Gospel Story Finder

“I Want to Come Back”
Not long ago I was in South Africa visiting a home with Thabiso, the first assistant in the priests quorum in the Kagiso Ward. Thabiso and his bishop, who presides and holds the keys for the quorum, had been praying for quorum members who were less active, seeking inspiration about whom to visit and how to help them. They felt prompted to visit the home of Tebello, and they invited me to go with them.
Once we made it past the ferocious guard dog, we found ourselves in the living room with Tebello, a calm-spirited young man who had stopped attending church because he had become busy doing other things on Sundays. …
… The words of Thabiso … made the difference in the visit. … “I enjoyed so much talking to you all the time at church,” he said. “You always have kind words for me. And you know, our soccer team has basically disappeared now that we don’t have you. You are so good at it.”
“I am sorry,” Tebello answered. “I will come back with you guys.”
“That will be awesome,” said Thabiso. “And do you remember how we used to prepare to serve as missionaries? Can we start doing that again?”
“Yes,” repeated Tebello, “I want to come back.”
Adrián Ochoa, second counselor in the Young Men general presidency

For some kids one night a week of Mutual is enough, but not for Claudine Miller of Sandy, Utah. Besides going to her own Mutual night on Wednesday, Claudine also volunteered to help with her region’s handicapped Mutual every Thursday night.
One of Claudine’s most memorable times with the girls was on “Cinderella Night,” she says. The Mutual girls dressed up in fancy dresses and learned how to put on makeup and fingernail polish. “It really helped them feel pretty,” says Claudine.
Another great experience came when Claudine helped the handicapped Mutual do baptisms for the dead in the Jordan River Temple. “It was really neat,” she said. “The Spirit was so strong!”
Her service project ended up lasting two years, but the time flew by for Claudine. “It made my testimony grow so much to feel their spirit and hear them say thank you and express their love for me,” she says. “When I serve I feel like I’m doing it for Christ, and it makes me feel really good.”

Toward the end of his high school career, Mike Schwartz of the Malad Idaho First Ward, Malad Idaho Stake, started having nightmares about people forcing him to stay home from school. There was nothing he could do but just give in and stay home.
Sound more like a dream come true to you? Well, Mike was working toward a goal very few people ever achieve. In all of his schooling, Mike has never missed a day of school. That’s right, beginning with his first day of finger painting, and ending with his high school commencement, Mike has had perfect attendance.
In order to be in school all 2,340 days, Mike relied on good luck, good health, and help from his family.
“My family never put pressure on me to miss school,” Mike told an Idaho newspaper reporter. “In fact, when I was going to miss a day for my grandpa’s funeral, they encouraged me, saying Grandpa would want me to keep my perfect attendance.” Mike went to the funeral, but only missed a few hours of school, instead of the whole day.
Mike’s determination and perseverance has also helped him be a leader in his Aaronic Priesthood quorums and in his high school sports endeavors. Mike is now using his time management skills and determination to help him on his mission in the Texas Houston Mission.

When I was just barely 17, I moved to San Francisco, California, USA, to go to art school. I dreamed of becoming an illustrator for Disney.
At college, I learned a lot more than art. I learned about who I was to my Heavenly Father. I wasn’t at home anymore. My parents weren’t waking me up to take me to church every Sunday. No one would know whether or not I was living the gospel. But I knew I needed Him. I looked up The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in a phonebook. When I walked into the Church building and heard “I Know That My Redeemer Lives” (Hymns, no. 136) being played, it felt like home. I began to realize what the gospel meant to me and what I really wanted.
At that point, I wanted to involve my Heavenly Father in everything I did. For example, I started to ask Him what He thought about my career plans and where I should be. As I prayed and asked these questions, I began to feel that I needed to be somewhere else.
I was a little heartbroken. I had set all of my dreams and my focus on my plan. I thought I knew exactly where I would go and what I would do. But now, I knew I wanted the Lord to be number one in my life, and that meant more to me than anything else. Even though I knew that my path may be different from what I had pictured, I had felt His love for me, and I trusted in His wisdom.
I was led to Brigham Young University–Idaho and Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah, to finish my illustration degrees. Just before graduating, I received an internship at a local game studio. About a year later, after I was hired full-time, the studio was unexpectedly bought by Disney, which brought new opportunities and growth.
When you let go of what you think you need to have, the Lord will bless you at the right time with what will truly make you happy. You never know where the Lord is going to take you. Just let go, and listen.

During my sophomore year in high school, I volunteered as part of the technical crew to produce my high school’s annual musical. The experience became one of my favorite memories of the year, because it was fun and I learned so much doing it. I also loved working with the people I met.
But the most important thing I learned was not something I had expected.
In order for the tech crew to communicate quietly with each other, we used radio headsets. We also used them to tell jokes, have conversations, even to sing to each other to entertain ourselves during the long rehearsals.
But the first time we used the headsets wasn’t actually so comfortable for me. At first I was having a blast. Then some people started gossiping about the actors rehearsing onstage. I tried to ignore the snide comments and rude remarks, but as the conversation developed, the gossip grew crueler and more offensive.
I felt sick hearing some of the comments, but I was afraid to stand up against my new friends. I wish I had, because as I tolerated their jokes, I was eventually tempted to laugh and make my own comments. I began to rationalize why it would have been fine. Nobody but the tech crew would have heard me, and I wanted to fit in with the people around me.
As hard as it was, I knew that backbiting about those onstage wasn’t right, and I chose not to gossip.
After the rehearsal we learned that everything we had said over the headsets had been broadcast backstage. All 60 or so of the cast members had heard us talking. Some were angry, upset, or embarrassed. No one was impressed.
Later, while I was talking with one of my friends about what had happened, she said, “Everyone knows you’d never say anything like that.” Her comment shocked me, and I realized the significance of the choice I had made. If I had chosen to join in with the gossip, what would that have said about me? What would that have said about the Church?
I’m grateful for the choice I made in that dark, little theater, even when I thought others wouldn’t know, because it has opened blessings of friendship, peace, and confidence that I would have lost had I chosen to gossip.

Kids were never my thing. I was the youngest in my family, had no experience with babies, and got scared when a toddler looked at me. So of course when I first got married, having kids was a life change I wasn’t too excited to make.
My husband was all for starting a family from day one, but I insisted that we wait. Those first couple months, “Let’s talk about it in a year” could have been my motto.
While this may not be the reason for everyone struggling with the decision to have kids, I knew what was holding me back: fear and selfishness, plain and simple. When I thought of being a mother, my mind wasn’t filled with cute smiles and sweet laughter. Instead, I thought of sleepless nights and limited free time. Not to mention pain and discomfort. I can still remember the first time I heard about giving birth. I decided then and there that I was going to adopt.
My entire life, I had felt uncomfortable around children, so when I thought of having my own, I couldn’t see how it was possible. How would I be able to give everything up for them?
The first eight or nine months of our marriage went by without much change. My husband had this running joke that anytime I asked, “Guess what?” he would reply, “You’re pregnant!” I’d roll my eyes and move on, with plenty of excuses as to why having children was not going to happen any time soon.
Now don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t feeling pressure to have children. My husband and I had conversations and agreed to take things one step at a time. But in my mind, having children wasn’t going to happen for a long while.
Even still, I knew that Heavenly Father knows more about how my life can and should turn out. Which is why, despite my firm conviction that having children should wait, I continued to pray about the decision both alone and with my husband. We told Heavenly Father our plan but admitted that we would accept a different plan if it was His will. That was an important step in the change of heart that slowly came over me.
That change didn’t happen all at once. In fact, I can’t really remember exactly when it started. But slowly, I had begun to be less averse to the idea of starting a family. I had begun to actually consider it, especially once my excuses were hitting their end. I had wanted to wait until I was done with school—I was about to graduate. I wanted us to know where we would be in the next year—my husband had received a job offer. Slowly but surely, things were starting to fall into place.
I thought it would be scary, running out of the excuses I had held onto for so long. And yet, that’s just it. I wasn’t scared. The fear that I had held inside of me for the past 10 years was no longer there. Or at least, it was accompanied by a peace strong enough to drown it out.
So by the time our first anniversary came around, I just didn’t have any reason to say no to starting a family anymore. The Lord had changed my heart and quieted my fears.
Later, a friend ask me how I knew it was the right time. I had to admit that it wasn’t through any grand feeling of courage or love for children, no burning of the heart. It was just through the absence of fear. It’s like God said to the early Latter-day Saints: “If ye are prepared ye shall not fear” (Doctrine and Covenants 38:30). To me, my lack of fear was the answer from the Lord saying, “Yes, you’re ready.”
It was pretty exciting, that first time that I could finally laugh and say yes to my husband’s reply, “You’re pregnant!”
Photo illustration from Getty Images
Now here I am with a young baby in my arms. I’m still learning how to be a mom, and I still don’t know what to do around other people’s kids. But I know that no matter what shortcomings I may have when it comes to children, Heavenly Father is rooting for me. He prepared me for this time. I have felt His divine help, even through lingering feelings of doubt and fear. The sleepless nights and lack of free time are small sacrifices for the joy that has come to me and my family. I know that Heavenly Father is aware of our fears and our circumstances. And if we seek His help, He can help us overcome them and move forward in faith.

When I was growing up, we lived in a tan-colored house, lost among the evergreen trees so abundant in the Pacific Northwest. Isolated about halfway up the hill, it was impossible to drive to. We could park at the bottom and climb the stairs, or drive around and park on the concrete platform above the house and climb down. We generally chose to climb down.
When we first moved in, there was only a pathway dug into the side of the hill between the house and the platform. My grandpa carved steps in the dirt to make getting up and down easier.
From the platform to the first step on the path was nearly level, perfect for my two sisters and me to run and slide. We could usually stop just before we reached the top step.
One day I didn’t get stopped in time and found myself going over the edge. Instead of falling, I kept my feet under me and my momentum made me hit about every third step. I felt like I was flying. A fall meant tumbling into the side of the house, or worse, going into the treacherous blackberry bushes that lined the path.
The human mind is truly a wonder, and mine was racing faster than my feet. I began to yell for my mother while in a split second I planned what I could do about my situation. I thought that if only Mother would come and open the door, I could make a safe landing on the couch. Hearing my yells, Mom appeared at the bottom of the path with Dad and Grandpa.
“Open the door and get out of my way,” I yelled with what breath I had left. They just stood there with puzzled expressions while I came faster and faster, arms and legs pumping to keep my balance.
Just then Dad reached out and caught me. As easy as that. I hadn’t thought of that solution. The danger over, my fear gave way to tears.
“What’s wrong, baby?” Mom asked.
“Oh, Mom, I was sliding and couldn’t stop. Why didn’t you get out of my way and open the door?” I stamped over to the door to show them what I’d planned to do. In shock, I saw that Mom had moved the couch. There would have been nothing to stop my headlong flight except a hard wall. My own hastily made plans would have failed me.
I’m grown up now and still my own plans are often faulty. Now I call out to my Heavenly Father in prayer. How often I’ve been glad to have a Father to catch me and keep me from harm.

Throughout the world in Africa, Asia, the Pacific, North and South America, and Europe, charitable women, united with their families, also make a difference in their communities. On the tiny island of Trinidad, Sister Ramoutar, a busy branch Relief Society president, and her family are helping neighborhood children. The Ramoutars live in a village that is a “drug-infested” place where many parents and adults are addicted to alcohol or are trafficking in drugs. The children are at great risk and are often without supervision. Many do not attend school.
Every Thursday night, as many as 30 children, ages 3 to 19 years, sit in the covered area outside of the Ramoutar home, eagerly participating in a group known as “Our One Big Happy Family.” Prayers, hymns, fun songs, and the sharing of good deeds done by the children each week are part of the activities. Sometimes doctors, policemen, teachers, or our own missionaries share useful lessons such as President Gordon B. Hinckley’s six B’s. The Ramoutar family rescues children through their small and simple acts of charity. As they have shared the gospel in their “One Big Happy Family,” others have joined the Church.

So, Kayli started attending church as well as midweek activities. At first, it didn’t really do much for her. “I attended, but I didn’t believe anything,” Kayli says. “I wasn’t really paying attention.”
However, she began to notice something unusual. “Every time I went to church or youth activities, I’d be happy.”
After a couple years of noticing this, Kayli was ready to meet a very special friend.
“I met my friend Maddie when we moved to another part of Texas the summer before 10th grade,” Kayli says. “She introduced herself and became such a great example to me.”
Kayli says that Maddie always seems upbeat and joyful, even when times get tough. As their friendship grew, Kayli looked forward to attending Church meetings and activities more.
“Maddie is such a good friend,” Kayli says.
Another big influence in Kayli’s life was seminary. Unlike when she first attended church, this time Kayli truly started paying close attention to what was being taught. “The reason why I started paying attention in seminary is that the people around me were really good at answering questions and participating. I wanted to be a part of that.”
The stars were aligning, as they say. Between studying the Book of Mormon in seminary, seeing the gospel bring happiness to her older sister, brother-in-law, and others in the ward, and making some key friendships, Kayli was ready to say yes when Maddie asked if she’d like to take the missionary lessons at her house.
From there, things moved quickly. Kayli and her younger sister—who was asked independently and by a different friend to take the lessons at that friend’s house—decided to be baptized on the same day.
“In Alaska, my happiness came from hanging out with my friends and trying to be popular,” Kayli says. “Now my happiness comes from the gospel. I’ve learned so much from the members here. I’ve learned that happiness and light come through Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father.”

My little brother, Joel, and I had been waiting for days to take our friend Robby to see the lights and the manger scene on Temple Square. Ever since we’d mentioned going, Robby had been counting the days.
You see, Robby had never seen Temple Square at Christmastime, and this was his first Christmas outside of a hospital in two years. He still can’t walk, and his right hand and arm are all crooked and bent. The only way that he can get around is in his silver wheelchair with someone pushing him.
Robby couldn’t go to a lot of places. He didn’t go to Primary, so Joel and I tried to take some Primary to him. We’d go over to his house, sit by his wheelchair, sing him the songs, and tell him the stories we’d learned in Primary. Robby loved it, and all week long he’d have us repeat what we’d done in Primary.
One afternoon in December we told Robby the Christmas story about Jesus being born in the manger. When we finished, he sighed and said, “Oh, I wish I could have been one of the shepherds who visited Jesus on that special night. Or one of the Wise Men who later followed the star. I would like to have seen the Baby Jesus and given Him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.”
“There’s a manger scene on Temple Square,” Joel said. “It’s not the real one, but it looks real.”
Robby’s eyes got big, and his smile seemed to go from the tip of his chin to the ends of his ears. “That’s where I’d like to go for Christmas,” he said. Then his smile disappeared. “But I don’t see how I could,” he said, running his good hand over his wheelchair.
Robby had recently moved to Salt Lake City. He was the only child in his family, and his mom and dad traveled a lot. They didn’t ever seem to have time to take Robby anywhere. Of course, Robby had Mrs. Helber, who took care of him while his mom and dad were away; but she was older and didn’t drive a car.
“We’ll take you to Temple Square,” Joel declared one afternoon as we all sat at Robby’s window and watched a million snowflakes flutter to the ground. “We’ll get Dad to help us,” he said firmly, “won’t we, Jeremy?”
“Do you really think you could?” Robby asked, glancing at me pleadingly. “I’d like going, Jeremy—more than anything else!”
I smiled. “We’ll get you to Temple Square,” I told him. “That’s a promise.”
Now it was the Friday before Christmas. Joel and I had stopped by Robby’s place late in the afternoon to see if he would be ready to go that evening. Robby’s mom and dad were gone, and we could hear Mrs. Helber in the kitchen fixing supper. It was getting dark, and Robby asked anxiously, “Your dad won’t forget will he?”
I patted Robby on the shoulder. “Don’t worry,” I said. “We’ll be back in an hour and a half to pick you up. Dad won’t forget.”
But Dad did forget! He was getting ready for a meeting over at the church when we came home.
“To a meeting?” Joel gasped.
“But what about taking Robby to Temple Square?” I cried.
Dad groaned and hit his forehead with his hand. “Oh, no! Was that tonight?”
Joel and I couldn’t even nod. We just stared, suddenly feeling sick.
“Brother Thomas asked me to go over to a planning meeting,” Dad explained. “When he talked to me this morning, I forgot about our trip with Robby. I’m really sorry, boys. Can we go another time? How about tomorrow?”
“Robby’s been counting on going tonight,” Joel mumbled. But I don’t think Dad heard. I could tell that Dad felt really bad; he doesn’t usually forget.
After supper Dad left for his meeting, and Joel and I told Mom we were going over to Robby’s. We put on our coats, hats, gloves, and boots and stepped out into the dark night. The snow crunched under our boots, and big puffs of steam blew out of our mouths and noses as we breathed.
“How are we ever going to explain this to Robby?” Joel wanted to know when we were outside. “We just can’t let him down. He’s been waiting for this for a long time.”
“I don’t know what we can do. Dad’s already gone, and he won’t be back till late.”
Joel grabbed my arm and whispered, “Maybe we could take him, Jeremy.”
“Us?” I said. “That’s seven or eight, maybe ten blocks. Who’d we get to drive us down there?”
“We’ll push him in his wheelchair. We can do it!” Joel coaxed. “Most of it’s downhill. Besides, we just have to take him, Jeremy! We can’t tell him that Dad forgot.”
I thought for a minute. “We’ll ask Robby,” I said. “If he wants to go in his wheelchair, we’ll take him.”
When we got to Robby’s place, he was waiting right by the front door, with his coat and hat on. A scarf was tied around his neck, and a blanket was tucked in around his legs. “Let’s go,” he greeted us. “I already told Mrs. Helber good-bye.”
I pulled off my gloves and stared at the floor. “Dad can’t come,” I explained. “He had to go to a meeting.” I glanced up and saw Robby’s smile droop. For a minute I wondered if he was going to cry.
“But we’ll take you,” Joel blurted out. “We’ll push you. Do you still want to go?”
Robby’s smile returned, and he nodded furiously.
“It will be cold,” I warned. “And it’s a long way just walking.”
“We can make it!” Robby grinned. “I know we can.”
A shiver of excitement tickled the back of my neck as I gripped the handles on Robby’s wheelchair and began pushing it down the sidewalk.
We walked block after block. Since it was mostly downhill, it wasn’t hard pushing Robby at first, but after a while all that walking made my legs tired. Joel tried to help, but he could barely see over the back of the chair, so I had to do most the pushing.
I was getting a little worried about whether I’d remembered the way right, because I had never gone to Temple Square without a grownup, when Robby called out, “What’s that?”
“What’s what?” Joel asked.
“That gold statue lighted up on top of the pointy building.”
Joel and I smiled. “That’s the Angel Moroni on top of the temple,” I said. “That’s where we’re going.”
“You mean that all we have to do is follow the light and we’ll find the place?”
“That’s all,” I said.
Robby smiled back at me and said, “We have our very own angel to show us the way.”
Robby wouldn’t take his eyes off the gold statue on top of the temple. And I wasn’t worried anymore because I knew we’d soon be there.
A few flakes of snow started to fall as we crossed the last street. We could see most of the spires of the temple now, and we could see the walls around Temple Square.
Joel led the way as we squeezed through the crowds of people and made our way inside the wide gates. My legs were tired, and my cheeks were numb, but I kept pushing, knowing that we were almost to the manger scene. All the while, Robby was straining forward to see the colored lights.
I glanced back toward the street and suddenly realized that it was blocks and blocks back to our house—all uphill! A sick feeling came over me, and I wondered if we would be able to push Robby back home. Then I saw Robby’s face as he stared at the Christmas lights that Joel and I had told him so much about.
Temple Square was sparkling with thousands of lights—in the trees, on the bushes, everywhere. And they all seemed to reflect off Robby’s beaming face. “It’s beautiful!” he whispered. “More beautiful than you said.”
We came to the manger scene in the middle of a big, snow-covered lawn just as a light shone down on a group of shepherds. A voice began to speak, and quiet music began to play.
Robby didn’t say anything. He just stared. The voice told the Christmas story almost the way Joel and I had told it to Robby, but it was so much better here, because we could see it almost like it had happened so many years before.
Then the light shone on the manger, and we saw Jesus and Mary and Joseph. Finally the light fell on the Wise Men who were following the special star to see the Baby Jesus. Robby turned around and whispered, “We followed a kind of star too.” He pointed above us toward the Angel Moroni. “Tonight we were like the Wise Men.”
Three times that night we listened to the Christmas story, standing in the cold and looking at the manger. Even when Robby started to shiver from the cold, he wouldn’t let us leave the beautiful manger scene.
But it was getting late, and I knew we’d have to go back. We pushed Robby through the gates, and I stopped and gulped. My feet were numb, my nose and cheeks burned with cold, and an icy wind had started to blow, making tears come to my eyes. I was so tired that I wanted to cry, but I knew that I couldn’t, not with Robby and Joel depending on me. Instead, I bowed my head and said a little prayer, asking Heavenly Father to help us get home safely.
After going about a block, a voice called, “Jeremy! Joel! Robby!” I turned, and there was Dad hurrying across the street, waving to us. He rushed up to us and hugged Joel and me and patted Robby on the shoulder. “I thought you were lost for sure,” he panted, looking more worried than I had ever seen him. “Then I remembered how much you had been counting on bringing Robby here.”
A few minutes later we reached our car. Dad put Robby and Joel on the back seat and set the wheelchair in the trunk. I climbed up front with Dad.
“I hope you’re not mad,” I said. “We just had to bring Robby.” I looked down at my hands. “We won’t do it again, but we couldn’t let Robby down, not at Christmastime.”
Dad took a deep breath as he started the engine. “Sometimes there are more important things than meetings,” he whispered. “I learned that tonight.” He put his hand on my shoulder and pulled me against him.
“It was so beautiful,” I whispered. I could feel a lump in my throat. “We followed the light and went right to the manger, just like the Wise Men.” I was quiet for a moment. “But we didn’t leave a gift,” I mumbled. “Not like the other Wise Men did. We didn’t have any gold or frankincense or myrrh.”
Dad held me close for a moment while he drove. Then he told me, “Oh, but you gave an even better gift. You gave a gift of love to Robby. What you gave to Robby, you were really giving to Jesus, and a gift of love is the very best gift of all.”
“Are you sure, Dad?” I whispered.
“I’m sure,” he said.

In 1849, Brigham Young had a dream in which he saw the Prophet Joseph Smith driving a large herd of sheep and goats. Some of these animals were large and beautiful; others were small and dirty. Brigham Young recalled looking into the Prophet Joseph Smith’s eyes and saying, “Joseph, you have got the darndest flock … I ever saw in my life; what are you going to do with them?” The Prophet, who seemed unconcerned with this unruly flock, simply replied, “[Brigham,] they are all good in their places.”
When President Young awoke, he understood that while the Church would gather a variety of “sheep and goats,” it was his responsibility to bring all in and allow each of them to realize their full potential as they took their places in the Church. (Adapted from Ronald W. Walker, “Brigham Young: Student of the Prophet,” Ensign, Feb. 1998, 56–57.)

Lush green shrubs and pine forests surround the ancient Mayan ruins of Iximché. Eleven-year-old Jairo Eli Xocop of Comalapa, Guatemala, likes to visit the ruins and talk with his family about their family history and ancestors. Long ago, skilled Cakchiquel stonemasons built these vast fortified cities. Today Jairo is working just as hard to build a foundation of faith and good works in the gospel as he prepares to be ordained a deacon.
A member of the Comalapa Branch in the Chimaltenango Guatemala Stake, Jairo lives in a small town in the mountains where the Cakchiquel language is spoken.
Map by Thomas S. Child
Jairo often has his mind on the calendar. He will be 12 soon and is eager to receive the priesthood and become a member of the deacons quorum. Jairo’s good friend and cousin, César Samuel, 16, goes with him and his family to church every Sunday. Jairo is eager to learn from the full-time missionaries who teach the Aaronic Priesthood class in his branch.
An active and fun-loving boy, Jairo likes to participate with the 30 other children in his branch in Primary. Jairo’s favorite part of Primary is sharing time, but he also likes to sing hymns and listen to his teachers talk about the prophets’ lives.
A sixth-grader, Jairo loves sports, especially the long jump, which he has been practicing for three years. At a school competition, he won second place in both speed-walking and the long jump. He also likes to play soccer.
Jairo is preparing to serve a mission by reading the Book of Mormon and other Church books. He attends all his Church meetings and is saving money in a savings account for his mission.
“Jairo is a smart boy, and he tries very hard to be obedient. If he continues, he will become a faithful man and a strong missionary,” says Jairo’s mom.
Jairo’s sister, Melissa, 20, says she admires the way he gets up every Sunday morning and gets ready quickly so he can walk to church with his cousin César. They arrive on time and sit in one of the front rows.
Jairo is growing day by day. His experiences are laying a foundation for a lifetime of working hard in the service of others.

Recently we had in our home some nonmember friends from another part of the country, and they were with us for about a week. One of them is a very well educated man. He initially prepared for the ministry, and then determined he would not continue in that vein but would become a psychologist, and he received his doctorate in that field.
Upon graduating, he established a clinic, and in that clinic today there are several psychiatrists and a number of psychologists and social workers. This man is also an adviser to a state board of education and to a state university. He is involved in the accreditation tests of universities.
When we realized that this very well educated person was coming to our home, we wondered what we could show him and how we could tell him about the things that we believe.
First, we brought him here to this magnificent building. It was on a Sunday morning, and he was impressed with the artistic ability of this great choir. He went into the visitors’ centers here on the grounds and was exposed to what is there.
I sought an interview for him with the commissioner of education. I wanted to impress him with the fact that we have people who have some background in the field of education as well. We took him to Brigham Young University and had him visit with persons there who are in his field, hoping that he would be impressed with that great university—and he was impressed.
Then I took him behind the scenes and introduced him to the curriculum planning functions of the Church as described by Elder Packer today. Because of his background in education he had been involved in curriculum planning for all different levels, but as he saw this plan, he was amazed. He said, “I’ve never seen anything like it. You should have the Nobel prize for curriculum planning.”
He saw many things. Then, during his last evening at our home, I said, “What questions do you have?”
He said, “How do you console the bereaved?”
We opened up the Old Testament, and then we read from the New Testament. Then we looked in another testament, the Book of Mormon. We studied from Alma and other parts of this testament that Jesus is the Christ. We then moved on to modern-day scriptures and studied the 76th and 138th sections of the Doctrine and Covenants. We also read from the Pearl of Great Price.
And we talked about the cross-referencing of these scriptures. They are not isolated one from another. They are one integral whole and have come from one source—the Lord God, and his Son Jesus Christ, who through prophets over the ages have inspired those thoughts and had them recorded so that they would lift us to an understanding of the pearl of great price.
We have many wonderful teachings in this Church, all of which contribute to an uplifting, wonderful life. And yet as we look through all these trappings, and down to the very center core, we find that there is the message: yes, the Lord Jesus Christ came in the meridian of time. There he called others—Apostles and seventy, and others—to assist him in the task. He was placed on the cross and then in the tomb, and on the third day he arose. He lives today, and because he lives today, we will live tomorrow. That, I told my friend, is how we console the bereaved.

I remember my missionary farewell. Being the proud young man that I was, when it was Dad’s turn to speak, I thought that he was going to say something about me—what a good missionary I’d be, what a good boy I’d been. But Dad did not say one thing about me. He stood at the pulpit and gave one of the strongest, most powerful testimonies about tithing that I have ever heard. It wasn’t until about halfway through my mission, as I was thinking about his talk, that it dawned on me: Dad had been trying to tell me, “I don’t know how we’re going to support you, Jay, because I don’t have work some seasons of the year. But I have faith that if we pay our tithing, we’ll be able to do it.” And they did. Our priesthood leaders have told us to pay our tithing and to do missionary work, and if we faithfully follow their counsel, we will be blessed.

Our present-day prophet, Spencer W. Kimball, has a great love for all the children of the Church. AFriend reader wrote to share with you an experience that expresses our prophet’s love.
“My name is Margo Busch, I am seven years old and live in San Antonio, Texas. I have three sisters and one brother. Something very special happened to our family. When we were on a 747 jet flying from Salt Lake City to Augsburg, Germany, we saw the prophet on the plane. We wanted to talk to him, but the stewardess wouldn’t let us. We were sad because we really wanted to meet him. So my sisters and I drew some pictures and the stewardess took them to him, and he answered by writing back to us on the pictures. When the plane landed, we were the last ones to leave. As we got off the plane the prophet was there waiting for us to shake our hands. Spencer W. Kimball really loves children very much and everyone in our family loves him too.”

1. Let thy love be for them as for thyself. Bill had always been an avid sports fan and sportsman. Fishing, golfing, bowling, hunting, going to ball games, and watching sports on television had been a regular feature of his life. To the extent she could, Susan also enjoyed many of his hobbies. But as the children began to arrive, it became more and more difficult to spend much time with him in such activities. This became a sustained source of irritation with her as she felt his lack of support with the children.

As Bill was reading the Doctrine and Covenants one day, a scripture struck him with thunderbolt force: “Let thy love for them be as for thyself; and let thy love abound unto all men, and unto all who love my name.” (D&C 112:11.) He cross-referenced this scripture with one even more familiar to him: “He that findeth his life shall lose it: and he that loseth his life for my sake shall find it.” (Matt. 10:39.) He was ashamed with his own past behavior as he recalled King Benjamin’s observation that “when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God.” (Mosiah 2:17.)

Bill had a few mental pains of regret as he gradually disengaged from many of the activities with his friends and began to spend more time in family-centered activities. Often he would take the children for a walk in the countryside or a drive in the car and leave Susan some needed time alone to go shopping or just to relax at home without the demands of the children pressing upon her. He also resolved to go out alone each week with Susan, and to take frequent walks with her after the children had gone to bed. He was determined to lose his life in making his wife and children happy. And then an amazing thing happened: he began to enjoy the association with his family more than with his friends.

Malcolm Tent was still a young man when he began putting rocks in his pockets. It started one day when his boss, Mr. Gump, got angry at him for something that wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t yell back at his boss, because he might lose his job. In fact, there wasn’t anything he could do except be angry inside. “But,” he thought, “I’m not going to forget this. No way.” On the way home from the bus stop that night, he thought to himself, “I’ve got to remember how angry I am. I don’t want to forget in the morning.” Suddenly he had an idea. There was a small rock on the sidewalk in front of him. He picked it up and said softly to himself, “I’ll keep this rock in my pocket to remind me of how unfair Mr. Gump was.”
And that’s what he did. That night he put the rock on his dresser with his keys and comb. The next morning, when he got dressed to go to work, into his pocket went the ugly gray rock.
All that day and the next, the heavy bulge in his pocket reminded him that he should be angry at Mr. Gump. Strangely, Mr. Gump seemed to have forgotten about the whole thing. But not Malcolm Tent. Oh no. In fact, during the next two weeks, Mr. Gump made Malcolm angry several more times, and Malcolm decided he’d better get a rock for each time so he could keep better track of these things.
And so it was that Malcolm Tent’s trousers began to look baggy and strange. But at least he remembered not to forgive Mr. Gump or be friendly or anything like that.
Maybe if Malcolm had only collected rocks when he got angry at Mr. Gump, this thing might have died out and been forgotten. But there was the taxi driver who drove right by and left Malcolm standing in the rain. Into his pocket went a shiny, rain-slick pebble from the gutter. (Of course, Malcolm had no idea of the taxi driver’s name, but it didn’t matter.) Then there was the grocery clerk who shortchanged him. And the newspaper delivery boy who threw his paper into a rain puddle. And the neighbor whose dog barked late at night. And … well, Malcolm discovered that there were all kinds of people and things in the world that can bother you.
Speaking of discoveries, Malcolm also discovered that when all of your pockets are full of rocks, a belt won’t hold up your pants. (He discovered that fact while his arms were full of grocery sacks.) So he made himself a sturdy pair of leather suspenders to help hold up his pants.
But soon the time came when he didn’t have enough pockets in his pants, so he had to wear a jacket everywhere he went—the kind of jacket with lots of pockets. And it wasn’t long before the jacket looked as funny as his trousers. And smelled just as dusty. And got even heavier because it had more pockets.
Anyone else might have given up at this point, but not Malcolm. He bought one of those big sturdy briefcases like salesmen use. After all, when you start to look for them, there are all kinds of things in life that can bother you. And when you are always tired from carrying so many rocks around, you get angry even easier.
Years went by, and Malcolm’s collection of reminder rocks spilled out of his pockets and briefcase and all over his house. He had rocks on the kitchen sink, and in his closets, and all over the floors. A few times he even put a rock in his bed so he could remember to be angry during the night. Let’s face it. Malcolm had become a strange, unpleasant man. And most people avoided him when they could, which made him even touchier. Rocks are not very good company. They are hard and dusty, and in the winter they are very cold.
Now, Malcolm might have gone on to become a mean old man completely buried in rocks. But one day he received a telephone call from a geology professor at the university. Dr. Igneous had heard of Malcolm’s large rock collection (who hadn’t?), and he wanted to bring his geology class on a visit to see it.
“Well,” thought Malcolm, “at last here is someone who appreciates my rocks. Wait until they see all of these reminders of how often people have wronged me.” An appointment was made for the next Saturday, and Malcolm spent the next few evenings dusting and arranging.
At last Saturday came, and at two o’clock in the afternoon the doorbell rang. There, on the porch, stood Professor Igneous and seven of his best students, all dressed in their best outdoor clothing. Several had rock hammers dangling from their belts, and one or two carried cameras. And everyone carried a notebook and pencil.
Professor Igneous himself looked rather ordinary. But he had a ready smile. And his face was deeply tanned from spending years out of doors. As a matter of fact, there was something about his eyes, too. They looked deep and dark, but they had a sparkle that said he enjoyed life. And when he looked at you, it was the same look he gave mountains and rock formations—as though he were trying to peer inside. This was a scientist who liked people at least as much as he liked rocks.
As the professor and students stepped into the rock-filled living room, Malcolm expected to hear oohs and aahs. You know, like you hear at a fireworks show. Instead, there was an uncomfortable silence. The group just stood there looking around, nudging a few of the rocks with their toes. Then the students looked at their professor, waiting for him to say something. After all, this was not the collection of beautiful gems and minerals they had expected. These were ordinary hunks of limestone and sandstone and quartzite. Why, there were even chunks of broken asphalt and concrete!
Finally, Professor Igneous spoke: “Ahem,” he cleared his throat. “Perhaps you would be so good as to explain your collection to us, Mr. Tent. I can honestly say we’ve never seen another collection quite like it.” In the background, his students nodded in agreement.
“Well,” Malcolm began nervously, “I, uh, well … that is . …” It had been a long time since he had said much of anything to anyone.
Professor Igneous could see how nervous Malcolm was. The poor man kept swallowing so hard his Adam’s apple was bobbing up and down. (Some of the students thought he was trying to swallow one of his rocks.)
Trying to help, the professor said, “Why not begin by telling us why you chose these rocks.” He picked up an ordinary gray rock that looked like most of the others. “Why did you choose this particular piece of limestone for your collection?”
“Oh, is that what it is? Well, I think that’s the one I picked up when the laundry didn’t have my shirts ready on time. Wait! No, I think that’s for the time my favorite television show got canceled. Or was it the time I ran inside to answer the phone, and the caller had the wrong number? Or … “Here he paused to search his memory. There were so many rocks! And they were so much alike—gray, hard, cold, dusty. Suddenly, Malcolm realized that that was all Professor Igneous and his students could see. To everyone else these were just plain old everyday rocks. Malcolm had to explain, to make them see.
“There’s more to these rocks than you might think. Every one of these rocks represents a time somebody made me mad, or wasn’t very nice to me, or hurt my feelings. I picked up these rocks as reminders.”
Now the professor and his students were really amazed. They all began to speak at once: “I never heard of such a thing.” “How long have you been doing this?” “Can I take a picture of you with your rocks?” “Some field trip!”
Professor Igneous spoke again, and everyone became quiet. “Well, Mr. Tent,” he began slowly, “I must admit you’re the first person I ever met who collected rocks for that reason.” He paused and looked around. “You’ve been very kind to invite us into your home. And we don’t want to take up too much of your time. But do you suppose that while we are here we might see your other collection?”
A blank look came over Malcolm’s face. “I don’t have any other collection.”
“Oh, I see. I just thought you might have collected something to remind you of the nice things people have done and said. But, well, never mind. Perhaps we ought to be going now. Thank you so much for allowing us to come into your home. I think my students have learned something important.”
He gathered his students around him, and they moved toward the door. Then, turning to Malcolm once more, the professor said, “We still have some time left this afternoon. Could you perhaps direct us to some of the other people with similar collections?”
Once more Malcolm was unready with an answer. “I don’t know of any other collections like mine.”
“Oh. I just thought that perhaps some of the people you know would have collected something when you … I mean … if you ever … uh … annoyed them.” Then, quickly, he added, “Yes, well, good-bye, and thanks again.”
Without waiting, the professor and his students turned and marched off down the sidewalk.
Long after they were gone, Malcolm stood there, looking just like one of his rocks—cold and gray and very still. Within him, the professor’s words echoed. Around him, the house was silent. Too silent. He suddenly realized how pleasant the students’ friendly chatter had been. How long since he had had a friendly talk with anyone? Come to think of it, did he even have any friends anymore?
Then, before he could stop it, the thought came into his mind: “I’m becoming just like my rocks.” As Malcolm sat alone in the dark, he finally realized what unpleasant companions rocks are. And how unpleasant he … Well, some thoughts are hard enough to think without actually saying them.
For several days, for hours at a time, Malcolm sat still as a rock, thinking rock-hard thoughts. You might have thought he had finally become petrified. But deep inside him, something was waking up and beginning to grow, like a seed in the spring soil.
If you think it’s hard to find a home for extra kittens or such, you should try finding someone who wants a bunch of very ordinary, dusty, gray rocks. In fact, just try gathering them up when they are scattered all over. Malcolm tried to hire cleaning ladies. They all told him the same thing: “I don’t do windows, and I don’t pick up rocks!” A “Free Rocks” sign in his window brought no results. Finally he realized that this was something he would have to do himself.
The neighbors still talk about the time Malcolm backed a rented trailer up to his front porch, and about the tremendous cloud of dust that rose as the rocks were shoveled out into the trailer. They also talk about how much better Malcolm looks, how his clothes fit so much better (has he lost weight?), and how he actually smiles now.
Malcolm’s neighbors also point with pride to his attractive yard, with trees and flowers and bushes planted everywhere. They don’t have any explanation for his sudden interest in gardening. But one neighbor, Mrs. Kratz, did notice that after she had taken a piece of cake to him, Malcolm went out to the flower bed and planted a single seed.

My classmates and I were stationed near Hanover. Every month or so our unit of about 300 people would get together. Usually there was a unit party, and everyone would be drinking and smoking—except me. I didn’t know it at first, but our commander-in-chief watched me during these parties.
One day he asked me why I didn’t smoke or drink. I was a little shy, and I told him that I just didn’t believe in it. I think I was the only one who didn’t smoke or drink in the whole group, and I was the only Latter-day Saint.
“There must be a specific reason why you don’t do that,” he continued questioning me. I told him it was better for the body to abstain from those things, and I tried to evade the question a little bit. When you’re 15, it’s not so easy when people laugh at you and say you’re not a man if you don’t smoke and drink. My fellow soldiers had made fun of me quite often, and my commander had heard that.
“You’re a Mormon, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that?” he asked.
“I’m not that outgoing. I’m a little shy,” I explained. “You’ve seen what kind of reaction the others have.”
“Well, that might change if you just tell them,” he replied.
One night we were all sitting at a big table at a party, and everyone was drinking, except me. I think I had a soft drink that I had bought downtown. My commanding officer was watching me again.
He stood and said, “Rahde, get up.” Then he said to the whole group, “I would like to inform you that Rahde is a Mormon. He doesn’t drink, and he doesn’t smoke. And I would like you to respect that. If I see anybody making fun of him because of that, I will put you in jail.”
I was shocked. I turned red because everyone was looking at me. Then he said, “From now on, Rahde, it is your job to take care of these men and see that when they go downtown and have too much to drink they find their way home.”
From that minute on, I had a lot of groups that wanted me to go with them every night. They took me with them to the bars, and as soon as we went in they said, “No drinks for Heinz. He has to take us home. He doesn’t drink, and don’t you bother him.”
I didn’t have to mention anything anymore. I had more friends that way than I would have had any other way. Nothing could have done more good for me than this frankness, as my wise commanding officer had sensed. It was a testimony to me that the others trusted me so much that whenever something came up, they always asked me to go with them, and they protected me. No one dared offer me anything again.

Elder Thomas H. Hilton and Sister Sarah M. Hilton were serving on a mission in Samoa, where they lost three of their children, between 1891 and 1894. Little Jeanette lived less than a year, George Emmett for only seven days, and Thomas Harold for a year and a half.

Of the death of Thomas Harold the record says: “On Sunday the 11th, he was not feeling very well. … For two days following he appeared to be improving, but on the morning of the 14th, his mother again became concerned about his welfare. From then until his death, on March 17, 1894, everything that loving hands could do was done for his recovery, but he grew rapidly worse. …
“Oh how loath we all were to believe that it was so! How sad to see our dear sister again bereft, and her so far from dear parents and friends who she has left for the gospel’s sake.
“Thomas Harold Hilton was about one and a half years old, a beautiful little boy and very dearly beloved by all the missionaries, as well as the natives who knew him. Much sympathy is felt for the bereaved parents and the blessings of the Lord are invoked upon them.”

I remember that it was chilly that Saturday evening. I walked down the dirt path to the well to get another bucket of water for my bath. My bare feet were cold. I dropped the bucket down the well and listened for it to splash. All the while I was stamping my feet to try to get them warm. When the bucket was full, I hurried back to our sod house.
As I walked up the path, some of the water slopped out of the bucket onto my feet and made my teeth chatter. I wished then that I could have my own shoes, especially for Sundays, before winter came.
Most of the time I liked running around without shoes, and I didn’t mind too much going to school without them. But I sure didn’t want to go to church again until I had a pair of shoes, even old ones. I wanted to be all dressed up, at least the best I could.
When I came in with the bucket of water, Ma was fixing supper. It seemed like we always had the same thing for supper. We called it lumpydick. Ma made it by mixing flour and milk and an egg together. It doesn’t sound too good, but it tasted all right if you were hungry, and I was hungry that night.
Sometimes I wished we could have different things to eat, but Ma was a widow and we were pretty poor, so we couldn’t be too choosy. I guess nobody in Salt Lake Valley had very much. Things were pretty rough.
“Are we going to church tomorrow?” I asked as I poured the water into the wooden tub we used for baths.
Ma looked around at me and said, “George Little! Why of course we’re going! We always go.”
“But, Ma, I don’t have any shoes. I can’t go.”
Ma pressed her lips together like she does when she’s not quite sure what to say. Finally she said, “What makes you think of that now? You haven’t had shoes before, and you’ve never said anything.”
“It wasn’t so bad in the summer because lots of kids didn’t have shoes. But last Sunday when President Young was talking, I looked around and couldn’t see any bare feet except mine.”
“It’s not a crime to go barefoot. We don’t go to church to look at people’s feet. When the Lord wants you to have shoes, you’ll have them. Ever since your pa died, He’s taken care of us.”
“But, Ma—”
“George, we need more water for our baths.”
I knew I couldn’t argue with Ma. She didn’t seem to understand that a boy needed shoes when he went to church. But I knew, too, that even if she’d had money—which nobody did—there were hardly any shoes to buy in Salt Lake City.
When I’d filled up the old tub, I sat down and rested while Ma dished out the lumpydick. I was so hungry that it even smelled good. It seemed like I was hungry all the time anymore.
We knelt and had our family prayer. It was times like that that I wished Pa was around. Even though I couldn’t remember him, I thought it would be right nice to have my own Pa like the other kids. I was just a baby when he died. His wagon broke through the ice on the Mississippi when the Saints were leaving Nauvoo, and he fell into the river. Ma said he was all blue when the men pulled him out, and he got real sick and died a few weeks later.
“Why do we pray so much?” I asked Ma as we started eating our lumpydick. “We say family prayers in the morning and at night. We say our own prayers morning and night, and we pray a lot in between. That’s a lot of praying.”
“We have a lot to be thankful for, Son.”
“We do?” I asked, looking around at our one bed, two chairs and table, and the two boxes we used for a dresser and a cupboard. It seemed to me that we didn’t have much of anything. Ma had to wash people’s clothes and sew and clean, and I had to work for Brother Jeffers and Brother Simms. We didn’t get any money for it, either—just flour and sugar and stuff like that.
“We have a lot,” Ma said. “We have a house. We always manage to find something to eat. We have each other. We have the gospel, and we know that someday we’ll be with your pa. Doesn’t that sound like a lot?”
I nodded my head but kept eating my lumpydick and thinking about my bare feet.
“The Lord has blessed us, George, and when we need His help, all we have to do is ask Him in faith, just like the Prophet Joseph did. Heavenly Father wants to help us, but we have to ask.”
That gave me an idea. If the Lord wanted me to have shoes, then maybe He would help me get some.
“You mean we can ask the Lord for anything?”
“Anything that’s right,” she said. “We do have to remember that it’s still up to the Lord and that sometimes His answer is no. We let His will be done.”
I knew Ma was telling the truth, because she doesn’t ever lie. Once she said that if we had enough faith, it would rain. And it rained the very next day. Another time I was very sick, and everybody thought I was going to die, but Ma asked Brother Abott and Brother Beecher to come and give me a blessing. I was better after a couple of hours.
Before I went to bed that night, I said a special prayer to Heavenly Father. I told Him about my bare feet and how I felt bad about going to church without shoes. I said I’d go anyway, even without shoes, but if He felt I should have some shoes, I’d sure appreciate it. When I finished my prayer, I felt good all over. It was just like Heavenly Father was telling me that somehow I’d have a pair of shoes for church the next day.
I woke up just as the sun was peeking over the mountains. I hurried and got dressed and started outside because I knew my new shoes would be there.
“Where are you off to?” Ma asked as I opened the door. “It’s Sunday, you know.”
“I’m just going out to get my shoes,” I called back as I ran down the path to the old wooden gate. Right on top of the gatepost were my shoes, just as I knew they’d be. They were brand-new, and they were just my size.
I was so excited that I could hardly stand still. I wanted to shout and run, but about all I could do was cry a little bit because I was so happy. I knelt down right there by the gate and said a little prayer and thanked Heavenly Father for sending me those shoes.
I didn’t understand how it happened or who Heavenly Father inspired to put the shoes there, but I put them on and ran into the house. “Look, Ma!” I shouted. “Look at my new shoes!”
Ma didn’t know what to say. She just stood there with her mouth open. Finally she asked, “Where did they come from?”
“They’re mine. They’re the ones I prayed for. They were on the gatepost, just waiting for me. You were right. The Lord does answer our prayers.”
Ma looked worried. “George, those are brand-new shoes. You can’t keep them. They belong to someone else.”
“Oh, no, Ma. They’re mine. Heavenly Father helped someone decide to give them to me. I know He did.”
“Take them off,” Ma said.
I knew it was no use to argue with her.
“We’ll take them to church with us and ask President Young to find the owner. I’m sure the owner will be anxious to have them back.”
President Young held the shoes up and asked the owner to come up and get them after the meeting, but nobody did. I would have gone, but Ma wouldn’t let me, even though I knew they were mine.
The next Sunday I went barefoot, and the next Sunday too. It had warmed up a bit, so I wasn’t cold, but I sure was anxious to get my shoes back. Before I went to church that third Sunday, I said a prayer and told Heavenly Father that if He wanted to give those shoes to someone who needed them more than I did, it was all right with me.
President Young held up the shoes after meeting again and asked the owner to claim them. But he still had them in his hand when he came over to Ma and me. “Well, Sister Little,” he said, “it doesn’t look like anyone’s going to claim these shoes. Do you think they’ll fit George?”
“Sure they will,” I said. “The Lord wouldn’t make it possible for me to get a pair of shoes and then have them too big or too little.”
“What’s this?” President Young asked with a twinkle in his eye.
I told him what I’d done—how I’d prayed and had just known that the Lord was going to help me and how I’d found my shoes on the gatepost.
President Young nodded his head, and his eyes got real smiley when he said, “And all this time we’ve been trying to give your shoes away?” I nodded my head. “No wonder no one claimed them. They were yours all along. Well, Sister Little, I think we’d better let George keep his shoes. After the Lord went to all that trouble, I don’t think He would want us giving George’s shoes to someone else.”
I smiled and sat down right there to put on my shoes, and as I pulled them on, I said another little prayer and thanked Heavenly Father for helping me get my shoes back.