Gospel Story Finder

Even during the horror of World War II in the Netherlands—with my husband in hiding, bombs exploding, cold and hunger—the Spirit of our loving Father kept us close to God and close to the Saints. One day when I was serving as Relief Society president, I went with my ten-year-old daughter to visit an older sister who lived alone. When we arrived at Sister Smit’s small home she was reading. She told us she was so hungry that she had decided to read the Bible, because spiritual food could fill her, too.

In those days food was rationed, and in my pocket was a coupon for a loaf of bread for our children. I felt so concerned for this hungry sister that I gave my daughter the coupon and sent her to buy bread for Sister Smit. On the way home, I wondered how I would tell my children that I had given away the bread. I knew I had done the right thing, but now what was I going to feed them.

Upon arriving home, I found the answer. Some family friends in Zwolle had arranged for a letter to be hand-carried to us by their nephew. With the letter were three bread coupons.

Over the years, our Heavenly Father has continued to bless us in miraculous ways. In 1947 our daughter was called to serve a mission. Although we had very little money, and our family would greatly miss the income from her job, we agreed to support her. Never was our family so blessed as during our daughter’s mission. Occasionally someone would tell me that they wished their child could serve a mission, but that they didn’t have the money. I always told them that we didn’t have the money either, but that the Lord blessed us so that somehow we were able to support her each month.

As I look back over my eighty years, I feel that among my greatest privileges in life has been to know that I am a child of God, and that he will guide me through mortality if I will stay close to him. And if I am worthy, he will be waiting to greet me in his “holy courts on high.”

I was watching Papa put the last touches on top of the windmill when he called down to me, “Dora, go into the house and get your mama.”
When we came out, Papa was hanging by his knees on the highest crosspiece. “Look, hon,” he called to her. “It’s all finished.” Mama looked up and gasped.
“Alfred B. Cookson, you come down here right this minute before you’re finished. You’ll have every last one of these kids up there hanging upside down, and before we know it someone will fall and break his neck.”
Papa swung easily to his feet, climbed down, and ran over to silence her with a kiss. “You worry too much,” he said.
“No wonder, with such a crazy husband,” she scolded. “You scared me to death.”
I think Papa knew she was right, though, because he used the leftover pipe and lumber to make us an acting pole where we could learn to hang upside down and do other tricks at a safe distance from the ground.

When I arrived at BYU–Hawaii I wasn’t a member of the Church. I had friends who were members of the “Mormon” Church. Calling each other Brother and Sister was new for me. I took required religion classes and received the missionary discussions. I was interested in joining the church, but it was difficult for my parents to have me change my religion. Then in the summer of 1980, I attended the baptism of my future father-in-law, Warren Johnson Sr., at Temple Beach I felt a special feeling, and was determined that I would get baptized as well. On July 4, 1980, my basketball teammate, Roger Rowberry from Idaho baptized me a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I can remember that early morning. I didn’t have a way to Laie so I ran from Kahuku to the Laie Hawaii Stake Center. The full-time missionaries had me change into my baptism clothing and one of my best friends baptized me. One of the full-time missionaries confirmed me a member of the church. BYU–Hawaii was definitely a missionary factor. I received the gospel and joined the church when I was a student at BYU–Hawaii. The next summer in August of 1981, I entered the Provo Missionary Training Center to serve in the Wisconsin Milwaukee Mission. This was not a lifetime goal for me and if not for the influence I received from my wife, good friends, and people at BYU–Hawaii and PCC, I would not have gone on a mission. It was a difficult decision to graduate from college or to delay my education and serve a mission first. My parents did not understand a mission therefore they did not support it. I would not hear from my parents for two years until I returned from the mission field. What a great opportunity I had to serve the people in Wisconsin. Wisconsin was a foreign land for me the winters were long and cold. I remembered teaching the Littel Family. This Family was contacted by earlier missionaries going door-to-door finding people to teach the gospel. The earlier missionaries baptized two members of the family, but were unable to baptize the parents and two other siblings. My companion and I were able to share the gospel and the aloha spirit. This family became our friends and they wanted to know more about the gospel and beautiful Hawaii. Later the parents were also baptized. Another son and daughter were not baptized but were friendly towards the church. My required religion classes prepared me for my mission. When I entered into the mission field in August of 1981 I had read all of the standard works because it was required at BYU–Hawaii. What a blessing to have done that. Today students from BYU–Hawaii continue to enter into the mission field and serve millions.

I was once driving home with my friends when someone brought up the subject of girls and asked “Whom do you like?” The young men in the front of the car had begun to mention names of young women, and then they asked me whom I liked.
“I don’t really like anyone in that way,” I answered.
That’s when the name of a young woman whom I used to be good friends with came up. They began to mention her name and insult her. I immediately felt the temptation to insult her as well and to agree with what they were saying. But I held my tongue. Slowly what they said got worse until I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Stop,” I said quietly. “She’s not that way at all. She’s nice when you get to know her.”
They didn’t listen and continued to insult her. Again the temptation arose to insult her. “Why would she care? She doesn’t even have to know,” I thought to myself. I just listened for a moment.
“She is so weird,” one of the guys said.
By this time I’d had enough.
“You need to stop what you’re saying and be nice to her!” I said. “She has a really hard life, and insulting her even though she can’t hear you doesn’t make her life easier!”
Silence filled the car. I felt so alone, so strange.
When I got home, I thought and prayed about what had just happened. I began to feel better, and then I felt really good about my decision to defend rather than belittle this young woman.

Young women, let your days begin and end with prayer. Read from your scriptures every day. When you pray and talk with your Heavenly Father, when you let him communicate with you through the scriptures and through his Spirit, you will find answers to your prayers—just as Dawn did.
When Dawn’s parents received a mission call to Japan, she was given the choice of going with them or staying behind. Going meant leaving her friends, missing her senior year in high school, and, in general, changing many of her future plans. The decision seemed too hard to make. She said, “I spent a lot of time crying and wondering why this should be happening to me.”
She fasted and prayed about the decision. It seemed coincidental that they were studying the Book of Mormon in seminary and were talking about Lehi’s family. In the past she had wondered why Laman and Lemuel had such a hard time choosing the right. It bothered her that they were the older brothers and didn’t set a good example. She began to liken herself to the scriptures. She was the oldest child in the family, and going to Japan was like going into the wilderness for her. She would have to leave a lot of important things behind. She said, “I didn’t want to be a Laman or Lemuel. I wanted to obey my Father in Heaven and do his will.” She knew her decision was right when she told her parents she would love to go to Japan with them and it felt so good.
At the farewell, Dawn told her friends how much she loved them and would miss them, then said, “I realize that the greatest friend I have is Jesus Christ. I feel of his love every day.”

Then, recently I visited the Junior Sunday School meeting in connection with the stake conference where I was assigned. As I entered the room I saw a little girl crying and looking very lost and very, very frightened. Her parents had just deposited her and gone on to the meeting with the big people. In a moment a wonderful young teacher reached her, knelt by her, and put her arms around her and comforted her. The sobs turned to sniffles and peace began to enter a little heart. Just then the second act in the drama began. Another youngster appeared and started to cry also, frightened and feeling alone like the other had. The young teacher, still holding the first little one, reached the second child, and knelt by her and enveloped her in her arms. As she did I heard her say to the first little girl, “Ellen, this young lady is frightened and lonesome. Will you help me make her feel welcome?”
The first youngster, her sniffles barely dried, nodded, and the two little children, in the safe haven of the teacher’s arms, supported each other and soon both were quieted. The teacher put three chairs together and sat between the two of them, a hand gently resting on each.
When I left that morning I thought I had seen as clearly as I am capable of seeing how the Lord expects us to treat each other, and how wonderful it is to have someone who has lived a little longer and learned to love, to reach out and help us, and then help us help others.

Our stake president gave our stake a challenge to find family names to take to the temple. It was called a 40-day challenge because we had 40 days to find the names. During the challenge I went to FamilySearch.org.
As I was looking at my ancestors, I got this feeling that I never had before. I felt that some of my ancestors did not have their temple work done. The next thing I did was look for them on my family tree. After a while I found one ancestor who needed temple work. After that I found more ancestors needing temple work.
After a little bit I found five families needing temple work. After I found all the names, I got a warm feeling in my heart. Now my parents have family names to take to the temple. I fulfilled the stake president’s challenge to find one or more ancestors that need their temple work done.
Even though I am seven years old, I am still a good example. I still have that feeling, and I am still looking for ancestors that need temple work done. This is the best experience I have ever had, and I will never forget how I felt.

Hearing one sister’s recollections of her childhood in a large pioneer family brought tears of happiness to the eyes of many Danville, California, Mia Maids as they hosted a luncheon for elderly ward members.
The Mia Maids sent out invitations, put up cheery yellow and white decorations, and served lunch to the elderly sisters of the Danville Ward, Walnut Creek California Stake. In addition, the sisters were introduced and interesting points in their lives were related. Each received a corsage and shared short inspirational experiences with the girls.
Later each sister was presented with a Mother’s Day cake made by the class.

I first met Carly when she was 12 years old. A new and inexperienced Beehive, there were some temporary bumps in her world. Listen to her voice as she describes some of her feelings [a short videotaped segment was shown]:
“Change has always been real hard for me. My problems aren’t that bad, but when I look at them it just seems like they are the worst in the world when I have them. Everyone was kind of worrying about themselves, you know. I was kind of alone all the time. And I didn’t ever want to go to school. I just felt like Heavenly Father didn’t care if I was sad. And he didn’t care if I was upset or didn’t have any friends. And I just felt like he wasn’t there. I just felt like no one really cared.”
This is Carly. She is now 16.
“When I hear my 12-year-old self talk, I remember how big those problems seemed then and how small they are now. I remember how much I wanted a magic solution. I now believe that there isn’t just one thing that can make everything all right. The thing I did know when I was 12 was that I wanted to be good. That desire kept me reading my scriptures, going to church, and saying my prayers. Now, four years later, I feel so different, mostly because I kept doing those things. I now get answers from the scriptures, I am closer to the Lord through prayer, and I understand the lessons in church so much better.
“My dad has a saying on the wall: ‘Success seems to be largely a matter of hanging on after others have let go’ [William Feather]. I am so glad I hung on! I even think we need those times where we have nothing left in us. They help us build a trust and dependency on the Lord.
“Some popular songs and movies teach us to believe that nothing really matters, that we should give up because everything is temporary anyway. We know differently. We have the gospel. It isn’t temporary. It is eternal. We can’t quit. We can’t give up.
We may not see it now, but everything we do, every day we live is for a purpose. And we have a Heavenly Father who will always be there to lift us up and cheer us on.”

Let me tell you about a young Laurel president who explained it this way: “‘You see,’ she said, ‘I was called to be a class president of 17 girls, and the bishop said I was responsible for them. I was scared to death. I didn’t even know for sure where they were. Then he told me to decide on my counselors and reminded me of the need to pray and ask the Lord. I wondered how it worked—how would I know who the Lord wanted?’ …
“‘I wrote 17 names on a piece of paper. Then I prayed about those names. … I kept thinking and praying and [crossing off names] until the third day. With only two names remaining, I had a strong feeling that I knew who Heavenly Father wanted. That’s how it works’” (Ardeth G. Kapp, “Yes, You Are Old Enough, Girls,” New Era, May 1974, p. 14).

My dad was stationed in Okinawa, Japan, so I was supposed to be baptized in the East China Sea. I was really sick on that Saturday in 1996, so the baptism was rescheduled for Sunday. On Sunday morning, I was still sick and throwing up, and to make it worse, it was raining. My mom said we were going to do it anyway, so we all prayed for the rain to stop and for me to feel better. After church, we went home for my baptismal clothes, then drove to Toguchi Beach. By the time we got there, the rain had stopped and I felt better.
The bad thing then was that the tide had gone out. My dad and I walked out to a little tide pool (see photo), and he stood on my toes (to keep them in the water) when he baptized me. My Grandma and Grandpa Taylor were there from the United States to see my baptism. After I was pretty dry, Grandpa confirmed me, and I was a true member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
I know that Heavenly Father helped me feel better and helped the rain to stop for my baptism. I got sick again on the way home, and it started to rain again. I hope that all of you who haven’t been baptized will be baptized and receive the gift of the Holy Ghost.
Thomas Taylor, age 11Drummond, Oklahoma

Squeezing the last box into the back of my station wagon, I slammed the door shut and checked my watch. I was on schedule. My last batch of exams was graded, and the car was packed. If I left immediately, I would have to drive only the final hour or so of my trip to Louisville, Kentucky, in the dark.
The last two weeks had been long and unbearably dull in South Bend, Indiana. My husband, Mark, a law student, had already started his summer internship in Louisville. But as a high school teacher in South Bend, I had spent two more weeks finishing the school year before I could join him.
Relieved to be on the road, I drove fast, but about an hour into my five-hour trip, I began to think about Sara and her daughter, Betsy. We had first met in Relief Society nine months earlier. Standing in the back with a baby in her arms, she had introduced herself saying, “Hi, I’m Sara. I’m from Utah. And this is Betsy. She’s from heaven.” I laughed, liking her immediately. Just like me she was the wife of a law student, and I was pleased when she was called to be my visiting teacher.
About a month before my departure, Betsy had suffered a seizure. Tests revealed a large brain tumor that appeared almost inoperable, but doctors insisted that without an operation Betsy had no chance of survival.
My heart ached for Sara. Along with the rest of our ward and stake, we had fasted and prayed for a miracle. Betsy underwent brain surgery and amazed the doctors, who had not expected her to survive the operation. Still, only part of the tumor had been removed, and Betsy progressed slowly. Her parents, meanwhile, faced impossible decisions on how to treat the remaining tumor without destroying her infant body.
The operation had taken place in Indianapolis, the halfway point in my journey to Louisville. Sara was still there with Betsy, while her husband had returned to South Bend to take the final exams he had missed.
I checked my watch. I could think of plenty of reasons to drive through without stopping, but none of them did anything to silence the voice inside telling me I needed to stop. So I pulled off the freeway and called the hospital from a pay phone. My call was directed to Betsy’s room, and Sara answered. I could hear in her voice that she was happy I had called. She would be thrilled to have me stop by. I felt the peace and relief of having followed the Spirit’s prompting.
As I drove toward the hospital I realized I had my violin wedged between a suitcase and a box of books in the backseat. With a measure of guilt I remembered that I had not touched it in weeks, even though I had studied violin from the age of three. Music had always been a source of happiness in my life.
The thought came that I should take my violin with me and play for Betsy. Normally I would never have considered the idea. It seemed a little arrogant to arrive unannounced with my violin and subject all those within listening range to an impromptu recital. But I quickly recognized the feeling that accompanied this thought as the same Spirit that had prompted me to make the visit.
When I arrived, Sara was weary but happy to see me. Betsy had a large tube in her head and another in her throat. As I looked at her tiny body and then into her eyes, I wondered how much pain she had suffered and how much more she would have to endure.
Sara was thrilled that I had brought my violin. For more than an hour I played hymns, Primary songs, classical music, and anything she requested that I could play by ear. As I played, Betsy stared at me, wide-eyed. Sara insisted it was the most alert Betsy had been since her surgery and was eager for me to keep playing. Several patients—children and their parents—stopped by the room and listened for a while.
Time passed quickly without my noticing. And as I stood at the foot of the bed playing “I Am a Child of God” (Hymns, no. 301), I was overwhelmed with the intensity of Heavenly Father’s love for this sick little girl. I knew as I played that He loved Betsy dearly and wanted her to find relief from her pain through the music.
As I left the hospital in the dark that night to complete my trip to Louisville, I remembered the words from my patriarchal blessing that I had not thought about for some time. I had been blessed with musical talent and was expected to develop it so I could bring joy to others.
Through Betsy I was reminded of the Lord’s purpose in giving us gifts. “All these gifts come from God, for the benefit of the children of God” (D&C 46:26). By listening to the Spirit I was given the opportunity to share my talent as the Lord intended and to feel the tremendous compassion He has for His children.

One woman told me that her husband – when he came home hungry and found her outside watching the kids play – would go inside the house and lock all the doors, so she and the kids had to wait for an hour or more on the back porch until he decided to open the door. While milder than some marriage problems I just mentioned, this was still a very destructive pattern. It damaged the wife’s feelings of personal worth and it was destroying her feelings of love for her husband. It also was lousy modeling for the children. Her response had been patience, long-suffering, and serious efforts to forgive, but it wasn’t working and she was becoming bitter. I shared with her the three realm model and suggested that she was trying to skip from the telestial realm to the celestial. She was responding to her husband’s telestial behavior with what she thought were celestial efforts. However, showing patience with destructive, telestial behaviors or trying to forgive unrepented, ongoing injury – typically results in an acceptance of victimization that doesn’t benefit either victim or victimizer. The victim remains vulnerable to abuse and, almost inevitably, loses respect and love for the victimizer, while the victimizer continues unabated on their personal road to destruction.

Instead, I suggested this woman draw a terrestrial boundary with her husband. She agreed to make sure she always wore clothes with pockets. In the pockets she was to put driver’s license, cash, credit card, or checkbook, and keys. She also packed the car with extra clothes and supplies for the young children. She then told her husband that she was no longer willing to accept behavior that she knew – and he knew – was not acceptable to God. If he locked the door on her again, she said, she would take the kids and go to place where they would be safe and not feel like beggars at their own door -- perhaps the library, a movie, a park, or a restaurant. Then, when she was ready, she would call to see if he were willing to take this problem to the bishop or to a counselor to learn better ways to deal with his anger. After she “drew that terrestrial boundary line,” he never locked the door on his family again, and he came into counseling where, working together, they made great improvements in their marriage.

A few years ago I had the privilege of going up to Fort Lewis as an honored guest. Some boys from Utah and Idaho were up there, and they asked me if I would go up and play soldier with them. I am sure I got treatment that very few people get. I had a private home with a houseboy. They saw that I was fed well and dressed properly. And yet I joined in with the boys and went through the gas chamber. I laid on my stomach and fired a machine gun. I had pistol practice. I pulled the lanyard on a cannon and watched the missile go to its destruction. I saw the airplanes drop napalm bombs to cause fires and destruction. My most thrilling experience was on the day of the dress parade. The boys came by saluting me as the honored guest. My, what handsome, what noble young men. They pulled at my heartstrings as I saw them—immaculate in their dress, perfect in their deportment—honor their uniform and this great country. It’s a thrilling thing, my brothers and sisters, the strength that lies in the youth of this nation. That’s why I say tonight I am honored to be in your presence.

Sadness does not come from nothing, nor does it come suddenly or by chance. A short while ago, I felt sad and could not find a reason. When I prayed, I realized the Holy Ghost was trying to warn me that I was not choosing the right. I decided to change my spiritual state. I began to set goals, pray more, and study the Book of Mormon.
Juliana Lazzarotti dos Neves Oliveira, 17,Santa Clara Branch, Coimbra Portugal District

As we faithfully seek information about ancestors with the purpose of performing temple ordinances, we’ll be exposed to events and impressions that will perceptibly show the Lord’s hand in this work. During the 1960s my wife’s grandfather, who served as a branch president in the southernmost part of Brazil, had collected many ancestors’ names, which were all in paper documents as there were no computers then. He was afraid that one of his 16 children would damage or lose those precious records, so he decided to keep them in his branch presidency’s office at the local chapel. But one day that meetinghouse was caught on fire and he lost all his family history. Years of work vanished in minutes! He and his family were deeply saddened but felt impressed to visit his relatives in Argentina in an attempt to recover some of the lost information. During those visits he was describing what happened and one of his uncles (who was not a member of the Church) asked to be excused for a moment and then came right back from another room with a stack of papers full of names, dates, and documents concerning all those that had been lost in the fire. For years, he said, “I felt compelled to keep this information without knowing why, but now it all makes sense. You can have all this!!”
Not only were all the names recovered but also many new ones were added. This event has caused all in the family to clearly discern that there was direct guidance from the Holy Ghost and that God knows the end from the beginning!

Grandma was coming today! It was hard for Heidi to wait, because she had a surprise to show Grandma. Finally a blue car turned into the driveway.
“Grandma!” Heidi yelled. “Grandma, I have a surprise for you. Guess what it is!”
Grandma measured the top of Heidi’s curly head against her own arm. “I bet I already know your surprise—you’re getting taller.”
“Oh, Grandma, that’s no surprise. Guess again.”
“Is it something new growing in the garden?” Grandma asked, swinging Heidi’s hand as they walked past the marigolds beside the front walk.
“Nope,” Heidi told her. “Guess again.”
“Well,” Grandma said as they climbed the front steps, “the front door is painted bright red. It used to be white. Is that your surprise?”
“No, that’s not it, either,” Heidi said. “Guess again.”
“Mmmmm. I smell something good. Did you make some special cookies for me? Is that the surprise?”
“No—my surprise is better than cookies!” Heidi grinned. “Guess again, Grandma.”
“Well,” Grandma said as they climbed the stairs to Heidi’s room, “your surprise wasn’t the inches that you’ve grown. And it wasn’t something new in the garden or the bright red door or the good smelling cookies. I give up. What can your surprise be?”
“Look in the basket in my closet, Grandma,” Heidi said, jumping up and down with excitement.
“Oh, oh, oh!” cried Grandma. “Muffin has three new kittens! They are darling, Heidi. What a wonderful surprise.”
“That’s not all, Grandma,” Heidi told her. “The best part is that you get to keep one!”

Tyler loved tomatoes. He loved their bright red color and smooth skin. He loved the way their seeds spurted out when he bit into them. He loved to dip tiny tomatoes into salt, and he loved the big ones sliced thin in sandwiches.
“Let’s grow some tomatoes in our yard,” Tyler’s dad suggested one day.
“Could we?” Tyler was surprised. He’d never thought of growing tomatoes at home. He thought it would be wonderful to have his very own supply of tasty tomatoes ready to pick whenever he felt like it.
Tyler and his dad chose a sunny spot to plant the tomatoes. Then they dug and prepared the soil until it was loose and fine. While they were working, Mr. Bradley leaned over the back fence. “Going to have some pretty flowers?” he asked.
“Oh, no, Mr. Bradley. This is for my tomatoes,” Tyler told him.
“Humph!” Mr. Bradley growled, frowning. “I’ve never had any luck growing tomatoes here.”
“Dad says we can,” Tyler answered, and he kept raking the ground to make it smooth.
The next morning Tyler and his dad planted six tiny green tomato plants. Tyler watered them carefully. In just a few days they looked bigger. “See, Mr. Bradley,” Tyler said, pointing proudly to his plants, “they’re growing.”
“Just wait, Tyler, just wait,” Mr. Bradley replied smugly.
In several weeks Tyler’s tomato plants blossomed with dozens of star-shaped yellow flowers. “I’m going to have hundreds of tomatoes,” he predicted.
“Don’t count your chickens before they hatch,” Mr. Bradley told him.
Soon tiny, hard green tomatoes replaced the yellow blossoms. Tyler’s mouth watered as he watched them grow into large tomatoes. Morning and night he checked the plants, hoping to find a ripe tomato. One morning he thought one of the plants seemed smaller. The next day he was sure it had lost some leaves. And the following day it looked scraggly and thin. Tyler noticed some small black droppings under the plant too.
He knelt on the ground and examined all of his plants, leaf by leaf. He studied the shriveled one very carefully. Suddenly he jumped up and hollered, “Wow! Dad, Dad, come quick! There’s a dragon out here.”
A large green worm the size of a thick, round pea pod was greedily munching the leaves of Tyler’s wilted tomato plant. It really did look like a miniature dragon as it inched its fat, segmented body along the stem of the plant, waving the little “horns” on the top of its head from side to side as it moved. It seemed to eat as much as a dragon, too, devouring every leaf in its path.
“How did you ever find it, Tyler?” Dad asked. “That worm is so well camouflaged that it looks just like part of the stem. Only really sharp eyes could have seen it.”
Mr. Bradley leaned over the fence to see what all the excitement was about. “Better spray,” he advised. “The pests get all the prizes, I always say. Give ’em a shot of bug spray—that’s what they deserve.”
“I think we’ll try the old-fashioned method first,” Dad said. He carefully picked the worm off the tomato plant. “Now, Tyler, you check the plants every day, and if you notice any other worms, take them off and kill them. They should be easier to spot now that you know what to look for. Be careful, though—their bite might not be dangerous, but it could sure hurt.”
“Found any more dragons?” Mr. Bradley asked the next time Tyler was out watering.
“Nope,” Tyler answered, “but the tomatoes are finally turning red. Look!” The plants sagged under the weight of the plump tomatoes—some still green, some pale yellow, and some a promising orange.
Finally the day came. “This one is ready, isn’t it, Dad?” Tyler asked as they inspected a big red tomato.
“You bet, and it’s all yours. You grew it, and you get to eat it.”
Tyler gently twisted the tomato from its stem and washed it carefully with water from the hose. Then he sat down on the lawn and took a big bite. Still warm from the sun, the tomato burst in his mouth, spurting juice and seeds down his chin and onto his jeans. Tyler grinned with pleasure.
“Ummm! It’s so good!” he exclaimed, wiping his chin between bites. “Next week, after I eat a few more myself, I’ll pick some for Mr. Bradley. Maybe next year he’ll want to grow tomatoes too.”

From Idaho comes a story of Jonathan, who went to school in the cold weather wearing his warm hat. When he got to school, he noticed another boy’s ears were frostbitten because he had had to wait so long in the cold for the school bus to pick him up. On his own, Jonathan went to the telephone, called his mother, and asked if it would be all right to give the younger boy his hat because he needed it more. As we bear on another’s burdens, as Jonathan did, we are fulfilling the covenant we made at baptism.

Arise Early
Arising early is not in Doctrine and Covenants 89, but rather in section 88: “Retire to thy bed early, that ye may not be weary; arise early, that your bodies and your minds may be invigorated” (v. 124).
My husband gets up for work at 5:00 a.m. In the past, I didn’t get up with him. I would sleep in, and I didn’t get up with my teenage sons either. At night I went to bed early, but my husband stayed up until 11:00 p.m. or later. I was worried about him because he would get sleepy when driving. We needed a change.
I decided to get up with my husband and have breakfast with him. Now we spend time together talking over breakfast. As a result, I am up now with my children before they go to school, and I send them off with prayers and hugs.
My husband is now going to bed early too. I find that my sleep, which had always been poor, has become much sounder, so I don’t need as much. It seems that many things are working better in my life because I strive to heed the counsel to “arise early.”
Linda Davis, Utah, USA