Gospel Story Finder

“The missionary work of the Church is a panorama of more than a century of service and privations and hardships and sacrifices. The closer one is to the program, the more completely one can understand and appreciate it. When my grandfather Heber C. Kimball left for his mission, he and Brigham Young left their families destitute and ill and they themselves needed help to get into the carriage which took them from their homes. As they started off they raised themselves … and waved back to their weeping wives and children. Thousands of people came into the Church as a result of those missions, and tens of thousands have been benefited indirectly and are now enjoying the blessings of the gospel because of those sacrifices. To one who did not understand, such devotion and sacrifice on the part of those men would have been considered foolhardy and silly. But to the Young and Kimball families it was a mark of great faith. And to the thousands who will, through the eternities, call the names of those missionaries blessed, the privations and sacrifice were not wasted.”—President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985), The Teachings of Spencer W. Kimball, ed. Edward L. Kimball (1982), 253.

Not long after we were married, we built our first home. We had very little money. I did much of the work myself. It would be called “sweat equity” today. The landscaping was entirely my responsibility. The first of many trees that I planted was a thornless honey locust. Envisioning the day when its filtered shade would assist in cooling the house in the summertime, I put it in a place at the corner where the wind from the canyon to the east blew the hardest. I dug a hole, put in the bare root, put soil around it, poured on water, and largely forgot it. It was only a wisp of a tree, perhaps three-quarters of an inch in diameter. It was so supple that I could bend it with ease in any direction. I paid little attention to it as the years passed.
Then one winter day, when the tree was barren of leaves, I chanced to look out the window at it. I noticed that it was leaning to the west, misshapen and out of balance. I could scarcely believe it. I went out and braced myself against it as if to push it upright. But the trunk was now nearly a foot in diameter. My strength was as nothing against it. I took from my toolshed a block and tackle. Attaching one end to the tree and another to a well-set post, I pulled the rope. The pulleys moved a little, and the trunk of the tree trembled slightly. But that was all. It seemed to say, “You can’t straighten me. It’s too late. I’ve grown this way because of your neglect, and I will not bend.”
Finally in desperation I took my saw and cut off the great heavy branch on the west side. The saw left an ugly scar, more than eight inches across. I stepped back and surveyed what I had done. I had cut off the major part of the tree, leaving only one branch growing skyward.
More than half a century has passed since I planted that tree. My daughter and her family live there now. The other day I looked again at the tree. It is large. Its shape is better. It is a great asset to the home. But how serious was the trauma of its youth and how brutal the treatment I used to straighten it.
When it was first planted, a piece of string would have held it in place against the forces of the wind. I could have and should have supplied that string with ever so little effort. But I did not, and it bent to the forces that came against it.

I am an 18-year-old exchange student in Mexico, and I really have to thank you for the New Era. I always get it on time—in more ways than one, come to think of it, because it always answers a current problem or doubt.
Practically everything in the September issue held a special meaning for me. The Mormonad inspired me to share the gospel with some friends, especially some other exchange students who were starved for English reading material. Soon my New Era began making the rounds, closely followed by tracts and visits to the local LDS chapel.
Needless to say, October’s missionary issue really came in handy. One special friend has continued attending Church with me regularly and taken the missionary discussions.
November’s article “Self Denial” was extremely appropriate since it was a big temptation to spend Sunday afternoons going to parties or picnics with my friends instead of going to Church.
December’s issue taught me with new clarity what living the gospel means. It’s not something to be thought of once a year but an integral part of our lives. That issue really helped me through the Christmas season. I’ve thanked Heavenly Father hundreds of times for the New Era and my mother for the subscription she was inspired to send me here in Mexico.
Edna F. GuzmanSaltillo, Coahuila, Mexico

I frequently found myself returning home from a busy day’s work, still under great pressures to complete an assignment before the following morning, only to find I had been committed to an act of compassionate service that night. As we would drive to our place of service, I would be mumbling under my breath, “Why me tonight? How will I ever get that job done before morning?” Then we would arrive at the place of service, and I would see the light in her eyes as she would perform her acts of mercy. I would see children dance with joy and parents weep with gratitude for her concern. On the way home I was mumbling a different tune. I was thanking the Lord for the privilege of being there that particular night.

Let me give an example. Some years ago, a young couple we will call the Joneses visited with their bishop about a problem the wife had. The details are not important, but through the direction of the Spirit, the bishop’s decision was that, among other things, Sister Jones would not partake of the sacrament for a period of time while she worked out some attitudes and problems.

With lots of love and support, she continued to attend meetings with her family, and few but her husband and the bishop were aware of the situation or even noticed that week after week she did not partake of the sacrament. At first she didn’t feel much difference; but as time went on, she became more and more desirous to be worthy to partake of the sacrament. She thought she had repented before, but as the real soul-searching deepened and as her desire to worthily partake of the sacrament increased, true fundamental changes began to take place in her life and in her actions and in her thinking.

More time passed. Finally, during one sacrament meeting, the Spirit bore witness to the bishop and to Brother and Sister Jones that the time had come for her to again partake of the sacrament. “Next Sunday,” the bishop said.

Next Sunday came, and Sister Jones sat again with her family, nervous, yet excited and full of anticipation. “Am I really worthy? How I want to be!” she thought. The sacrament hymn was more meaningful than ever. She sang with such feeling that it was difficult to hold back the tears. And the sacrament prayers—how profound! She listened so intently that every word sank deep into her soul—to take his name, always remember him, keep his commandments, always have his Spirit. (See D&C 20:77, 79.) “Oh, how I desire this,” she thought.

The deacons began to move up and down the aisles, and the trays were passed from person to person across the rows. As one young deacon got closer and closer to her row, her heart began to pound harder and harder. Then the tray was coming down her very row. Now her husband was holding the tray in front of her! Tears streamed down her face. There was a barely audible sob of joy, “Oh!” as she reached for the emblem of the Lord’s love for her. The congregation did not hear the sob, but they did notice the tears in the bishop’s eyes.

Life and hope and forgiveness and spiritual strength had been given and received. No one could be more worthy. Sister Jones truly wanted to have his Spirit. She wanted to take his name upon her. With all her heart, she wanted to remember him and keep his commandments. She wanted to repent, to improve, and to follow the guidance of his Spirit.

My dear brothers and sisters, as October general conference approached last year, I prepared my conference talk to highlight the 100th anniversary of the vision of the spirit world given to President Joseph F. Smith on October 3, 1918.
A few days after I had submitted my talk for translation, my beloved eternal companion, Barbara, completed her mortal probation and passed into the spirit world.
As the days have turned into weeks, then months, and now a year since Barbara’s passing, I find myself more fully appreciating this scripture: “Thou shalt live together in love, insomuch that thou shalt weep for the loss of them that die.”1 Barbara and I were blessed to “live together in love” for 67 years. But I have learned in a very real way what it means to “weep for the loss” of those we love. Oh, how I love and miss her!
I suppose most of us fail to fully appreciate what others do for us until they are gone. I knew Barbara was always busy, but I did not fully understand the constant family, Church, and community demands upon her time. There were daily consecrated efforts repeated thousands of times through the years that kept our family functioning. And through it all, no one in our family ever heard her raise her voice or say an unkind word.
Floods of memories have washed over me this past year. I have thought about the physically demanding choice she made to be the mother of seven children. Being a homemaker was the only career she ever wanted, and she was in every aspect a consummate professional.
Often I have wondered how she kept track of our children and me. Meal preparation alone was a truly daunting task, not to mention activities such as doing the mountains of laundry our family generated every week and keeping shoes and appropriately sized clothing on the children. We all turned to her on a myriad of other issues that were important to us. And because they were important to us, they were also important to her. She was, in a word, magnificent—as a wife, as a mother, as a friend, as a neighbor, and as a daughter of God.
Now that she has moved on, I am happy that I chose to sit next to her when I came home from the office during the last few months of her life, to hold her hand as we watched the endings of some of her favorite musicals—over and over again because Alzheimer’s would not allow her to remember that she had seen them just the afternoon before. Memories of those special hand-holding sessions are now very, very precious to me.
Brothers and sisters, please do not miss an opportunity to look into the eyes of your family members with love. Children and parents, reach out to each other and express your love and appreciation. Like me, some of you may wake up one day to discover that the time for such important communication has passed. Live each day together with hearts filled with gratitude, good memories, service, and much love.
During this past year, I have pondered more intently than ever before about our Heavenly Father’s plan. In teaching his son Corianton, Alma referred to it as “the great plan of happiness.”2
The word that keeps coming to my mind now when I consider the plan is “reunion.” It is a plan, designed by our loving Father in Heaven, that has at its center the grand and glorious possibilities of family reunion—of eternally reuniting husbands and wives, parents and children, generation upon generation in the household of God.
That thought brings me comfort and the assurance that I will be with Barbara again. Although she physically suffered toward the end of her life, her spirit was strong, noble, and pure. She had prepared herself in all things so that when the day comes, she can stand before “the pleasing bar of God,”3 full of confidence and peaceful assurance. But here I am, in two days 91 years old, and I’m still wondering, “Am I ready? Am I doing everything I need to do to be able to hold her hand once again?”
The most simple, basic certainty of life is this: We are all going to die. Whether we die old or young, easy or hard, wealthy or indigent, beloved or lonely, nobody escapes death.
A few years ago, President Gordon B. Hinckley said something that is particularly meaningful about this: “How sweet is the assurance, how comforting is the peace that come from the knowledge that if we marry right and live right, our relationship will continue, notwithstanding the certainty of death and the passage of time.”4
I certainly married right. Of that there can be no doubt. But that isn’t enough, according to President Hinckley. I also have to live right.5
Today, “living right” can be a pretty confusing concept, especially if you spend much time on social media, where any voice can declare real truths or false concepts about God and His plan for His children. Thankfully, members of the Church have eternally true gospel principles to know how to live so that we might be better prepared when we must die.
Just a few months before I was born, my Apostle grandfather, Elder Melvin J. Ballard, gave a talk that, for some people, captured the essence of what it means to live right. Titled “Struggle for the Soul,” his talk focused on the ongoing battle between our physical bodies and our eternal spirits.
He said, “The greatest conflict that any man or woman will ever have … will be the battle that is had with self,” explaining that Satan, “the enemy of our souls,” attacks us through “the lusts, the appetites, the ambitions of the flesh.”6 So the primary battle is between our divine and spiritual nature and the carnal natural man. Brothers and sisters, remember, we can receive spiritual help through the influence of the Holy Ghost that can “teach you all things.”7 Help can also come through the power and blessings of the priesthood.
Now, I ask, how is this battle going with each one of you?
President David O. McKay said: “Man’s earthly existence is but a test as to whether he will concentrate his efforts, his mind, his soul, upon things which contribute to the comfort and gratification of his physical nature, or whether he will make as his life’s [purpose] the acquisition of spiritual qualities.”8
This battle between our carnal and our spiritual natures isn’t a new thing. In his final sermon to his people, King Benjamin taught that “the natural man is an enemy to God, and has been from the fall of Adam, and will be, forever and ever, unless he yields to the enticings of the Holy Spirit, and putteth off the natural man and becometh a saint through the atonement of Christ the Lord.”9
The Apostle Paul taught that “they that are after the flesh do mind the things of the flesh; but they that are after the Spirit the things of the Spirit.
“For to be carnally minded is death; but to be spiritually minded is life and peace.”10
It seems clear to me that one of the most important things we can learn in this life is how to emphasize our eternal spiritual nature and control our evil desires. This should not be that difficult. After all, our spirit, which has been around a lot longer than our physical body, has already been successful in choosing righteousness over evil in the premortal realm. Before this earth was formed, we lived in the spirit world as sons and daughters of Heavenly Parents, who loved us and continue to love us now.
And yes, we did have to make life-changing decisions and choices in that premortal realm. Every person who has ever lived or ever will live on this planet made an essential decision to choose to accept Heavenly Father’s plan for our salvation. So we all came to earth with a proven track record of a successful spiritual nature and eternal destiny.
Think about that for a moment. This is who you and I really are and who you have always been: a son or daughter of God, with spiritual roots in eternity and a future overflowing with infinite possibilities. You are—first, foremost, and always—a spiritual being. And so when we choose to put our carnal nature ahead of our spiritual nature, we are choosing something that is contrary to our real, true, authentic spiritual selves.
Still, there’s no question that flesh and earthly impulses complicate the decision-making. With a veil of forgetfulness drawn between the premortal spirit world and this mortal world, we can lose sight of our relationship to God and our spiritual nature, and our carnal nature can give priority to what we want right now. Learning to choose the things of the Spirit over the things of the flesh is one of the primary reasons why this earthly experience is part of Heavenly Father’s plan. It’s also why the plan is built upon the solid, sure foundation of the Atonement of the Lord and Savior Jesus Christ so that our sins, including the errors we make when we yield to the flesh, can be overcome through constant repentance and we can live spiritually focused. Now is the time to control our bodily appetites to comply with the spiritual doctrine of Christ. That is why we must not procrastinate the day of our repentance.11
Repentance, therefore, becomes an indispensable weapon in our battle over self. Just last general conference, President Russell M. Nelson referred to this battle and reminded us that “when we choose to repent, we choose to change! We allow the Savior to transform us into the best version of ourselves. We choose to grow spiritually and receive joy—the joy of redemption in Him. When we choose to repent, we choose to become more like Jesus Christ!”12
Every night as I review my day in prayer with my Father in Heaven, I ask to be forgiven if I did anything wrong and promise to try to be better tomorrow. I believe this regular daily repentance helps my spirit remind my body who is in charge of me.
Another resource is the weekly opportunity we all have to refresh ourselves spiritually by partaking of the sacrament in remembrance of the Atonement and the perfect love that our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, has for us.
Brothers and sisters, I encourage you to slow down a bit and think about where you are now in subjugating your carnal nature and empowering your divine, spiritual nature so when the time comes, you may pass into the spirit world to a joyful reunion with your loved ones—for which I testify and humbly pray in the sacred name of the Lord Jesus Christ, amen.

The first island reached by the ship was Tubuai in 1844. When the natives there pleaded with the missionaries to stay, Addison Pratt left the ship to teach these people who had shown them kindness and hospitality. Serving there alone for many months, struggling to learn the Polynesian language, he baptized sixty out of a population of two hundred and organized the first branch of the Church in the South Pacific. To this day, the Latter-day Saint community on Tubuai is a strong one.

When I was about your age, I learned the importance of a straight and narrow path and how difficult it was to be focused and stay on it. I grew up in a very small town in the foothills of the Canadian Rockies. My dad was a farmer, and I learned to work! Every summer I drove the tractor for him, mowing and raking hay, hauling hay bales, and plowing fields. I remember when I first started to learn to plow and cultivate a field. Dad explained the importance of plowing a straight furrow or a straight line. If you went crooked, there would be spots missed in the field and the weeds would take over. He said: “If you will keep your eye focused on the fence post across the field and let that be your goal, you will plow a straight furrow. Don’t let the bumpy terrain throw you off. It’s when you start looking at the end of the tractor that the holes and bumps take you off course and you begin to go crooked.” Then he left me to do the job.
I remembered about the fence post across the field for several rounds, then I started singing songs to make the time pass. I sang every song and hymn I knew, and those I didn’t know I made up. I was singing at the top of my lungs and having a good time when I noticed my dad walking through the field towards me. I stopped the tractor and he said, “Can you tell what has happened to the straight lines?”
I said, “What do you mean?”
He said: “Look at the line. Your first few rounds are straight, but evidently you quit paying attention to where you were plowing. You must have quit looking at the fence post across the field—your goal. Can you see that gradually each time you’ve gone around, you’ve just gone a little crooked until now there are big spots in the field?” He got on the tractor and drove a few rotations to straighten out the lines. As he got off to let me try again, he said, “Sharon, always pay attention to where you are going.”

I contrast that to the excitement a young couple shared with me. When they moved to a new ward, the husband, who had served exceptionally well with our youth, was called to an administrative position to work with adults. I was a little sad when he wasn’t still assigned to youth because of the good rapport and respect he engendered with them. But his wife said, “Don’t worry, President, my husband is still working with the youth—I’m teaching the Laurels.”
This young couple had the right idea. They knew that since they were one, they shared, where appropriate, the positions each held. They knew that they needed each other’s help to be successful.

As a member of our ward’s priests quorum, I had the responsibility to visit many members of our ward who were shut-ins and could not come to church. Every Sunday, another priest and I would pack up a tray, white cloths, small cups, and bread, and go to each of the members’ homes who couldn’t make it to church but still wanted to take the sacrament.
For the first few weeks I viewed this duty as me giving up precious napping hours every Sunday afternoon. But as I watched the deep reverence these elderly members displayed for the sacrament, my entire demeanor changed. I began to see myself as a servant who helped bless the lives of many who could not receive those blessings otherwise. As I blessed the sacrament each week, I felt greater gravity and peace in the words to “remember Him” and “keep His commandments.”
Many youth today see the teenage years as a time to have fun, live it up, and party. As young men of the priesthood, we can’t afford to participate in anything that inhibits us from being clean and pure. Being called upon regularly to exercise my duties as an Aaronic Priesthood holder changed my life forever and instilled in me a profound desire to always remember who I am and to live a life of worthiness and service.
Knowing that it was up to me, a 16-year-old young man, to be the vessel to provide the sacrament to many who needed help urged me to live up to my full priesthood potential.

Elizabeth: That’s an exciting concept to me because of an experience I had last year. I was attending a college where I was the only Mormon. My roommate knew me both before and after I became active in the Church and had even investigated the Church once herself. During this time I was trying very hard to live the way I was supposed to, and so I stayed home a lot of times when my friends were out at parties, R-rated movies, etc. My roommate never said very much to me about the Church or the way I had changed my life, but when I left that school and came to BYU, I received a letter from her. She told me how much she had appreciated the example I had set and that she hadn’t realized the friend I had been to her because of it. But the best part of all is that she also decided to reinvestigate the Church.

My boyhood home was surrounded by alfalfa fields. When I was nine years old, I cleared a small plot on the edge of the fields to plant a garden. In early spring, I planted a single pumpkin seed and cared for it each day, eager for it to sprout. Within days, to my delight, small green leaves pushed through the soil. Over the days and weeks that followed, I marveled at the rapid rate of growth of my small, single pumpkin seed. With divine components of seed, soil, sunlight, and water, my small seed miraculously transformed into multiple vines stretching out in all directions.
A short time later, green bulbs appeared where orange and yellow flowers had just bloomed. And over the course of the summer, the bulbs transformed into large, orange pumpkins. When the harvest arrived, I cut open my pumpkins. I was astonished! Each pumpkin had produced hundreds and hundreds of seeds.
You might be thinking to yourself, “That’s great, but what does this pumpkin seed have to do with me as a young adult?” Well, in observing the seemingly endless supply of seeds from my harvest, I suddenly understood how, with God’s help, the finite (one seed) could be transformed into the infinite and eternal. I saw that “with God nothing shall be impossible” (Luke 1:37). I experienced the truth of the scriptural words “by small and simple things are great things brought to pass” (Alma 37:6).
Those who know me well know that I still often carry a pumpkin seed in my pocket to remind me of the important life lesson learned: Heavenly Father can take something as small as a seed of love in our lives and transform it into powerful, never-ending, and eternal love and service of God, neighbors, and self.

I am, admittedly, not very good at this. The “I’ve got this” mentality overtakes me sometimes.
Shortly before general conference last year, when they knew I was extra busy, the sister and brother who minister to our family offered to bring some soup. They sent a kind text to my husband and me. True to form, I quickly responded to say we were good and no soup was needed. My gracious husband, on the other hand, responded with a message that soup would be great, inviting them to minister to us in that way. I should have done better.
In anticipation of Doug’s surgery in St. Louis, I asked for the name of a stake Relief Society president I could call there, just in case I had some extraordinary need for help. That was way out of my comfort zone, but I asked and received the number for Sister Diana Taylor, who is a stake Relief Society president in the area.
I called Sister Taylor and explained why we were coming to St. Louis and assured her I would let her know if and how I needed her help.
The next day, she sent me this text: “Sister Johnson, 10 hours is a long time to be waiting alone while Brother Johnson is in surgery. I would be happy to come to the hospital to be with you if that would help. I could come the whole time or part of the time. We could share the Spirit of Christ as we pray and remember the blessings of a loving Father in Heaven, the blessings of sisterhood, the blessing of families and of service.”
Perhaps you’ve guessed my first reaction: “I’m good. I’ve got this alone. I’ll wallow in my sadness by myself!” And I was just about ready to send a response that declined her invitation—until I remembered what I had preached in the April 2023 general conference and thought that I ought to practice it:
“How does the Savior relieve us of the burdens of living in a fallen world with mortal bodies subject to grief and pain?
“Often, He performs that kind of relief through us! …
“… We are a conduit through which He provides relief.”1
I responded with this text message: “I don’t want to trouble you at all. Perhaps you and I could have lunch together. That would be a nice break from the talks that I am writing.”
The Lord sent Sister Taylor (right) to minister to me while I was waiting for my husband to come out of surgery.
Sister Taylor and I walked to a restaurant. We sat outside because it was a sunny day and enjoyed lunch together. And in the end, I trust that both of us found needed relief.
I was alone in St. Louis. Doug was in a surgery lasting more than 10 hours. How was the Savior going to help me, to relieve me of loneliness and frustration and worry? He sent someone to minister to me, someone who was magnifying her calling and keeping her baptismal covenant by comforting someone who stood in need of comfort (see Mosiah 18:9–10). If I had failed to receive her, I would have failed to receive Him.

One week after a recent assignment to create the first stake in Moscow, Russia, I attended a district conference in St. Petersburg. While speaking about my gratitude for early missionaries and local leaders who brought strength to the Church in Russia, I mentioned the name of Vyacheslav Efimov. He was the first Russian convert to become a mission president. He and his wife did wonderfully well in that assignment. Not long after they had completed their mission, and much to our sorrow, President Efimov suddenly passed away. He was only 52 years of age.
While speaking of this pioneering couple, I felt impressed to ask the congregation if Sister Efimov might be present. Far in the rear of the room, a woman stood. I invited her to come to the microphone. Yes, it was Sister Galina Efimov. She spoke with conviction and bore a powerful testimony of the Lord, of His gospel, and of His restored Church. She and her husband had been sealed in the holy temple. She said they were united forever. They were still missionary companions, she on this side of the veil and he on the other side. With tears of joy, she thanked God for sacred temple covenants. I wept too, with full realization that the everlasting unity exemplified by this faithful couple was the righteous result of making, keeping, and honoring sacred covenants.

Jennifer and Melissa Peterson and Shawn Edwards, of the Council Bluffs Iowa Ward, Papillon Nebraska Stake were in the mood to win a contest, so they produced a video called “Glenn Miller: A Master Showperson and Arranger.” It won first place in their division of the International Student Media Festival.
Jennifer, Melissa, and Shawn wrote the narration for the video, mixed the music and narration, recorded still photos and film on video, and combined the video and sound. Glenn Miller might seem like an unusual subject for teenagers to pick, but they explained it this way: “We picked Glenn Miller because he was from Iowa and we like his music.” Their film won them the right to attend the International Student Media Festival Awards Conference in Orlando, Florida.

Sue washed the last pan and handed it to her sister Betty. “I wish we lived in town and had a dishwasher,” Sue grumbled.
“If we lived in town, we couldn’t go down to the pond and sail the new boats Daddy helped us make. Mother said we could go as soon as we finished the dishes.” Betty paused and then asked, “What about the monster?”
“The monster” was the girls’ name for the big cast-iron kettle with a lid that their mother called a Dutch oven. It was heavy and hard to handle, and usually something had been burned in it.
“It doesn’t look dirty,” Sue declared.
“I don’t remember anything being cooked in it,” Betty added.
“But if it’s clean, why isn’t it put away?” Sue asked.
“Maybe Mother plans to use it tonight.”
“If we don’t have to wash the monster, we can go to the pond right away. If Mother asks us about it, we can always say we thought it was clean.”
So it was decided. Sue drained out the dishwater, and Betty went to get their toy boats and to put their cat, Ladybug, outside. When Betty came back, she was surprised to see Sue filling the sink with water again. ”What are you doing?” she asked.
“I just don’t feel right about leaving the monster. I’m going to wash it.”
“I’ll help you,” said Betty. “I don’t feel right about it either.” She took the cover off the Dutch oven.
Both girls gave a surprised “Oh!” Inside the monster were oranges, sandwiches, cookies, and a note that read: “For my two good helpers. This is for a picnic at the pond. Have fun. Mother.”

William leaned his rake against the side of the house and plopped down on the grass. Raking the leaves was hard work, but he and his sisters, Chloé and Amelia, were finally done. Way up above the tall Alps mountains he could see a plane fly by. He wondered where it was going.
William loved his little town near the French-Swiss border. People from all over the world visited here. He thought about the places he wanted to go, the people he could meet, and the adventures he might have someday.
He was startled out of his daydream by the crunch, crunch, crunch of footsteps in the yard next door.
“Pat must be getting ready to rake his leaves,” William said to his sisters. “I’m sure glad we’re done with ours.”
“Me too,” Chloé said.
But if raking leaves was hard for three people, it must be really hard for one! William thought. Pat’s wife, Pam, had just had surgery, so Pat would have to rake his leaves all by himself.
Mum always said, “When we’re helping, we’re happy!” William thought that probably meant helping Pat, even though they were tired and had already raked a whole yard.
William looked over at Chloé and Amelia, who were building tiny twig houses in the grass. “Should we go help Pat?” he asked. “We can help him finish pretty fast.”
Chloé and Amelia agreed and followed William. Even Samuel, who was only two, toddled behind them.
“Want some help?” Amelia asked as they walked around the bushes into Pat’s yard.
“I sure would! But you kids have been raking all afternoon. I bet you’re tired.”
“That’s OK,” William said. “We want to help. After all, when we’re helping, we’re happy!”
As they worked, Pat told the kids fun stories from his life. Pat was from India, but he had lived all over Asia and Africa.
After the leaves were bagged, William looked over and noticed the apples scattered around the two tall apple trees in Pat’s yard. Their work wasn’t quite done yet. William stooped down and started gathering apples. He sorted the rotten ones from the good ones as he went along. Chloé and Amelia ran over to put the apples in piles.
Pat rolled his old green wheelbarrow out from the shed. “Let’s put the rotten ones in here. Then you can take the good ones home with you.”
“That’s OK, Pat. We don’t need to take your apples,” William said.
“I want to give them to you,” Pat said. “After all, when I’m giving, I’m happy!”
That night during dinner, the children told Mum and Dad how much fun they’d had helping Pat and hearing his stories.
Suddenly William had an idea. “I know what we can do with the apples he gave us!” He jumped up and grabbed a copy of the Friend from the bookshelf. “I think Pat and Pam would really like this,” William said, turning to a recipe for apple cake. “And like Pat said today, when we’re giving, we’re happy!”
“Let’s make a cake for our other neighbors too!” Chloé said.
William grinned. He thought about all the people he could meet and the exciting stories he could hear. And all that through just a bit of kindness. And a bit of cake.

Choosing to be modest has always been easy for me. I grew up in a house where standards were high, and when I married in the temple, my garments reminded me to dress modestly.
Swimsuit shopping, however, turned out to be a struggle for me. Without the guideline of garments, I found myself wanting to wear swimsuits that I would be ashamed for anyone I knew to see me in.
My husband and I were planning a cruise for just the two of us. I thought the cruise would be the perfect time to wear such a swimsuit. I wouldn’t see anyone I knew, and therefore I wouldn’t feel guilty. No one would know I was a Latter-day Saint, and all the other women on the ship would most likely be dressed like me.
Because I was already married, there was no real reason for me to have a modest swimsuit, or so I thought. Modesty guidelines were just for teenagers, right? But I had a nagging feeling in the back of my mind. I had been married in the temple. I had accomplished my goal to stay worthy and find a worthy husband. And I wanted to continue choosing the right.
I decided to look up “Dress and Appearance” in For the Strength of Youth. It had been a while since I had reviewed the booklet, so the words jumped out at me: “Through your dress and appearance, you can show that you know how precious your body is. You can show that you are a disciple of Jesus Christ and that you love Him” ([2011], 6).
Those words echoed in my head. Was I a disciple of Jesus Christ? Was I willing to be true at all times and in all places (see Mosiah 18:9)?
Since then I have decided that even in my late 20s, I must maintain the principles I learned in my youth. Those principles definitely still apply to me. I want to be a good example to my children. I want them to know that I am a disciple of Jesus Christ.

Dr. Audrey Tarr and her husband, David, had been living in Oregon, where she practiced obstetrics and gynecology with an additional specialty in urology. She and David, a recently retired engineer, were trying to figure out what was next for them.

“I had thought about sometime in the future serving as an area medical advisor for one of the many missions in the Church,” said Dr. Tarr. “But we got a call from Church headquarters with this opportunity to serve now as a practicing physician.”

She felt it was especially important for her to come, as she is a female physician who has worked to build awareness of health issues unique to women. Dr. Tarr is concerned about the high cancer rates among women in American Samoa and plans to help the Department of Health improve health prospects for local women.

While they are in American Samoa, Elder David Tarr—a seasoned aerospace engineer—is serving with the engineering and maintenance team at the hospital. He says life as a missionary has been interesting. “Since I wear my missionary badge, everyone knows I am a member of the Church. It’s been a great chance to answer questions from others and share spiritual experiences I have had.”

The river eddied fast and smooth around the raft and was a muddy gray color. The air was cool and smelled of snow. It was early spring, May 20. In Canada that’s a holiday celebrating Queen Victoria’s birthday, and for the LDS Branch in Banff, Alberta Province, it’s time for the annual trip down the Kootenay River.
Erwin Oertli is a member of the Banff Branch. He is also a professional river guide who has a government concession to run raft trips in Canada, and on the same weekend each spring he invites the entire Banff Branch, all interested families, on a three-day raft trip down the Kootenay River. He also invites several nonmember friends.
“It’s the best way I know of to introduce them to the Church,” he explained.
The trip began early Saturday morning. The rafts were unloaded on the river bank, inflated, and lifted into the water. Under Brother Oertli’s direction, metal platforms were placed in the rafts and lashed to the sides. Each family loaded and secured its food, supplies, and equipment onto the platforms. Brother Oertli gave final instructions on safety, the river, and handling the rafts. The river runners then buckled on life jackets, and at last the first raft was launched.
The first section of the river was fast and smooth. This gave the oarsmen a chance to get the feel of their rafts. The river reflected gray and liquid silver in the bright sun.
At noon the rafts were beached and Brother Oertli led the group up an old mining road to a ridge that overlooks the river. Below them the Kootenay snaked its way through the high Rocky Mountains of British Columbia. The tops of the mountains were still iced with snow. The long, ivory fingers of glaciers twisted down the slopes of the higher peaks.
After lunch the rafts were launched again. The river dropped faster now, turning sharply around the high slopes that walled it in. These rough-cut river canyons are bordered with stands of columnlike lodge pole pines. There were several sections of rough, white water, but by evening, with the exception of the girl who fell in, the rafts made it to the campsite with little trouble.
Equipment was unloaded and the rafts were pulled onto the shore and tipped over, allowing the water to drain out. In the blue-gray light of evening, tents were set up near a line of jagged pines that shouldered the beach. Fires were built, and the sounds of laughter and voices mixed with the savory aroma of burning pine and of frying steaks and potatoes.
The following morning a testimony meeting, held in the pines, was directed by Harlen Cahoon, a counselor in the Banff Branch presidency. In the meeting nearly everyone from the branch stood and expressed the strong feeling of closeness they felt for each other and for their Father in Heaven.
Brother Cahoon later explained that the testimony meeting on the trip was something everyone looked forward to every year.
“It’s the highlight of the trip,” he said.
After the meeting some of the families spent the afternoon hiking to a ridge that overlooked the river, while others sat by the river or in the shadows of pines, enjoying a steady flow of conversation. Fires were built with wood gathered the night before, and dutch ovens filled with chicken were buried in hot coals for dinner.
Toward evening, high-piled clouds drifted across the sky and the mountain peaks were fogged with gray-white wisps. Rain fell lightly, cooling the earth and scenting the air with the pleasant smells of wet leaves, pine, and aspen. The sky partially cleared as night came.
A cream-white moon, full and large, rose above the river, flooding it with shimmering, silver light that danced on the waves. A large bonfire was built on the beach. The group gathered around its warmth, watching fiery sparks sail up with the moon and the stars. Their soft singing filled the night air.
The next day, late in the afternoon, it was over. Under a fierce barrage of water fighting, the rafts glided into shore where the river intersected a road. The rafts were pulled onto the bank, deflated, and rolled up. Equipment was loaded into waiting cars and trucks, a prayer of thanks was said, and everyone drove for home feeling warm from the sun and from the closeness they felt for each other. Looking forward to the next trip, they left the Kootenay.