Gospel Story Finder

The young women around the world have taught me so much about seeking Christ and gaining a daily, personal witness of Him. Let me share the wisdom of two of them:
Livvy has watched general conference her entire life. In fact, in her home they traditionally watch all five sessions as a family. In the past, conference for Livvy had meant doodling or drifting into the occasional unintended nap. But this past October general conference was different. It became personal.
This time, Livvy decided to be an active recipient. She silenced notifications on her phone and took notes of impressions from the Spirit. She was amazed as she felt specific things God wanted her to hear and do. This decision made a difference in her life almost immediately.
Just days later her friends invited her to an inappropriate movie. She reflected, “I felt the words and spirit of conference return into my heart, and I heard myself declining their invitation.” She also had the courage to share her testimony of the Savior in her ward.
After these events she stated, “The amazing thing is, when I heard myself testify that Jesus is the Christ, I felt the Holy Ghost confirm it again for me.”
Livvy did not skip like a stone over the surface of conference weekend; she dove in, mind and spirit, and found the Savior there.

On a hot summer day, I went to play with a friend who is not a member of the Church. She wanted to go swimming, but I didn’t have a bathing suit. She said I could borrow one of hers. She pulled out a two-piece bathing suit. I said no. Finally she found a modest bathing suit that fit me.
I’m glad I chose the right by not wearing the two-piece bathing suit. I’m glad I was born in the Church and that my parents teach me what is right and what is wrong. I hope I can always choose the right so I can live with Heavenly Father someday.

My name is Emma, and I am six years old. I love to read the Friend with my little brother, Dallas, who is four. We especially enjoy reading the stories at the back where children share stories about how they are trying to be like Jesus. We cut them out and save them in a special folder so we can read them again and again. The other day, Dallas and I did something that our mother said was following the example of Jesus Christ.
Our mother was feeling very sad. I wanted to help her, but I didn’t know what I could do so she could feel better. Then I remembered that I should try to be like Jesus. Jesus comforts those who are sad. I went over to where my mother was sitting, gently put my arms around her, and held her to my shoulder. She looked up and told me that she felt special to know how much I love and care about her.
Then Dallas came into the room and asked what was wrong. Mother explained that she was feeling sad. He also hugged her and softly said, “Mommy, Jesus felt sad, too, when the men put nails in His hands. They were mean and spit on Him and laughed at Him. I love you, Mommy.” Mother sat up and wiped away her tears. Then she told Dallas and me that she didn’t feel sad anymore, because we had reminded her that Jesus loves us and that He had suffered more than anyone. We felt good knowing that we had helped Mother by following the example of Jesus.

There have been many times when the purity of her life has helped me, even saved me. I will show one example.

Once on my mission, we encountered a severe storm and were thrown overboard. I thought I was a good swimmer, but eventually I ran out of energy. As I went under, for what could have been the last time, I saw in my mind Jean's pure smile. It was as though she instantly came 9,000 miles and lifted me up.

No one can tell me there is not power in purity because I know there is.

As life supplies its store of tribulation we need the consolation that comes with knowing that God is good and that he is near, that he understands, and that he loves us and will help us and strengthen us for the realities of a world where sin and affliction exist. And while I’m talking about principles this morning, I am not really thinking in the abstract, but I’m thinking of many noble souls who have met difficulties with courage, like my mother and many others who had little to rely upon—who had little but ingenuity and will and courage and faith. I’m thinking too of a more recent scene—a beautiful young face whiter than the hospital sheet upon which she lay, her sorrowing parents nearby grieving, as a relentless disease consumed her life. Comfort came to them in the quiet knowledge of the nearness of a Savior who himself had not been spared the most keen and intense suffering, who himself had drunk of the bitter cup.
From this source—from God and Christ—wisdom and strength can be found that will make endurance possible, and relationships generous and helpful, that will lead to abundancy of life and to everlasting life. God will “temper the wind to the shorn lamb,” and help us to endure all things and to continue to maintain integrity in the face of the siren song of invitation to “curse God and die”—die spiritually, die as to things pertaining to righteousness, die to hope and holiness and faith in a future where there is no corruption and no pain.
Christ came that men might have life abundant and life eternal, and he declared that “this is life eternal, that they might know thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent.” (John 17:3.)
And that knowledge, I testify, is the most important treasure one can possess or seek. From Hosea comes the word of the Lord:
“The Lord hath a controversy with the inhabitants of the land, because there is no truth, nor mercy, nor knowledge of God in the land. …
“For I desired mercy, and not sacrifice; and the knowledge of God more than burnt offerings.” (Hosea 4:1; 6:6.)
Soon thereafter the Lord said through Jeremiah:
“Let not the wise man glory in his wisdom, neither let the mighty man glory in his might, let not the rich man glory in his riches:
“But let him that glorieth glory in this, that he understandeth and knoweth me, that I am the Lord which exercise loving kindness, judgement, and righteousness, in the earth: for in these things I delight, saith the Lord.” (Jer. 9:23–24.)
All the prophets taught this truth about God, and their prime purpose was not to argue or try to prove the existence of God but to be his witnesses, to testify that he lives and to make his will known among men. Christ revealed the Father in his life and teachings and parables. Through his Son the Father was not only bringing salvation and making eternal life possible for all men, but was offering the ultimate opportunity for men to know God himself.
This, we declare and testify, is a supreme blessing, for to “know the love of Christ which passeth knowledge” and thus to “be filled with all the fulness of God” (Eph. 3:19) is the source of the greatest comfort and consolation in this world, and the greatest motivating power for good. How do we gain this indispensable knowledge? The “works of the Lord, and the mysteries of his kingdom” can only “be understood by the power of the Holy Spirit, which God bestows on those who love him, and purify themselves before him; To whom he grants this privilege of seeing and knowing for themselves.” (D&C 76:114, 117.)
As a guest in the home of a choice young family only a few days ago, I was invited to offer prayer as we knelt together at the day’s beginning. Loving parents, who knew of my experience with little girls’ prayers, suggested that their three-year-old would like to pray first, as she regularly insists on doing. The tenderness of the moment increased as a six-year-old brother undertook to help her when she faltered.
The purity and openness of little children in their relationship with the Lord points the way for all of us. If we would seek the Lord, we must put off the “natural man” and become “as a child, submissive, meek, humble, patient, full of love, willing to submit to all things which the Lord seeth fit to inflict upon [us], even as a child doth submit to his father.” (Mosiah 3:19.)
It is written:
“None shall be found blameless before God, except it be little children, only through repentance and faith on the name of the Lord God Omnipotent.” (Mosiah 3:21.) What, then, is our course?
“Verily, thus saith the Lord: It shall come to pass that every soul who forsaketh his sins and cometh unto me, and calleth on my name, and obeyeth my voice, and keepeth my commandments, shall see my face and know that I am.” (D&C 93:1.)
“They did fast and pray oft, and did wax stronger and stronger in their humility, and firmer and firmer in the faith of Christ, unto the filling their souls with joy and consolation, yea, even to the purifying and the sanctification of their hearts, which sanctification cometh because of their yielding their hearts unto God.” (Hel. 3:35.)
By the revelations of his mind and will through the Holy Spirit, the Lord will give us understanding and knowledge. But we must qualify for the blessing. As we learn to love him, to purify ourselves before him, to yield our hearts to him, and to walk in the light of his Spirit, we can become again like a child and know him. He “waits,” Isaiah wrote, “that he may be gracious” unto us, and is “exalted, that he may have mercy” upon us. The Lord delights to bless us with his love.
We know that the Lord needs instruments of his love. He needs a Simon Peter to teach Cornelius, an Ananias to bless Paul, a humble bishop to counsel his people, a home teacher to go into the homes of the Saints, a father and mother to be parents to their children.
But it is also the privilege of every child of God to seek and know for himself the comforting personal assurance that comes with confidence in the wisdom and character of a beloved Heavenly Father.
There is an example that expresses my meaning well. Some years ago a young lady missionary shared with me some of the circumstances of her call. Her humble father, a farmer, had willingly sacrificed much for the Lord and his kingdom. He was already sustaining two sons on missions when he talked with his daughter one day about her unexpressed desires to be a missionary and explained to her how the Lord had helped him to prepare to help her. He had gone to the fields to talk with the Lord, to tell him that he had no more material possessions to sell or sacrifice or to use as collateral for borrowing. He needed to know how he could help his daughter go on a mission. The Lord, he said, told him to plant onions. He thought he had misunderstood. Onions would not likely grow in this climate, others were not growing onions, he had no experience growing onions. After wrestling with the Lord for a time, he was again told to plant onions. So he borrowed money, purchased seeds, planted and nurtured and prayed. The elements were tempered, the onion crop prospered. He sold the crop, paid his debts to the bank and the government and the Lord, and put the remainder in an account under her name—enough to supply her wants on a mission.
I will not forget the story or the moment or the tears in her eyes or the sound of her voice or the feeling in me as she said, “Brother Hanks, I don’t have any trouble believing in a loving Heavenly Father who knows my needs and will help me according to his wisdom if I am humble enough. I have a father just like that.”
There is, of course, much more to be said. The solutions that we wish and pray for do not always come about. The power that remade Paul, that poured in love and washed out hostility and hate, did not save him from the great travails, from Nero’s dungeon or a martyr’s death. Christ lived in him, he said, he had found the peace of God that passed all comprehension. Nothing, not tribulation, distress, persecution, famine, nakedness, peril, sword, death, life, angels, principalities, powers, things present, things to come, height, depth, nor any other creature, could separate him from the love of Christ—the love of God which is in Christ Jesus, our Lord. Christ died on a cross, and won his victory; his disciples and followers also have been subject to the brute forces and foibles of this world, yet through enduring faith they have shared and will share in that victory.
Like Habakkuk of old, we may in our anguish feel that we could bear anything if we could only understand the divine purpose in what is happening. The ancient prophet learned that the righteous live by faith and that faith is not an easy solution to life’s problems. Faith is confidence and trust in the character and purposes of God.
Habakkuk declared:
“Although the fig tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vine; the labour of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no meat; the flock shall be cut off from the fold, and there shall be no herd in the stalls.
“Yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the God of my salvation.
“The Lord God is my strength, and he will make my feet … to walk upon mine high places.” (Hab. 3:17–19.)
Our religion is “not weight, it is wings.” It can carry us through the dark times, the bitter cup. It will be with us in the fiery furnace and the deep pit. It will accompany us to the hospital room and to the place of bereavement. It can guarantee us the presence of a Captain on the rough voyage. It is, in short, not the path to easy disposition of problems, but the comforting assurance of the eternal light, by which we may see, and the eternal warmth, which we may feel. “The Lord is good: Blessed is the man that trusteth in him.” (Ps. 34:8.) In the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Natasha was awakened by the bird’s singing. When she opened her eyes, the room was full of light. Outside, a sparrow sat on the little board Dad had put up as a feeder for birds. The sparrow spread its feathers and cleaned them, singing, “Chik-chirik-chik!” as if to say, “Don’t you see what a beautiful morning it is? How warm the sun is!”
Natasha felt happy, as if it were a holiday. Then she saw her new white dress with pink ruffles and smiled. Of course! It is a special day! It’s Sunday, and we are going to Church, she thought.
Natasha’s parents had recently been baptized, and next year she would turn eight and could be baptized herself. She loved going to church. Everybody there was friendly. She had already learned how to read the hymns and had memorized her favorites. She loved to sing them with Mom or when she was home alone.
Today Mom’s friend Valya was going to be baptized. That was why Mom had made the beautiful new dress for Natasha. “We will all congratulate Valya, and you will give her flowers. It is going to be a real celebration!” Mom had said when they purchased some beautiful blooms the day before. She was as excited as if the flowers were for her.
The door slowly opened, and Mom looked into the room. “You are not asleep?” she asked quietly.
“A bird woke me up!” Natasha said and laughed.
“What a beautiful day!” Mom turned to Natasha. “What shall we do now?”
“Let’s pray!” Natasha said happily, rolling out of bed.
They knelt, and Mom prayed out loud, Natasha silently repeating every word after her. Mom thanked Heavenly Father for the beautiful morning, for His love, and for the scriptures, and she asked for protection for Dad, who was out of town on business.
After they prayed, they read the scriptures together. Then, while Natasha washed up, Mom made hot chocolate. They never hurried on Sunday mornings. From their first Sunday as members, they had followed a plan Mom had thought of to make Sundays special: “Let’s all wake up a little early, enjoy slowly getting ready, then walk to church. We need no more than twenty minutes to get there.” Natasha always liked the walks to and from church. It was a time to talk about their blessings and the gospel.
Now, standing in front of the mirror, Natasha looked at herself in the beautiful dress and white knee-high socks with pink bows that were a present from Dad. Her shoes matched the pink borders on her dress. Everything looked perfect. “I look like I’m ready to go to a ball,” she giggled as she twirled around.
Mom handed her the flowers for Valya, and Natasha looked like a girl on a postcard. It was the prettiest dress she had had for a long time. Mom was also in a pretty white blouse and a full skirt. What a perfect day this would be!
They left their apartment, and while Mom was locking the door, Natasha saw her friend Sveta on the stairs, a new kitten in her hands.
“Oh, he’s so cute!” exclaimed Natasha.
“Do you want to see him jump?” Sveta asked. “Watch!” She quickly set the kitten down and dragged a scrap of material with a string tied to it in front of the kitten. “This is his ‘mouse.’”
The kitten jumped up and started hilariously chasing the ‘mouse.’ Sveta barely had time to pull it away from him. All of a sudden the ‘mouse’ was on Natasha’s dress. The kitten jumped up to get it, but he couldn’t hold on, so he slid down one of Natasha’s white socks and scrunched it up.
Sveta laughed happily, and so did Natasha. But as Natasha pulled up her sock, all the laughter stopped. There was a big run in it!
Natasha looked at Mom with tears in her eyes. Sveta mumbled an apology, then quickly picked up the kitten and took off down the stairs.
“Please don’t be sad because of such a little thing,” Mom said as she unlocked the door. “We’ll find something just as good for you to wear.” She quickly found another pair of white socks in Natasha’s drawer. “These will look fine with your dress.”
Natasha quickly changed, and they left again.
“It rained a little during the night,” Mom said, pointing to the small puddles on the pavement. She took a deep breath. “The air smells good, don’t you agree?”
Natasha also took a deep breath, and agreed. The beautiful day put her back in a good mood.
By the time they got to the corner, Natasha was singing. Then a young man on a motorcycle sped by, hitting a muddy puddle in front of them and splashing it on her face and dress. She heard her mom say, “Don’t open your eyes, Natasha, until I wipe them off for you.”
When Natasha opened her eyes and saw muddy water dripping off her dress, she didn’t want to believe it, so she closed her eyes again. “Why, Mom? Why? We prayed and we read the scriptures and we wanted this to be a perfect day for Valya’s baptism. Why is everything going wrong? Doesn’t Heavenly Father love us?”
Mom quickly put her finger up to Natasha’s lips. “Please don’t think that.” She knelt beside her daughter. “Prayer is not like money that you pay at the store and right then get something for yourself. Sometimes we don’t know why things happen, but usually we can use what happens to us to learn how to be more like our Heavenly Father.”
“It’s his fault!” Natasha angrily looked in the direction the motorcyclist had gone.
“I hope that he didn’t do it on purpose. Look—the puddle is very small. Who would have known that it is deep? Either way, we need to forgive him and go on. If we hurry home and change, we won’t be late to the meeting.” She smiled and took Natasha’s hand, and they ran home.
Mom had to change into another skirt and blouse too. Natasha put on a blue dress with small white flowers and plain blue socks.
Mom gently rinsed off the bouquet of flowers in the shower: “Look—the flowers got even prettier!” Mom smiled happily, as if the accident were a blessing.
Natasha also smiled and thought how great it was that she has such a good and kind mom. They ran to the trolley and made it to the meeting on time.
As they started to sing the first hymn, Natasha forgot all her problems. In front of her sat a thin, pale girl named Oksana, who was often ill. Natasha knew that Oksana’s life was hard. She lived with a little brother, who was also often sick, and their elderly grandma. Mom had given them a lot of her and Natasha’s clothes and, when she could afford it, bought them groceries too.
Natasha saw that Oksana’s dress was very old. It had been worn out in the sun so much that the designs on the shoulders had all faded away, and next to the collar was a carefully sewn-on patch. Natasha looked at her own dress. Even though she wasn’t wearing her new dress, she was very well-dressed compared to Oksana. Suddenly Natasha felt uncomfortable and her cheeks became hot. She thought of how ungrateful she had been for all the clothes she had. And she knew that she would have felt really uncomfortable around Oksana, who had so little, if she’d worn her new, white dress.
After sacrament meeting, Natasha quietly whispered to Mom, “Do you remember when you sewed my white dress, you said there would be enough material left for another one? Could we make a dress for Oksana?”
“Good thinking.” Mom quietly kissed Natasha’s cheek. “There’s even some pink ribbon left, but we will talk about it at home, OK?”
Natasha couldn’t answer. Her throat got all tight and her chest got really warm, so she could only nod.
For Primary, all the children went into another room with Sister Melikovná. They had a lesson, then sang hymns, drew, and learned a poem for family home evening.
After church was the baptismal service for Valya. Mom gave a talk about being grateful for the Church and the blessing it was in her life. Natasha realized that she didn’t need to be wearing a beautiful dress in order for a baptismal service to be perfect. She only needed to have a happy and grateful heart.

When we arrived in Merthyr, the scene had already been set by those who had been directing our lives for the past year. It felt as though we were in a giant genealogical chess game over which we had no control. Terry was beginning to feel the same forces in action as well. Every morning he would present us with a list of places we would visit that day. One day he showed us his list, which had two sides. He said that he created one list the night before and then this morning, for some unknown reason, he changed it and added a new place: Gadfield Elm Chapel in Gloucestershire. He said he didn’t know why he added it but thought it would be interesting for us to see. Of course, we acquiesced.
Miracle number eight: As we got to Gadfield Elm we discovered the reason. The first ownership of the chapel was given to Wilford Woodruff by the United Brethren, but it rested on or near brother Benbow’s farm. Many of the early members were baptized in Benbow’s pond. And Benbow was the maiden name of Terry’s wife. Terry was stunned. He kept saying he had no idea why he had changed the itinerary for the day, but we all knew why.

In my own family there is a story of a young woman who had the courage to start to teach doctrine when she was only a new convert with little education. And the fact that the effects of her teaching haven’t ended gives me patience to wait for the fruits of my own efforts.

Mary Bommeli was my great-grandmother. I never met her. Her granddaughter heard her tell her story and wrote it down.

Mary was born in 1830. The missionaries taught her family in Switzerland when she was 24. She was still living at home, weaving and selling cloth to help support her family on their small farm. When the family heard the doctrine of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ, they knew it was true. They were baptized. Mary’s brothers were called on missions, going without purse or scrip. The rest of the family sold their possessions to go to America to gather with the Saints.

There was not enough money for all to go. Mary volunteered to stay behind because she felt she could earn enough from her weaving to support herself and save for her passage. She found her way to Berlin and to the home of a woman who hired her to weave cloth for the family’s clothing. She lived in a servant’s room and set up her loom in the living area of the home.

It was against the law then to teach the doctrine of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Berlin. But Mary could not keep the good news to herself. The woman of the house and her friends would gather around the loom to hear the Swiss girl teach. She talked about the appearance of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ to Joseph Smith, of the visitation of angels, and of the Book of Mormon. When she came to the accounts of Alma, she taught the doctrine of the Resurrection.

That caused some problems with her weaving. In those days, many children died very young. The women around the loom had lost children in death, some of them several children. When Mary taught the truth that little children were heirs of the celestial kingdom and that those women might again be with them and with the Savior and our Heavenly Father, tears rolled down the faces of the women. Mary cried too. All those tears falling got the cloth wet that Mary had woven.

Mary’s teaching created a more serious problem. Even though Mary begged the women not to talk about what she told them, they did. They shared the joyous doctrine with their friends. So one night there was a knock at the door. It was the police. They took Mary off to jail. On the way, she asked the policeman for the name of the judge she was to appear before the next morning. She asked if he had a family. She asked if he was a good father and a good husband. The policeman smiled as he described the judge as a man of the world.

At the jail, Mary asked for a pencil and some paper. She wrote a letter to the judge. She wrote about the Resurrection of Jesus Christ as described in the Book of Mormon, about the spirit world, and about how long the judge would have to think and to consider his life before facing the final judgment. She wrote that she knew he had much to repent of which would break his family’s heart and bring him great sorrow. She wrote through the night. In the morning she asked the policeman to take her letter to the judge. He did.

Later, the policeman was summoned by the judge to his office. The letter Mary had written was irrefutable evidence that she was teaching the gospel and so breaking the law. Nevertheless, it wasn’t long until the policeman came back to Mary’s cell. He told her that all charges were dismissed and that she was free to go, on the conditions she had stated in her letter. Her teaching the doctrine of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ had opened eyes and hearts enough to get her cast into jail. And her declaring the doctrine of repentance to the judge got her cast out of jail (see Theresa Snow Hill, Life and Times of Henry Eyring and Mary Bommeli [1997], 15–22).

Another great example from the scriptures is Nephi. From him, I learned to trust the Lord rather than complain. Let me explain. When I left the Philippines to get a master’s degree at Brigham Young University, I promised that I would come back. When the time came for my family and me to return, the decision was not easy because I thought that opportunities in my home country were not as promising or rewarding as those in the United States. But because I had given my word, my wife and I decided to exercise faith as Nephi and do what the Lord would have us do.
Even though I had already worked before, I had to start over financially. Money was scarce, and opportunities took time to bear fruit. Then all three of our children got sick, and our savings disappeared. It was one of the toughest times of our lives.
Our youngest son developed a type of tuberculosis. He had to have medicine that was expensive, and he had to take it for nine months. I remember looking in my wallet, and there was no money. My wife asked me how we would be able to feed the children.
During those times, you ask questions. And if you’re not careful, you can become like Laman and Lemuel and start murmuring and become bitter. You feel like life is unfair. It would have been easy for me to think: “I’m a returned missionary. I served the Lord. We pay our tithing. We serve in the Church. Where are the blessings?” But we remained active, we served in our callings, and we got by. My brother and his wife helped us financially, and I finally found a job. It was barely enough, and it paid less than what I had earned before I left for school. I felt I was a failure.
Finally, after several years, my wife and I decided that wondering and worrying weren’t helping. We said, “Let’s stop murmuring, trust in the Lord, and be happy with what we have.” And right after that, things turned around. I got several job offers and was able to choose the best one. I was called as the bishop of our ward. It seemed the blessings just flowed.

For this story you will need 5? x 6? (12.5 cm x 15 cm) piece of paper, pencil, scissors, and crayons or colored pencils. Fold the paper in half lengthwise and trace pattern onto it. As you read the story, cut as directed.
Fold Pattern
Every Friday was show-and-tell day at Mi Lee’s school. Mrs. Green, her teacher, had made show-and-tell time a game. If you had something to share, you were to bring it to school all covered up so that it would be a secret. Then, during show-and-tell time, you would give the other children clues about your surprise, and they would try to guess what it was. (Cut 1 to 2.)
Mi Lee watched while her classmates shared a doll with hair that grew, a rocket that zoomed toward the ceiling, a book with pages that folded out into a house, and a collection of tiny glass animals. But Mi Lee hadn’t yet taken anything to share. (Cut on dotted line, 2 to 3.)
Then one day Mi Lee received a package from her grandfather in Japan. (Cut 3 to 4.)
The next day Mi Lee carried a large paper bag to school (Cut 4 to 5.)
When Mrs. Green called on her, Mi Lee gave these clues:
“Sometimes it’s open; sometimes it’s closed.” (Cut 5 to 6.)
“When it’s open, it’s too big to go through a door, but I can carry it in one hand.” (Cut 6 to 7.)
“I can use it on hot, sunny days or I can use it on wet, rainy days. What is it?” (Cut 7 to 8.)
Unfold the paper and see what Mi Lee shared, then color it.

Linda and Robbie came poking down the stairway of the old farmhouse where Grandma and Grandpa lived. They always dawdled when it was time to go home.
“Hurry up!” Mom called out. And Dad’s voice came from outside, urging them to get a move on.
The children hurried a little faster, but not much. They hugged Grandma and Grandpa good-bye and then got into the back of the car. When Dad turned the ignition key, there was a strange whirring noise. When he tried to start the car again—nothing.
“Oh, no!” he cried.
Grandpa walked over to the car. “What is it, Ben?”
Dad shook his head. “The starting motor’s on the hummer.”
“Won’t the car go?” Robbie asked.
“No, it won’t,” Dad replied.
“Then I guess we’ll just have to stay here for Thanksgiving,” Linda said, a note of hope in her voice.
“I have to get home for that business meeting tomorrow,” Dad agonized. “But how can I?”
“Well,” Grandpa suggested, “you could take my car.”
Dad looked surprised. “You mean Lisbeth? That old Model T?”
“Only car I have,” Grandpa replied.
“I wouldn’t dare,” Dad said. “I’ve never driven a Model T. Besides, it—it might break down!”
“It’s easy to drive,” Grandpa persuaded, “and it’s been running for over fifty years. Don’t think it’ll break down now.”
“Oh, let’s!” Linda said. “I love Lisbeth.”
Grandpa and Dad went out to the barn, and Linda and Robbie trailed along behind. Grandpa opened the barn door, and there waited Lisbeth—shiny and black. Her top was folded down for nice weather, and there were side curtains to snap in place when the top was up during bad weather.
There were two little levers on the steering wheel, and Grandpa adjusted them just so, then he went around in front of Lisbeth and took hold of the crank. He turned it a couple of times and Lisbeth started. The children climbed in back, with Grandpa and Dad in front. Grandpa told Dad what to do. Dad drove Lisbeth around the barnyard and between the chicken coops a couple of times to get the feel of it. When he felt confident that he could drive it, he parked the Model T beside his own car. After they had loaded everything and everyone into Lisbeth, Dad released the hand brake, then pushed one of the foot pedals, adjusted the throttle lever, and they were on their way down the lane.
Lisbeth’s engine was noisy. Her body rattled, and the ride was not very smooth. Dad frowned. But Mom hid a grin, while Linda and Robbie squealed and bounced up and down on the back seat. At the end of the lane they pulled up onto a blacktop road. Lisbeth ran more smoothly and rattled less, but she was slow. “It’ll take a week to get home at this rate,” Dad muttered.
“Pull her ears down,” Robbie said, pointing to the little levers on the steering column. “That’s what Grandpa does.”
Dad pulled the little levers all the way down and Lisbeth ran faster, but not much.
Dad pulled into the first service station they came to. The station man looked at the old car and frowned. “That’s Mr. Jackson’s car,” he said. “What are you doing with it?”
“He’s my grandpa,” Linda piped up. “We had to borrow it.”
“I’d like the tank filled,” said Dad, getting out of the car and removing the front seat cushion that covered the gas tank. “And please check the oil and tires too.”
Soon they were on their way again, rolling along a superhighway.
The newer cars whooshed past. Horns honked, and people laughed and waved. Linda and Robbie waved back, and Dad hunched down lower in the seat.
Then Robbie said, “Uh, oh. There’s a police car right behind us with its red light flashing.”
Dad pulled onto the shoulder of the road and stopped. The policeman parked behind their car and came up to them.
“What’s wrong, officer?” Dad inquired.
“See that sign just ahead?” the officer asked, pointing. “It says you have to drive at least forty-five miles an hour on this freeway.”
Dad nodded. “I’d be glad to, officer, but Lisbeth—this car—just can’t quite go forty-five miles an hour.”
“Then you’ll have to leave the freeway at the next off ramp,” the officer said. “Sorry.”
Dad drove down the off ramp to an older, rougher road. “I don’t think we’ll make it home today,” Dad said. “I’m sure Lisbeth doesn’t have very powerful lights. If dark catches us, we’ll have to stop at a motel.”
“Like a vacation!” Linda shouted. “That’ll be fun, huh, Robbie?”
Lisbeth bounced and clattered along, and the sun dropped lower and lower in the sky. Dad turned the lights on, but they weren’t very bright. A little later Dad pulled into a motel, and they rented a big room for the night. The family played games, watched TV, and then went to bed.
Early the next morning Dad got everyone up. Linda and Robbie grumbled, but Dad paid no attention. “I have to get to my business meeting before noon,” he said, “and Mother needs to do some shopping for Thanksgiving tomorrow.”
Lisbeth didn’t much want to start, and Dad had to crank and crank, but finally the old engine came to life and the family was on its way. They watched the sun come up, then they saw their town just ahead.
Linda sighed. “We’re almost home. I wish we were just starting. Lisbeth is lots more fun than our car.”
Dad grunted. They started down Main Street but soon came to an intersection where a policeman came toward them, waving his arms.
He gave them a big smile and motioned for them to go right on down Main Street, although he was directing other cars onto a side street. Dad drove on, then had to slow down to keep from running over a clown riding a motorcycle. Another clown rode up behind them, then both clowns began riding their motorcycles round and round Lisbeth.
Linda looked on down the street where there was a band, horses, more clowns, and big floating balloons. She looked back and saw more of the same.
“Whoopie!” Robbie called out suddenly. “We’re in a parade!”
And they were—in a big Thanksgiving parade. At first Dad frowned, then he looked at Linda and Robbie and laughed. “Guess I’ll just have to be a little later for that meeting than I thought,” he said. “But I’ll be thankful if I get to it at all.”
Mom gave him a hug. “I’m glad that you can see how much fun the kids are having.”
Linda took a deep breath and looked back and forth as they drove slowly down the street between the crowds of people.
“I’m thankful for Grandma, Grandpa, and Lisbeth,” she said. “This is the most fun ever.”
Lisbeth chugged along to the end of the parade, then on home. Dad turned off the engine. “Whooee!” he sighed. “We’re all glad that’s over, aren’t we?” he asked with a sly grin.
“Oh, Dad, that was fun,” Linda said. “It isn’t every day we get to ride in a parade!”

Family members, especially spouses, probably have the greatest need for trust. And they should be able to have the greatest confidence in one another. Yet there are those who violate that trust. I still remember two men I worked with nearly eighteen years ago. Upon learning that I was engaged to be married, they proceeded to tell me some extremely personal things about their wives. I didn’t want to hear it, and I got away from the presence of these men as quickly as I could. I wish I had had the maturity to tell them kindly that I didn’t want to hear such things and that their wives would likely be horrified at this betrayal. But even then I did have the maturity to see the enormous wrong these men were doing and to vow that I would never betray my wife in such a way.

In April 1990, Jakub and I hitchhiked to Austria. In Vienna we met two nice women standing on the sidewalk of a busy street. One of them was holding the Book of Mormon in Polish. She told us about Jesus’s visit to the people of ancient America and promised to mail the book to our homes if we gave her our addresses. We also opened our address books and copied addresses of many of our friends. We thought it would be a nice surprise for them to receive a gift.
A few months later the Poland Warsaw Mission was established, and four missionaries arrived in our city. Later, I learned that the large number of “referrals”—our friends’ addresses—played a key role in the decision to open our city for the missionaries. To my surprise a few months later, Jakub told me that two “Mormon” missionaries had visited him and that he had decided to join their church.

The last file we’ll look at is probably the biggest. It’s been around the longest. Anthony’s first job was as a bagger at a grocery store on an air base. He saved 25 percent of his money for his mission fund at first. He later got a job at a car wash through a friend in his seminary class. He’s been working there ever since and has been saving half his earnings for his mission. A few months ago, however, Anthony realized he wouldn’t meet his goal if he maintained this saving pattern. He would have to step it up. So he cut his other expenses and started putting away much more money. And he counts it as a blessing of paying tithing that he also got a raise at work. He’s going to make it.
And it’s a good thing too, because he just got his mission call to Boise, Idaho. Because he’s been through saving for his mission, Anthony has some advice: “Be prepared to work for your money, but I can testify that when you work to earn as much as you can, then the Lord will take care of the rest.”
He also counsels other young men and women preparing for missions to be spiritually ready. He reads his scriptures every night and morning, studies Church history, memorizes the scripture mastery scriptures, and listens to advice from his parents, among other things, all in preparation for his mission.
Like Nathan Neeley, Anthony also remembers being inspired when he sang “I Hope They Call Me on a Mission” in Primary. Through his faith, diligence, and preparation, the hymn he’s singing now is “Called to Serve” (Hymns, no. 249).

One sweltering July day, I helped my brother-in-law build a retaining wall. This project eventually pitted me against the roots of a blossoming cherry tree that was in the way.
“Easy,” I thought.
I gathered the appropriate tools and dug around the roots to make room to work. Then I grabbed a saw and, without a second thought, went to work cutting the roots. The smaller roots cut easily, but when I moved to the larger roots, I quickly realized that they weren’t going to be as easy. One root in particular was difficult.
Gritting my teeth, I was determined to cut through that root. Sweat rolled down my neck from the glaring sun overhead as I squeezed the saw tighter. The saw vibrated until my entire body shook. I could feel my right hand—the one squeezing the saw trigger—start to burn with pain. I ignored the pain and kept holding on.
Finally, the saw cut through the root. I released the trigger and felt the sweet pleasure of victory. As I removed my glove, however, I noticed a small piece of skin had been torn from my hand.
As I thought about this experience, I realized that holding on to the saw was, in a way, like holding fast to the iron rod. We are told to hold fast to the iron rod as we move through life. But just because we hold fast to it doesn’t mean we won’t experience moments of pain. I injured my hand as I clung to the saw. In a similar way, we will pass through trials and tribulations as we continually hold fast to the iron rod.
Heavenly Father knew that the journey back to Him would be fraught with peril. That’s why He has given us the scriptures and words of the prophets to help us. As we hold on to these things through our trials and tribulations in mortality, we will one day return to His presence.
When we return to Him, we will be able to look down at our hands, which held fast to the iron rod, sometimes in spite of pain or difficulty. And we will know that with the help of Heavenly Father and through the atoning power of Jesus Christ, we held on tightly, no matter what obstacles we encountered.

Brothers and Sisters, I testify that God loves you and knows you personally. Let me share an experience that helped me understand this truth. In the 1980s, my full-time starting salary was only $18,000 a year, so I was living from paycheck to paycheck with no savings in the bank. Does that sound familiar? When the appliances in the home started breaking down, first the refrigerator, then the stove, in order to provide food for my children, I had to use all the money I had to pay for new ones. A few weeks later, when tithing settlement time came around, I had to make an important decision.

Would I get caught up with the house payment, would I buy food and Christmas gifts, or would I use my paycheck to catch up on my tithing? Being a full tithe payer is important to me, not only to show obedience but, even more importantly, to show the love I have for our Heavenly Father and his Son, Jesus Christ. With faith, I chose to use my whole paycheck to pay my tithing and trusted in the Lord that all would be well. I told no one of our trials, but somehow, we had enough food on our table, and when we went to Church the Sunday before Christmas, as we left the chapel, there was a bag of presents left on our car. As we arrived home, there were more gifts left on our porch. I was grateful for earthly angels who listened with their hearts to the promptings of the Spirit to bless our little family. It is one of the most memorable Christmases we ever had.

The story doesn?t end there. though. The day before Christmas, I got a call from my Aunt Peggy, who lived 5,000 miles away in Maryland. Yes, the same persistent loving aunty who was part of our conversion story. When I answered the phone on that December night, she asked me right away, “How are you doing?” Years had passed since I last saw and spoke with her. I was too embarrassed to share my financial struggles, so I mustered up all the courage I had and replied, “Oh, we?re fine.” Then she explained that she had a dream, and in her dream, I was crying. As soon as she said that, uncontrollable tears began to flow, and I started to explain our problems.

She compassionately responded that she would put a check in the mail the very next day for $1,000 to help. For me, that was an incredible amount of money. After thanking her profusely and hanging up the phone, I couldn?t sleep. The Spirit kept stirring in my heart as I contemplated the miracle that just happened. The Lord had answered my prayer through a loving, inspired aunty, definitely one of my earthly angels. I picked up the scriptures and felt prompted to read in Matthew. I started with chapter 1 and kept reading until I got to Matthew 6, the beautiful sermon on the mount. As I read, it was as though the Savior himself was speaking to me.

It might seem like it would be hard to spend Christmas in another country, away from friends and familiar traditions, but Natalie Bone, a Laurel in the Orem Utah Lakeridge Stake, Lakeridge Eighth Ward, will tell you it can be the very best way to spend a holiday.
“It wasn’t really hard to be away,” she says. “It felt like I was really doing something purposeful.”
Natalie and her parents spent last Christmas at an orphanage in Cuautemoc, Chihuahua, Mexico. While they were there, Natalie distributed to the children gifts purchased with money that was donated by members of Natalie’s ward, her classmates, and others who are friends with Natalie’s family.
“I was impressed at how polite and appreciative the children were. They each shared their gifts with the others. I learned a great lesson about being grateful and sharing,” says Natalie.

Almost 40 years ago my husband and I went to the temple for our Friday night date. We had been married only a short time, and I was nervous because this was only my second time as a newlywed. A sister sitting next to me must have noticed. She leaned over and whispered reverently, “Don’t worry. I’ll help you.” My fears were calmed, and I was able to enjoy the rest of the temple session. She first observed, then served.

Brad took to Scouting with the same gusto as the other boys his age. Hiking, swimming, and other strenuous activities didn’t discourage him. He asked no special treatment in passing his Scouting tests, and he got none. A Scoutmaster recalls the astonishment of canoeing instructors at Bear Lake when Brad emerged from the water wearing his “fishing leg.” Some of the merit badges, Life Saving for example, were especially difficult, but they were goals, and they were met.

Brad’s leg has never been a source of embarrassment to himself or his family, so it has never been a source of embarrassment to others. There is something about Brad that makes it easier to envy him than to pity him. He was always expected to do his share of the work at home and to accomplish just as much outside the home as the other children. He was also allowed to take part in the rough and tumble play of the neighborhood boys the same as everyone else. His “handicap was simply never treated as a limiting factor.

In fact, it gave him a rather novel way of having fun. Throughout school he delighted in playing tricks on substitute teachers by such little devices as calmly turning his leg around backwards in class, or kicking it off entirely in the middle of a spirited game of playground ball. One little classmate was so impressed with the possibilities that he went home and tearfully demanded “a leg like Brad’s.”

An incident that took place one summer typifies Brad’s attitude. “I was at the swimming pool and had on my fishing leg, of course. A little boy saw it, and of course he pointed and said right out loud, ‘Look, Mommy! That guy’s leg!’ His mom was embarrassed. I walked over to her and said, ‘Don’t worry; you’ve got a good boy there; he’s observant. Don’t try to cover it up. I’m not.’”

Now is the time of year when most of us get out a clean sheet of paper and write down a list of new year’s resolutions we have absolutely no intention of keeping. We will find plenty of “handicaps” along the way to use as excuses for failure, and then next year we will still have the same unaccomplished goals to put down on another clean sheet of paper.

This year when we get ready to abandon the last resolution on the list, perhaps we should form a mental picture of a red-headed young man with freckles, in a green and white jersey, with absolutely no handicaps, lining up a field goal.

Maybe we can’t all kick a 49-yard field goal; our talents don’t all lie in the same areas. But we can do a lot more than we are doing, and there’s no better time to begin than right now at the beginning of a new year.

That’s part of Brad’s philosophy too. “What you do now—your habits, studies, morals, goals—it all adds up to what you’re going to be in the end.”

A decade later I was serving as a United States Marine security guard for the American Embassy in the Republic of Djibouti, a small country in northeast Africa. I decided to search for the truth, so I read the Bible cover to cover. As I grew closer to God, I realized the Bible was the true word of God. I did not have to rely on the testimony of my father. But I felt I still did not have the whole truth, and I longed to know why I felt compelled never to drink, smoke, or swear and to remain morally clean. Why did I always strive to obey the commandments?
After 15 months I was reassigned to the American Embassy in Pretoria, South Africa. I was selected as the first Black Marine security guard ever to serve in South Africa. In each place I was assigned, I was handpicked because of my standards. Interestingly, U.S. president Bill Clinton phoned to ask me to accept the South Africa assignment. Those were some of the reasons I received many recognitions and awards.
In South Africa I met the Cleverlys, who were members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The mother of the family invited me to their home at various times. She always told me about young adult activities, but I could never attend due to my job schedule. Then she invited me to attend church, and I accepted. But before Sunday came, I had three nights of duty. I went downstairs to the embassy library where there was a computer with a huge search capacity. I just typed in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. All kinds of information came up, and I read for eight hours the first night, eight hours the second night, and eight hours the third night. What I looked at most of all was what Latter-day Saints believed and how they applied it in their lives. Did they live according to what they had established as laws or standards of the Church?
The week preceding my visit to church, I had a dream. I was sitting at a table, and there were two young men with white short-sleeved shirts and black name tags. They were sitting at the sides of a table, and I was seated at the head. When I woke up, I didn’t think much about the dream.
The first time I walked into a Latter-day Saint meeting, I knew there was something different about this church. It happened to be the first Sunday of the month, which meant the members had an opportunity to stand and bear testimony. Now this is the true order of church, I thought.
I was introduced to two missionaries. One of the young men was one of those in my dream, the exact person. Sister Cleverly invited the missionaries and me to her home for dinner. She placed us at the table exactly as my dream had predicted. The missionaries began teaching me.
Later, when I learned the principle of baptism for the dead, I thought it amazing that one could go to a sacred place and do these things for people who had passed away. I thought about my two grandfathers and my grandmother who had passed away. That’s when I started to feel the Holy Ghost. The teachings sounded right to me.
We got to the next principle, which was about families, and I realized I had always known that was true. When I heard about eternal families, I told the missionaries, “I knew this existed.”
Then the missionaries taught me about the Word of Wisdom, and it was then I made a discovery. It felt as if my soul unfolded, and I shed a sort of shell and a new person came out. I felt like I was floating off the ground. I had always lived the Word of Wisdom, and I had wanted to know why I was the way I was. No one had ever had the answer for me. But the Lord did, and I learned that answer through the missionaries and the discussions. I knew everything they had taught me previously was true and everything they would teach me would be true. I had never felt the Spirit so strongly reading the scriptures as when I read Doctrine and Covenants 89:18–21. I knew it was true. I always knew my body was important, and I knew it was never to be defiled.
From this point forward, I began to experience mixed emotions about becoming a member of the Church. I was concerned about my father’s opinion and his reaction to my decision.
During the sixth discussion, I received the message that I had an incoming call from my father. The phone rang. I picked it up, and it was indeed my dad.
He said, “Your mother informed me you’ve made a decision to join the Latter-day Saints.”
I said yes.
He said, “I’m here to prevent that from happening.”
And I said, “You know what, Dad? I love you and you’ll always be my dad. You’ve done a great job with me. But I’m 22. I’m a man now, and these decisions are for my family and my future. I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for me and will continue to do for me, but this is my decision. I’m going to do it, and I know the Lord wants me to do this.”
My dad wasn’t very happy when he hung up the phone. Immediately I got on my knees and asked the Lord to help me see and understand that what I was going to do was correct. I was thousands of kilometers from home. I was all alone, and nothing was going right. Only when I was with the missionaries did I feel good. At that moment the Spirit testified to me that it was the Lord’s will and that the Lord wanted me to be baptized. A very clear voice said, “You are to do the Lord’s will. You are to follow His example.” Then I knew. I never looked back after that. I was baptized on 12 October 1995.
It was a year to the day of my baptism, 12 October 1996, that I entered the Washington D.C. Temple to be endowed in preparation for serving full time in the Spain Madrid Mission.
During the first year of my mission, my parents were not supportive of my missionary service. The Lord revealed to me while I was on my mission that my family was fine and they would be taken care of. Then things changed all of a sudden. The last six to eight months of my mission, my family was very supportive. They said they were receiving blessings, and they knew it was because of my mission.
After I returned from my mission, I stayed with my family for three weeks before leaving to enter Brigham Young University. Before school started my father visited me, meeting my friends and seeing Salt Lake City. When I took him to the airport, he embraced me and said, “Out of all 46 years of my life, never ever have I felt more love or the Spirit of God in my home than when you were home the last few weeks. I know we owe it to the service you gave in Spain for two years.”