Gospel Story Finder

“I went a little farther that time!” Lewis exclaimed, marking where he had landed with a stick. A new house was being built next door, and six-year-old Lewis loved playing in the big piles of dirt. He especially liked to jump off the top of a pile with his brother and see who could go the farthest. Jumping was the next best thing to flying, and Lewis wanted more than anything to be able to fly. Not just to ride in a plane—he’d done that lots of times with his dad in a little four-seat airplane—he wanted to fly like a bird. He thought about it all the time.
Last Sunday, Lewis had been given a lesson in Primary about faith. Sister Jones had said that if you have enough faith, you can do anything—even move mountains! Lewis didn’t want to move a mountain—he wanted to fly over one. He believed that Heavenly Father could help him do that just as easily. Lewis didn’t hear the rest of the lesson that day because he was dreaming about his first flight. He knew exactly how it would be. He would jump off something very high and dive to the earth. Just before he hit the ground, he would pull out of the fall with his arms spread out and glide above the earth, rising higher and higher. He could almost feel the wind in his hair and see the look of surprise on his brother’s face as he flew effortlessly over his head. Yes, it was going to be truly wonderful!
“Lewis,” Mom called from the house.
“Yes, Mom?” he replied from the top of the dirt pile.
“Grandma is here and wants to see you.”
Lewis jumped one more time, marked the spot where he landed, and rushed to the house. “Hi, Grandma. How was your trip?”
“Oh, it was great fun, Lewis. I brought you something.” She held up a small pair of flight attendant wings that she had received on her flight home.
“Wow! Thanks, Grandma!” He had wings! Now he knew he could fly. He pinned them to his shirt and ran outside to the dirt pile. Sure enough, he seemed to jump a little farther and a little higher. The problem, he thought, is that this hill is too small. If I could find something higher, I’m sure I could pull out before I hit the ground.
The next day, Dad took Lewis with him to a construction show. One of the companies there was producing new playground equipment, and Lewis saw the biggest jungle gym he’d ever seen. He grinned. Today was the day he was going to fly!
While his dad was busy talking to some other builders, Lewis pulled the flight attendant wings out of his pocket and pinned them to his shirt, then raced over to the jungle gym. He climbed to the very top bar—about fifteen feet high—and yelled, “Watch this, Dad!” He jumped off, completely unafraid. On the way down, his leg caught on a bar and he crashed to the ground.
Lewis’s leg was broken, and his body was bruised and scratched.
“Are you feeling better now?” Dad asked on the way home from the hospital.
“Dad,” Lewis sobbed, “I don’t understand. In Primary, my teacher said that if I had enough faith, I could do anything.”
“I see. Lewis, you need to understand something about faith. The scriptures say that faith is things which are hoped for which are true. If I believed with all my heart that the oceans are filled with spaghetti, it still wouldn’t be true. Faith in Jesus Christ is true because He really did come and die for us and He really does love you. Faith in the scriptures is true because the Lord really commanded the prophets to write them so we could read them and learn about Jesus Christ. Heavenly Father obeys natural laws, like gravity. Can you see the difference?”
“I guess so.”
Dad continued, “You will be able to fly, Lewis, but on this earth the way you have to do it is by following the natural laws. When you get a little older, you can take flying lessons and get a pilot’s license of your own. Now let’s go home and let that leg heal.”
Today Lewis is grown-up and flies high in the sky as an airline pilot. But he still dreams that the day will come when he will be able to fly through the clouds on his own.

Sixteen-year-old Kevin S. listened from his hospital bed as a letter from his stake president was read to him.
The Spirit filled the room and his pain seemed to fade away as he received a call to help with family history. His age and circumstances made the calling unusual, but he knew the Lord would help him do it.
Ever since Kevin was a child, he had learned that no matter how impossible the task seemed, he could accomplish it. As long as he focused on what he could do, the Lord would provide a way. This calling would be no different.
At one year old, Kevin struggled to do many things that other babies do naturally. By age two, he started walking, but his parents noticed that he was very weak. Shortly after Kevin’s second birthday, he was diagnosed with Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy (DMD), which causes intense exhaustion and progressively weakens muscles.
Growing up with DMD has been hard for Kevin, but he never lets that get in the way of doing what the Lord wants him to do. A tray on his wheelchair helps him pass the sacrament, and he home teaches outside people’s homes if his wheelchair can’t go inside. He lives by this motto: “If you have the desire to do something, you can do it.” Kevin does this by focusing on the things he can do rather than the things he can’t.
You might be surprised to hear all the things Kevin does. For one thing, anyone who knows him would say he’s incredibly shy. But just as with many other obstacles in Kevin’s life, the Lord gave Kevin opportunities to work around his shyness and reach out to others.
Just after Kevin turned 15, one of his close friends started falling away from the gospel. Kevin wanted to help his friend come back. But he had never even borne his testimony out loud before—how was he supposed to do it now? “Facebook,” he thought. Kevin hadn’t used social media before, but if there was a good reason to start, this was it.
So Kevin began recording his testimony, typing out messages, and sending uplifting videos to this friend and others through social media. This was something he could do.
He started wondering if he could influence more people for good. He created a Facebook page to inspire others to live the Articles of Faith. His courage to bear his testimony also increased, and he began to reach out to others over the phone.
As Kevin’s desire to share the gospel grew, so did his testimony of missionary work. Kevin wanted more than anything to serve a mission, but he knew that as his condition worsened, it was more and more unlikely.
The next year a member of Kevin’s stake spoke on the importance of family history indexing. That day Kevin went straight home, created an LDS Account, and began to index. Because of his illness, Kevin had a hard time in school, and reading was a challenge. He spent hours at his computer searching for letters he could recognize. Yet, one by one, he matched the letters on the screen with the letters on the computer keyboard. He soon began to understand the importance and impact of family history work, so he made a Duty to God goal to index a number of names.
Halfway to the goal, however, his disease began to spread even more rapidly. He lost much of the mobility in his arms and couldn’t reach the computer keyboard. A hard trial? Yes. But impossible to overcome? No.
Kevin knew that if the Lord wanted him to accomplish his goal, He would again provide a way. And that’s what happened.
In December 2014, Kevin invited the youth from his stake to help him reach his goal. About 40 youth responded. Most of them had never indexed before, yet they too felt the importance of family history work and the desire to help their friend in need. So they planned a day when they could get together, bring computers, and bring in a few indexing gurus to help them take on the challenge.
When the day came to begin indexing names for Kevin’s goal, the youth from the stake video-conferenced Kevin so that he and his family could watch them from his hospital room. Kevin had never realized he had so many friends—even friends he thought he’d been unsuccessful in reaching out to joined in the effort to help.
That day the young men and young women of Kevin’s stake indexed hundreds of names. By the end of the year, they had met Kevin’s goal—and then some.
That day in the hospital, as Kevin sat in his bed and listened to his calling from the stake president being read to him, he thought again about how the Lord provides a way to accomplish His purposes. Though Kevin’s health prevented him from serving a full-time proselyting mission, Kevin still knew that the Lord would allow him the opportunity to serve and bless others in some way.
Kevin hasn’t led an easy life. He has endured many challenges, and his prayers certainly haven’t always been answered in the way he expected. But through all of his experiences, Kevin has learned what it means to put his trust in the Savior and to be trusted by the Savior. Whatever the Lord wants him to do, the Lord knows he can do it—and so does Kevin.
Kevin knows that as long as he puts forth his whole effort, the Lord will bless him and also make up the difference for whatever he isn’t able to do. As Kevin’s favorite scripture says, “The Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them” (1 Nephi 3:7). “It’s not about what I can do,” Kevin says. “It’s about what we can do.”

Ten years had passed since I had been baptized into the Church, but I had been less active for about nine of them. During that time I had married and now had a seven-year-old daughter. My mother and siblings were living with us when a friend reintroduced them to the Church, and the missionaries started coming to our home. I had a testimony of Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon, but the knowledge I had acquired of the Church had melted away.
My husband became friends with the elders and, almost without knowing it, started taking the discussions. Each discussion took about a week; it was hard for him to accept the divinity of Jesus Christ. Nine months after being taught the first discussion, my husband felt he was not receiving answers to his prayers.
One morning when the missionaries came to pray with me for my husband, I felt impressed that I needed to help him recognize the influence of the Holy Ghost. The missionaries had given us a family home evening manual, and the next Monday I sat down with my husband and daughter and began my first family home evening by giving a lesson on the Holy Ghost. My husband listened in silence as he pondered the subject. The influence of the Spirit was very strong that night, and I could feel the Holy Ghost confirming the truthfulness of the Church, something I had not felt for a long time. The next day my husband bore his testimony to me and told me that the Spirit had borne witness to him and he had recognized it. That night we lit in our hearts a fire that was eternal and inextinguishable.
One week later my husband was baptized, and one year later we were sealed in the São Paulo Brazil Temple. We feel that sacrament meeting is the most important meeting we go to, and next in line is family home evening.
Elizabeth Duce de Mernies, Lezica Ward, Montevideo Uruguay North Stake

A week ago our daughter's best friend was baptized. We have known Sheila since she and Rachel were on the cross country team in middle school. It has been exciting to see her embrace the gospel and make the decision to become a member of the church.
I think she decided she wanted to be married in the temple almost before she decided she wanted to be a member. She saw the examples of great families among her many Latter Day Saint friends, and knew she wanted her future family to have the same blessings. She is a young woman who is wise beyond her years.
After Sheila was baptized she received a gift that will be her greatest help in achieving her goal to have a temple marriage. That gift was the privilege to have the Holy Ghost as her constant companion.

I want to share an experience where I personally grew in understanding of the scripture I shared at the beginning – John 1:12 – “ But as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name.” In order to fulfill our purpose on earth and meet the challenges of life by rising to the highest in us, we will need to draw upon the powers of heaven to strengthen us, lift us, and sanctify us. In the experience I will share, I hope you can see how my dad utilized the Atonement to become more than his naturally wonderful self could be.

On November 19, 2010, my parents were traveling from Colorado to Idaho to spend Thanksgiving with my family. While driving, they were involved in a serious accident when a 17-year-old drove across the median causing a head-on collision with my parent’s car. My mother was killed and my father badly injured. The 17-year-old and my father were airlifted to the nearest hospital where we gathered as a family to support each other.

It was hard to believe that our wonderful mother of eleven children and beloved wife was gone. It was the first time we had ever faced the loss of a loved one, and in deep sorrow, we turned to the Savior for understanding. I testify that in times of need, we can be blessed with the peace that “ passeth all understanding” (Philippians 4:7). Our mother had taught us the gospel and lived firmly in the faith that families could be together forever. We clung to that hope and her example.

As a family, we exercised faith in the power of priesthood blessings for our dad and witnessed many miracles. Each day after the accident, our father amazed the doctors by no longer having the life-threatening injuries that were apparent when he arrived at the hospital. On Sunday, a few of my brothers and sisters and I gathered in my dad’s hospital room, filled with thanks for the tender mercies we’d received in my dad’s recovery. When my father closed his eyes to rest, I left the room for a moment. As I walked down the hallway, I met a father and his teenage son dressed in white shirts and ties carrying some bread and water. Evidently, they were taking the sacrament to someone they knew in the hospital. I asked them if they would mind administering the sacrament to my father and family. They agreed, and we experienced what might be the most spiritual sacrament meeting I've ever attended.

After partaking of the sacrament, my father, in great pain because of broken ribs and other injuries, took the opportunity to bear testimony to us of the great Atonement. With tears of gratitude, he cried as he expressed his faith in the Savior and His atoning sacrifice in our behalf. Because of the Savior’s great gift, we would be able to return to our Father in Heaven’s presence and see our mother again. He encouraged us to live our lives with gratitude for the Savior and turn to Him so that we could be forgiven of our mistakes and overcome our weaknesses. At this poignant time of great sorrow and loss, my father recognized that the hope of being together again was only possible because of the Savior’s love. Experiencing the tender message of my father was a lesson I will never forget and one that I would witness my dad teach us again.

Later in the week, as my father was being released from the hospital, he made one final request. He asked if my brother and I would take him to the room of the 17-year-old boy that caused the accident. The young man was still in the intensive care unit with severe injuries. We wheeled my father into the room where the boy was lying with his parents at his bedside. My father greeted them and introduced himself. In my father’s next words, I witnessed the enabling power of the Atonement that elevates us to become true sons and daughters of God. With emotion, my father sincerely said, “I want you to know that I hold no hard feelings toward you. I don’t want you to blame yourself for what has happened. I hope that you can go on and live a good life.” My dad then testified of his faith in Christ and that because of the Savior, our spirits continue to live after death. My dad expressed his hope that one day he would see his wife again and shared his belief that our family would be together forever.

I was overcome with what I was hearing and, more importantly, what I was feeling. The feelings in the room were incredible. There was no hurt or bitterness. We all felt the redeeming love of the Savior as my father used the power of the Atonement to overcome the effects of a tragic accident. The unconditional love and forgiveness expressed by my father was only possible because he believed in the Savior. He had faith in glorious gift of the resurrection and knew that through the sealing power in temples, he would be reunited with his beloved wife and that we would be together again. Although this was an extremely difficult time, through the grace of God, my father was given power that enabled him to act as the Savior would, to be an example of the believers (1 Timothy 4:12) and testify as a son of God.

What I experienced that day was the culmination of my dad’s sermon on the Atonement that he began on Sunday after partaking of the sacrament. I heard it with my ears, saw it with my eyes, and, most importantly, felt it burn deep within my heart. On that day, I had witnessed my earthly father use the power of the Atonement to become what his Heavenly Father knew that he could be. That experience changed me, and I know that by relying on Christ, we can all become more than we currently are.

Throughout my life I have had numerous examples of being blessed when following the promptings of the Lord. When I was a missionary in the Philippines Davao mission there was a great deal of political furor over the desire by separatist groups wanting Mindinao, the largest island in the Visayan island group, to secede from the Philippines and become an independent Islamic state. On our P-day my companion and I were shopping at the only large department store in Davao when I heard a clear emphatic voice whisper to me saying, 'sister leave, leave now." I turned directly to my companion and said, 'sister I think we should leave," to which she responded, "yes you're right," there was no further discussion, we both put down the goods we had in our hands and left the store immediately. On our "jeepny" ride traveling back to our area we heard on the radio that a bomb had exploded in the department store we had been in less than a half hour earlier and according to initial reports there had been loss of life. Later we found out that 13 people were killed in that explosion. We were blessed by heeding the promptings of the spirit. D&C 84:47 states "every one that hearkeneth to the voice of the Spirit cometh unto God . . ." There was, and is no doubt in my mind that the Lord was watching over me and my companion. Heeding the Spirit brought us physical safety and brought us closer to the Lord through our enriched testimonies of the power of the Spirit.

One of my (many) pet peeves is when pedestrians take their sweet time on the crosswalk, texting and chatting on their phone. I sit in the car rolling my eyes and saying “really people?!” I find myself revving the engine, staring them down, and thinking not so good thoughts. My heart starts to race and I’m sitting there imagining myself (just like in the movies) following through on my negative thoughts. One day I made a choice to be patient, and if you know me well, you’ll know…It takes a miracle! On that morning, I prayed to Heavenly Father and literally asked for ‘more patience’. Bad idea! I have never in my life encountered so many challenges in one day. I was tested to the hilt on the very virtue that I had prayed for. I could only imagine Heavenly Father shaking his head saying, “You asked for it, girl!” Regardless of the challenges, on this particular day I decided that no matter what I was going to be nice, pardon others faults, blah, blah, blah. I also made a choice to be patient while waiting at the cross walk for God’s children to cross the street as they texted and chatted on their phones. As I sat there watching, and consciously making an effort to be empathetic and compassionate (believe me, it took every fiber of my being) I noticed my heart wasn’t racing and I felt calm.

Things were ok. When we remove our expectations of how our brothers and sisters should be – everything changes. When we choose to sing, and play the harmony melody, we choose to let God be the Mistral of our symphony. We choose to make our opus, His.

This past month the Canada Toronto Mission held a mission-wide seminar. I was asked to sing a song but couldn’t find one that fit our mission program, which we call SOAR (S—sacrifice; O—obedience; A—attitude; R—rededication). I prayed about my problem, and I was directed to the August 1976 New Era, which was buried in a pile of magazines. There I found the song “Let Me Soar.” I sang this for the seminar. It was a definite answer to prayer.

The story is about a girl named Eva. There are two important things you should know about Eva. One is that she was 11 years old in this story. And the other is that she absolutely, positively did not want to go and live with her great-aunt Rose. Not at all. No way.
But Eva’s mother was going to have surgery that required a lengthy recovery. So Eva’s parents were sending her to spend the summer with Great-Aunt Rose.
In Eva’s mind, there were a thousand reasons why this was a bad idea. For one thing, it would mean being away from her mother. It would also mean leaving her family and friends. And besides, she didn’t even know Great-Aunt Rose. She was quite comfortable, thank you very much, right where she was.
But no amount of arguing or eye-rolling could change the decision. So Eva packed up a suitcase and took the long drive with her father to Great-Aunt Rose’s house.
From the moment Eva stepped inside the house, she hated it.
Everything was so old! Every inch was packed with old books, strange-colored bottles, and plastic bins spilling over with beads, bows, and buttons.
Great-Aunt Rose lived there alone; she had never married. The only other inhabitant was a gray cat who liked to find the highest point in every room and perch there, staring like a hungry tiger at everything below.
Even the house itself seemed lonely. It was out in the countryside, where the houses are far apart. No one Eva’s age lived within half a mile. That made Eva feel lonely too.
At first she didn’t pay much attention to Great-Aunt Rose. She mostly thought about her mother. Sometimes, she would stay awake at night, praying with all her soul that her mother would be well. And though it didn’t happen right away, Eva began to feel that God was watching over her mother.
Word finally came that the operation was a success, and now all that was left for Eva to do was to endure till the end of summer. But oh, how she hated enduring!
With her mind now at ease about her mother, Eva began to notice Great-Aunt Rose a little more. She was a large woman—everything about her was large: her voice, her smile, her personality. It wasn’t easy for her to get around, but she always sang and laughed while she worked, and the sound of her laughter filled the house. Every night she sat down on her overstuffed sofa, pulled out her scriptures, and read out loud. And as she read, she sometimes made comments like “Oh, he shouldn’t have done that!” or “What wouldn’t I give to have been there!” or “Isn’t that the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard!” And every evening as the two of them knelt by Eva’s bed to pray, Great-Aunt Rose would say the most beautiful prayers, thanking her Heavenly Father for the blue jays and the spruce trees, the sunsets and the stars, and the “wonder of being alive.” It sounded to Eva as though Rose knew God as a friend.
Over time, Eva made a surprising discovery: Great-Aunt Rose was quite possibly the happiest person she had ever known!
But how could that be?
What did she have to be happy about?
She had never married, she had no children, she had no one to keep her company except that creepy cat, and she had a hard time doing simple things like tying her shoes and walking up stairs.
When she went to town, she wore embarrassingly big, bright hats. But people didn’t laugh at her. Instead, they crowded around her, wanting to talk to her. Rose had been a schoolteacher, and it wasn’t uncommon for former students—now grown up with children of their own—to stop and chat. They thanked her for being a good influence in their lives. They often laughed. Sometimes they even cried.
As the summer progressed, Eva spent more and more time with Rose. They went on long walks, and Eva learned the difference between sparrows and finches. She picked wild elderberries and made marmalade from oranges. She learned about her great-great-grandmother who left her beloved homeland, sailed across an ocean, and walked across the plains to be with the Saints.
Soon Eva made another startling discovery: not only was Great-Aunt Rose one of the happiest persons she knew, but Eva herself was happier whenever she was around her.
The days of summer were passing more quickly now. Before Eva knew it, Great-Aunt Rose said it would soon be time for Eva to return home. Though Eva had been looking forward to that moment since the day she arrived, she wasn’t quite sure how to feel about it now. She realized she was actually going to miss this strange old house with the stalker cat and her beloved great-aunt Rose.
The day before her father arrived to pick her up, Eva asked the question she had been wondering about for weeks: “Aunt Rose, why are you so happy?”
Aunt Rose looked at her carefully and then guided her to a painting that hung in the front room. It had been a gift from a talented dear friend.
“What do you see there?” she asked.
Eva had noticed the painting before, but she hadn’t really looked at it closely. A girl in pioneer dress skipped along a bright blue path. The grass and trees were a vibrant green. Eva said, “It’s a painting of a girl. Looks like she’s skipping.”
“Yes, it is a pioneer girl skipping along happily,” Aunt Rose said. “I imagine there were many dark and dreary days for the pioneers. Their life was so hard—we can’t even imagine. But in this painting, everything is bright and hopeful. This girl has a spring in her step, and she is moving forward and upward.”
Eva was silent, so Great-Aunt Rose continued: “There is enough that doesn’t go right in life, so anyone can work themselves into a puddle of pessimism and a mess of melancholy. But I know people who, even when things don’t work out, focus on the wonders and miracles of life. These folks are the happiest people I know.”
“But,” Eva said, “you can’t just flip a switch and go from sad to happy.”
“No, perhaps not,” Aunt Rose smiled gently, “but God didn’t design us to be sad. He created us to have joy! So if we trust Him, He will help us to notice the good, bright, hopeful things of life. And sure enough, the world will become brighter. No, it doesn’t happen instantly, but honestly, how many good things do? Seems to me that the best things, like homemade bread or orange marmalade, take patience and work.”
Eva thought about it a moment and said, “Maybe it’s not so simple for people who don’t have everything perfect in their lives.”
“Dear Eva, do you really think that my life is perfect?” Aunt Rose sat with Eva on the overstuffed sofa. “There was a time when I was so discouraged I didn’t want to go on.”
“You?” Eva asked.
Aunt Rose nodded. “There were so many things I wished for in my life.” As she spoke, a sadness entered her voice that Eva had never heard before. “Most of them never happened. It was one heartbreak after another. One day I realized that it would never be the way I had hoped for. That was a depressing day. I was ready to give up and be miserable.”
“So what did you do?”
“Nothing for a time. I was just angry. I was an absolute monster to be around.” Then she laughed a little, but it was not her usual big, room-filling laugh. “‘It’s not fair’ was the song I sang over and over in my head. But eventually I discovered something that turned my whole life around.”
“What was it?”
“Faith,” Aunt Rose smiled. “I discovered faith. And faith led to hope. And faith and hope gave me confidence that one day everything would make sense, that because of the Savior, all the wrongs would be made right. After that, I saw that the path before me wasn’t as dreary and dusty as I had thought. I began to notice the bright blues, the verdant greens, and the fiery reds, and I decided I had a choice—I could hang my head and drag my feet on the dusty road of self-pity, or I could have a little faith, put on a bright dress, slip on my dancing shoes, and skip down the path of life, singing as I went.” Now her voice was skipping along like the girl in the painting.
Aunt Rose reached over to the end table and pulled her well-worn scriptures onto her lap. “I don’t think I was clinically depressed—I’m not sure you can talk yourself out of that. But I sure had talked myself into being miserable! Yes, I had some dark days, but all my brooding and worrying wasn’t going to change that—it was only making things worse. Faith in the Savior taught me that no matter what happened in the past, my story could have a happy ending.”
“How do you know that?” Eva asked.
Aunt Rose turned a page in her Bible and said, “It says it right here:
“‘God … will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself shall be with them, and be their God.
“‘And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.’”
Great-Aunt Rose looked at Eva. Her smile was wide as she whispered, with a slight quiver in her voice, “Isn’t that the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard?”
It really did sound beautiful, Eva thought.
Aunt Rose turned a few pages and pointed to a verse for Eva to read: “Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.”
“With such a glorious future,” Aunt Rose said, “why get swallowed up in past or present things that don’t go quite the way we planned?”
Eva furrowed her brow. “But wait a minute,” she said. “Are you saying that being happy means just looking forward to happiness in the future? Is all our happiness in eternity? Can’t some of it happen now?”
“Oh, of course it can!” Aunt Rose exclaimed. “Dear child, now is part of eternity. It doesn’t only begin after we die! Faith and hope will open your eyes to the happiness that is placed before you.
“I know a poem that says, ‘Forever—is composed of Nows.’ I didn’t want my forever to be composed of dark and fearful ‘Nows.’ And I didn’t want to live in the gloom of a bunker, gritting my teeth, closing my eyes, and resentfully enduring to the bitter end. Faith gave me the hope I needed to live joyfully now!”
“So what did you do then?” Eva asked.
“I exercised faith in God’s promises by filling my life with meaningful things. I went to school. I got an education. That led me to a career that I loved.”
Eva thought about this for a moment and said, “But surely being busy isn’t what made you happy. There are a lot of busy people who aren’t happy.”
“How can you be so wise for someone so young?” Aunt Rose asked. “You’re absolutely right. And most of those busy, unhappy people have forgotten the one thing that matters most in all the world—the thing Jesus said is the heart of His gospel.”
“And what is that?” Eva asked.
“It is love—the pure love of Christ,” Rose said. “You see, everything else in the gospel—all the shoulds and the musts and the thou shalts—lead to love. When we love God, we want to serve Him. We want to be like Him. When we love our neighbors, we stop thinking so much about our own problems and help others to solve theirs.”
“And that is what makes us happy?” Eva asked.
Great-Aunt Rose nodded and smiled, her eyes filling with tears. “Yes, my dear. That is what makes us happy.”
The next day Eva hugged her great-aunt Rose and thanked her for everything she had done. She returned home to her family and her friends and her house and her neighborhood.
But she was never quite the same.
As Eva grew older, she often thought of the words of her great-aunt Rose. Eva eventually married, raised children, and lived a long and wonderful life.
And one day, as she was standing in her own home, admiring a painting of a girl in pioneer dress skipping down a bright blue path, she realized that somehow she had reached the same age her great-aunt Rose was during that remarkable summer.
When she realized this, she felt a special prayer swell within her heart. And Eva felt grateful for her life, for her family, for the restored gospel of Jesus Christ, and for that summer so long ago when Great-Aunt Rose taught her about faith, hope, and love.

I didn’t know which was louder—my footsteps in the big, silent house, or my pounding heart. I hurried through the darkness and down the stairs to my parents’ room. I tried to step softly so the stairs wouldn’t creak.
Our hundred-year-old house often creaked and popped at night. Dad said it was the sounds of the old wood and adobe settling as the night cooled down. But it still sounded scary.
Dad was out of town for work, and I felt bad waking Mom up, but I had to talk to her. I stood in the doorway. The moonlight shone through Mom’s white curtains. I felt a little less frightened already.
“Mom?” I called softly.
She turned over. “What’s the matter?”
“I had a bad dream again.”
“Oh no. Come snuggle with me, OK?”
Relieved, I climbed into the big bed. The sheets felt cool and soft. Mom hugged me tightly. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
“It was the dream with the giant shark.”
“You’ve had that dream before,” Mom said. I nodded and tucked my head under Mom’s chin. “Well, you’re safe, sweetheart. Sleep here with me until morning. After school tomorrow, we can talk some more.”
All day I wondered what Mom would say after school about my scary dreams. The shark dream wasn’t the only one. Sometimes I dreamed about a prickly monster. One night I even dreamed that my family was in a car accident.
My dreams really bothered me. Sometimes I screamed and cried in the night. I even felt afraid to fall asleep.
After school, I sat down with Mom. “Are you still thinking about the giant shark?” Mom asked.
I nodded.
“What do you think you’re going to do about those scary dreams?”
“Mom, they’re dreams. I didn’t make them start. I don’t think I can make them stop.”
“Probably not by yourself,” Mom said. “But there’s someone I ask for help when I have a problem I can’t solve by myself.”
“You mean Heavenly Father!” I said.
“Right! You can ask Heavenly Father to help you sleep well at night, with no bad dreams.”
“In my prayers before bed?”
“Then, and any other time you’re thinking about it. I know He will listen to you and help you.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“I ask Heavenly Father about problems a lot, and He helps me. Just this morning I asked Him what to do about your scary dreams.”
“Did He help you?”
“Yes. I had the idea that you should pray about your dreams, and when that idea came to my mind, I felt the Holy Ghost telling me it was a good thing to do.”
“How did it feel?”
“I felt warm and happy, and I felt sure everything would be OK,” Mom said. “Do you know what I mean?”
“I think so,” I said. And then I noticed that I felt warm and happy inside. “Mom, that’s how I feel right now!” I said.
“That’s the Holy Ghost telling you that what you’re learning is right,” Mom said.
That night, and every night for a long time afterward, I prayed that I could sleep well with no bad dreams. My bad dreams didn’t come back. Heavenly Father answered my prayer.

“I had a chance for a job at the beginning of the summer,” said one of the girls sitting on the grass at the main camp. She paused as the squeals from the canoe races drifted up from the waterfront. “I told them that if I couldn’t come to camp, I didn’t want the job. That’s what it means to me.”
Had it been worth it, you might be tempted to ask, and the answer, not from one voice but from 620, is a resounding yes!

Until recently, football, school, and church had always been things that I dealt with separately and tried to balance. After the football season, we were having player meetings with my football coach. He talked to me about leadership and how I could be a better leader. He said something interesting I never expected.
He said, “So I know you’re planning on serving a mission. You’re religious, and you’re OK with talking about God. I want you to talk about God with the other players. That’s why I coach—to draw people closer to God. I want to see people’s lives change. I think you’re one of the best players on the team to do this. When you have a chance, why don’t you talk to someone about God? Some people may reject it, but it may change someone’s life. You never know.”
I had never really connected sports and school and religion. But this conversation connected them for me and got me excited and more ready to share the gospel with others. It allowed me to realize that you can be the same person in football and school and at early-morning seminary in someone’s home and still be successful. Now that I’ve connected them it has made things easier.
This has helped me prepare for a mission. I’m getting more used to talking to people about God, sharing the gospel, and bearing my testimony.
Joseph S., 17, Louisiana, USA

“All I ever hear anymore is Jessica this and Jessica that or ‘Isn’t that great about your sister?’”
Kris Douglas was irritated with all the attention her twin sister, Jessica, was receiving. It seemed like everyone was delighted to support Jessica in her ballet, but when Kris had a big tennis match, no one showed up to watch. It hurt her feelings. At dinner that night, when Jessica was excited about her upcoming solo dance performance, Kris stomped out saying that she would not be able to make it to the performance. She said she had a meeting with the tennis team she couldn’t postpone.
This scenario is set in the first of ten episodes in a new seminary videotape called “I Will Lead You.” The series involves the members of the fictitious Douglas family as they learn to apply the teachings in the Doctrine and Covenants in dealing with the difficulties in their lives. At the end of the first episode, Kris realized that she was feeling jealousy but that Jessica was her sister and needed her attention and support at the performance.
Kris left her meeting and hurried to the auditorium in time to wish her sister good luck before the curtain rose.
For the first time, the seminaries have produced a videotape instead of a filmstrip to go along with the year’s course of study. Each episode presents a dilemma common between family members or between friends. As characters confront their problems, they learn the best ways to react by following the truths they know from the scriptures.
Lisa Griffiths, who plays the role of Kris Douglas, learned some valuable lessons when she had to put herself in her character’s shoes. When Lisa went to audition for the part, she had her confidence shaken. “I asked myself, What am I doing here? My application, where I was supposed to list my experience and training, was blank. I prayed very hard that if I needed to do the role because there was something I had to give to the character or that she had to give to me, I would know how to read the script.”
When Lisa got the part, she told her roommates, “I had the best acting coach—the Lord. That must have been it, because I certainly was not as experienced as the others.”
Lisa said that in some ways she is like Kris, but in others she isn’t. She knows a lot about her character and can anticipate what Kris might do in different situations. “Kris always seems to know how to phrase things or how to subtly get the message across. I can feel it, but verbalizing it is hard for me.
“She has incorporated the scriptures into her life. She really tries to apply what she is reading to what she is doing,” Lisa said when she described Kris, almost as if this fictional character were a close friend. “She does start to resent the fact that she is always the good one and her twin sister gets a lot of attention for the rebellious things she does. She focuses on herself for a little while until she straightens it out.”
Lisa applied the lesson she learned from playing the part of Kris to her own life. “I learned to check where my focus was. I was pulling on some natural feelings. I have a sister who is a performer. She’s fantastic, and I look up to her in so many ways. I have felt the role before of the younger sister that doesn’t get the attention sometimes. There have been times I have let that get to me, so I knew that what Kris was feeling really happens—that you really do get jealous. I can see when my focus was on myself, when I wasn’t applying things I had learned in church, things didn’t work out. I still have to do that kind of checking.”
Lisa is a little embarrassed to remember that she and her friends used to laugh a little at the filmstrips they watched in seminary. That made her want to perform so that her character was believable. “I wanted to make this character real so that at least one person who watched it would stop and say, What is she really saying? What is she really wondering about? The whole cast set that as a goal.
“I did make fun of the filmstrips when I was in seminary,” said Lisa. “We had little jokes about what they were wearing and their hairstyles. I can remember when the wardrobe lady was dressing me and doing my hair. I thought, Now I know why we laughed. I would laugh sometimes at myself while I was doing it. It was a humbling experience. There is a message behind what the characters are wearing and how their hair looks. There is a message or a mood behind it all.”
Kris talked about the most difficult part of the video for her. “The hardest scene for me,” said Lisa, “was when I was sitting on the porch with my grandfather and we are looking at the stars. He’s saying how lonely it feels when he looks up there. Kris sees it as the Lord saying He is there for people and that He loves you no matter what. That was a hard scene for me because I believed what I was saying, and I was very worried that it would come across sappy or trite to high school students watching it. There are times we do feel alone, but there are times when we’ve got to know that we really are not. The Lord is there for us.”
Learning that each of us has to rely on guidance from our Heavenly Father is the whole purpose of the “I Will Lead You” videotape. And that guidance is contained in the scriptures. Lisa said, “I learned to read my scriptures every day to get something out of them to hold onto. That was the idea of the films. Sometimes you can’t handle it all. You just don’t have the answers. It doesn’t make sense, and it doesn’t seem fair. You have to remember that even if you don’t feel the Lord, his hand is there and he is leading you.”

I was so excited! I had turned 12 about two weeks ago and had received my first temple recommend on Sunday. My dad was going to take me to the Spokane Washington Temple for the first time as a birthday present.
On the day of our trip, I was ready to go an hour early! I was just so eager to go! We finally got into the car and listened to hymns on the trip there, which really brought in the Spirit that day.
My mom had prepared some family names for me and my dad to take to the temple. While I was entering the font I had expected this huge spiritual experience, but that didn’t happen. What did happen was that I was baptized for one of my deceased relatives, and I felt a still, small voice whisper to me, “You are doing the right thing.”
On the way home I really thought about what had happened at the temple. I realized I didn’t need the huge spiritual experience I had been expecting. I was so glad I had the Holy Ghost with me that day so that I could hear the still, small voice.
I’m so thankful for the temple and all of its blessings! The temple has brought me and my family great blessings, happiness, and experiences with the still, small voice.

The air was charged with excitement as the families with their wagons, oxen, sheep, and other livestock gathered at the Missouri River to start the long trek westward early in the spring of 1852.
As twelve-year-old Albert Dickson wandered among the wagons, he saw many children. He even discovered several boys his own age. It was good to know that he would have friends on the long trip ahead.
Albert was just one of thousands of children pioneers who crossed the continent in the migration to the western states in the late 1840s and early 1850s. There were four other children in the Dickson family at that time, including his fourteen-year-old sister, Samantha; his nine-year-old brother, Judson; Alvina, who was six; and two-year-old William.
In Albert’s journal he wrote, “We crossed the Missouri on a large flatboat. Two wagons went on each trip, with three men to the oar and one at the rear to steer. They would land down the river about one mile from the starting point, then pull the boat back with oxen.” Like any twelve year old, he found adventure in each new phase of the trip.
When the entire party had gathered on the other side of the river, there were sixty wagons, which were divided into groups of ten, and each group had a captain. At least half the company were children. The older ones usually walked beside the wagons; some herded the sheep. Even the small children walked part of the day but were allowed to ride as they tired.
Usually from ten to fifteen miles were covered each day while crossing the prairies, and about half as many when the Rocky Mountains were reached. A lot depended on the weather and the terrain being traveled.
The group followed the Mormon Trail, which had been cleared in 1847 as a route for the migration of Church members to the Salt Lake Valley. It followed the north side of the Platte River to the fork of the North Platte and South Platte, then ran along the North Platte to Fort Laramie, where the pioneers crossed the river and followed the Oregon Trail to Fort Bridger. From there they traveled down Weber Canyon and Emigration Canyon into the Salt Lake Valley. The entire trip was about 1100 miles.
Disease was one of the first challenges faced by both children and adults. Albert wrote: “At the first camp on the Platte River, cholera broke out and two of our number succumbed to the dread disease, which did not leave our company until we reached Loup Fork.” By then ten more had died.
As the company moved forward a few miles each day, the monotony was broken by unusual events. The first herds of buffalo (bison) seen, for instance, created considerable interest. Some men in the company wounded one, and the Dickson family dog took up the chase. As a result of the chase, the old dog died, leaving a family of children to mourn his loss.
A couple of days later, the first buffalo was killed and the fresh meat was distributed among the people. After that, there were thousands of the animals; the travelers would stop the wagon train and watch the vast herds pass.
Then, of course, there were lots of buffalo bones, and the travelers began to learn about the advance companies from messages written on buffalo skulls and left by the trail. Albert’s company would sometimes leave their own messages on buffalo skulls for those yet to come.
The trail was well marked and well traveled. Albert’s company was the fourteenth to leave for the west that spring.
Contrary to many stories, Indians did not present much of a problem on the journey. They often visited the camps and were generally given gifts such as beads and fishhooks. Because of the friendly attitude of the Mormon pioneers toward them, the Indians did not attack the wagon trains.
Each day started early. At five in the morning the camp was awakened. Families held morning prayer, cooked breakfast, fed and harnessed the horses and oxen, and were ready to move by seven o’clock. At night, the wagons were drawn into a circle and the horses and cattle were tethered inside it. After supper, evening prayers were held in each wagon at eight thirty; everyone was expected to be in bed by nine o’clock. The children didn’t need much coaxing—everyone was tired from the long day and ready for a good night’s rest.
The pioneers usually traveled six days but always camped and observed the Sabbath. It was a welcome treat for everyone, but especially for the children. There was time to attend Sunday School with their friends, sing, listen to stories, visit with the other children, and explore the nearby countryside.
Sometimes the wagon train camped for a day or two to rest the animals, repair wagons, and do laundry.
Billa Dickson, Albert’s father, was a blacksmith, and his services were often needed to repair wagon wheels and axles. Albert worked with his father, learning the trade. They also hunted together to help secure fresh meat for the company. All the older boys were expected to work with the men and to help do the camp chores.
By midsummer the company had reached the halfway point, Fort Laramie. They wouldn’t reach the Salt Lake Valley until the first of October.
Pioneers are generally thought of as adults, but the majority of the western pioneers were actually children like young Albert Dickson, who trekked the westward trails and settled in the valleys of the mountain west. As they grew older, they became the leaders of many thriving communities that were literally carved out of a barren and hostile land.
Albert Dickson eventually moved to Morgan county and became the first bishop of the Richville Ward. He served in that position for thirty-seven years. His strength and leadership qualities, along with those of other early Church leaders, were undoubtedly developed by his experiences on the journey west.

Tired but happy after her soccer game, Gracie walked to the bleachers where her family sat. Her whole family, including her abuela (grandmother), had come to watch the game.
“You played with honor,” Gracie’s papá said as he put his arm around her shoulders.
Gracie grinned. “Gracias, Papá.”
The family piled into the car. When Papá suggested that they stop for lunch to celebrate the team’s victory, Gracie and her younger brother and sister cheered.
The restaurant was crowded, with only two empty booths available. Four players from the other team walked in after Gracie’s family and took the booth behind theirs. They began talking loudly, insulting the players on Gracie’s team.
Gracie looked at her parents and saw dismay on their faces. They were as uncomfortable as she was with the vulgar language they were hearing. She wondered what they would do.
Papá started to stand when Gracie’s abuela leaned over the back of the booth and started talking to the young people.
She didn’t say anything about their language but asked questions about their hobbies. One of the girls shyly said that she liked to knit.
“Come over to our table,” Abuela invited. “I’ll show you what I’m working on.”
The four players trooped over to join Gracie’s family at their booth. Everyone slid closer together to make room for them.
Abuela opened the knitting bag she always carried and pulled out a stocking hat. “I can make one of these in 30 minutes.”
“Could you show me how to do that sometime?” the girl asked.
“It would be my pleasure,” Abuela said.
“You’re pretty cool,” one of the boys said.
Abuela smiled. “For an old lady.”
“For anyone.” He hesitated, then looked around to Gracie’s family with an embarrassed expression. “I guess you’d like it if we didn’t talk like we did.”
Abuela patted the boy’s hand and smiled. “You are right.”
“Thanks for talking to us like we’re real people,” the girl said. “Most people ignore us.”
“You are real people. Even more important, you are each a child of God,” Abuela said. “Always remember that.”
Gracie watched a look of wonder come over the girl’s face.
The boys and girls returned to their booth and finished their meal. They left shortly after that.
Papá gave Abuela a hug. “Mamá, you are amazing. All I could think of was their bad language. I didn’t remember that they were also children of God.”
Later that night, Gracie asked Papá, “How did Abuela know what to say to those kids?”
“Your abuela treats everyone the same,” Papá said. “She knows that we’re all God’s children.”
Gracie hasn’t forgotten that lesson—nor her abuela’s example.

Stephen Owino is a longtime resident of the city and a modern-day pioneer in every sense of the word. Neatly woven into his rich tapestry of faith are the comely threads of curiosity and patience in pursuit of truth. His soul-stirring conversion story involves multiple actors, across two different continents, working in concert to help him along the well-traveled path of discipleship. This mild-mannered, sociable father of three wrestled with the same questions that Joseph Smith and every honest seeker of truth must inevitably ask. Who am I? What is the purpose of life? Which church should I join?
Stephen’s onward march on the covenant path began with a simple online search for churches in Kenya, back in 2018. It was during one of those searches that he stumbled upon a passing reference to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and thought to himself, “What a peculiarly long name for a church.” Several clicks later—and what can only be described as a prompting from the Spirit—he would reach out halfway around the world to Tonya Isom, inquiring about the possibility of meeting with the missionaries so he could learn more about her beliefs. Why Tonya? For some reason he can’t explain, her thumbnail image stood out above the rest on the Church’s official Facebook page and he felt like she could help him find the answers he was looking for.
Several weeks elapsed before Tonya got around to reading Stephen’s message. In her reply, she included links to the official Church website and directed Stephen on how he could contact local missionaries. With the help of the Church’s online meetinghouse locator, she helped Stephen find the nearest chapel, which was some 9,570 miles away from her own hometown of Alamo, California.
On January 24, 2020, Tonya helped Stephen connect with Elder James Steward and his companion who were full-time missionaries serving in her California ward at the time. Over the course of the next three months, these missionaries would visit Stephen remotely via WhatsApp, sharing with him the message of the restored gospel. They encouraged him to read the Book of Mormon and to attend church regularly.
Because Stephen lives in Nairobi, the responsibility for teaching and preparing Stephen for baptism was assigned by Nairobi Kenya Mission president Khumbulani Mdletshe to sisters Clementine, Fretton, and Dingili—serving in Nairobi as full-time missionaries. They began teaching Stephen the missionary lessons.
Elder Steward—who had kept a meticulous digital record of Stephen’s progress—could not hide his joy when learning that, six months after their virtual encounter, Stephen had committed to baptism. Elder Steward credits this early experience with online teaching—long before it became the norm in his own mission—to “the Lord’s perfect timing”.
On August 23, 2020, Elder Steward—along with Tonya (and some invited members of Tonya’s family)—tuned in on a video call to watch Stephen’s baptism, confirmation, and subsequent ordination to the Aaronic Priesthood under the hand of Bishop Benard Oliech, of the Upper Hill Ward in Nairobi. It is remarkable when contemplating all the realities made possible by modern technology—that during this time of COVID-19, the Lord’s work is still able to proceed. Those present by video at the baptism described a feeling of the Spirit from their different regions of the world. “It’s a modern-day miracle,” Tonya observed.
Tonya finds great comfort in sharing the gospel. She firmly believes, “Where much is given, much is expected.” (See Luke 12:48.) In a recent video call attended by members of Upper Hill Ward, she admonished all to, “Remember the worth of souls is great in the sight of God” (D&C 18:10).
Stephen, like thousands of Church members around the globe, isn’t shy about flooding the world with gospel light of his own through social media. And who knows? Perhaps another wandering soul in a part of the world, near to or distant from Stephen, will catch a glimmer of his light thus shared, and find a friend—and thus redemption.

Three to one—that was the ratio published at the beginning of fall semester. Ten to one was more like it. Susan Taylor twisted and pulled herself into a half-lotus position just minutes before midnight, grabbed a yellow, ruled tablet, a no. 2 pencil, and scribbled her New Year’s resolution: “Get a date; get two; get engaged; get married.”
Straightening her spine into correct posture and breathing correctly, she lowered her head within inches of the floor, at the same time forcing her arms into an unnatural, towering position above her contorted body.
Nineteen seventy-four clocked out and 1975 clocked in while she held her breath. Nostalgic dance-band music, filtering into her bedroom from downstairs, signaled the New Year. Hanging full-length on the wall, the mirror reflected her 19-year-old freshman image. She stood, swiveling gracefully from side to side. Would the guys notice? She was slimmer; she seemed taller and prettier. But still, her legs were straight, her shoulders narrow. She had, however, learned to disguise figure faults. Now her brown hair caressed her shoulders. Her new dresses fell full and easy at her ankles.
“If it weren’t for Cynthia,” she thought, “I might have a chance.” Cynthia stalked from male to male—sweet-talking, smooth-walking Cindy lured admirers to her like a spider, trapping them in filmy webs of flattery. Thanks to her, Susan had sat dateless for 12 weeks, eating almond-studded chocolate bars.
But the New Year brought new hopes.
The New Year’s bells could have been campus bells, so swiftly did the time pass for Susan. She and 5,000 other students had blown into Rexburg on a wind and a prayer. They settled down and snuggled in for the winter.
Susan hesitated at the water fountain near the open door of COB 478, her first class of the new semester. She listened for her cue.
“Quiet, please. I’d like to …”
Head held high, Susan swung into the room, swishing an ankle-length plaid skirt. Sashaying, she dipped in and out of regimented rows of students, working toward an empty desk near the window, while the teacher and the students looked on. She flipped the last corner with a flourish, confident she was making a good impression.
Then suddenly an overhead projector loomed large in her way. She stumbled over it, catching her skirt on the neck of the projector. She hit the linoleum with a thud, her straight legs scissored under a row of desks, her skirt bunched at her knees. Students snickered.
“Welcome to class, Miss … uh?” the teacher said with a smile.
“Taylor,” Susan volunteered with a blush and a gulp.
“Did you hurt yourself, Miss Taylor?”
“No, sir. At least I don’t think so.” She pulled herself up.
Phase 2 followed on the heels of her clumsy beginning. It was easy—three public telephones in three boys’ dorms, three slips of paper on which she had written in her best hand, “A cute coed is waiting by a telephone for your call. Why not give her a ring? 356-9927.”
Susan slipped into the dorms early on a Saturday morning. Assuring herself no one was there, she walked on feline feet to the booths, pushed back the doors as quickly and quietly as she could, and stuffed her notes in the coin return slots. After all, who doesn’t look in the slot when he hears the false drop of a coin? It was easy; it was sure. Now all she had to do was wait. Carried along by the early morning wind, she bounded back to her apartment, took the stairs three at a time, and only then caught up with her breath as she sank into a vinyl-covered chair by the phone.
Painting her nails, styling her hair, she waited. Each ring vibrated in her ears and set her to jittering in the chair. Linda’s parents called from Salt Lake; two boys called for Cindy; Susan waited for a fourth call.
Ring! Susan lunged for the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Hello, cute coed,” the masculine voice drawled. “This is the call you’ve been waiting for. What’s your name?”
“Sue.”
“Sue what?”
A flutter of the heart and a pause.
“Sue Taylor. What’s your name?”
“Joe.” The voice continued, “Joe McIntire.” And then irritatingly, “I repair phones. Now quit abusing the telephone system or I’ll report you!”
Click!
Downstairs the lounge was quiet except for the soft shuffling of papers as Sister Calder sorted through an old cardboard box. Susan shrank past her to the door. She didn’t want to talk to anyone just now, least of all to a successfully married dorm parent. Outside in the hall she slipped a dime in the vending machine, pulled the button, and waited for the sliding and drop of a chocolate bar. She stuffed it into the pocket of her coat, turned up the fur collar around her neck and ears, and walked out into the wind.
The sky was iron-gray, breaking only a little light through at the horizon. Patches of dirt-peppered snow crusted on the frozen grass and at the edges of the sidewalk. Gravel scratched between the walk and her shoes as she turned south toward the hilltop above the campus buildings. She shifted her body first one way and then the other, trying to escape the full force of the wind. She leaned into it, every step an effort; then suddenly, it swooped up behind her, thrusting her forward effortlessly.
“Just like the wind,” she thought, “my life is out of control. Why does everything have to go wrong?” Pulling the hair out of her eyes, she looked for shelter.
Susan passed one house, two houses, three, and then an open field. Bordering the open field, a woodshed extended beyond a garage. She pushed her way there, finding a protected log lying between two cords of wood piled eight feet high. When she straddled the log, the wind raged only three feet above her head but seemed a whole world away. Tucked away in the wood, her head on her knees, she confronted herself. Struggling against the wind had swept her clean. She whispered prayers there among the buoying smells of sawdust and raw, wintry air.
The oncoming night had nearly pinched out the rim of light when she reentered the dorm. It was bright and warm in the lounge. A couple clasped hands in front of the television; Sister Calder knelt on the floor surrounded by piles of papers and magazines. The cardboard box was empty and cast off to the side. She glanced up.
“Susan! You look absolutely frozen. Come and sit for a minute.” Sister Calder smiled broadly and patted a nearby chair.
Thinking it easier to obey than make an excuse, Susan dropped to the chair and rubbed her icy hands on the warm upholstery. She gazed vacantly at the neat piles.
“What are you doing, Sister Calder?” she asked politely.
“I’m trying to sort through some things. Don tells me he doesn’t have room to turn around in that small apartment of ours. The only problem is, I just can’t bear to throw anything away.” She laughed heartily and raised her arms in hopelessness. “Our love letters, my decorating books, these old prints—I can’t part with any of it. Not even this, though I have another copy.” She picked up a New Era that had been making its own pile. “Here, you look at it; maybe there’s something in it you can use.”
Sister Calder thrust the magazine into Susan’s lap. It fell open. Susan held it for a moment, then looking closer, she read: “Young women in Zion, worrying takes energy. Instead of worrying why you don’t date or while you’re not married, expend that energy positively. Take a class. Make a recipe or home decorating file. Join a service club. Spend 15 minutes a day with the written testimonies of the prophets. In short, develop yourself into the kind of person who attracts the priesthood bearer you desire. Happiness does not miraculously begin with marriage—it strengthens marriage. Create your happiness now, for someday it will guide you into eternity.”
Help lay before her on the page. Though printed months before, the words spoke to her at this moment. Susan held it to her.
“Sister Calder, I will keep this, if you don’t mind.”
When Susan opened the apartment door, Cynthia was draped over the couch dreaming, her legs dangling prettily over the couch’s arm. As if suddenly animated, she bounced to her feet and twirled excitedly. Her auburn hair shone in the light; her cheeks flushed with life—she looked more beautiful than ever.
“Guess what?” she exclaimed. “This fantastic guy called from one of the boys’ dorms. He said he found my phone number in the telephone booth. Can you believe that? Gosh, we talked for just hours and hours. And he’s coming over tomorrow night to see me. Oh, I can hardly wait! How will I ever be able to concentrate till then?” Cynthia fell back to the couch in a swoon.
“Hey, what happened to you?” Cynthia looked at Susan as if seeing her for the first time. “You look like you’ve been out in a hurricane. Seriously, where have you been?”
“Seriously, I’ve been learning.”
“Well, that’s what they tell us we’re here for. Just between you and me, though, I’m working toward my MRS degree.” Her secret hardly popped out like a genie long-corked in a bottle.
Susan was amused at her confession. From Cindy’s lips she could hear her own narrow view of life rumbling, tumbling down in a heap on the floor. She started for the bedroom.
“Where are you going now?”
“I need some privacy, Cindy,” she smiled brightly. “I’m rewriting my New Year’s resolutions.” As if lifted up by a breeze, Susan glided past Cynthia into the room beyond.

Shortly after I was baptized, I married a man who was not a member of the Church. He controlled all the money I earned and never let me pay tithing.
I suffered for 10 long, unhappy years, during which I could not progress. Eventually I was divorced and began to support my daughter and myself. However, what I earned was insufficient to pay for our rent, bills, food, clothes, and the other things we needed. If I had enough for one thing, I could not afford another.
One day I started to pay tithing anyway. As always I continued to plan my budget. And I began to realize that I had enough money for everything, even with the same salary. At first I couldn’t believe what was happening. Then I read the passage in the Bible where the Lord says, “Prove me now herewith … if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it” (Mal. 3:10). I knelt down and cried unto the Lord in gratitude. He has never forsaken me.

Bishop Romney is here to talk to us about tithing.
Who knows what tithing is?
It’s money we give to Heavenly Father!
That’s right! We share 10 percent of what we receive with Heavenly Father.
Why do we have to give our money away?
Tithing money is used for lots of things, like building churches and temples and helping the missionaries.
If it sounds hard to give away your money, this might help. Pretend this is a peach pie. Who wants the pie?
Me! I do!
OK. I’ll give you the whole pie! Now would you give me just one piece of it back?
Sure! You’re the one who gave me the pie.
This slice of pie is like tithing. Heavenly Father gives us everything we have. He just asks for us to give one slice back to Him.
The next Sunday …
Is this your tithing, Maya?
Yes. Heavenly Father gave me all that I have, so I’m giving Him a piece of my pie!
This story took place in the USA.