for you.”
Mr. Aragon led them into a sunny, brightly decorated classroom and introduced the class to Miss Donnelley, one of the teachers.
“We’re really glad to have you here,” Miss Donnelley said. “The students have been so excited this morning! They’re eager to meet you, so I’m going to assign you to areas and get you started right away.”
A few students were sent to the cafeteria to help four boys setting the tables for lunch. Several were sent to the math area of the classroom to help with counting objects, writing numbers, and matching shapes. Others were assigned to a writing table, where a few students were learning to print their names.
Maybe they’ll run out of assignments, Kelly thought, and I’ll be able to just watch today. But Miss Donnelley led her to what she called the dressing area and introduced her to Sandra, a girl with long dark hair. She gave Kelly a big smile.
“Sandra is learning to zip her jacket,” Miss Donnelley told Kelly. “I’d like you to help her.” Then the teacher left to give out another assignment.
By myself? Kelly thought. How do I do that?
Sandra was still smiling at her as Kelly took a deep breath, stuck her hands into her own jacket pockets, and introduced herself. “Hi.” She tried to put friendliness into her voice to hide her nervousness. “I’m supposed to help you zip your jacket.”
“Hi, Kewwy. I’m glad you’re helping me.”
Kelly smiled back. “Well, I guess we’d better get started. First you stick that straight metal part into the slot in the other part,” she began.
Sandra’s face took on a look of concentration. She held the two parts of the zipper in her hands and fumbled with them. Kelly waited a minute, then said, “Hold it at the top of the slot and then push it down.” Sandra tried again, but still couldn’t do it.
Kelly pulled her hands out of her pockets. “Look, Sandra—watch me. Do it like this.”
Sandra watched as Kelly zipped and unzipped her own jacket twice.
“Now you try again,” Kelly urged.
Sandra’s face looked even more determined as she tried again, but she just couldn’t fit the parts together. Now Kelly was the one frowning in concentration. What am I doing wrong? She wondered. Suddenly Kelly had an idea. Surprising them both, she reached out and grasped Sandra’s hands. “I’ll walk with—I mean, I’ll help you!”
With Kelly’s hands guiding hers, Sandra soon fit the parts together. As Sandra began breathing more quickly and nodding her head, Kelly let go and let her try it by herself. Kelly held her breath as Sandra fumbled a few times but finally fit the parts together. Kelly’s smile was as big as Sandra’s as Sandra slowly pulled the zipper all the way up.
“I did it! I did it!” Sandra grabbed Kelly in a big hug. Kelly was surprised, but she hugged right back. Then Sandra ran off to show Miss Donnelley, waving her hands in the air and still shouting, “I did it!”
As Kelly watched her go, she smiled and thought, I guess I did it, too!

President Thomas S. Monson
“Christmas time had come. We were preparing for the oven a gigantic turkey and anticipating the savory feast that awaited. A neighborhood pal of mine asked a startling question: ‘What does turkey taste like?’
“I responded, ‘Oh, about like chicken tastes.’
“Again a question: ‘What does chicken taste like?’
“It was then that I realized that my friend had never eaten chicken or turkey. I asked what his family was going to have for Christmas dinner. There was no prompt response—just a downcast glance and the comment, ‘I dunno. There’s nothing in the house.’
“I pondered a solution. There was none. I had no turkeys, no chickens, no money. Then I remembered I did have two pet rabbits. Immediately I took my friend by the hand and rushed to the rabbit hutch, placed the rabbits in a box, and handed the box to him with the comment, ‘Here, take these two rabbits. They’re good to eat—just like chicken.’
“He took the box, climbed the fence, and headed for home, a Christmas dinner safely assured. Tears came easily to me as I closed the door to the empty rabbit hutch. But I was not sad. A warmth, a feeling of indescribable joy, filled my heart. It was a memorable Christmas.
“Heavenly Father is ever mindful of those who need, who seek, who trust, who pray, and who listen when He speaks. ‘For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life’ (John 3:16). God’s gift becomes our blessing. May every heart open wide and welcome him—Christmas day and always.”1

It was Friday night and football season at my high school. As drum major of the marching band, I was having a great time cheering with the band and directing stand tunes. Then things changed drastically when I heard a desperate cry: “Get help! Jeff has stopped breathing!”
I found Jeff, a tuba player, lying across a bleacher, slipping in and out of consciousness and gasping for breath. Suddenly the all-important football game faded from significance. My number-one priority was to get help for Jeff. Paramedics arrived, and it wasn’t until after Jeff was safely on his way to the hospital that I even thought about checking the scoreboard.
After the game I realized that too many times in my own life I have allowed myself to get so involved in a fun yet unimportant event of life that I failed to recognize someone’s spiritual cry for help. During the football game it bothered me to watch Jeff struggle for breath and hear the cheers and laughter of fans that had no idea that anything was wrong.

Karli sat at her desk with a fluttery feeling in her stomach. She looked around her new classroom. It looked like many third-grade classrooms, with books on the shelves, a plant in the corner, and bright posters on the walls. It also had rows of desks filled with children. Karli didn’t know any of them.
Karli and her family had moved a few weeks earlier. Now, on her first day at her new school, Karli missed her old house, her old school, and her old friends.
A tear fell onto Karli’s math paper as she looked down at her shirt. Before Karli moved away, she and her best friend had picked matching T-shirts, painted hearts on them, and signed their names in pink and purple sparkle paints. Karli had decided to wear her shirt to school for good luck. Now she wished she hadn’t. It reminded her of all her friends going to school without her.
Karli hurried home after school and went straight to the room she shared with her sister. Moving boxes still cluttered its corners. They reminded her of a new school she didn’t like and a new house that didn’t feel like home.
Soon Karli’s mom came in and sat on the bed. “How was school today?” she asked.
Karli looked down at the floor. “Fine,” she whispered. Then tears started to well up in her eyes.
Mom wrapped her arms around Karli. “Tell me about it,” she said.
“I didn’t know anyone,” Karli sniffed. “I don’t have any friends here.”
“First days in a new school are hard, aren’t they?” Mom said. “But you know what? You do have friends here.”
“What friends do I have?” Karli asked. “I don’t know anyone.”
Mom smiled. “You have your sisters,” she said. “Dad and I were sealed in the temple as an eternal family, so you will always have your sisters, no matter where you go. Your sisters can be your best friends forever.”
Karli thought about that. She loved playing with her older sister, Andrea, and her younger sister, Laura. But Andrea was in fourth grade, and Laura still went to kindergarten, so Karli couldn’t see them during the day. She explained that to Mom.
“Mom, in our old neighborhood I had my sisters and my other friends too,” she said. “I liked that better.”
“Well, here you and your sisters will become better friends than before. You can help each other through this,” Mom said.
After dinner, Karli went to her room to do her homework. She didn’t know how to work a few of her math problems, so she asked Andrea for help. Andrea knew exactly how to solve them. Then together they unpacked another moving box before bedtime.
The next day in class, Karli answered all her math problems correctly. At recess, she sat on a swing by herself. She watched a group of girls talking and giggling as they played on the monkey bars. Then she saw a familiar person walking toward her. It was Andrea! Karli hopped off the swing and ran over to her sister.
“We have the same recess,” Andrea said. “So we can play together.”
As the weeks passed, Karli, Andrea, and Laura made friends with some girls in their neighborhood. Soon they made new friends in their classes too. By the end of the school year, Karli and Andrea played together at recess with a group of new friends.
But Karli still remembered what Mom had told her. No matter how many friends she made at school, or how many special shirts hung in her closet, her sisters would always be her best friends.

As soon as my colleague saw his car’s broken window, he felt sick. The feeling came not merely from knowing he would have to replace the window, but more from fear that years of work might be lost. In a moment his fear was confirmed; someone had stolen his briefcase.
Arriving later than expected for a speaking engagement in a large city, this professor had parked on a small side street some distance from the lecture hall. To avoid carrying his heavily loaded attaché case, he had removed his lecture notes and left the battered case on the car seat. Because it looked so worn and contained little of material value, he had thought it would be safe. Unfortunately, he was wrong.
I was touched later when he shared his disappointment and sorrow at the loss. That old briefcase contained the results of hundreds of kilometers of travel, the work of a few thousand dollars in grant money, the product of months of careful research, analysis, study, pondering, and writing. The book-length paper in the briefcase had no material value to anyone else. But what the thief probably threw away in disgust was a valuable part of another human being’s life.

White, white, nothing but white—a foot and a half of white! Laura peered out the front window at the depressing blanket of snow that had shut down the city. Not a snowplow in sight, nor a person. Not even the letter carrier would make it today.
“Laura,” her mother called. “Come here, dear, please.” Laura gave a deep sigh and moped into the kitchen where her mother was taking fresh bread from the oven. “I want you to take this over to our new neighbors while it’s still warm. I heard that their boy has been ill. Perhaps your company would be appreciated.”
Laura plopped down at the table. “Oh, Mom, you don’t know him. He’s really stuck up.”
“Come on, you know that you’re going crazy couped up in here. He hasn’t been in our country for long. I bet he’s just shy. Anyway, I do want you to take the bread over.”
Grumbling as she donned her coat, Laura took the still-warm loaf and, kicking through the drifts, fought her way to the neighbors’ front door. Shivering against the biting wind, she poked the doorbell with her mittened hand. After what seemed like at least an hour, the door opened and a tall, thin woman smiled down at her.
“Why, you must be the Scott girl from next door. Do come in.”
Laura nodded and stepped in. Unwinding the scarf from her face, she handed the bread to the woman. “Mom said you might like some. It’s real fresh.”
“Oh, you are a dear to come out in this weather,” the woman replied, taking the package. “Now you must say hello to Thomas. The poor lad has been all alone with his eyes bandaged for three days now, and the wrap doesn’t come off till Saturday. I’m afraid he’s quite weary of my company and hasn’t really had time to make any friends at school yet.”
She’s talking so fast, she must be desperate, Laura thought. Before she could get out, “I really should get back,” Thomas’s mother had hung up her coat and was leading her into the front room, where the boy sat on the sofa, a huge blue and white afghan tucked over his lap. What Laura could see of his face was red and puffy with what might have been tears slipping from under the large white bandages.
“Someone to say hi, Thomas.”
As his mother quickly slipped out of the room, Laura wished that she could disappear too. After all, what do you say to a miserable kid you don’t even like.
“Who’s there?” he called out loudly.
“You really don’t have to shout,” Laura replied. “I’m not deaf. I’m Laura Scott. I’m in your class at school. Mom had me bring some fresh bread over. I guess you’re kind of lonesome, huh?”
“Not lonesome, just angry. I hate being stuck in the dark. You would too. It’s beastly. I want to go back and see the London parks. I just want to get out and walk anywhere!”
Laura looked closely at the unhappy boy in front of her. “I don’t know if your mom told you or not, but it snowed like crazy last night. There’s no place you could walk to, even without the bandages.”
“I just want to get out,” he muttered again. He sniffed, rubbing his nose on the back of his sleeve.
Laura sat down next to him. “I have an idea—have you ever been in the country, like to a lake in the summer?”
Thomas felt about for a tissue, then blew his nose. “I don’t … know what the country’s like here. I’ve seen little ponds in the parks, though. Why?”
“Well, do you think you’d like to go for a pretend walk with me. I know a super little path at the lake we go to in the summer, and since your eyes are already closed, it might be pretty easy for you to see in your mind the things I’ll describe. What do you say?”
Thomas sniffed again and leaned back. “I guess I could give it a go. Do you really want to bother?”
“Sure. I’ll close my eyes too. I’d love to take a summer walk myself right about now.” She leaned back against the sofa and tightly shut her eyes. “Ready?”
“Go for it!”
“This part may be a bit hard, but I think we’ll just make you the main character, even though I was the real one,” Laura began. “It’s real early. You’re on a small cot inside a one-room log cabin. You open your eyes and see your mom pushing sticks of wood into the stove top, then plunking the heavy metal cover over the hole. ‘Breakfast in ten minutes,’ she says. You jump out of bed onto the wooden floor, splash a bit of cold water on your face, and jump into shorts and a T-shirt.
“After a quick breakfast of cereal and cold juice, you run out onto the front porch and look down to the lake. It’s a wonderful, sunny, clear morning. The air is humming with insects, and the blue water has just a slight ripple from the breeze. The grass feels pleasantly damp under your feet as you run down to the lake and dip your fingers into the water. A very small frog jumps away and hides in the reeds growing close to the shore.
“A young boy in blue swim trunks runs up to you. He’s crying. You ask him what the matter is, and he says he’s been playing with a cat all week. It’s come around every day and spent all day with him, but it hasn’t come for two days now, and he’s afraid something has happened to it.”
“I do say I’ll help, don’t I?” Thomas broke in.
Laura smiled to herself. “Of course you do. You put your arm around his shoulders and ask where the cat usually can be found. He tells you that it likes to wander in the woods and around the boathouse. You take his hand and start down the trail along the water’s edge toward the creaky old dock, where the rowboats are tied. The sun is very hot now, and you grab a long tassel of grass, slip it from its stalk, and put it between your teeth.
“The boy takes you to the boathouse entrance, and you both go in. It’s dark and cool. Old boats with their white paint peeling are leaning against the walls. You notice a small stain on the floor in the corner. The boy sees it too. ‘It’s blood, isn’t it?’ he says. You say it might be—it’s the right color and is fairly fresh.”
“I bet the poor chappy is even more worried now,” said Thomas. “Actually I guess I am, too, aren’t I?”
“Yes. Before you’d thought there wasn’t really a problem, but now you’re not so sure. You take his hand again and start down the path into the woods. The path gets narrow, and the ferns brush against your legs. In some places you have to push the brambles away, and one snags your arm, leaving a nasty scratch.”
“But I don’t let it bother me, do I, Laura?”
“Of course not; you’re much too concerned with the boy and the lost cat. When you see an old building off the trail and up on a hill, you push through the underbrush to get to it. It looks like it had been some kind of storage place. There’s no door on the rusted hinges, so you can see inside.
“Because of the woods, it’s really dark inside. The boy calls out, ‘Here Muffin,’ and a low mew is heard from a corner. He rushes over. ‘Look,’ he cries, ‘she’s not hurt at all!’ And sure enough, there lies a cat with four tiny kittens snuggled against her. Off to the side you see a dead mouse she must have caught at the boathouse and brought here to eat before the births. ‘That mouse explains the stain,’ you say.”
“I’ll be bound the lad is really happy,” Thomas prodded.
Laura opened her eyes and saw him leaning back on the pillows, a smile on his face. “You bet,” she said, “for it turns out that the guy who runs the boathouse owns the cat. He promises the boy one of the kittens when it’s big enough, and asks you if you want one.”
“What do I say?” Thomas asked, turning eagerly toward Laura.
“Actually,” Laura answered with a little laugh, “you, or rather I, said, ‘sure,’ and Mom said it was OK, so now I have a super little gray kitten named Smoky. I could bring him over if you’d like me to.”
“Oh, that would be smashing. Might you come this afternoon? Mum will fix us a lovely tea with biscuits (cookies) and hot chocolate.” Thomas then added shyly, “If you wanted, I could take you on a walk … in London. Would you like that?”
Laura could think of nothing she’d like better.

You will very likely hear these words in your lifetime: “Are you a Mormon?” Perhaps it will be when your friends see that your drink of choice is root beer. Or maybe it will be when you decide to turn down a date to the school dance because you’re not yet 16 years old. Whatever the situation, you most likely won’t be asked at gunpoint. And your answer won’t determine whether you live or die. But that was the way it was for 19-year-old Joseph F. Smith.
After serving a four-year mission in the Hawaiian Islands, from 1854 to 1857, young Joseph F. Smith began his long journey home to Utah. He boated across the Pacific Ocean to San Francisco, then slowly began his journey by foot with a small company of Latter-day Saints.
One day when the company had stopped to camp and rest, a group of troublemakers came storming through. Most of the men ran and hid, but Joseph decided he had nothing to be afraid of, so he continued the task of piling firewood in the camp. As he did so, one of the men approached him with a pistol, declaring that it was his duty to exterminate every Mormon he came in contact with. As he pointed his pistol at Joseph, he demanded, “Are you a Mormon?”
Without fear or hesitation, Joseph answered, “Yes siree; dyed in the wool; true blue, through and through.”
The man was so startled by the courage of young Joseph F. Smith that he dropped his pistol and said, “Well, you are the [expletive deleted] pleasantest man I ever met! Shake, young fellow, I am glad to see a man that stands up for his convictions.” The man rode off, with the others following behind (Joseph Fielding Smith, Life of Joseph F. Smith, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 1938, 189).

In 1856, two handcart companies, with 1,075 pioneers under the leadership of James G. Willie and Edward Martin, left later in the year than planned, and they encountered early winter storms in present-day Wyoming (see Kate B. Carter, comp., Heart Throbs of the West, 6 vols. (1939–51), 6:360–61).

Peter Howard McBride, then but a boy of six years, was a member of the Martin Company. His father, after helping push handcarts through the icy river, died in the snow and freezing cold that night. Peter’s mother was sick; his older sister Jenetta watched out for the younger children. Her shoes had worn out, and her feet left bloody tracks in the snow. On the banks of the Sweetwater River the wind blew their tent down during the night. Everyone scampered out as the snow covered the tent—everyone except little Peter. According to his account: “In the morning I heard someone say, ‘How many are dead in this tent?’ My sister said, ‘Well, my little brother must be frozen to death in that tent.’ So they jerked the tent loose, sent it scurrying over the snow. My hair was frozen to the tent. I picked myself up and came out quite alive, to their surprise” (Peter Howard McBride, quoted in Susan Arrington Madsen, I Walked to Zion, 41, 43, 45–46).

A Young Women teacher I know taught the Laurels in a very remote area with few Church members. The slim prospects for eternal companions discouraged her girls terribly. She taught them to cultivate a vision of their future home and marriage, urging them to pray actively for their future companions, who were surely alive somewhere. She taught them to live worthy of such a dream, every day, every night. All six of her Laurels ultimately found and married righteous young men in the temple.

A few years ago I was depressed because I felt like I had no one to talk to. My family was distant and I had no friends, so I couldn’t fathom the idea of living anymore.
I was living with my aunt and uncle, and the only thing they told me not to do was talk to the neighbor. They claimed he was strange, and they made up stories about him to scare me off.
However, one Saturday he and two teenage girls my age asked for my help with building a fence. I agreed and got to work.
After observing these girls, I realized they were nice, so I started talking with them, which led to a conversation about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I had so many questions, which they answered. I became intrigued. My neighbor invited me to go to church with him the next day to see how I liked it. I was at a low point in my life, so I figured I had nothing to lose.
Walking through those doors the following morning, I felt an instant inner peace that I didn’t understand, but I knew this church was where I had to be. I was introduced to the missionaries that morning, and I saw how they knew the Church to be true.
I began to listen to the various lessons from the missionaries. I couldn’t have asked Heavenly Father to send me those two loving, caring, and spiritual missionaries at a better time. Through their help I gained the knowledge they had about the gospel.
After listening to them share how their knowledge of Heavenly Father helped them through trials, I felt like I should pray to see if what they had said was true. After praying, I felt an intense feeling of happiness, peace, and calmness inside me. I knew that I had received my answer that night through the Holy Ghost.
Having this knowledge, my testimony has grown rapidly. Since joining the Church in 2013, I have definitely seen the blessings that the knowledge of our Heavenly Father has given me. I am thankful for those missionaries and for my neighbor inviting me to come unto Christ.

My granddaughter Lily just turned four, but I still call her by her toddler nickname: “Baby Lils.” When I do, she reminds me, “I’m not a baby, Grandpa.”
She may be right, but I hope not. I’ve decided that if I keep calling her Baby Lils, maybe she won’t grow up so fast. So I will keep calling her Baby Lils, at least until she reaches the age to start driving.
As I look into Lily’s face, I wonder what deserts she will cross, what burdens she will bear, and what thorns in the flesh she will suffer (see 2 Corinthians 12:7). I pray that the Lord will protect her, for a few years at least, from those mortal lessons that are vital to our spiritual and emotional growth. I pray that He will strengthen her when those trials come, as they come to us all.
For this moment, however, I dismiss such thoughts. I try not to think too much about the future. I don’t want to miss the beauty of the present.
“Come get me, Grandpa,” Lily says as she runs away.
I chase her from one room into the next. Her sweet laughter is music, and her bright face is sunshine. For a moment, 25 years disappear. I am now in the past, with Lily’s mother, my daughter. She is four again. And like Lily, she giggles as I chase her through the house.

Not long ago I attended a family home evening with a family whom I love very much: a young husband and wife and their little daughter. As their bishop I had come to their home acting partly on a prompting from the Spirit and largely on a prompting from this young father’s concerned mother and sister, who were also present. The Lord had been working with this family to make big changes in their lives and bring them back to the blessings of the gospel and the Church. But something had happened that day.
For months this young father had been deeply concerned about providing for his family. His employment was expected to end soon, and he and his wife were in the midst of deciding whether to relocate their family to another state. That would mean significant changes for the family. Earlier that day this father learned that some greatly anticipated financial relief would not be coming; it was crushing news.
When I arrived at their apartment, I could see the deep discouragement in his face. The responsibility of providing for a family and the unwelcome news weighed heavily on the shoulders of this young father.
His wife had chosen a chapter of scripture for the lesson to address their concerns of feeling overwhelmed. The father read the entire chapter. You may recognize these words from Isaiah 55:
“Every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters, and he that hath no money; come ye, buy, and eat; yea, come, buy … without money and without price. …
“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord” (verses 1, 8).
And then the family discussed what those verses meant to them. The Spirit of the Lord filled that little apartment as this family home evening evolved into a family council. This young father shared his fears and concerns and desires, and everyone shared their love and concern for each other. They talked about what to do, what options they had, what actions to take.
It was a very open discussion. There were some disagreements. I felt impressed to simply listen and observe. Finally, in unity the husband and wife determined they should make the decision together with the Lord through prayer. I then offered words of support and encouragement.
I can recall few times when I’ve recognized the Spirit of the Lord more strongly than in that little apartment that evening with that humble, struggling family. It was a fulfillment of the Lord’s promise given to His disciples long ago: “Where two or three are gathered together in my name, as touching one thing, behold, there will I be in the midst of them—even so am I in the midst of you” (D&C 6:32).
Those words from the Savior are not just good advice or mere words of comfort. For the young prophet Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery, those words of the Savior set forth the doctrine and pattern for obtaining revelation and guidance and for making decisions in the kingdom of God.
The Lord was in the midst of that family council that night. They had invited His Spirit through prayer and scripture study. They were united in purpose. They were filled with love for one another. They brought their best ideas and experiences and laid them before each other and before the Lord and asked for His guidance. They made decisions in unity and then took action.

Just a couple of months ago I too was great to my friends, but when I came home, I would pick fights over the littlest subjects with my parents. I began to be depressed with my actions. I love my parents very much, and I wanted to find a solution to my problem. I found that prayer, scripture reading, attending and really taking Church meetings to heart, and speaking to my parents about my problem soon led me to the path back to being the real daughter of God that I should have been all along. I’m not perfect yet, but then again, neither is any of us. So just keep trying!
Laura Kim Wright, 17Franklin, Indiana