Gospel Story Finder

During the 2016 Christmas season, Africa Southeast Area leaders encouraged members and friends of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to participate in the “Light the World in 25 Ways in 25 Days” initiative. We had decided to follow the program in our family. We prayerfully strove to adapt the ideas of the proposed activities to our situation and environment.
During the same period, many in Kinshasa began to feel pessimistic and fearful because the impending December 19th election deadline was expected to be violent. In contrast to the alarm felt in the neighborhood, we remained positive and confident in our Heavenly Father. A few days before that fateful date, my 6-year-old son Ryan and his nanny escaped an attempted abduction during their return from school while I was testifying about peace to my neighbors. The week before, my husband gave a talk in church about the Savior calming the storm (see Mark 4:36–41).
We knew that this “Light the World” theme for December 19th—“Jesus calmed the storm, you can do the same”—was not a mere coincidence. The Lord had offered to calm the political storm in Kinshasa, and He had done so.
Each year, we are invited to “Light the World.” If we follow the suggested calendar of scriptures with prayer, our light will shine and miracles will continue to take place (see 3 Nephi 18:15).

Shortly after I was called to serve as a stake president in 1987, I talked with a good friend who recently had been released as a stake president. During our conversation I asked him what he would teach me about becoming an effective stake president. His answer to my question had a profound impact upon my subsequent service and ministry.
My friend indicated he had been called to serve as a temple worker soon after his release. He then said: “I wish I had been a temple worker before I was a stake president. If I had served in the temple before my call to serve as a stake president, I would have been a very different stake president.”
I was intrigued by his answer and asked him to explain further. He responded: “I believe I was a good stake president. The programs in our stake ran well, and our statistics were above average. But serving in the temple has expanded my vision. If I were called today to serve as a stake president, my primary focus would be on worthiness to receive and honor temple covenants. I would strive to make temple preparation the center of all that we did. I would do a better job of shepherding the Saints to the house of the Lord.”
That brief conversation with my friend helped me as a stake president to teach relentlessly about and testify of the eternal importance of temple ordinances, temple covenants, and temple worship. The deepest desire of our presidency was for every member of the stake to receive the blessings of the temple, to be worthy of and to use frequently a temple recommend.

Seventeen-year-old Charlee Hawkins loved life. A member of the Cullumber Ward, Gilbert Arizona Stake, she could always find something positive in the most difficult situations. Even when she faced her life’s hardest challenge of being diagnosed with cancer, Charlee kept smiling and found things to laugh about.
Charlee’s battle began at age 15, when a small bump appeared on her left index finger. She thought it was simply a result of practicing her golf swing as she prepared to play on the girls’ golf team at Gilbert High School.
When she had the bump removed, test results showed that Charlee had a very rare and very aggressive form of cancer, known as epithelioid sarcoma. The only effective treatment was surgery. Charlee’s finger was quickly removed.
Charlee handled the situation with humor instead of despair. She nicknamed herself “Nine” and never hid the fact that one finger was missing.
Five months later, during a routine test, doctors discovered spots in her lungs—the cancer had spread. They explained that chemotherapy wasn’t usually successful with this type of cancer and that it was impossible to remove the tumors. Charlee decided to give chemotherapy a try anyway.
The treatment made her lose her hair, but she refused to wear a wig and didn’t like hats. She told others that she might be the only “nine-fingered, bald-headed” girl they’d ever meet.
In January 2004 she celebrated what she called her “Handiversary.” It had been one year since her finger was amputated. She and her friends wore matching “Nine” T-shirts. She made hand-shaped sugar cookies with pink frosting and one finger missing.
Charlee attended two weeks of her senior year in the fall of 2004 but was too sick to continue. She had her heart set on graduating from high school, so she got her class assignments by e-mail and continued to work toward her diploma.
Charlee’s health progressively declined. The family set up a Christmas tree in her bedroom and celebrated Christmas around her bedside. Her Young Women class often came to visit her. Despite her trials, her friends and family never heard her complain.
By January 2005, Charlee’s strength was nearly gone. Sister Hawkins recalls a conversation she had with her daughter when Charlee was in excruciating pain. Charlee said, “I’m ready to go.” Her mother says she felt the Spirit guiding her as she explained to her daughter that Heavenly Father has a moment for each of us and that her moment was near. Then she felt the Spirit fill her daughter and ease her pain. Charlee said, “I’m ready to go home.”
“When she added the word ‘home,’ I knew that she knew that this place is only temporary,” says Sister Hawkins. “The veil must have been so thin that she felt safe because she knew that place was her home. It brought me such comfort and peace. I knew then that I had to let her go.”
The next day at school, classmates celebrated Charlee’s second “Handiversary” without her. They lined up for a photo with a sign saying, “We love you, Nine.” Charlee’s family provided the four-fingered cookies.
Four days later, on January 25, an assistant principal from Charlee’s school called to check on her. When she learned that Charlee wasn’t doing well, she asked if the administration could come and present Charlee’s diploma to her that afternoon. At 2:00 p.m., Charlee received recognition for what she had worked so hard to achieve.
Less than 45 minutes after her private graduation ceremony, Charlee died. Her life had touched so many. More than 1,500 people attended her funeral.
“She had an amazing attitude, a spirit that just radiated, and a great sense of humor,” says her mother. “That carried her, and that carried us.”
Charlee’s influence is still being felt. The family continues to hear from those who say her example encourages them to be better and to improve their lives. Some of her friends who are serving missions are using their experiences with Charlee to help teach the plan of salvation to others.
“She lived every day to the fullest,” says her mother. “I believe she did what she was supposed to do. She knew how to live, and she knew how to die.”

I provide full-time care for my mum, who is blind. I have coeliac disease, so I have to be very careful what I eat. During the pandemic, I had to stand in all the queues for the shops, and I would do this alone as we were encouraged to do.
One week, I was exhausted but still needed to do some things for my mum. This week, I felt that she needed to come with me and help a little bit. I was really concerned about it, as she has a bad back. I didn’t think it would be able to withstand all the standing around I was doing.
My mum said, “It will be fine, we shall say our prayers and it will be okay!”
So off we went, the first time my mum had been to the shops during lockdown. To our surprise, there wasn’t a single queue anywhere. We got into every place we had to go with no problems. Even at the tills, the queues were very quick.
It was a miracle that day. I’ve not forgotten it.
It never happened again, only on this day. Jesus does know each of us and what we need.

When 10-year-old John joined the swimming team, he told his coach he could compete in the meets held on Saturday but not those held on Sunday. At the last meet of the season, John’s relay race was scheduled for Sunday. He remembered a family home evening lesson about making decisions in advance so it would be easier to do the right thing when the time came. John said: “I had made the decision not to swim on Sunday before I joined my team. That made it easier for me to tell the coach that I couldn’t swim the relay. I thought the coach would be mad at me. But at the end-of-the-year banquet, … he told the team how proud he was of me for having standards and then sticking to them.”3 John shows he knows by keeping the Sabbath day holy and setting an example of someone who follows the teachings of Jesus. Every time you keep the Sabbath day holy, you show you know.

Mommy stopped at Austin’s bedroom door. She looked around the messy room. There were books, trucks, puzzles, blocks, and stuffed animals scattered all over. Mommy stepped over the clutter and into the room. “Austin, did you make this mess?”
Austin looked up from his stack of blocks. “Not me, Mommy.”
“Then who made this mess?” Mommy asked. She knelt down next to a large dump truck. “Dump truck, did you make this mess?”
“Mommy!” Austin giggled. “Dump trucks can’t make a mess. Trucks can’t even talk. But I can.” He snatched up his truck. “Brrrm. Brrrm.” Austin drove the truck into the toy box.
“Who made this mess?” Mommy asked. She scooped up a handful of puzzle pieces. “Puzzle, did you make this mess?”
Austin said, “Puzzles can’t make a mess. Puzzles don’t have fingers to use. But I do. I can pick the pieces up like this.” Austin dumped all the puzzle pieces into their box on the shelf.
“Who made this mess?” Mommy asked. She stood up and leaned over the bookcase. “Books, did you make this mess?”
Austin rolled his eyes. “Books can’t make a mess. Books can’t even jump from high places. But I can.” Austin climbed onto a chair and jumped into Mommy’s arms. She put him down. Austin bent over and picked up some books. He climbed back onto the chair and set the books on the shelf.
“Who made this mess?” Mommy asked. She gathered together three teddy bears. “Teddy bears, did you make this mess?”
“Teddy bears can’t make a mess,” Austin said. “Teddy bears can’t even turn somersaults. But I can.” Austin crouched low, tucked his head under, and flipped over. He stood up, gathered the bears in his arms, and laid them on the windowsill.
“Who made this mess?” Mommy asked. She picked up a stuffed lion. “Lion, did you make this mess?”
Austin said, “The lion can’t make a mess. The lion can’t even give hugs. But I can.” Austin gave Mommy a hug. He took the lion and gently placed it on the bed.
“Know what, Mommy?” Austin said. “Toys can’t make a mess, but I can. I made this mess.”
Mommy leaned over and gave Austin another hug. “Austin, you made this mess. But you cleaned it up, too. You are my big helper.”
Mommy’s face grew serious. “You did something besides making a mess, Austin. You told Mommy a lie. But you cleaned that up, too, by telling the truth. Toys can’t tell the truth. But you can.”
Austin smiled. Being a big helper felt good. Being a truth-teller felt even better.

I would like to share a simple story that has strengthened my commitment to be honest in all things:
“A man … went one evening to steal corn from a neighbor’s field. He took his little boy with him to sit on the fence and keep a look-out, so as to give warning in case any one should come along. The man jumped over the fence with a large bag on his arm, and before commencing to take the corn he looked all around, first one way and then the other, and not seeing any person, he was just about to fill his bag. … [The boy then called out]:
“‘Father, there is one way you haven’t looked yet! … You forgot to look up.’”
When we are tempted to be dishonest, and this temptation comes to all of us, we may suppose that no one will ever know. This story reminds us that our Heavenly Father always knows, and we are ultimately accountable to Him. This knowledge helps me continually strive to live up to this commitment: “[I] believe in being honest.”

—Someone else was impressed with the lost money, too—the girl who lost it. She had been encouraged by her LDS friends to join them at Chiemsee and was dismayed when her funds for the entire activity disappeared. Her roommates helped her to search, had prayed with her, and had come to the desk to see if the clerk could offer any suggestions.
“Twenty dollars?” he said, trying to hide his grin. “Why, yes, someone turned it in just five minutes ago. …”
“... and the young lady’s money was returned to her,” the article implies, but the full resolution is not present in the provided text.

As a teenager I was lonely and depressed. I had few good friends, hated school, withdrew from my family, and often had doubts of Heavenly Father’s love for me. I hated myself and despised the world.
Then everything changed. My Young Women president challenged the girls in my ward to read the Book of Mormon and pray regularly for three weeks. Despite my doubts I took the challenge. That night I opened my Book of Mormon and read for about 10 minutes, then said my first sincere prayer in months. Though difficult at first, eventually the reading and praying became a habit. Soon the three weeks were done.
Our Young Women president gave each girl who had completed the challenge a small prize. But more prized to me was the difference it had made in my life. As I continued to read the scriptures and pray, I became happier. Problems no longer seemed as difficult, and I recognized how blessed I was. Instead of feeling worthless, I felt like a beloved daughter of God and developed a strong testimony with steadfast faith.
How wonderful it was when in the midst of prayer, I felt the Spirit testify of Jesus Christ and His loving sacrifice for me! I wept to think that I had ever doubted my Heavenly Father, who is merciful enough to forgive me when I am ready to repent. To know this is a wonderful prize indeed.

In the summertime, Elder Asay and his brothers spent some time with their father on the mountain range. He was a forest guard with the U.S. Forest Service each summer, and the boys loved to go with him. This was another ideal time for teaching and training. “We spent a lot of time in the canyons and the parks, repairing, painting, clearing trails, and doing other things for the Forest Service. It was great to be together out in nature,” Elder Asay recalled.
One such learning opportunity took place one day in a park where they were all working together, repairing some tables and benches at one of the camp picnic facilities. “My brother, who was about twelve at the time, found a full pack of cigarettes. And Dad must have seen him stealthily put it into his pocket. He called us together and asked him what he had picked up. My brother pulled the cigarettes out of his pocket. Dad said, ‘Open the pack.’
“Dad instructed each one of us to take one, saying, ‘Put it in your mouth and see how it tastes.’ Very quickly he had four spitting boys on his hands. Dad asked if any of us had liked the taste. We all said no. Then he told us to remember this experience, and added, ‘Tobacco doesn’t taste good, it isn’t good for you, and it isn’t in accord with God’s law.’
“We made a pact then and there that we would never touch cigarettes again.”

At Abha, we met an extraordinary man at precisely the time we needed him. Helwan Habtar, a graduate of American schools with masters degrees in both political science and economics, took us to his home where he recited for us his family genealogy back 22 generations. Intrigued, three other men who had come by for the evening also recited their genealogies back as far as 13 generations. They were delighted that we would make tape recordings of them.
We were fortunate to be in Abha on a Tuesday, market day for so many hundreds of years that Mr. Habtar could not tell us when the custom began. There is a market area for honey, one for frankincense, others for myrrh, fruits, vegetables, cloth, clothing, donkeys, sheep, and camels.
Our attention centered first on those areas selling frankincense and myrrh. Frankincense comes in golden lumps about as big as the end of a finger while myrrh is reddish-brown and comes in rock-shaped chunks or as grated shavings. The frankincense was relatively inexpensive (a couple of dollars a pound), but myrrh is still costly because it is used for “medicinal purposes: every newborn baby is given a taste of myrrh in water to warn him of life’s bitterness; burning myrrh in a censer near a child’s sickbed is supposed to guarantee a quick recovery. A 45-year-old Arab in Jerusalem related how his mother had made him jump over a dish of burning myrrh when he was sick as a child. Now we understood one possible reason why the Wise Men brought myrrh to the baby Jesus: it was to help Mary keep him well.
The story of the Wise Men, the baby Jesus, and the gifts they brought is a rich one, but more of that belongs to another place. For us, the significance of frankincense and myrrh in Arabia was that the customs of the desert still preserved living links with the world of Lehi, Nephi, and the Book of Mormon.

It was a beautiful, clear morning in San José Pinula, a small town near Guatemala City. “I can’t wait!” Joshua told his little sister. Today was his baptism day!
After the family arrived at church, Joshua and Papá dressed in white clothes. At first, Joshua felt a little nervous. But Papá held his hand as they walked down the steps into the font, and he didn’t feel so nervous. When Joshua came up out of the water, he had a big smile on his face.
Joshua and Papá changed into dry clothes. Then Papá and Joshua’s uncles and grandpa placed their hands on Joshua’s head. They confirmed him a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Joshua heard Papá say, “Receive the Holy Ghost.”
“I’m so happy!” he said as he gave Papá a big hug.
“Remember the promises you made today,” said Papá. “If you do, the Holy Ghost can always be with you. You’ll never really be alone.”

Students in the Rigby, Idaho, seminary liked the October ’92 FYI’s goal jar idea so much they took it a step farther. Not only did they cut out all the goals from the New Era and put them in specially decorated jars, but they added goals of their own from the New Testament and general conference.
In addition, they started a project where one student would give another student a bead when the student was caught doing something nice or cheerful for someone else. Students string the beads and use them for bracelets, bookmarks, etc., and they say it encourages them to make a positive difference at their schools. One student said, “I found myself watching just for good things and decided that I wanted to do good too.”

Very early in my childhood, I became aware of the importance of prayer and the awesome power of the holy priesthood. During the fall of 1942, the United States was involved in a war. My father was trying to finish building our house. He couldn’t get a furnace because all building materials were needed for the war. As the weather became colder, my little sister, Patricia, and I became very ill. She had bronchitis, and I had double pneumonia. The doctor offered little hope that I would live through the night.
Speaking of that “awful night of nights,” my mother said she became desperate as she felt for my pulse and could find none. She said I looked like a little statue lying there on my bed. She fervently prayed to the Lord, promising if I should live, she would give me back to the Lord for His service. During the night, my father gave me a priesthood blessing. As he laid his hands upon my head, I opened my eyes, and from that time on, I began to feel better. I know that through the prayers of my parents and the power of the priesthood, my life was spared.

Two years later, Simon came home from work and asked Rostya if she would like to move to Brazil on a company assignment. “When?” she asked.
“Tomorrow,” he replied. They were soon in Santos, Brazil, where Simon began work on an oil pipeline along the coast. They knew they had opened a new phase in their life. But the real change was yet to come.
The young couple soon joined a club for expatriates, where Rostya was attracted to a group of women that seemed enthusiastic and open. When Rostya introduced herself, one of the women said, “‘Gordon-Smith’ sounds English enough, but ‘Rostya’ certainly doesn’t.” “That’s because I’m Czech,” Rostya replied. To Rostya’s surprise, the women started speaking in Czech. Rostya had just met Zaza, a native Czech raised in Brazil, married to an American, Don Clark.
The Clarks and the Gordon-Smiths soon became friends, attending movies together, playing tennis, and just visiting. One day, two Latter-day Saint missionaries called at the Clark home while Rostya was there. “I did not know they were missionaries at that time,” Rostya says. “They were just two young men with short haircuts, dressed in shirts and ties. I asked them who they worked for, because I presumed any foreigner was working for a company. They gave me a very vague answer: they were working for a church, they said, and they were visiting people and reading scriptures with them in their homes. I thought it sounded very strange at the time.”
Don and Zaza Clark, who were members of the Church, began to talk to the Gordon-Smiths about the gospel. Soon, the Clarks invited their friends to attend a Church meeting with them. It was a fast and testimony meeting. “It was a shocker for me,” Rostya says. “All I could see was that everybody wept: men, women, and children. I was very, very embarrassed, and my husband was, too. When Don Clark asked me what I thought about the meeting, I looked at him and said, ‘I think it’s mass hysteria.’”
A short time later, Don and Zaza invited Simon and Rostya to an area conference in São Paulo, where President Spencer W. Kimball announced the building of the temple in Brazil. Rostya was impressed by the affection the people showed for the prophet. Following the conference, the Gordon-Smiths agreed to take the missionary discussions.
Nothing much happened until the lesson on repentance. “I was good at justifying any of my actions,” Rostya says, “but somehow the process of repentance seemed logical to me.” She found herself thinking about repentance, even writing letters of reconciliation. “But when the missionaries asked me to pray about the principle of repentance, I said, ‘How can I pray if I don’t believe in the existence of God?’ ‘How will you know if anyone lives on the tenth floor,’ they asked me, ‘if you don’t ring the bell? Ring the bell and see if anyone answers.’
“I was thinking about what they said while I was doing the dishes one day. I decided to follow their suggestion. I knelt down and said, ‘Heavenly Father,’ and a wave of warmth enveloped me. I started again, ‘Heavenly Father,’ and the warmth intensified. I felt enveloped in love and protection for the first time in many years. I asked all the questions: ‘Is this the true church?’ ‘Is Joseph Smith a prophet?’ ‘Is the Book of Mormon true?’ ‘Do you love me?’ My answers came in the affirmative by the power of the Spirit.
“I telephoned my friend Zaza Clark. ‘I’ve got it! I’ve got it!’ I cried. ‘What have you got?’ she asked in alarm. ‘A testimony!’ I exclaimed.”
Rostya and Simon were scheduled to be baptized after a stake conference. During the conference, Elder James E. Faust of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles called on members of the congregation to bear their testimonies. He motioned for Rostya to come to the podium. With Don Clark translating into Portuguese, she bore her testimony in English. When she finished, tears were running down her cheeks. “At the end, when I said, ‘Amen,’ Don Clark turned to me and smilingly said, ‘I don’t understand. What is all this mass hysteria about?’”
Before they left Brazil, the Gordon-Smiths introduced their friends Richard and Sally Hardwick to the Church. When Richard sustained a serious injury that required surgery, the Gordon-Smiths accompanied Sally to the hospital. Rostya said, “Simon, I wish you would give Richard a blessing.” Sally asked, “What is a blessing?” The blessing was given and fulfilled. The Hardwicks joined the Church.

I had been raised in the Church. I sang the Primary songs about the temple. I was taught the Young Women lessons on keeping myself worthy to be able to go to the temple. I figured that someday I would be married in the temple just like my mom and dad, grandparents, and almost every relative I had.
When I was 19, I started dating a young man who always showed the highest respect for me. He was very kind, we got along really well, and I was very attracted to him. The only problem was that he couldn’t take me to the temple. We had started talking about marriage, and I told him the temple was where I wanted to be married. After a lot of talking, I started to believe that maybe we could get married at the church and have a temple ceremony a year later when he would be ready to go.
It was after these rationalizing thoughts began to bombard me that something happened.
My cousin was getting married in the Manti Temple that Saturday, and my parents were going to the wedding. My dad asked if I would like to go too.
“Why would I want to get up at five in the morning and drive four hours to sit outside and wait?” I asked.
“I would really like you to come with us. It would mean a lot to all of us,” Dad said. With his words ringing in my ears, I agreed to go.
Saturday my alarm went off at 5:00 A.M. What am I doing? was my first thought. But I got up and was ready to leave with my parents.
It was a beautiful morning and a beautiful drive. The sun was peeking up behind the mountains as we set out for Manti. I sat in the back watching Mom and Dad. They had a strong marriage, and I knew they loved each other very much.
When we arrived at the Manti Temple, I walked with my parents through the doors. There was a sitting area where I could wait for them. I hugged them and watched them as they were greeted warmly by two temple workers.
I sat in the chair for a while and watched people going in. Each one looked very happy, and there seemed to be a calmness in their eyes.
A few minutes had passed when I saw my grandma and grandpa come around the corner where my parents had disappeared. They were dressed in white, and they were holding hands as they approached me. They gave me a hug and told me they loved me. A few minutes later, my aunt and uncle walked in. They, too, embraced me and expressed their love for me. A third time this happened with a different uncle and aunt.
After they had all gone in for the ceremony, I stepped outside to look around the temple grounds. The thought of the visits I had just experienced wouldn’t leave me. I knew my family loved me, and I loved them. But all the love in the world could not let me go with them into the temple. They could come out to visit me, but I couldn’t go in.
Suddenly a wave of understanding hit me. That was exactly how it would be in the life after this one. No matter how much love we had for each other as family, I would not be allowed to be with them forever if I wasn’t worthy to go to the temple now. The desire to be able to go inside and join my family was overwhelming. For a moment I felt deep despair, but then, just as quickly, I felt washed over with love that I’d never felt before. I knew my Heavenly Father loved me.
After this experience, I decided to break up with the young man I had been seeing. But it wasn’t too many months later that I met and fell in love with a young man who was worthy to go to the temple, and the one we chose to be married in was the Salt Lake Temple. As I knelt across the altar from my eternal companion, I couldn’t help but think of that day in Manti. I then glanced around the room at all my family. Each one loved me, and I knew my Heavenly Father was pleased with the decisions I had made. It was the beginning of a welding of two lives together—a union that would continue into eternity if we lived worthy of the covenants we had made.

Some years ago during the war, Elder John A. Widtsoe went to the land of Great Britain to preside over the European Mission. When the immigration official saw his papers and who he was, he said, “Nothing doing. We have been letting your missionaries in, but we don’t want any of your leaders—go sit down.” So Brother Widtsoe went and sat down.
In a few minutes, he called him back and he said, “If I let you enter my country, what will you teach my countrymen?”
And Brother Widtsoe said, “I’ll teach them where they came from, and why they are here, and where they are going.”
The man looked up at him and he said, “Does your church teach that?”
And Brother Widtsoe said, “It does.”
“Well, mine doesn’t,” he said.
To me, that knowledge is worth more than all the wealth in this world. If we don’t know where we came from, and we don’t know why we are here, and we don’t know where we are going, nor how to get there, we are just like a ship on the ocean without a rudder, or a sail, or anyone to guide it. We might keep afloat, but we would never come into port.

“I am now a complete man. I have an eternal family!” exclaimed Brother Vincent Quashigah. “There are no words to explain the joy that I feel,” added Sister Esinam Quashigah. It was Aug. 25, 2022, and they had just exited the temple, where the two of them had been endowed and sealed with their children as an eternal family.
Brother Quashigah joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints on June 15, 2021, with Sister Quashigah and their four oldest children joining him in baptism two months later. They then patiently waited the required 12 months of church membership until they could travel to the Accra Ghana Temple for their temple work and sealing. However, they did not stand idly by during that time. Shortly after his baptism, Brother Quashigah was called as the first counselor in the elders quorum presidency. Three months later, he was called as the Aflao Branch president. Sister Quashigah served as a counselor in the Young Women’s presidency.
Now, after a beautiful experience in the temple, President Quashigah was grateful that he could finally testify to his branch members of the amazing blessings of temple ordinances and covenants.

Next we went to the hospital to visit Sister Schroeder, a member of our ward. From the time our children were very young, Sister Schroeder had taken notice of them and had made them feel important and loved. Every time she greeted us, her first smile was for the children. Now she was in intensive care and was close to leaving this world. I didn’t think the children would be allowed into her room. But their sincere pleading softened the heart of the nurse, and they were admitted inside.
Since Sister Schroeder was unconscious, I didn’t know if she would hear anything we said to her. We wanted to tell her that she was important to us and that we loved her. With all the tenderness in my heart, I caressed Sister Schroeder’s arm as I sent a prayer to our Heavenly Father in her behalf. It was the first Christmas gift I have ever given with such a sincere desire; it was wrapped in compassion and tied with the ribbon of my tears.
Then Ileana approached her bedside and said in an angelic voice, “Sister Schroeder, it’s Ileana. I’m here to wish you a Merry Christmas.” Her tearful words were brief but sincere. I was certain Sister Schroeder would somehow take that loving memory with her to her new life.
Our unplanned Christmas taught me much. I came to understand that Christmas celebrations need not be competitions to see who can give or receive the most expensive present. Our most valuable gift is our love—love for the Christ child, who was born 2,000 years ago in a humble manger, love for our families and our neighbors, love for the beautiful world Heavenly Father has given us. Another valuable gift is our compassion—the feeling that causes us “to mourn with those that mourn” (Mosiah 18:9), to lift the weak, to visit the lonely, to dry the tears of those who are sad. And another gift is our gratitude—gratitude for our Savior who taught us how to live and who lovingly and willingly bore our sins, our griefs, and our weaknesses as His Father had commissioned Him to do.
We celebrate Christmas best when we live the Savior’s teachings—not just at Christmas but every day of the year.

It was our first Christmas on the North Island of New Zealand—a beautiful and fascinating land. Yet despite the sunshine and the kindness of the Church members, I felt deep pangs of loneliness for my parents and siblings. We had moved from the United States earlier that year, and I felt homesick.
In our new area my husband and I became friends with the Wilsons, a young Irish family of another Christian faith who had also recently arrived in New Zealand. Noleen Wilson was my co-worker, and we soon became good friends, sharing experiences of immigrating and of our love for our new home. As our friendship grew, I became aware that their family was also struggling with loneliness as well as feelings of being overwhelmed. They had three young children and a fourth on the way.
One evening when I was feeling particularly lonely and sorry for myself, I had the impression that the best way to overcome my loneliness was to serve another—specifically the Wilsons. My husband and I decided that night to begin celebrating the 12 days of Christmas with the Wilsons by anonymously leaving messages and small gifts on their doorstep. Each night my loneliness was replaced with excitement and anticipation as we sneaked up to their home, left our message and gift, knocked on their door, and then ran away with big grins on our faces.
Each day at work Noleen would tell me about the mysterious “Christmas elves” who had visited the night before. She would relay stories of her children anticipating the arrival of their visitors, who were making the family’s Christmas a happy one. On several evenings the ward youth joined us in our fun.
On the final night, Christmas Eve, the Wilsons left a message and cookies on their doorstep, asking that they be able to meet their elves. When we arrived with the youth to sing carols as our final gift, the children were ecstatic and our friends embraced us with hugs and tears of gratitude. The loneliness in my heart was replaced with love and joy, and the bond of friendship between our families was strengthened.
Later we received an e-mail from a man in the Wilsons’ church who said he was so touched by what we had done for the family that he asked about our Church and the acts of service we provide for others. The congregation had never heard of the 12 days of Christmas and now associates this tradition with Latter-day Saints.
I will never forget that first Christmas in New Zealand, where I learned an unexpected way to forget myself, go to work, and “comfort those that stand in need of comfort” (Mosiah 18:9)—just as Jesus Christ comforts us in our times of need and loneliness.