Gospel Story Finder

After lunch the trail wound up above the tree line and followed a glacial river.
“Gee, the park rangers wouldn’t make a trail this hard! Oh, there’s the trail marker. We’ve got to go back across,” wailed an adviser as her group forded a swift stream unnecessarily.
“There’s a plaque ahead. Let’s read it.”
When we saw an old photo of a woman packing a tin stove up the rugged trail we were following, our packs felt much lighter.

Joe’s sister Sariah was sick. Not the kind of sick where you cough or have a stomachache. Mom and Dad said she might have diabetes.
Joe didn’t know what diabetes was, but it sounded scary. Then Mom and Dad explained that it’s when people’s bodies have trouble using sugar from the food they eat. Sariah had to spend a few days in the hospital to find out if she had diabetes.
Sometimes Sariah got on Joe’s nerves. She tried to play with his friends. She even lost his video game controller once. But he still loved her so much. I don’t want her to be sick, he thought as tears came to his eyes.
Joe’s sisters helped Sariah get ready for the hospital. Mary got out Sariah’s backpack. Hannah helped pack her pajamas. Lilly added a fuzzy blanket. Joe wanted to help too, but he didn’t know how.
Soon Sariah was all packed.
“Let’s pray before we go,” Dad said. “Joe, would you say it?”
Joe nodded. “Dear Heavenly Father,” he began. “Please bless Sariah to not have diabetes. Please bless her to be OK.” As he prayed, Joe felt a little better.
As the family came together for a hug, Joe had an idea.
“Wait!” he said. He went to his room and grabbed the portable music player he got for his birthday. He made sure Sariah’s favorite songs were on it.
“Here,” he said, handing it to Sariah. “You can take this to the hospital.” She smiled and held it tight as she walked to the car.
The next day, Mom took Joe and his sisters to the hospital to visit Sariah. Joe was nervous as they walked through the hospital. “Please bless her to not have diabetes,” he prayed for what felt like the hundredth time.
When they got to Sariah’s room, she was sitting up in bed with tubes attached to her arms. She smiled a little when she saw everyone.
“We got the tests back,” Dad said. “The doctors say Sariah has type 1 diabetes. We’ll have to change some food we eat as a family and help her with her medicine. But she’ll be OK.”
Joe’s stomach dropped. He went out into the hallway and sat down next to the door. He buried his face in his arms.
“What’s wrong, Joe?” Mom said as she sat next to him.
“I prayed that Sariah wouldn’t have diabetes,” Joe said. “Why didn’t Heavenly Father answer my prayer?”
Mom put her arm around him. “Heavenly Father always answers our prayers. But it’s just not always in the way we want. Sometimes, instead of taking hard things away, He answers by giving us peace and helping us be strong. I know Heavenly Father will help Sariah.”
Joe nodded slowly. He didn’t feel peaceful or strong right now. But he remembered the good feeling he had during their family prayer.
Together they walked back into the room. Joe’s sisters were playing a card game, just like they did at home. And they all looked happy, even Sariah.
Then Joe noticed something. Sariah had headphones around her neck and his music player in her lap.
“She keeps listening to the songs you picked for her,” Mom said. “It really helps her feel calm.”
Joe felt warm inside. He knew that Heavenly Father was already helping them.

Three years ago I met a young man who had been severely injured in an accident. The medical forecast was grim. If he survived, he could spend the rest of his life completely paralyzed. Recently I met him again. Through the priesthood, he had been blessed to gain the mobility needed to do all the Lord intended he do in life. He moved his electric cart near, shook my hand, sat upright, and broke into a broad grin. The room was charged with his invincible spirit. His faith—and incredibly hard, painful effort, sustained and magnified by the blessing of the Lord—has begun a miracle. With periodic help from loving friends, he is succeeding in a university and striving to progress to qualify to be a missionary. I know his continued effort will yield far greater improvement.

My girl friend used to be very in tune with and enthusiastic about the gospel. But recently she’s been going out with people who have different standards than the Church teaches, and as a result she’s doing things that aren’t good for her. She isn’t attending Mutual and has started drinking and dating boys with bad reputations. I wrote her a letter, telling her how much I love her and the gospel, and I asked her if there is anything I can do. She wrote back saying she knows that what she is doing is wrong. Yet, she keeps doing it. Her family is really strong in the Church. They are trying to help her, but it’s not working. This problem is tearing her apart, and it’s hurting me as well. What should I do?
“When a young person is confused and not living the correct standards, she is in need of love and understanding from those who are around her, especially her friends and family. ‘A friend loveth at all times, and a brother is born for adversity’ (Prov. 17:17). You mustn’t leave her alone to face the world in this troubled time of her life. A kind and strong hand can help lead her out of despair and back into the happy and secure life of the Church. The important thing is that she realizes she is doing wrong. Someday she may realize how unhappy her life really is and do something about it. That final decision must be her own. For now you can be a friend and pray for her to have the strength to see through the dark into the light of the gospel.”
Barbara LordsAberdeen, Idaho
“Oh, boy! Does this situation sound familiar. This last year one of my close friends fell into this same situation. It was hurting me and her and everyone else involved, and it seemed that we had tried everything to help her. Then one night as I was praying for her, the idea came to hold a special fast for her. We contacted everyone who knew her and informed them of this special fast. Then after the fast we set a goal to be especially kind and loving to this girl (but not in an over-obvious way). Eventually, with the help of all these people and her family, this girl came back into the Church.
“The only advice I can give is to try what we tried. Pray and fast for her and constantly, by your actions, reassure her that she is loved. Don’t condemn her but follow the advice in 3 Nephi 18:23–24.” [3 Ne. 18:23–24]
Sherry StottBynum, Montana
“In our highly materialistic society, it’s easy to become caught up in the ‘worldly pleasures’ that are allowed to dominate in others’ lives. It is distressing when this happens to someone close to us, especially when he or she acknowledges his wrongdoing.
“As a friend you can help by continuing to show concern. Be an example and an encouragement. Invite her to join in Mutual, and in time, I’m sure she’ll come to realize that nothing can replace the gospel’s true teachings.
“Paul said that we walk by faith, not by sight. Faith is expressed in living so that our actions reflect our belief. Through consistent prayer and example, you can help lead her home, just as the lost sheep was found.
“‘Likewise joy shall be in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine just persons, which need no repentance’ (Luke 15:7).”
Cathy PiperHemel Hempstead, Hertfordshire, England
“Before you can really help her, you must truly love her. The Lord requires a great sacrifice from us when we have a special feeling for others. He requires that we do more than express our love and feelings for the gospel through letters or other one-time attempts. Not to say that these efforts aren’t important, but show her through consistent action what your true feelings are for her. Treat her as though she were active, and soon she will assume the confidence she needs. Change comes by example and practice. Show her by your example what the gospel can do to change lives. Only then will she really desire to change. Remember who you are first, be accepting of her, and then the Spirit of the Holy Ghost will help her to change her life.”
Debbie MitchellEl Dorado Springs, Missouri
“Your problem is not as uncommon as you might think. Coming from a community where Mormons are a minority, I have faced the same problem.
“Sometimes the reason a person becomes associated with people of different standards is because no one with the same standards will take time to be her friend. We can get so wrapped up in our own problems that we don’t realize that our friends need help.
“All you can do is be her friend. A letter is a great idea, but perhaps just a little impersonal. Wouldn’t a phone call, or better yet a personal visit to your friend, be better? Let her know that you’re concerned about what’s happening to her. Call her and offer her a ride to Mutual. Take action against the problem. Don’t expect her to do it all by herself.”
Dana ReidRedwood City, California
“Somewhat the same circumstance happened to a very dear friend of mine. The solution I have found is simply to love her, to accept her, and to be there with a kind, listening ear. That is what builds a divine friendship. To love one another is God’s simple plan, and it really works. One thing you must always remember is that everyone has his own agency to choose how he wishes to live.
“I guess all you can do is wait, and pray, and realize for your own life how great the Church really is. My dear friend is now very active in the Church and will soon hold callings in it. One last word would be, ‘People take time.’”
Jane Alice KinserNorwalk, California
“The worry of rebellious children is no new concern; even the son of the prophet Alma in Book of Mormon times was led astray and was held for a time in Satan’s grasp. Much faith and many prayers pleading for his return to the faith were offered by both parents and friends.
“Of course, all wandering youth don’t have such a miraculous turnabout, but consider for a moment the teaching of Solomon, son of King David, found in Proverbs 22:6 [Prov. 22:6]: ‘Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it.’ You must steadfastly continue your prayers, friendship, and good influence on this friend, and surely some day, after the rebellious streak has taken its course, your friend will find sorrow in her actions and return to the principles that she knows to be correct.”
Carol ShurtzBountiful, Utah
“While we are responsible to set a good example and strive always to encourage and uplift our fellowmen, all children of our Father in Heaven have been given agency to choose for themselves between right and wrong. Even though our desires for a person may be for their benefit, we cannot make their decisions for them.
“I experienced a similar situation several years ago. I befriended a person to try and help him, and I associated regularly with him. Although I feel I helped him, I ended up having a lot of problems, which I brought upon myself. It was a hard and painful road back.
“The best thing to do is set a good example and love and encourage her, but do not allow yourself to be adversely affected by her choices. Do what you know is right, and even though it may not help right now, sometime in the future, this girl will look back and say, ‘He was so happy and at peace. What am I doing wrong?’”
Elder Don PattersonKorea Seoul Mission
“When a person is interested in reconforming her life to meet the gospel standards, she is often frightened and reluctant for fear of rejection by active Church members. Satan is also very active in telling her she is already past hope, so why try to repent. This can be convincing to a heart that feels both confused and guilty.
“The best you can do is to let your friend know that you and others love her and that Heavenly Father loves her, too. I suggest that you call her and offer to take her to Mutual yourself, then treat her as if she were still active.
“Talk to her leaders in Mutual—her class president, adviser, and Young Women president—and ask for their help and prayers. If she turns down your offer, respect her free agency, but don’t give up. Just keep offering her a ride. And keep remembering her in your prayers.”
Mary Ann StoutRome, New York
“To help your girl friend, you must exercise your faith and prayers. You can ask her family to do the same. You must ask our Father in Heaven to help you to know what to say to your friend and how to say it so it will affect her. Don’t overwhelm her with lectures, or she will drop you and cut off communication. Pray for help and guidance and remember to let your light so shine that men may see your good works (see Matt. 5:16).
“You must set an example for her to follow. If you are strong and she is sincere about returning to the Church, she will follow what you do. You must pull her forward; don’t push from behind. She is watching you, so set the right kind of example.”
Kathy BellistonProvo, Utah

As a youth I loved to play basketball. One of my biggest disappointments was when I didn’t make the school team. I stopped growing early, and I probably just was not good enough, anyway. Seeing other boys my age go on to become really outstanding basketball players was difficult—not because they achieved in the sport, but because I hadn’t.
However, that disappointment helped push me in the direction of the world of words, which, over the years, has been a blessing to me. At the time, it seemed a poor substitute for basketball, but as I look back on my life, the pushing in that direction meant that I was to have many opportunities I could not otherwise have had.
When I served in the army during World War II, I was asked to write letters of comfort to the wives and parents of those who had been killed. I was also asked to write letters recognizing men for their bravery in battle. So I became more involved in the world of words.
Later, that led quite naturally to the mission field. In those days there was no churchwide plan for the missionaries to follow, and I came up with one that my mission used.
So our talents can develop in a meaningful way, even though we can’t see it at the time. While I would rather, in my youth, have played basketball, it would end up being more important for me to develop a talent with words. We need to trust in God in the midst of our disappointments. Experiences that seem hard when we are in the middle of them may well be part of God’s tutoring and training.

During her campaign for student-body president, Sue introduced a theme, “Seek for the highest that is in you.” As high school students will do, some started making fun of the theme. But Sue persevered, using the theme for all the activities throughout the year, and the silliness died down. The principal of Mt. Si, Scott Menard, said, “There are always those who will take something positive and try to undermine it. Sue was able to overcome that just by her good-naturedness and by not taking herself too seriously or getting defensive when people would put the theme down. She kept it through every assembly. She didn’t allow the focus to wander, and it became the accepted motto for the students that year.”

Switch channels with me to a scene on a Saturday night in a ranch home, where a boy who has just answered the telephone nervously approaches his mother. “Mom,” he says, “Bob is on the phone. He and his dad and Tom and his dad are going snowmobiling and shooting tomorrow morning, and they want to know if I can go with them.”

The mother seems startled and uncertain. She is strongly tempted to respond sharply, reminding her boy that he has duties on Sunday morning, that in their family they go to church together, and that when Dad returns later that night he will not consider such a thing. But, instead, she says, “Richard, you are twelve years old. You hold the priesthood. I am sure Dad would want you to make up your own mind and answer Bob yourself.”

The boy goes back to the telephone, and the mother goes to her room and prays their son will give the right answer. Nothing more is said. On Sunday morning the boy and his parents go into town to church, park in the lot across the street, and are crossing, arm-in-arm, when a pickup truck passes. Two men and two boys wave to Richard as they pass. He pauses a moment and says, “Gee, I wish …” The mother catches her breath; then Richard finishes: “I wish I had been able to talk Bob and Tom into coming to priesthood meeting this morning.”

The mother, telling the story, thanks the Lord for this choice boy and his personal decision to do the right thing. Then she weeps as she explains how important that was to all of them. You see, their son was killed in a farm accident that week.

In January 1962, when I was six years old, missionaries arrived at my father’s jewelry store looking to replace a tie clip one of them had lost. While there, they heard someone playing the guitar. When they asked about it, my father invited them to come in and meet his friend.
During their conversation, my father and his friend asked the missionaries if they played guitar. One elder said he played a little. My father’s friend passed his guitar to him and asked him to play. He began to play some songs while his companion sang.
The missionaries’ simple search for a tie clip led to my family’s introduction to the gospel of Jesus Christ. We became good friends with the missionaries and began listening to the lessons. The gospel seed was planted, and it began to grow, first in my mother, Elsa, and my sisters, Ana and Stella, and then in me.
Since that day, a love for missionary work has grown in my family. I served a mission, my sons have served missions, and now our grandchildren are beginning to prepare for and serve missions, creating a third generation of missionaries.

It’s a beautiful sound when all the members of the London Ward in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada, sing hymns with the organ music in their chapel. Thirteen-year-old Marvin Cardona is the organist. Anywhere there’s music in the London Ward, you’ll most likely find one of the youth from the ward providing the accompaniment.
It’s strange to think that only a few months ago the members in this ward would either sing without accompaniment in their meetings or play the Church-produced tapes of the hymns as they sang.
Everyone prefers having the young people in the ward play the hymns now. Andrew Cardona, 17, says, “Everyone actually sings in time now. Sometimes we were off a few beats [from the tape]. You feel the Spirit more now.” Jackie Famini, 13, agrees. “It’s nice to have someone play the piano instead of listening to the tapes.”
When the London Ward was split from another ward, there was no one left in the ward boundaries who could play the organ or the piano well enough to accompany the congregation. That’s where Elder and Sister Heap entered the scene. They are a missionary couple who realized that once they left the ward, there would be no one who could play the piano. So they decided to teach music lessons to anyone who was interested.
Almost all the youth in the ward signed up. “I heard about all the other people taking lessons, and I was interested because I wanted to play the piano,” says Sherri Cardona, 15. “So I asked Sister Heap, and she said yes.” Sherri now rotates with other girls in the ward to play the keyboard for Young Women opening exercises.
The youth in the ward are grateful to Elder and Sister Heap for all they’ve taught them. They say the Heaps were not only good music teachers but also good friends.

In our day and our time, there are many examples concerning the experiences of those who pray and then go and do. I share with you a touching account of a fine family that lived in the beautiful city of Perth, Australia. In 1957, four months before the dedication of the New Zealand temple, Donald Cummings, the father, was the president of the member district in Perth. He and his wife and family were determined to attend the dedication of the temple, although they were of very modest financial means. They began to pray, to work, and to save. They sold their only car and gathered together every penny they could, but a week before their scheduled departure, they were still 200 pounds short. Through two unexpected gifts of 100 pounds each, they met their goal just in time. Because Brother Cummings couldn’t get time off work for the trip, he decided to quit his job.
They traveled by train across the vast Australian continent, arriving at Sydney, where they joined other members also traveling to New Zealand. Brother Cummings and his family were among the first Australians to be baptized for the dead in the New Zealand temple. They were among the first ones to be endowed in the New Zealand temple from far-off Perth, Australia. They prayed, they prepared, and then they went.
When the Cummings family returned to Perth, Brother Cummings obtained a new and better job. He was still serving as district president nine years later when it was my privilege to call him as the first president of the Perth Australia Stake. I think it significant that he is now the first president of the Perth Australia Temple.

I had always dreamed of having family home evenings like the ones I saw in Church pictures. But after my husband and I adopted a beautiful little girl, she did not want to join in. So we realized we had to make some changes in our family home evenings to reach her.
How grateful I am for the family home evening ideas published in the Liahona. Now our daughter is the first to want to hold family home evening and wishes we held it every day.

Receiving a letter to serve in the Adriatic North Mission required faith and trust in the Lord for Sister Beryl and Elder Paul Oliver. Being set apart in October 2021 to serve as assistant area auditors brought feelings to them of apprehension, excitement, and happiness.
Elder Oliver recalled his thoughts on the Lord making use of his 45 years of experience in auditing for the Church. He explained that they are responsible for “monitoring and supervising all of the audits for the Church finances in the branches and districts within the Adriatic North Coordinating Council”.
Besides training district and branch leaders, due to the small numbers of members in these areas they also train missionaries who fulfil these callings; quite challenging with missionaries transferring every 12 weeks.
Sister Oliver says that “it’s about doing what we can to help the Church grow out there”. A sentiment close to her heart as, starting from grassroots, she, her parents, and brother, were the first members of the couple’s ward of St Helens in the Liverpool England Stake.
Based in their home, the couple use the blessings of modern-day technology with emails, phone calls, and Zoom, to serve their mission, and with trips to the Adriatic North Mission when needed.
Thinking about the challenges they face, such as communication delays, small numbers of people and Sister Oliver’s fear of flying, the couple reflect on past experiences and testify that “the Lord will be with us as He has been many times over the years, so we have just got to be faithful and trust Him”.
To serve a senior service mission you can find out more information from your stake president, or at: ChurchofJesusChrist.org/topics/serve-and-teach/volunteer-time-and-talent

June pushed as Grandpa pulled the old red wagon up and down the long rows of vegetables. Grandpa stooped to inspect a knee-high, leafy green plant. “June, here are some nice big green peppers. Do you think that they are ready to pick?”
June stooped down to look. “Yup.” She carefully picked one and held it up to Grandpa for final approval.
“Yup,” Grandpa agreed. “Just right.”
June smiled and picked two more. She carefully placed them next to the corn in the wagon. The wagon was almost full, but there were still cucumbers, green beans, and squash to harvest.
She beamed as she looked at the beautiful fresh vegetables in the wagon. There were big red tomatoes, ears of yellow corn, orange carrots, leafy green lettuce, red radishes, and now, big green peppers.
Grandpa and June had planted the big garden in the spring. First they got the soil ready. Next, June helped Grandpa plant seeds in little holes. Then they carefully covered them with dirt.
After the seeds were covered, she helped Grandpa sprinkle the rich, dark soil with water. Up and down the long rows they went, digging and planting and watering.
They had also put in some small plants. “If we plant these instead of seeds, we’ll get vegetables sooner,” Grandpa explained. “I just can’t wait to pop a ripe tomato into my mouth!” Grandpa loved tomatoes.
Together June and Grandpa watered their garden almost every day. Grandpa put on his big black irrigating boots, and June tugged on her little blue rubber puddle hoppers. It was fun walking up and down the long rows, getting their boots muddy while they made sure that each plant got enough to drink.
Grandpa and June spent a lot of time weeding the long rows of vegetables, too. “Weeds drink up all the water,” Grandpa explained. “Now what is this I see?”
June squatted next to Grandpa to have a look. “Does it look like the plants around it?” Grandpa asked.
June compared the green plant to those near it. “Nope.”
“Weed or vegetable?”
“Weed,” June stated firmly and pulled it out with a hard jerk.
“Yup,” Grandpa said with a big smile, “you sure are a good gardener.”
June looked up at Grandpa. “Wow, Grandpa, we sure have lots of vegetables!”
“Yup, with lots more to come!” He unloaded the last acorn squash from the wagon onto the back porch. He sat down and wiped his forehead with his little red handkerchief. “Well, June, do you think we can eat all these vegetables ourselves?”
“Nope. We couldn’t eat that many in a hundred years.”
“You’re right,” Grandpa replied with a chuckle. “Well then, what do you think we should do with them all? I hate to waste any of our hard work.”
June thought a moment. She was proud of the vegetables and didn’t want to waste any, either. “I know! Let’s share them!”
“Now, that’s what I call a good idea! But who do you think would want some?”
June didn’t have to think very hard. “Sister Rencher doesn’t have a garden since she can’t bend down to pull weeds anymore. I bet she would like some.”
“Yup,” said Grandpa thoughtfully. “Who else?”
June’s mind was working fast. “Sister Rice works all day. She doesn’t have time to plant and care for a garden.”
“Good thinking, June. And the Sorenson’s next door don’t have room in their yard for a garden. I bet they would like some.”
“May we give some vegetables to my Primary teacher, Sister Johnson?” June asked. “I know she would like them.”
“Yup,” Grandpa said. “Now, how many people is that?”
June counted on her fingers. “Sister Rencher is one. Sister Rice is two. The Sorensons are three, and Sister Johnson makes four.”
Grandpa scratched his gray head. “How can we get all these vegetables to all those people?”
“I know! I know!” She jumped up and went into the house. Soon she was back, carrying four big brown grocery sacks. “We can put vegetables in a different sack for each person!”
“That’s a great idea,” Grandpa said. Together June and Grandpa thoughtfully chose vegetables for each person and carefully put them into the sacks.
“How can we get the sacks of vegetables to the people?” Grandpa asked.
“Can we take them in our wagon?”
“Yup. I think that will work.” Grandpa said. “You always have such good ideas! Now, who should we visit first?”
“The Sorensons. They’re the closest.”
Later, June held Grandpa’s hand as they pulled the empty wagon home. They had delivered all their vegetables. June’s small hand felt warm and secure inside Grandpa’s big one. She felt good inside.
“Grandpa, it’s sure fun to plant a garden. It’s even more fun to weed and water it. But do you know what’s the most fun of all?”
“What?”
“Sharing the vegetables.”
“Yup,” said Grandpa with a big smile.

Jim had just turned 18. He was sitting across from a General Authority of the Church, obviously nervous, filled with frustration, and showing a lot of animosity. His request was forthright, simple, and came out like he couldn’t wait to say it.
“I want to be excommunicated from the Church—today!”
“How long have you been a member?”
“About three years,” came the answer.
“Why do you make such a request?”
“Because I have lost my free agency. I like to smoke, and the Church is depriving me of my free agency to live the way I want to live.”
Jim failed to recognize that his most important exercise of free agency occurred when he decided to be baptized and to live in accordance with gospel standards.
Jim had obviously acquired associations with peers outside the Church who had gradually dulled the spiritual sensitivity and uplift that he had felt at the time of his baptismal commitment.
He was no longer a free young man. He had fallen prey to one of the adversary’s many ploys and deceptions which deceives the very elect at times and entices people away from the truth. Jim complained that the Church was depriving him of his freedom. But in actuality, it is the truth of the gospel that makes us free. We all have a great need to be free.

In the early 1980s, my father, who suffered from severe heart disease, underwent a heart operation that we hoped would prolong his life.
At the time, the innovative procedure the surgeons used was new to Uruguay. Surgeons replaced the aortic valve with an artificial valve. Eventually, that procedure became commonplace and has saved countless lives.
Because the surgery involved this revolutionary surgical procedure, several cardiologists attended, observing the operation. While surgeons operated, my mother sat worried in the waiting room. The hours seemed endless.
We rejoiced when we learned that the operation was a complete success. Upon exiting the operating room, one of the surgeons separated from the other surgeons and went to the waiting room. He was a visiting surgeon who had come to Uruguay to supervise the operation.
He approached my mother, stopped, and touched her reassuringly on the shoulder. Then, looking into her eyes, he said, “Everything will be all right.”
The surgeon was correct. My father lived another 24 years, serving the Lord with all his heart—now healthy—until the last day of his life.
During the Church’s most recent general conference, my mother was reminded of that special visit so many years ago. In fact, she’s reminded every time that visiting surgeon—President Russell M. Nelson—speaks to the Saints.
All of the Lord’s prophets are special to us in some way. Some are special because they served as President of the Church while we were young. Some are special because they served as President when we got baptized. For my mother and me, President Nelson is special because he knows that every serious medical procedure touches not just the patient but that patient’s loved ones as well. He knows that family members need words of encouragement, strength, and reassurance when the health or life of a loved one is in jeopardy.
We will always be grateful for President Nelson’s words of reassurance long ago in Uruguay and for his life of service to Heavenly Father and Heavenly Father’s children.

When I was a child in the 1950s and 1960s, our Christmas traditions were not elaborate—except for the stockings. Because we children enjoyed our Christmas stockings so much, we continued the tradition when we married and had children of our own. Buying surprises and assembling dozens of Christmas stockings, however, soon became too much for my aging parents, especially my mother, who had a serious case of rheumatoid arthritis that limited her mobility and energy.
Eventually, I volunteered to take over the project. Our annual extended family home evening, in which we acted out the Christmas story and opened our stockings, found me exhausted from the demands of being the mother of several small children and juggling the events of an active life. As I watched everyone dump treasures out of the gingham Christmas stockings I had carefully prepared, I was feeling a little sorry for myself.
As expected, my stocking was empty except for the standard candy cane and Japanese orange that I had placed there earlier. But as I shook them out, I noticed a little bedraggled mouse made of a walnut and hazelnuts. One ear was much bigger than the other, and the whiskers were crooked. The tail had been cut too short, and the loop to hang it on the tree was off center. I was confused. Had someone’s kindergarten project ended up in my stocking?
I looked up and saw my mother watching me from her wheelchair across the room. With a gnarled, bent finger, she beckoned to me.
“I wanted to do something for the Christmas stockings,” she said. “They made these little mice in Relief Society, and they were so cute.”
Her tears were close to the surface, and her gentle voice shook as she continued.
“I couldn’t get my fingers to work, so I made only one. It didn’t turn out, but I knew you wouldn’t mind.”
I looked again at the little mouse in my hand. She was right. I didn’t mind. In fact, her little bedraggled mouse became the most precious treasure of all that Christmas.
For more than 20 years, I have tenderly removed the tissue paper from the misshapen mouse crafted by misshapen fingers and carefully placed it on a branch. My angel mother has been free of her crippled body for several years, but her Christmas mouse reminds me of two profound truths.
The first is that my mother honored me by believing that I could look past the mouse’s crooked ears and feel the love and sacrifice that went into its creation. The second is that if I, as an imperfect mortal, am capable of finding beauty in a humble little mouse, how much more is our Father in Heaven capable of seeing past our imperfect efforts and understanding our pure intentions.
I know that when we do our best to give to others and to Him, our gift is not just good enough—it is of incalculable worth.

May I share with you an account of an opportunity of service which came to me unexpectedly and in an unusual manner. I received a telephone call from a granddaughter of an old friend. She asked, “Do you remember Francis Brems, who was your Sunday School teacher?” I told her that I did. She continued, “He is now 105 years of age. He lives in a small care center but meets with the entire family each Sunday, where he delivers a Sunday School lesson. Last Sunday, Grandpa announced to us, ‘My dears, I am going to die this week. Will you please call Tommy Monson and tell him this. He’ll know what to do.’”
I visited Brother Brems the very next evening. I could not speak to him, for he was deaf. I could not write a message for him to read, for he was blind. What was I to do? I was told that his family communicated with him by taking the finger of his right hand and then tracing on the palm of his left hand the name of the person visiting and then any message. I followed the procedure and took his finger and spelled on the palm of his hand T-O-M-M-Y M-O-N-S-O-N. Brother Brems became excited and, taking my hands, placed them on his head. I knew his desire was to receive a priesthood blessing. The driver who had taken me to the care center joined me as we placed our hands on the head of Brother Brems and provided the desired blessing. Afterward, tears streamed from his sightless eyes. He grasped our hands, and we read the movement of his lips. The message: “Thank you so much.”
Within that very week, just as Brother Brems had predicted, he passed away. I received the telephone call and then met with the family as funeral arrangements were made. How thankful I am that a response to render service was not delayed.
The bridge of service invites us to cross over it frequently.

I have been asked many times why I joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and I have always told the story of meeting the missionaries at the house of a dear friend who had just been baptized. But with the passage of time, I have realized that before that first meeting many things prepared me to accept the gospel.
I was an active and energetic young woman, and my life was divided between spending time with friends and working out at the gym. Nothing else interested me. I had a passion for martial arts. I lived for the sport; it had become a way of life for me. In effect, it was my religion. I was very good and had acquired much skill. My pride increased as I became more and more recognized by others, especially since I was a woman in a sport dominated by men.
As time passed, I began to feel an unsettling sensation after each day’s workout. Often I felt out of breath, and my heart would race.
I soon learned that the continuous pressure of such a strenuous sport had aggravated a genetic predisposition toward irregular heartbeats. The pain intensified, and sometimes I could not even stand. Almost overnight I lost my self-sufficiency. A series of unfortunate medical decisions worsened my condition, and twice I came close to cardiac arrest.
Over a period of five years, I had two operations and made many visits to doctors and hospitals. Eventually I needed constant care from my parents.
While in the hospital I saw much suffering and pain, and I learned the necessity of loving others. I began to understand what was really important in life.
My soul had been changed, and I felt that someone was giving me a second chance at life. I started to wonder about God, who until then, I believed, had played no part in my life. I began to study various religions, and I was impressed by their common denominator of love. Then a friend told me about the missionaries who had brought her such happiness. I met with them and was baptized one month later.
Now I am thankful that I suffered, because suffering opened the way for me to hear the gospel. God truly has unusual ways of preparing His children.
Since accepting the gospel, I have had the privilege of sharing the truth with others. I have also been to the temple and have been greatly blessed. I am thankful to God to be able to work for Him. His gospel is truly a wonderful gift for me.

On May 20 of last year a massive tornado pummeled the suburbs of Oklahoma City, in the heartland of America, carving a trail more than a mile (1.6 km) wide and 17 miles (27 km) long. This storm, an onslaught of devastating tornadoes, altered the landscape and the lives of the people in its path.
Just a week after the massive storm struck, I was assigned to visit the area where homes and belongings were strewn across the flattened, ravaged neighborhoods.
Before I left, I spoke with our beloved prophet, President Thomas S. Monson, who relishes such errands for the Lord. With respect borne not only of his office but also of his goodness, I asked, “What do you want me to do? What do you want me to say?”
He tenderly took my hand, as he would have done with each one of the victims and each of those helping with the devastation had he been there, and said:
“First, tell them I love them.
“Second, tell them I am praying for them.
“Third, please thank all those who are helping.”
I had learned from our dear prophet what the storm-tossed people needed—love, prayers, and appreciation for helping hands.

Emilee Dolberg, 12, of Stockton, California, came out on top in several subjects in her grade. She placed first in the handwriting contest, first in spelling, first in the math contest, first in essay writing, and first in the talent competition (she plays the piano).
Emilee went on to compete with individual winners from other schools on a district level. She was first in handwriting, third in math, and first in essay writing. Her essay placed fourth nationally.
Emilee is secretary of her Beehive class in the Stockton Fourth Ward.