Gospel Story Finder

Edward Partridge was the first Presiding Bishop of the Restored Church. Born in 1793, he became dissatisfied with the religions of his day when he was in his twenties. And, in 1830, after investigating the Church, he was baptized by the Prophet Joseph Smith. The Prophet said of Edward, “he was a pattern of piety, and one of the Lord’s great men, known by his steadfastness and patient endurance to the end” (“History of Joseph Smith,” Times and Seasons, 15 Sept. 1843, vol. 4, 320).
Edward became the Presiding Bishop of the Church less than two months after his baptism, and he certainly needed the “patient endurance” mentioned by the Prophet Joseph. He and his family were harshly persecuted by the mobs in Missouri and then in Nauvoo. On one occasion he was dragged from his home and tarred and feathered by a mob of more than 200 men. But Bishop Partridge’s faith carried him through his trials.
The bishop died when he became very ill in Nauvoo. He was only 46. Of Edward Partridge, the Lord said, “his heart is pure before me, for he is like unto Nathanael of old, in whom there is no guile” (D&C 41:11). And in the Doctrine and Covenants we learn that the Lord received Edward Partridge unto himself (see D&C 124:19).

Julie sat and listened to the others talk. She wondered if she would be able to say anything without crying. It would be difficult. But then she decided that maybe it didn’t matter if she cried or not. These were her friends and they’d understand.

Above everything else, Julie was so glad to be alive. Each day when she woke up, she took delight in things she’d taken for granted before—the sun, the blue sky, the song of birds—it was such a wonderful world.

Julie was a senior. In two weeks she would graduate. Her senior year had been something she would never forget. She and her friends had been together all through school, and they realized that this was their last year to be together. They all wanted to have some good memories.

Julie had been in the pep club since she was a sophomore. She’d made some very good friends. Most of them weren’t LDS, but they were still great friends. They respected her beliefs and didn’t complain if she didn’t drink when they all got together after a game.

One day Vicky Kramer, her best friend since the eighth grade, talked to her. “Julie, after lunch tomorrow a bunch of us are going up to Daryl’s cabin to have a party for all us seniors. Daryl’s dammed off a section of the creek so we can go swimming. You’ll come, won’t you?”

“I don’t know, Vicky,” she began.

“I know what’s bothering you. Okay, there will be a keg there, but we’re getting diet soda especially for you. C’mon, we just want you to be with us. This is one of the last times we’ll have to all be together. Please.”

It was hard to say no to Vicky.

The afternoon with all the seniors had been a lot of fun. These were some of her best friends, and they all knew their time together was growing to a close. In the fall, they would scatter to colleges all across the country.

There was not just one keg, but two, and near the end of the party, there was still a lot left in one of the kegs. “C’mon, everybody, let’s finish this up,” someone kept saying.

Near midnight they decided to head back to town. Somehow Julie and Vicky got separated, and Vicky ended up in a car driven by Ross Turner, a senior basketball player who’d received a full-ride scholarship to the state university.

Julie was in the car driven by Bruce Seeley. Bruce had been one of the most eager to help finish up the last remaining dregs from the keg.

“Bruce, why don’t you let me drive?” Julie had asked.

“I can drive perfectly well.”

“You’ve been drinking all day but I haven’t. C’mon, it’ll be safer.”

“No girl can outdrive Bruce Seeley.”

“She’s right,” someone said, “she’s the one who should drive.”

By this time the first car, the one driven by Ross, had already taken off.

They switched places, and Julie got in the driver’s seat.

“Did you ever hear the story,” Bruce said, “that ends, ‘You’d better drive. You’re too drunk to sing’?”

It was a gravel road heading down a steep mountain canyon leading to home, so Julie drove slowly.

“It’s going to take us forever to get down at this rate,” Bruce said.

A few minutes later when they rounded a corner, they saw the first car. It had slid off a curve and hit a large tree.

Vicky Kramer died in the accident.

Julie stood up, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I’m so grateful to know that life goes on after we die. You all know about Vicky. Well, I miss her so much …”

… As a missionary, I was speaking [in London, England, when a heckler interrupted], “Why don’t you stay with the doctrine of the Bible which says in John (4:24), ‘God is a Spirit’?”
I opened my Bible to the verse he had quoted and read to him the entire verse: “God is a Spirit: and they that worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth.”
I said, “Of course God is a spirit, and so are you, in the combination of spirit and body that makes of you a living being, and so am I.”
Each of us is a dual being of spiritual entity and physical entity. All know of the reality of death … , and each of us also knows that the spirit lives on as an individual entity and that at some time, under the divine plan made possible by the sacrifice of the Son of God, there will be a reunion of spirit and body. Jesus’s declaration that God is a spirit no more denies that He has a body than does the statement that I am a spirit while also having a body.

One year and one month after his baptism, Samuel Owusu Amako was called to serve as a full-time missionary in the Ghana Accra Mission. He began his service in January 1988, and midway during his service, in June 1989, the government of Ghana suspended all Church activities and public meetings. With his missionary service being interrupted for a while, Samuel went to teach in a private elementary school in Cape Coast.
When “the freeze,” as the restrictions were called, was lifted in 1991, he resumed his missionary service. During his mission he encountered people from different parts of the world, and tales of their countries intrigued him. So, after returning home from his mission in December 1991, he made plans with some of his friends from his early days in the Church, who had also completed their missions, to get travel visas and to see the world. Obtaining travel visas in Ghana to certain countries that were of interest to him and his friends proved to be difficult during that time, so in November 1993, he and some of his friends, including his high school classmate Albert Frederick Alexander, who had also joined the Church and had become a returned missionary, left Ghana. They arrived in The Gambia in December 1993 where they had heard it was easier to get travel visas. His friend Charles Amoah was the first among them to travel to The Gambia.
What is interesting is that when Samuel and his friends joined their friend and brother, Charles Amoah, in The Gambia, Samuel’s interest in pursuing his goal of travelling abroad waned considerably for reasons he admits he doesn’t know and he never bothered about. Samuel eventually abandoned his desire to travel abroad from The Gambia. He had somehow found The Gambia as a home, which he now strongly feels that God knows something about that.
In The Gambia, Samuel and his friends met often in the home of his friend Charles Amoah to partake of the sacrament and teach one another. This was in 1994. Sometime during the latter part of 1994, they met the Endecotts. Michael Endecott was a member of the Church from the United States and was living in The Gambia with his family. The friends met in the home of the Endecotts on a couple of occasions till the Endecotts travelled back home to America. During that time, two of the Endecotts’ sons were baptized in The Gambia.
Later all the friends, except Albert Frederick Alexander, left The Gambia. Some travelled back home to Ghana whilst some travelled abroad. Charles Amoah travelled back to Ghana and is currently serving as a counsellor in a mission presidency in Cape Coast; Stephen Amoah travelled to the United States and lives in Utah with his family. Ernest Arko sadly passed away in Cape Coast after a brief illness during one of his visits to Ghana. Samuel Amoah lives in Ghana.
Samuel, however, stayed behind and found employment in The Gambia, hoping to still, at some point, realize his dream. During the early days of his employment, he noticed a beautiful young woman working in another department. As he describes it, “My antenna was switched on,” and he enquired after her, wishing to know if she were married. He was told definitively that she was not, so he approached her to ask for a date. She rebutted him, telling him she was married already. Recounting her response, Samuel laughed and said, “She lied!”
Persistence paid off and eventually his requests for a date proved fruitful. After a period of courtship, Samuel and Fatou Badjan were married. There was no Church presence in The Gambia at that time, and Fatou was Muslim, so they were married civilly and began to raise their family there. But Samuel’s faith and dedication to the Lord never wavered—he knew that the covenant path leads to a temple sealing. Without any formal Church presence in The Gambia, Samuel and his friend Albert F. Alexander met every Sunday with their families to partake of the sacrament. Samuel and his friend sometimes invite friends to join them.
When some members moved into the area, and his missionary efforts continued. The little congregation grew, and for the next 25 years, he welcomed Church members and friends into his home for Church services. These efforts were unofficial as the Church did not have legal status in The Gambia, and the country had not been dedicated for the work of the Lord.
In June 1988, Elder Terrence Vinson, then-President of the Africa West Area Presidency, accompanied by his counsellor, Elder Marcus Nash, visited The Gambia. They met with Samuel, his wife, Fatou, their children Sampson, Daniel, Princess Amelia, Hannah, his sister Juliana Sandra and Albert Frederick Alexander, his longtime good friend, fellow Church member and fellow returned missionary.
Elder Vinson and Elder Nash authorised them to meet as a group and hold sacrament meetings. It was an exciting moment. The two sons of Samuel, namely Sampson and Daniel, were later baptized by Samuel after the visit by the General Authorities.
The year 2022 turned out to be what Samuel describes as the most momentous year in the history of the Church in The Gambia.
In January 2022, President Hugo Martinez, President of the Africa West Area Presidency and his First Counsellor, Elder Larry S. Kacher, also visited The Gambia. They met with Samuel and his family and the group in The Gambia.
In February 2022, Elder D. Todd Christofferson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles came to The Gambia to dedicate the country and to meet with government officials to pave the way for the Church’s legal status.
Fatou Badjan Amako, Samuel’s wife, finally joined the Church and was baptised in February 2022, shortly after Elder Christofferson’s visit.
Finally, on June 10, 2022, the Banjul Branch of The Gambia was formally organized, and Samuel Owusu Amako was made its first branch president. In September of that year, Daniel Nana Kofi Owusu Amako, Samuel’s second son, was called as the first missionary of the Church from The Gambia to serve a full-time mission. He served in the Congo Brazzaville Mission.
Princess Amelia Nana Ama Ahima Amako, Samuel and Fatou’s eldest daughter, joined the Church in October 2022.
In August of 2024, Samuel and members of his branch made the journey from The Gambia to Accra, Ghana. He was returning to the place where he began his missionary service so many years before, and where there is now a temple, so that he and his family could be sealed in the house of the Lord. They met their son Daniel there, who was returning home from his mission just in time for the sealing.
Besides the unspeakable joy of becoming an eternal family, Samuel experienced the additional sweetness and tender mercies of the Lord in a most special way. The president of the Accra Ghana Temple, who sealed Samuel and his wife and children, was John K. Buah, the very same missionary who had confirmed Samuel a member of the Church. And the incoming temple president, who will replace President Buah, is President Anthony M. Kaku, who baptized Samuel. According to Samuel, “God is the unfailing compass of our lives.”
A pioneer in establishing the Church in Gambia, Samuel Owusu Amako reflects on his reasons for going to the Gambia in the first place: to get a travel visa and see the world, something which has never happened. “How did I miss that?” he asked rhetorically with a big smile just before returning to his home with his family. He knows that he was led to The Gambia for a higher purpose, a mission that began on that harmattan-cold December morning in 1986 when he “failed to flee”.

Having his family join the Church when he was six, Alexandr Masenkov looked forward to the day he would receive the priesthood. Now, as a priest, he is finding that each office in the Aaronic Priesthood prepared him for the next.
“I was ordained to the office of priest when I turned 16. I realized the weight of my responsibility to bless the sacrament because of how important this ordinance is for every Church member. I prepared for it all week. As I blessed the sacrament the first time, the Spirit touched my heart. Once, my father and I were assigned to take the sacrament to a man who was blind and paralyzed. It was the first time I had blessed the sacrament outside of the meetinghouse. I felt I had a responsibility to be a servant and a witness of Jesus Christ and to do what He would do if He were there.”Alexandr Masenkov, Nevsky Branch, St. Petersburg Russia District

Illustrated by Shauna Mooney Kawasaki
It’s raining! May we play outside?
Yes, but put on your rain boots and raincoats and rain hats first. This is a cold April rain.
I’m not wearing all that stuff.
This is fun!
What’s so fun about it?
Oh, Matt—we’d better get you out of those wet things.
Are you going to punish me?
You’ve punished yourself, Matt. I give you rules to help you be happy, not to keep you from having fun.
That’s why Heavenly Father gives us commandments too.
Can I have a cough drop?

Not long ago, we invited two sister missionaries over for lunch. After we finished eating, we asked them to leave a spiritual thought with us. They were well prepared and introduced a scripture reading and marking exercise to us. They had brought a fresh copy of the Book of Mormon and a set of colored pencils. We accepted the invitation of the missionaries. Since then, our daily Book of Mormon family scripture reading has changed. In every chapter, we mark with different colors the passages related to Jesus Christ as we discover them. Every time, this little exercise reminds us of our missionaries.
When the missionaries presented this, we immediately recognized it as a scripture study exercise suggested in Preach My Gospel. As a family, we are so thankful for this great and powerful missionary tool.

As he sat there, staring sullenly at the floor and wrestling with his frustrations, I cradled him in my heart. He wanted to communicate as sincerely as I, but neither of us was having much success.
I felt that if I could just hug or hold him again—the way I did when he was small—maybe he would know of my love and concern. But at 16, my son was embarrassed by affectionate displays, especially from his father.
“I’ll never make it,” he moaned. “You expect too much, and I’m just not good enough.”
“That’s not true,” I said. My voice rose as I thought back on my adolescent insecurities. “Why, when I was your age …”
“Dad, you don’t understand,” he interrupted. “I don’t think you’ll ever understand!”
Of course I understood! My heart ached with important things I wanted to tell him—lessons I yearned to teach him. He wasn’t being fair. After all, I wasn’t that old. And it wasn’t that long ago that I had been in his place.
How many times had I sincerely told him about my own frustrations as a teenager? How many good scriptures had I quoted him? How often had I sat him down and given him good, sound advice from my own experience?
If he would just hear me out, he would realize I knew what I was talking about. But I couldn’t get him to understand because I couldn’t get him to listen to me. As he stood abruptly and prepared to leave, I called him back.
“Son, why don’t you ever listen?” I asked.
For the first time during our argument, he looked directly at me. His look startled me, but not nearly as much as his reply.
“Dad, all I ever do is listen to you. My question is, why don’t you ever listen to me?”
At first, his question surprised and upset me. Even if I had expected him to do all the listening, was that so wrong? After all, I was his father.
As I sat there, I suddenly realized that what my son had said was true. I had been talking and preaching to him when I should have been listening. My concern for him was proper, but how I expressed that concern was not.
During the next few days, I realized I had been proud of the wisdom I wished to share, but I had not learned the importance of listening. I had unintentionally been telling my son that my experience and ideas were more important than his. I cringed at my insensitivity.
My son wasn’t the only person I had not heard. I had also failed to listen to the Lord’s anointed, who have counseled parents to “spend a great deal of time listening, not just telling. This listening should be done with an open mind and heart. When children feel they can talk freely about their feelings, problems, and successes, wonderful relationships develop between parents and children” (Ben B. Banks, Ensign, November 1993, page 29).
I realized I couldn’t hope to understand my son if I continued to look at him strictly from my point of view. And I couldn’t comprehend his perspective without truly listening to him as well as to the Spirit—with both ears and heart.
I saw clearly that listening is a way of showing love. It is one of the ways we show affection for our children, even when they are too old to be cradled in our arms. By listening, we also show respect and love.
After considerable thought and repentance, I tried again.
“Do you have time for a talk?” I asked my son. “I’d like another chance.”
“Do we have to, Dad? I know you mean well, but I’d really rather not.”
“I’d like to change roles this time,” I said. “How about if you talk and I listen? I understand your disbelief, but I’ll offer advice only if you ask for it.”
His smile was a welcome contrast to the look he had given me a few days earlier. For a change, I really listened. A few times, I had to stop myself from speaking, but I learned more about my son during a half hour of listening than I had learned during several years of lecturing.
That conversation was the first of many heart-to-heart talks. I think we can share just about anything now. We don’t always agree. But by listening, we have come to understand one another and to avoid some of the pitfalls that marked our earlier conversations.
A willingness to communicate, Paul says, is part of “a good foundation against the time to come” (1 Tim. 6:18–19). Listening with our ears and our hearts may not be easy, but it is always essential—especially for family members who need a hug.

These two beautiful missionaries taught me about Heavenly Father’s plan of happiness, about The First Vision, and the Book of Mormon. They taught how Joseph Smith, seeking to know what church he should join, read the book of James and prayed to God with faith his prayer would be answered.
The missionaries bore testimony that in answer to his prayer, God the Father and His beloved Son Jesus Christ appeared to Joseph Smith, that he was called to be a prophet, and that the gospel of Jesus Christ was restored through him.
This was all new to me, but they promised that I could know for myself if this did happen. They gave me a Book of Mormon, with an invitation to read, ponder, and apply Moroni’s invitation to ask God if the book is true.
When they returned two days later, I explained that after reading the introduction, the testimony of the witnesses, and the account of Christ visiting the people in 3 Nephi, I pled with God to know if it was true. I felt warmth all over me but didn’t understand what that was. The elders then taught me that the Holy Ghost was bearing witness to my spirit, which brought excitement to my heart. My mother and three younger brothers joined our next lesson, and we all got baptised into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.
With tears of joy, this former missionary, Tomasi Takau, shared his experience from over 30 years ago, blessed now to witness the fruit of his labour. Because of the prayers, faith, and courage of Elder Tomasi Takau and his companion, Elder Johnson, I served my own mission in Wellington, New Zealand, from 1991 to 1993, then met and married my wife, Lupe, in the Hamilton New Zealand Temple, and we now have four sons and a daughter, with two grandchildren and a third due later this year.
What a joy it was for Lupe and me to cross paths with Tomasi Takau’s son, who is now serving a mission in the Kingdom of Tonga. Looking into the younger Elder Takau’s eyes, I thank his father for bringing the joy of the gospel into my life and praying sincerely with his companion to know God’s will all those years ago, and I also thank this young man for answering the invitation from President Russell M. Nelson for every young man to serve a mission. “The worth of souls is great in the sight of God” (Doctrine and Covenants 18:10).

“Life’s not fair!” exclaimed Amy, twisting and plaiting her long auburn hair.
Sam, who’d been around since Sunbeam days, raised his eyebrows. They were the last youth in the foyer waiting for lifts home from seminary.
She turned to the notice board, jabbing a finger at a dazzling poster. “‘New Year’s Social,’ it says.” She jabbed again. “‘Bring a date,’ it says. How am I supposed to do that? No one ever asks me. There’s just nobody around this place.”
She slumped gloomily onto the bench, contemplating a dateless Christmas, dateless New Year, dateless forever.
“Thanks a lot.” Sam pulled himself to full frame, short, lean, and topped with a cheery face, nicely sprinkled with spots and freckles.
“So, Mike, Adam, and I are nobody, are we? I’ll remember that next time you want a puncture fixing or algebra sorting out, or …”
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, Sam. I didn’t mean to make you mad. It’s just that you’ve always been here. You’re more like … well … brothers. You know—good friends. Dating’s different.”
“How different?”
“Very different. A date should be exciting, romantic, unusual. I want to be whisked off my feet by someone who reveals a delicious character under a tough skin. Someone hard to reach, but cool and …”
“Mushy.”
“Pardon?”
“Really mushy. You’re describing a TV soap star, Amy. People in real life aren’t like that. Sounds as though you’re expecting some posh bloke to roll up in a Jag. I’m afraid you’re in for a long wait.”
He picked up his scriptures. “Come on, there’s your mum’s Austin. Looks like she’s in her usual hurry. She’s reversing already. She’ll be down at the gates if we’re not quick.”
Amy bent down to her bag. “Hang on,” she added, handing him a seminary booklet. “Don’t forget next week’s work. Doesn’t sound very easy reading to me, that section 95. There’s another unfair thing. How can someone be loved at the same time as being chastened? It doesn’t make me feel very loved when I’m getting a telling off.”
“Depends how you listen,” said Sam, reaching for the door. “And whether you hear with your brain or your spirit.”
“You don’t make much sense sometimes, Sam Harper.” She paused, buttoning her coat. “Sam?”
“What?”
“Between you and me, do you think I’m pretty enough to get a date?”
Sam looked away. “Yes,” he said.
“Then why don’t I?”
He stood quiet for a while, keeping the door open with his foot. Then he tapped his scriptures. “Another part of that section 95 might hold the answer. Verse 6 is very interesting.”
Amy poked him in the ribs and brushed past, head in the air.
“Oh, you’re so … so … serious.” This final word came shooting out. “Move it, then.” She began running. “Last one to the car buys chips on the way to your house.”
Sam moved. He took the shortcut, hedgehopping a stone wall and a few rose bushes.
“Slow coach,” he panted, as Amy came in a close second. Then he smiled. “But the chips are on me anyway.”
“Thanks,” she gasped, regaining her breath as he opened the car door. “But you don’t have to.”
Sam’s smile widened as her mother revved the engine. “And some for Sister Frank, seeing as we kept her waiting.”
Before the inner car light switched off, Amy glanced up just in time to catch that smile reflected in the depth of his eyes. It was mingled with such an expression of kindness that a warmth seemed to bounce right back into the whole of her being.
How odd, she pondered, while the car gathered speed. I’ve never noticed Sam’s eyes do that before. She tried to recall the last time she’d ever watched his eyes while he talked. She couldn’t.
She gave a shrug as the chip shop came in sight, quickly dismissing such unfamiliar thoughts.
The following weekend brought snow and ice.
The atmosphere in Sunday School wasn’t much warmer. Amy had read Doctrine and Covenants 95:6 that morning: “They who are not chosen have sinned a very grievous sin, in that they are walking in darkness at noonday.” [D&C 95:6]
Her first reaction had been indignation, followed swiftly by tears. Now she sat amidst her friends feeling dejected.
“What’s up, Amy?” asked Sam, dropping into the empty chair on her left. “You look like you’re having a good-cheer famine.”
She glanced briefly at him, then sniffed. “You really took that verse 6 out of context, didn’t you Sam.”
With a sheepish grin, he cringed a little. “Oh—that.”
Amy half turned away. “Why, may I ask, is it a sin to have no date? And I’m not in darkness.” Her voice rose with a slight wobble. “And everything’s quite bright and sunny, thank you.”
Sam sighed with embarrassment. “Look here, Amy,” he touched her arm. “I … I didn’t want to hurt you. It’s just that … I mean …” he stammered, turning crimson. “Uh oh, I think I’ve blown it. I can’t explain properly. It was a kind of joke. You know a play on words?”
Bending her head forward to let long strands of hair hide her face, she said in a small voice, “I wasn’t very amused, Sam.”
“Maybe you didn’t listen with your spirit, Amy. I mean, think of it this way. …”
Fortunately, the teacher arrived before he could tangle things further.
Amy sat through the lesson in a dream, letting everything slide over, like warm breath on frosted windows.
By the time midweek seminary came round again, she had melted a little and could see the funny side, even half admiring his weird sense of humour. Imagine Sam having nerve to say that to her. Walking in darkness indeed. Who did he think she’d missed around here?
She chuckled to herself. It was worth catching the early bus to seminary and getting there in time for some teasing.
But Sam wasn’t there. For the first time ever Sam was not at seminary. No one had heard from him all week. Amy felt a niggle of worry.
However, all such problems soon vanished when Amy’s mother arrived at nine. She could hear Mum’s voice before the car door was half open.
“You’ll never believe what’s happened. Maybe I was seeing things. No, they were real all right. But how could they be? Didn’t have time to double-check. Too late leaving. But how in the world … I mean … bananas—at this time of the year?”
“Mum, what are you talking about?” asked Amy, with a worried frown.
“There they were, dear. On the beech tree in the front garden. Bunches of bananas. All over the branches!”
“But, Mother, bananas never grow in England. You must have been imagining things.”
Sister Frank started the engine, shaking her head resolutely. “I may get slightly muddled at times, but I’m definitely not senile yet.”
The homeward trip was even faster than usual. And sure enough, there in the front garden was a banana tree.
Amy clambered out of the car in a daze, vaguely aware of a telephone ringing in the distance. She walked slowly up the path. “Must be some sort of hoax, Mum. They’re tied on,” she called over her shoulder whilst reaching out to touch the nearest one.
But Mother had turned her back towards the house. “Won’t be a minute dear—let me answer that phone.”
Amy pulled down the fruit, shivering. It felt cold and uninviting. She was just about to let it slither to the ground, when she noticed half stuck tape crumpled round the top. Peeling back the skin wasn’t easy. Then her eyes stretched in amazement. Folded neatly under the surface was a piece of paper.
Her fingers were too chilled to be careful, but she managed to straighten the paper enough to decipher a message.
“Is this an exciting, romantic and different enough way to ask for a date? If so, please climb the nearest easy branch and pull down banana number two. The one with a red heart stuck at the top.”
Clambering up the lumpy trunk and onto the first branch, Amy found the next one. The heart had slipped a bit, but another message fell out.
“Well, you’ve been whisked off your feet and this fruit reveals a delicious character under a tough skin.”
She wrinkled her nose. “You’ve got to be joking,” she muttered, prodding the banana, now squishy and turning brown.
“Now go for the fruit on that branch overhanging the hedge,” she read. “The one with two hearts. Be careful. It’s not easy.”
Amy hesitated, then quickly climbing, she stretched across the hedge top, only to find herself sliding gracefully into it. Spitting frosted twigs from her mouth, she reached again, grabbing at the banana.
As brown pulp squirted in her hands, she immediately wished she hadn’t bothered. Letting out an exasperated yell, she jumped down. “Oh, that Sam Harper! Just wait till …”
But she couldn’t resist opening the note. Her voice sounded surprised when she read out loud. “So sorry this one was hard to reach, but it’s definitely cool and …”
“Mushy?” came a familiar voice from behind the hedge.
“You can say that again,” exploded Amy. She tossed back her hair, then pulled down another banana. In seconds war would have broken out, but for Sam’s infectious laughter.
“So this is where you were during seminary. You’re a nut case, Sam. What am I going to do with you?” She shook her head and began brushing bits of tree off her coat.
He took out a tissue and gently wiped banana mush from her hand. “You could try answering my question,” he replied softly.
“Which one?”
“Please will you be my date for the New Year’s social?”
She looked at him for a long moment. There was that smile, hovering in his eyes again, only this time it seemed anxious and hopeful as well as kind.
“I think I must be slightly mad, but yes—on two conditions.”
Sam knelt in the slush at her feet, and with a flourish, pulled out a box of Cadbury’s milk tray from inside his coat. “Anything,” he promised, solemnly. “And here’s something to take away the taste of bananas. I know in the TV advert the man leaps off a mountain at this moment, but, … as we don’t have one handy …”
Amy giggled, giving a mock curtsy whilst he gallantly placed them in her outstretched hand.
She pulled him to his feet with the other hand. “Okay, I’ll be your date, but only if there are no more bananas—not ever.”
“And the other condition?”
She paused. “Will this mean I’m no longer walking in darkness at noonday?”
Sam grinned. “How could anyone be in the dark with me around? Come on, let’s celebrate.”
“Does a drink of Mum’s hot black current and toast sound exciting enough?”
Sam closed his eyes and sighed. “Umm! Delicious!”
Amy nudged him towards the house. The rest of the bananas could wait until morning. After all, dates don’t grow on trees every day of the week.

I had the opportunity to visit my daughter Callie in Las Vegas, Nevada, USA, where she had recently moved with her husband and two children. Callie’s ward met at noon, so we had a nice leisurely morning to get ready and discuss some options for after church. Since Callie hadn’t had a chance to visit the temple yet, we decided to go and take some pictures of the children on the temple grounds.
As with all temples, the grounds of the Las Vegas Nevada Temple were beautiful and well kept with beautiful fountains and flowers.
After reading a story President Thomas S. Monson told, Callie was eager to take her children to the temple so they could touch it (see “Finding Peace,” Liahona, Mar. 2004, 5–6). The first thing she did was explain the sacredness and importance of the temple to her daughter, Stella.
Stella understood as well as any three-year-old would, and we urged her to touch the temple. We took several pictures of Stella and her three-month-old brother touching the temple.
When it was time to leave, Stella was especially reluctant to go. We thought we understood why; she was having a great time in a beautiful setting and was undoubtedly feeling the same spirit we were.
After getting her in the car and buckled up, we began to leave. I turned around, waved, and said to Stella, “Say bye-bye, temple.” She looked at the temple, waved, and said, “Bye-bye, temple. Bye-bye, Grandpa.” I wasn’t sure I had heard her correctly, but when I turned to Callie and saw her eyes fill with tears, I knew we had both heard the same thing.
Stella’s grandfather—my husband, Tim—had passed away four years before Stella was born. She certainly had seen pictures of him and heard the family talk about him, but he hadn’t come up in our conversations that day.
When Tim passed away, we had only one grandchild. Now we have 12, and whenever I hold one of those precious new babies who so recently left our Heavenly Father’s presence, I want to ask, “Did you get to meet your grandpa? What words of advice did he send you off with?”
My testimony of the sacredness of temples was strengthened that day. We may not be able to take our young children inside with us, but we can take them right up to the doors and allow them to put their hands on the doors that countless worthy members have used to enter the house of the Lord.

Jane Manning watched the boat float from the harbor out to Lake Erie. She felt like her dreams were floating away with it.
Just one year ago, she had joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and decided to move to be with the other Saints in Nauvoo. Her mother and seven other family members had traveled with her down the Erie Canal to Buffalo, New York. But in Buffalo, they weren’t allowed on the boat because of the color of their skin.
“What do we do now?” her brother, Isaac, asked quietly.
The question echoed in the frosty air. Nauvoo was still 800 miles (1,287 km) away. They could give up and head home, or try to travel later. …
But Jane couldn’t wait! She knew the Book of Mormon was true. God once again spoke through prophets. She needed to get to Nauvoo with her family.
Jane squared her shoulders and looked westward. “We walk.”
And walk they did. Until their shoes wore out. Until their feet cracked and bled and they had to pray to be healed. Sometimes they slept outside, and the frost was so heavy it felt like falling snow. Some people threatened to put them in jail, thinking that they were escaped slaves. They didn’t know that the Mannings were a free black family. And still they walked, singing hymns to pass the time.
They were nearing Nauvoo when they reached a river.
“No bridge,” Isaac said.
Jane nodded. “We’ll just have to walk through it, then.” As she stepped into the river, the water came up to her ankles. Slowly, she inched forward. The water swirled up to her knees and then past her waist. By the time she reached the middle of the stream, the water came up to her neck! Luckily, it didn’t get deeper, and all the Mannings crossed safely.
At last they came to Nauvoo. Jane could see the beautiful limestone walls of the Nauvoo Temple on a hill overlooking the valley. Even though it wasn’t finished yet, it took her breath away. Someone directed them to the house where the Prophet Joseph lived.
A tall, dark-haired woman stood in the doorway. “Come in, come in!” she called. “I’m Emma Smith.”
The next few minutes were a blur. Jane met the Prophet, and he set up chairs around the room for all the Mannings. Jane sank into the chair gratefully and listened as Joseph introduced them to everyone there, including his friend Dr. Bernhisel. Then Joseph turned to Jane. “You have been the head of this little band, haven’t you?” he asked.
“Yes, sir!” answered Jane.
Joseph smiled. “God bless you! Now I would like to hear about your travels.”
Jane told about their injured feet and sleeping in the snow and crossing the river. Everyone listened quietly. “But it wasn’t terrible,” she finished. “We went on our way rejoicing, singing hymns and thanking God for His infinite goodness and mercy to us in blessing us, protecting us, and healing our feet.”
Jane Manning lived with Emma and Joseph Smith for several months. She married Isaac James, and they were among the early settlers of Utah Valley. She remained a faithful member of the Church even though she faced many challenges. When she died in 1908, President Joseph F. Smith (1838–1918) spoke at her funeral.
There was silence for a moment. “What do you think of that, Doctor?” Joseph finally said, slapping the man’s knee. “Isn’t that faith?”
“If it had been me, I fear I should have backed out and returned to my home!” Dr. Bernhisel admitted.
Joseph nodded and turned back to Jane and her family: “God bless you. You are among friends.”

by Ed Eaton
The huge Seattle Coliseum, built for the 1962 World’s Fair, proved too small for the 12-stake youth dance festival held there last spring. Nearly 2,400 young men and women from 96 wards filled the first several rows of the 14,000-seat coliseum as they awaited their turns to perform a variety of modern, folk, and conventional dances. The rest of the arena was packed with parents and friends who had first call on the free tickets.
When coordinator Susan Kinghorn of the Redmond Washington Stake and several ward specialists began planning the event, they anticipated about 800 youth, the number who had participated the last time such a large festival had been planned. But by opening night the number had swollen to 2,400 excited participants.
Elder James M. Paramore of the First Quorum of the Seventy addressed the youth during the first—and final—combined rehearsal. He spoke with them about personal commitment and pointed to the dedication President Kimball demonstrates in all he does.
“He decided early that his first commitment would be to the Lord,” said Elder Paramore. “There are no shortcuts.”
He also stressed President Kimball’s commitment to people, referring to the prophet’s frequent visits to the widows and the ill and the many letters he writes personally thanking people, “lifting them.”
“Commitment,” said Elder Paramore, “is doing what everyone else could do but doesn’t.”
Following the three-hour performance that night, Elder Paramore left his seat in the audience to join, arm-in-arm, with the youth as they sang, “I Am a Child of God.” It was an electric moment in the lives of the 14,000 members of the Church and their friends in the Seattle Coliseum.
Participating in the program were dancers from the Bellevue, Bremerton, Everett, Lynnwood, Federal Way, Puyallup, Mount Vernon, Redmond, Renton, Seattle, Seattle North, and Tacoma stakes in Washington.

When I finished high school, I knew I had to wait at least two years before serving a mission. I decided to start my college education, calculating that I could be done with medical school in about six years if I invested myself fully. I planned to serve a full-time mission afterward.
After completing medical school at age 24, I started a clinical apprenticeship, which furthered my career opportunities. During this time a dilemma unfolded: should I really serve a mission, or should I keep working? My parents, my older brother (who had recently returned from his mission), my bishop, and a counselor in the local mission presidency all exhorted me to serve.
I believed they were right, but it was difficult to delay my promising medical career. I prayed and fasted for inspiration. I also consulted my patriarchal blessing, which recommended that I serve a full-time mission and promised blessings as a result.
One day, as I was taking public transport home from my apprenticeship, I ran into the stake patriarch. We got off at the same stop and, curiously, started walking in the same direction. He recognized me as a member of the Church.
As we walked together, he asked me what I was planning to do with my life. I explained that I was a doctor and was troubled about deciding between my career and a mission. He told me in a firm voice to serve the Lord by going on a mission, adding that I would be blessed as a result. To me, his response seemed to come from the Lord.
Immediately the following scripture entered my mind: “Seek ye first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you” (3 Nephi 13:33).
I was certain the Lord had answered me. Without further hesitation, I decided to delay my professional career and serve a full-time mission. My fellow doctors thought I would forget medical practices after being away for two years. They harassed me, but I held firm to my decision.
Leaving behind my “Dr.” title, I served two years in the Democratic Republic of Congo Kinshasa Mission.
Five years later, I made a list of the major blessings that followed my service. Foremost, I found a wife—a faithful Church member and my crowning joy. We have two children so far. Our family is sealed for eternity. In the temple we have acted as proxies in performing ordinances for our deceased ancestors. I have secure employment, allowing my family to be self-reliant. These are only a few of the blessings we have received from the Lord.
I know that Heavenly Father never lies and that eventually He fulfills all His promises to us as we put our trust in Him and keep His commandments.

A young lady named Amalia reported that her first reaction when she heard the Mormon missionaries were coming was not favorable. “Those tall boys?” she had asked contemptuously. But after listening to the message and reading the pamphlets, she and her mother both found the doctrine convincing. But they still lacked a spiritual witness. “We were waiting for a voice or something,” she says, “and it just didn’t come.” But when they went to their first meeting something very special happened.

“When we entered the chapel, the meeting stopped while everyone welcomed us. They received us with so much love that we were touched. They cried and embraced us as if they had known us forever. We were accustomed to images and silence when we went to church, so we were overwhelmed that day by the bare walls and the love. After that I prayed every day, but I still wasn’t sure I had a testimony. Then one day the missionaries challenged us to be baptized, and it suddenly seemed as if I had always known that the Church was true without remembering exactly when I had come to know it.

“Since my baptism my testimony has grown every day. I have had many prayers answered. Whenever I pray, I always hear the answer inside myself. Many of the things I pray about might seem small and unimportant to others, but to me they are important. I remember one evening I was so discouraged that I was crying. I needed help from the Lord in understanding a problem, and so I prayed, and the answer came: ‘Everything will be all right.’ Then I could see the answer to my problem so clearly that I wondered why it wasn’t obvious from the start. My mind was at rest, and I dried my eyes and slept peacefully that night.

“I still have a long way to go, but with faith I will continue to grow. I have to study and learn more every day. I have so much still to learn! I want to share the happiness I have found with everyone. I invited all my friends to my baptism. At school I told my religion class about the Church. That didn’t go over too well with the priest who taught the class, but I wanted to share the gospel with everyone. I help the full-time missionaries every chance I get. I love everybody. I want to bring happiness to as many as I can. I visit the sick. I make presents for the branch members. I teach the children how to help their mothers at home. The gospel has simply turned my life upside down. I’m not the same person I was, and I’m not the same person I’m going to be. I’m never going to stop trying to become better.”

Later, in 2018, President Jameson shared this emotional experience:
“We were called as the Kinshasa temple president and matron. We came early for the express purpose of conducting recommend interviews so as many as possible would be ready to enter the temple. We asked for volunteers to serve as workers in the temple. There were immediately 250 volunteers and every single one of them had a valid temple recommend! They were just waiting for the day! Most had only attended the temple once for their endowments—many were bishops and stake presidents—but they had not had the opportunity to attend again. The day had come for regular temple attendance!”

Shortly after the 1985 April general conference, a guest band and chorus were to perform with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. This event was being recorded, so there was a great deal of equipment set up in the Tabernacle.
The department I managed was responsible for tuning the great pipe organ. Fluctuation of the building’s temperature greatly affects the sound of this fine instrument. The performance had occurred on an especially warm night, so afterward we had left the Tabernacle doors open to allow the fresh evening air into the building. The organ could then cool down and be tuned for the next evening’s concert.
Unknown to us, a sparrow had flown into the Tabernacle while the doors were open. The building was later closed, and the bird was not discovered until the next morning.
When I arrived at work, I received a phone call from my employees, who had spent several hours trying to remove this bird from the Tabernacle. The Salt Lake City animal control people had been called, and they came with long-handled nets to capture the sparrow.
When I entered the building I found my employees racing back and forth through the Tabernacle, waving the long nets at the frightened bird. As they would run to one end with the nets, the frantic sparrow would fly to the other end of the building.
It flew from the top of the facade of the great pipe organ to the back of the building, where it would perch atop a bench. The only thing the nets accomplished was to terrify an already frightened bird. It couldn’t recognize that all the doors in the building were open for its escape.
The animal control people brought some pellet guns. Although they were not allowed to fire them on private property, they pointed out that our employees could borrow them to shoot the sparrow.
I immediately stopped that idea. The ceiling in the 118-year-old building was the original—made from plaster combined with fine animal hair to give it stability and its beautiful acoustic—and I didn’t want it damaged by pellets. There were other practical reasons not to shoot at the bird, including the risk of damaging the delicate recording equipment and musical instruments still on the stand. But more important, I did not feel it would be appropriate to kill this tiny creature. I remembered a talk by President Spencer W. Kimball about not shooting little birds.
The animal control people then suggested setting poisoned food out for the bird. I didn’t feel right about that, either. But the bird needed to be removed from the Tabernacle as quickly as possible. That night there would be a full house with several General Authorities and other dignitaries in attendance.
As the bird continued to fly back and forth, chirping loudly, the thought came to me that if this bird was important to Heavenly Father, perhaps I should ask him how to get it out of the building. I turned my back to the others, bowed my head, and said a simple prayer: “Heavenly Father, if this sparrow is important to you, could you please let us know how to safely remove it?”
I immediately had a strong impression of what to do. Closing the prayer, I turned and gave instructions to the workers. They turned off all the lights in the building, shut the window blinds, and closed all but one of the doors.
At that moment, the bird was perched on top of the organ’s facade. Suddenly he left his high perch, swooped down low, and flew out the open door to freedom.

On a typical shopping day, you might see Valerie and Julia’s mom in the grocery store, pushing a cart loaded with twenty loaves of bread or fourteen gallons of milk. But she’s not buying food for the next ward party—she’s just doing the usual shopping for her family!
There are twenty people in the Mackey family. Valerie and Julia (both 9) became sisters nearly five years ago when their parents married in the Arizona Temple. Valerie’s mom, Eileen, had six children, and Julia’s dad, Jim, had nine. Later, the family was blessed with three more boys—Jimmy (3), Adam (1 1/2), and newborn Samuel.
Needless to say, the Mackey household is a lively one. All the children live at home except Stacy, the oldest, who’s on a mission in Brazil. There’s always someone bringing friends home or running off to athletic practice, a job, or another activity. In spite of the different schedules, the family usually manages to eat dinner together. Every day Julia and Valerie set the long table with eighteen place settings, then clear it when dinner is through.
The two sisters love to do things together, like jump on one of the two trampolines in their backyard, and race through a field near their home. They also like to swing on their swing set and to ride their bikes. The warm Arizona weather lets them play outside almost all year round.
They share a room with Shirley (6) and Jimmy (3). Sometimes they curl up on the top bunk and read together. They like reading books from their school library, and they especially like it when Mom reads to them from a book of children’s Bible stories.
The busiest day of the week at the Mackey house is “Terrible Tuesday.” That’s when Julia and Valerie help fold and bag the newspapers their brothers deliver. It’s also when they take piano lessons, along with Jill (14), Joseph (14), Orrin (12), and Trevor (11). The two girls have been playing for nearly two years, and they like it.
“They practice every morning and don’t ever complain,” their mom says. Another thing they do each morning is read scriptures at 5:30 with the rest of the family—at least, with all those who can read.
Julia and Valerie aren’t just sisters—they’re good friends. At home they’re almost always together. “Their personalities blend well,” Mom says. Valerie is the more “motherly” of the two. She’s been changing diapers since she was four years old and likes to help take care of her little brothers. When she grows up, she’d like to take care of other people’s children as well. She also likes to sing, and she even makes up some of her own songs.
Julia is dramatic and full of energy. She has an excellent memory—Mom says she can hear a song once or twice and have it learned. She loves animals and likes to take care of Belle, the dog that she and Valerie own.
So what’s the best thing about having such a big family? Julia and Valerie’s sister Mandy (16), says, “You’re never alone.” There’s always someone around to tease, play basketball with, or just talk to. And the worst thing? “You’re never alone,” Mandy says with a laugh. After all, with five kids sharing one bedroom, four in another, four in another, and two in still another (Adam sleeps in Mom and Dad’s room), privacy is hard to find.
But Valerie and Julia wouldn’t have it any other way.

Elder Gary G. Johnson recalled an experience that happened in the college town of Mankato, a community nestled in farmland on the banks of the Minnesota River.

“We baptized a woman, Gayle Von Ohlen, and her 12-year-old son, John Chambard. As a baptism present, we gave him a subscription to the New Era, and he really liked it. He was impressed with the way it was written, and I think he was amazed that there was so much about spiritual matters in a teenage magazine. His mother was impressed too. The New Era helps kids feel like they’re a part of something.”

“In 1836 when my great-grandmother Derrick, who lived in Keynsham, England, was fifty-six years old,” Elder Royden G. Derrick related, “she called my grandfather to her bedside and said, ‘Zach, my son, do not affiliate yourself with any church with which you are now acquainted, but when missionaries come from America preaching two by two on the street corners and in the halls of the city and teaching of a living prophet and a restored church, join that church because that will be the true church of God.’ This was one year before the first Mormon missionaries arrived in Liverpool, England, to bring the news of the restored gospel to the old world. In 1848 two associates from the Bristol Iron Works, where grandfather Derrick worked, invited him to hear some Mormon missionaries from America. He recognized their message to be what his mother had told him to look for. He joined the Church and in 1851 immigrated to America and crossed the plains to the Great Salt Lake Basin. I was the youngest of my father’s children and my father was the youngest of his father’s children, so I never knew Grandfather Derrick, but he had a profound influence on my life. I have grown to love and admire him.”