Gospel Story Finder

My name is Erika Z., and I live in the city of San Salvador in El Salvador, and I love to prepare names for temple ordinances.
The Relief Society sisters in my branch asked if I could learn to index names using the FamilySearch program. I wanted to help. My mother also wanted me to help, so we began learning how to index together.
When I first started, it took me a whole day to index nine names. But now after working hard and practicing, I can index 300 names in a day.
After finishing my homework, I spend time indexing names. For me, indexing is as fun as playing or watching TV. But I know that it has a greater purpose.
I know that Heavenly Father blessed me with the opportunity to help prepare names for temple ordinances for more than 2,000 Salvadorian ancestors in the spirit world.

A Sunday School teacher once said to her class, “How many of you would like to go to the celestial kingdom?” And everyone held up their hands except one little boy. The teacher said to him, “Bill, wouldn’t you like to go to the celestial kingdom someday?” And he said, “Oh, sure, someday. But I thought you were getting up a group to go tonight.” Everyone wants to go to the celestial kingdom sometime; they just don’t want to get ready right now.

When I read the article “A Magazine for All the World,” in the October 1998 Seito no Michi (Japanese), I decided to act on the suggestion that the branch present the public library with a copy of the magazine. I was able to place the magazine in the library, due in part to the service the sister missionaries give at the library and the courteous example of the elders. I hope it will be read there by many people.
Satsuki Sato,Nemuro Branch, Kushiro Japan District

Illustrated by Shauna Mooney Kawasaki
It was very nice of you to invite me over for Thanksgiving dinner.
It’s our pleasure. You’re a great neighbor and one of our favorite people.
You folks have been wonderful to me since my Bill died. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.
Well, our lives would be a lot poorer without you too.
And you’re my “next-door grandma.”
“How come you’re crying, Next-door Grandma?”
I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. It’s just that it’s my first Thanksgiving without Bill, and you’re all being so sweet.
Don’t you worry about it for a second. We consider you part of our family, and if you can’t cry with your own family, where can you?
I don’t want to spoil your lovely dinner. It just hits me sometimes that I’ll never see him again.
You will see him again, Next-door Grandma! Next-door Grandpa is with Heavenly Father—I know he is!
Oh, Mandy, I wish I knew that the way you do. But it makes me feel peaceful somehow to hear you say it. So you just go right on telling me, OK?
OK.

I had always been jealous of Lynn. Despite a close friendship, Lynn and I had always been in unspoken competition with each other in high school—at least, I always felt that way. I longed to be like her. She was pretty, intelligent, talented, and fun to be around. I, on the other hand, lacked confidence in my appearance and felt socially inept.
After I had been home from my mission for nearly a year, I met Lynn for lunch. I told her how I had always envied her. She listened quietly and then looked at me in astonishment. “I was always jealous of you!” she said. I realized then how pointless my unspoken envy had been. I asked her if she could forgive me.
“Of course,” she said. “As long as you can forgive me, too.”
We laughed then and cried a little. I felt an old bitterness melt away to be replaced by peace and an intense gratitude for Lynn’s friendship.

A few months later, Martin came to Harmony. He said he felt called by the Lord to travel as far as New York City to consult experts in ancient languages. He hoped they could translate the characters.12
Joseph copied several more characters from the plates, wrote down his translation, and handed the paper to Martin. He and Emma then watched as their friend headed east to consult with distinguished scholars.13
Facsimile of characters from the Book of Mormon plates.
When Martin arrived in New York City, he went to see Charles Anthon, a professor of Latin and Greek at Columbia College. Professor Anthon was a young man—about 15 years younger than Martin—and was best known for publishing a popular encyclopedia on Greek and Roman culture. He had also begun collecting stories about American Indians.14
Anthon was a rigid scholar who resented interruptions, but he welcomed Martin and studied the characters and translation Joseph had provided.15 Although the professor did not know Egyptian, he had read some studies on the language and knew what it looked like. Looking at the characters, he saw some similarities with Egyptian and told Martin the translation was correct.
Martin showed him more characters, and Anthon examined them. He said they contained characters from many ancient languages and gave Martin a certificate verifying their authenticity. He also recommended that he show the characters to another scholar named Samuel Mitchill, who used to teach at Columbia.16
“He is very learned in these ancient languages,” Anthon said, “and I have no doubt he will be able to give you some satisfaction.”17
Martin placed the certificate in his pocket, but just as he was leaving, Anthon called him back. He wanted to know how Joseph found the gold plates.
“An angel of God,” Martin said, “revealed it unto him.” He testified that the translation of the plates would change the world and save it from destruction. And now that he had proof of their authenticity, he intended to sell his farm and donate money to get the translation published.
“Let me see that certificate,” Anthon said.
Martin reached into his pocket and gave it to him. Anthon tore it to pieces and said there was no such thing as ministering angels. If Joseph wanted the plates translated, he could bring them to Columbia and let a scholar translate them.
Martin explained that part of the plates were sealed and that Joseph was not allowed to show them to anyone.
“I cannot read a sealed book,” said Anthon. He warned Martin that Joseph was probably cheating him. “Beware of rogues,” he said.18
Martin left Professor Anthon and called on Samuel Mitchill. He received Martin politely, listened to his story, and looked at the characters and translation. He could not make sense of them, but he said they reminded him of Egyptian hieroglyphics and were the writings of an extinct nation.19
Martin left the city a short time later and returned to Harmony, more convinced than ever that Joseph had ancient gold plates and the power to translate them. He told Joseph about his interviews with the professors and reasoned that if some of the most educated men in America could not translate the book, Joseph had to do it.
“I cannot,” Joseph said, overwhelmed by the task, “for I am not learned.” But he knew the Lord had prepared the interpreters so he could translate the plates.20
Martin agreed. He planned to go back to Palmyra, set his business in order, and return as soon as possible to serve as Joseph’s scribe.21

Since the time he entered the Manila Philippines Temple in July 2001, just before leaving for his mission to Singapore, Riaz Gill of Pakistan knew that he wanted to return to the temple so he could have an eternal family.
In 2007, his wife, Farah, was baptized, but funds were tight and they didn’t know when they would be able to make the trip to the temple, more than 3,500 miles (5,700 km) away. With the birth of their son, Ammon Phinehas, in 2009, their desire to be sealed in the temple grew even stronger, and late in 2010, with help from the Church’s General Temple Patron Assistance Fund, their prayers were answered.
“Going to the temple with my family has helped to make my testimony stronger,” Brother Gill said. “After our temple visit, it seems like I have more to give to the Lord. … The temple visit was so good and faith-promoting, it is hard to express in words.”
While there, Brother Gill was also able to perform ordinances for his father, grandfather, and father-in-law, who have all passed away. He had the work done for his mother, and he was sealed to his parents.
“It has been a great privilege for me and my family to visit the temple,” he said. “I want to give my special thanks with a lot of prayers to the leaders who made this temple trip possible.”

When I was eight years old, the missionaries met my grandmother and aunt on the street. After learning about the gospel, we were all baptized. In 2020, however, we had to stop going to church because of COVID. We eventually stopped believing.
Two years ago, I didn’t even believe in God or know if He was real. One day after school, I wanted to cross the street to buy a snack. But a voice told me to not cross the street. I stopped, and two cars crashed right in front of me. If I had crossed the street, the cars would have hit me or maybe killed me. I knew then that God knew me and loved me. Even though I didn’t believe in Him and wasn’t attending church at the time, He still loved me and protected me.
I started to read the Book of Mormon again and came to know that it is God’s word. I started going back to church too. When I go to church, I feel peace, God’s love, and His help. I feel that He’s always with me, and that makes me happy.
My favorite hymn is “I Am a Child of God” because it reminds me that Heavenly Father loves us and helps us. I also like the scripture 2 Nephi 2:27, which talks about how we are free to choose between right and wrong.
Many months ago, my brother started coming to church with me, but after a while he stopped. He worries about what his friends and others will think of him. He thinks that it’s shameful to go to our church, but I tell him that it doesn’t matter what friends think. It’s what God thinks that matters.
My family doesn’t go to church. I go alone. Because my street doesn’t have a bus to the Church building, I walk about 30 minutes to get there. My family worries what other people will think about them, but I say that it doesn’t matter because I know it’s true.
When I meet with my friends, they sometimes drink coffee. And when I see that, sometimes I want to drink coffee too. But I remember that God is with me. He holds my hand and helps me. I hear a voice that tells me not to do it, and I know that God is helping me overcome these challenges.
It’s hard to attend church without her family, but Nara knows that God loves and blesses her. He even protected her from a car accident once.
If I were to give advice to someone in my situation, I would say to them that you are so blessed, and you have a lot of faith. You are not alone, because the Church members and missionaries can give you good advice. God loves you. You are His son or daughter, and He wants to help you.

Once, as I sat by my father’s bedside through the night, he talked about his childhood. He spoke of the love of his parents in difficult times and of the love of his Heavenly Father and the Savior. I knew he was dying of cancer, so it did not surprise me that at times he mixed up his feelings for his Heavenly Father with the love and kindness of his earthly father. My father had often said that when he prayed, he thought he could see in his mind the smile of Heavenly Father.
His parents had taught him by example to pray as if he spoke to God and that God would answer him in love. He needed that example to the end. When the pain became intense, we found him in the morning on his knees by the bed. He had been too weak to get back into bed. He told us he had been praying to ask his Heavenly Father why he had to suffer so much when he had always tried to be good. He said a kindly answer came: “God needs brave sons.”
And so he soldiered on to the end, trusting that God loved him, listened to him, and would lift him up. He was blessed to have known early and to never forget that a loving God is as close as a prayer.

One night, some years later, after I had been ordained an Apostle, the prophet of God called me and asked me to read something that had been written about Church doctrine. He had spent the night reading the chapters of a book. He said with a chuckle, “I can’t get through all of this. You shouldn’t be resting while I’m working.” And then he used almost the same words my father had years before: “Hal, you are the one who should read this. You will know if it is right to publish it.”

Imagine graduating from Young Women and a few months later being called as Relief Society president. Impossible, you say? Mallory Higginson and Macie Murphy could tell you otherwise.
Both 18-year-old freshmen at BYU–Idaho, Macie and Mallory are serving as presidents of the Relief Society groups in their student wards. They had hardly even attended Relief Society before they were each called to serve as president.
They smile confidently as they talk about their callings, but each admits being surprised and overwhelmed after her first meeting with the bishop. Neither of them had been attending Relief Society for very long before arriving at school. Now all of a sudden they were in charge. Despite their initial doubts and fears, Macie and Mallory have quickly come to see that they are not on their own. Their mothers, who have both served as Relief Society presidents, are only a phone call away with comfort and advice. Their bishop is also there to support them, and, of course, so is the Lord.
Although from very different parts of the country—Macie is from Columbus, Georgia, and Mallory is from Mesa, Arizona—they are both learning together that Relief Society is about women being united in the gospel.
Macie and Mallory are each responsible for about 60 young women, and they have learned a lot from it. Living in the dorms at BYU–Idaho as they experience being away from home, the girls in each Relief Society group have become especially close-knit.
From her apartment Macie can see all the apartments in her Relief Society, which she likes because she can see the people she’s looking after. When they come back from dates, she likes to go chat with them, or if she notices that someone is sad or lonely, she invites her over to talk and have fun.
This dorm setting helps to foster a sisterhood, and Macie has learned that sisterhood is what Relief Society is about. “I think it’s really important to rely on each other,” she says. “I know lots of these girls come from places where they don’t have LDS friends, and it’s cool that we can all be one, united in the gospel.”
That is why things like visiting teaching are so important. Just before Mallory left for college, her mom asked her if she wanted to go visiting teaching. Mallory brushed off the offer by rolling her eyes and asking, “How hard could it be?” She admits that she didn’t take it very seriously, but now she understands what a wonderful support system it is. “It is so important for women to check up on each other and to support each other,” she says.
Macie agrees and says she is encouraging her Relief Society sisters to reach out and serve each other, even if it’s as simple as talking to someone who seems to be having a bad day. “It makes you feel better about yourself if you’re serving others,” she says. “We’re all a little homesick and lonely, and this is a great strength.” Away from their homes, the girls have become like family and look after each other, sharing cookies and conversations with neighbors.
“The moment I got this calling, I had this great love for the girls, and I didn’t even know them,” says Macie. She had heard other people say similar things about their callings but had never experienced it before. She compares this feeling to a small taste of what the Lord feels for us all. “He loves us all; we’re His children,” she says. “I feel a responsibility to help take care of the Lord’s children.”
Their bishop encourages this feeling of responsibility, and although he helps them and gives them guidelines, he encourages Macie and Mallory to pray for inspiration.
One way in particular that Mallory and Macie had to rely on the Lord was in recommending their counselors and others for callings in Relief Society. It was a rather daunting task at first, considering they were as new to the ward as they were to the calling and thus hardly knew anyone. Each of them prayed and then went door-to-door trying to get to know the girls in her Relief Society. Mallory says, “I asked the Lord to help me seek those who would be able to grow in the callings and also be able to help the other girls grow.” After that it was a matter of being in tune with the Spirit to know who felt right for the position. She was grateful to be able to counsel with her bishop, who holds the keys to approve callings in the ward.
Through her prayers, Macie has been able to touch the life of at least one girl through inspiration. “One of the girls I had recommended for a calling came up to me and was in tears. She told me that she had been praying for something and felt like she needed to get involved. This calling was what she needed. I know the Lord was the one who called her, but it made me feel good that I could help her out.”
“One of my favorite things to do during Relief Society is to sit up at the front during the opening hymn and look at each girl’s face,” says Mallory. “It’s a different perspective. You see them all as equal—they are all great people. And I’ve learned that everyone has something to offer, which is a perspective that I have often prayed for.”
Mallory considers being able to see the girls through the Lord’s eyes as one of the biggest blessings of her calling. But she says that you don’t need to be the Relief Society president to feel that. Anyone can pray and ask Heavenly Father for the ability to see people as children of God and appreciate what they have to offer.
“It’s been really humbling,” says Mallory of receiving this calling. “I look around and see so many great girls, and I realize any of them could be a Relief Society president with the Lord’s help, because we are instruments in His hands.”
After all, you never know just when the Lord might call on you to lead, whether it be in your Young Women class presidency or as president of the Relief Society. Macie and Mallory admit they were surprised, but that hasn’t stopped them from accepting the opportunity to serve.
And now both of them also have a new perspective on Relief Society.
When she first moved into Relief Society at home, Macie thought it was a challenge to fit in with the older women. Mallory’s home ward tried to ease the transition by periodically inviting the Laurels to Relief Society lessons and activities, so she had a taste of what it was like, but in the back of her mind she still had a fear that they were going to spend a lot of time sewing. However, both Mallory and Macie now understand the reasons for programs like home, family, and personal enrichment and are able to gear them toward the women their age.
“I have a greater appreciation for Relief Society now,” Macie says. “I don’t think it’s just an old ladies society anymore.”
And just as both girls turned to their mothers for words of advice and comfort in their new callings, Mallory says that with the right attitude, the younger women can learn from the older women. Then, that sisterhood she and Macie have come to embrace can be extended across the generations.
For help with the transition to Relief Society, go to www.lds.org and click on Serving in the Church, Relief Society, and then Transitioning into Womanhood.

There they were again. Those ten white pins—staring straight at me. I held the heavy bowling ball in my hands and stared down the lane at them ferociously.
“This time I’m going to get you,” I told them, putting my feet in the usual position. All around I could hear the crash of pins from the other lanes. Everyone in my class had mastered the game of bowling except me.
Step one—push out, step two—swing back, step three—follow through, step four—release! I watched those ten giant pins up ahead, hoping that just one would topple over.
“Too bad,” said one of my classmates as she watched my ball hit the gutter halfway there. I was a mature college student trying to get good grades and I couldn’t even pass bowling!
I turned to see my bowling teacher standing behind me. In the past he had offered a lot of advice after my catastrophes on the lane, but I usually never listened. After all, what is there to know about bowling? I could tell another speech was coming.
“Anita,” he said, “have you read your bowling book?”
“Yeah.”
“And have you listened carefully to all my instructions on how to bowl?”
“Sure, that one-step, two-step stuff.”
“Well,” he added, “I taught a lot more than that.”
“Oh yeah. I learned it all.”
“In every class there is someone who just can’t get the hang of it, and usually it’s because they’re not following one or more of the simplest bowling rules.
“For instance, we teach you to aim for the arrows, not the pins. The pins are much too far away to aim at. If you aim at the arrows, you have a close target and the ball will still make it to the pins.”
“I always aim for the pins,” I said, finally listening to my teacher’s advice. “That’s it!” I snatched my bowling ball and took my position.
“Aim for the second arrow from the right,” I heard my teacher say.
“Aim for the arrow, aim for the arrow,” I kept saying as I did my four-step approach and let the ball slide out of my hands and across the second arrow. The target felt so close, as if I could almost touch it. After I let go, I looked up. To my surprise the ball was going straight, straight, straight—strike! I threw my arms up in the air, and I heard cheering behind.
“Now,” my teacher said, “just keep aiming for the arrows.”
His words, “Just keep aiming for the arrows,” have helped me in more than bowling. Whenever I see an obstacle, staring at me from far away, I know what to do. Instead of aiming for the big goals, I keep them in mind while I make closer goals, and set out a plan so I can realistically achieve them. Those little goals are accomplished “line upon line, precept upon precept.”
Sure, there are frustrations and setbacks, but as I face challenges I can see that I’m getting closer to what I’ve always wanted. In bowling it’s a strike. In life it is so much more.

It isn’t fair. It just isn’t fair at all! Raymond thought as he saw his brother, Joey, coming out the back door. Why does he always have to hang around me? He walked quickly around the side of the house, hoping that Joey hadn’t seen him. But Joey followed him and said “Hi, Raymond. Want to play?”
“No,” Raymond answered. “Now go back in the house.” The last thing that Raymond needed was a four-year-old brother tagging along. He turned his back on Joey and walked away.
Joey stood and watched as his big brother walked across the front lawn to the sidewalk. He knew that Raymond was looking for his friends so that they could play baseball. Joey followed him at a distance, a little closer when Raymond crossed the street and knocked on Pete’s door. Pete was Raymond’s best friend. Pete came to the door, and the two older boys set off for the ball diamond at the park. Joey followed along. Pete and Raymond reached the park and met three other friends. As they took their positions on the field, Raymond noticed Joey standing quietly by first base. “Joey, you shouldn’t have followed us! Mom will be worried. Now go home!” he hollered in his maddest, big-brother voice.
Joey stood still. “I can’t go home,” he said quietly. “Mom won’t let me cross the street by myself.”
Raymond knew that he would have to take Joey home. He wanted to stay and play ball with his friends, but he knew how worried his mother would be when she couldn’t find Joey. Grabbing Joey’s hand and pulling him along, he muttered something under his breath.
“What?” said Joey. “I didn’t hear you.”
“I said that you are a horrible little pest. Sometimes I wish that you had never been born!”
As soon as the words were out of Raymond’s mouth, he was sorry. He saw Joey’s soft brown eyes fill with shiny tears. Then he remembered his friends playing ball without him, and he pulled harder on Joey’s arm. “Hurry up!” he scolded. “I don’t want to be stuck with you all day!”
They crossed the street to their house, Raymond pulling and Joey crying.
“There,” Raymond said. “Now, go into the house, like I told you.”
Joey wiped his eyes and went up the walk.
Raymond ran back across the street and down to the park. He took his place in the outfield. At last he was rid of the horrible little pest. But he could still hear his own angry words, “I wish that you had never been born!” His stomach felt funny just remembering them.
The ball came his way. He caught it and threw it back to Pete at home plate. “Easy out!” he yelled.
Pete laughed and tossed the ball up to hit it again. Raymond watched the ball as it made an arc to the other side of the field. In his mind, he heard the words echo, … never been born! “I didn’t really mean it,” Raymond muttered softly. He felt that funny feeling in his stomach again and wondered if Joey knew that he hadn’t meant it.
He continued practicing with his friends, but it wasn’t as much fun as he thought that it would be. He felt more and more uncomfortable. Finally he threw Pete’s mitt to him and yelled, “Gotta go.”
“But we were going to play for another hour or so,” Pete said. “How come you have to go?”
“I just have to go,” Raymond said, and he began running toward home, pausing only to check for cars before he crossed the street. Reaching his house, he hurried to the kitchen, where his mother was getting things out to fix dinner. She looked at him and said, “How was practice?”
“OK, I guess.” He wondered why mothers always looked at you as though they knew what you were thinking. Is it my guilty conscience, or does she know the mean things that I said to Joey this morning? “Where’s Joey?” he asked, trying to sound casual.
“In his room, playing, I think.” She sounded as though she didn’t know what had happened, and yet Raymond couldn’t bear to look at her.
He went down the hall to Joey’s room, promising himself that he would play whatever Joey wanted to play. But when he looked into the room, Joey lay curled up on his bed, fast asleep, with his teddy bear in his arms and tearstains on his cheeks.
The things that he had shouted at Joey that morning still echoed in Raymond’s mind as he went to his own room and lay on his bed. He almost wished that he were young enough to have a teddy bear of his own to hug. He wondered what he could do to make things better.
Slipping off the bed and onto his knees, Raymond folded his arms and bowed his head and said, “Heavenly Father, today I said some mean things to Joey. I made him cry. It made me feel bad too. I really didn’t mean what I said. Please help me to know how to make him feel better. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Raymond lay back down on his bed, thinking hard. Finally he knew what he could do. He jumped up, went over to his desk, and searched quickly through the clutter for a pencil and a piece of paper. He drew a picture of a tall boy on one end of the paper. On the other end he drew a picture of a shorter boy. Under the tall boy he wrote Raymond; under the short boy he printed Joey. Each boy was wearing a baseball mitt, and a baseball was in the air between the two boys. When he was finished, he folded the picture and wrote on the outside, “Joey, I love you. Raymond.”
He crept into Joey’s room and laid the note on Joey’s pillow. Then he went back to his own room to wait for Joey to wake up and find the note. Lying there, he whispered a quiet “Thank you” to his Heavenly Father. He felt lighter and happier inside.
In a few minutes Joey walked into his room. “Raymond?” he said in a little voice.
“Hi, pal!” Raymond replied. “I’m sorry I yelled at you before. I didn’t mean what I said. Want to go out in the yard and play catch with me?”
“I thought that you were playing with Pete and the other guys.”
“Well, I was,” said Raymond, “but right now, I want to play ball with my favorite little brother.”

The minute Robert woke up he knew the weather was still stormy. He was glad. Maybe I can stay home from school today, he thought.
Ever since he and his parents had moved to Pinehills in late summer, Robert had been unhappy. Each school morning when he awoke he felt a nagging dread in his stomach.
Robert dressed and went into the kitchen where his mother and father stood in the doorway, looking out at the dark day. He was still clinging to the hope that his mother would let him stay home, but all she said was, “Be sure and wear your warm shirt, Robert.” There was not a word about staying home.
A horse’s hooves sounded outside. A man called, “Ready, Mr. Shaft?”
Robert’s father answered, “Be right with you,” as he put on his yellow slicker and hat.
“Are you going to help build up the dam on Indian River?” Robert asked his father.
“Yes. Every man in town is needed there, Robert. After a week of rain Pinehills’ reservoir is in danger of spilling over.”
Robert’s mother looked worried. “Indian River runs right beside the schoolhouse,” she said. “What if the dam should break?”
Robert’s father tried to ease her concern. “Don’t worry, Mother,” he said. “We’ll be there to watch it all day.”
After his father had gone Robert sat down at the table. He wasn’t hungry and he wanted to say, “I don’t feel well, Mother,” or, “Maybe I should stay home to be with you,” but she would know he was only making excuses.
“Eat your breakfast or you’ll be late for school,” Mother insisted, so Robert choked down a few mouthfuls and then, with dragging footsteps, he set out under gray clouds that sagged nearly to the tops of the trees. Down the hill he trudged, his feet swishing through the wet leaves. He sniffed the brown smell of mud. I wish I could walk to some faraway, enchanted place and never have to go to school again, he thought.
But Robert soon reached the clearing where the one-room schoolhouse stood.
Two girls immediately ran up to meet him. Freckled Rebecca skipped on one side of Robert, and Patricia walked on the other side of him. Together they chanted, “Bobby Shafto’s gone to sea, Silver buckles on his knee. He’ll come back and marry me. Pretty Bobby Shafto.”
Then both girls giggled and Robert continued on to school, feeling miserable and lonely. He couldn’t remember who first used the nursery rhyme to tease him, but soon every child in school began chanting, “Pretty Bobby Shafto!” whenever they saw him. Robert felt he didn’t have a single friend.
When he reached the schoolhouse, Robert slumped in his seat in the back row where he was the only sixth-grader. He watched the teacher write words on the chalkboard. Robert thought Miss Parker was the one pleasant thing about school.
Turning around she asked, “Has the rain started again, Robert?”
“No, Ma’am, but the clouds are full,” he answered.
“Oh, dear,” Miss Parker said, looking worriedly out the window. “Maybe I should send the children home. Indian River runs so near the school.”
“My father said every man in town is watching the dam,” Robert told her.
“Well, then I’ll begin school,” she said. “Will you please ring the bell for me?”
Students hurried past Robert as he stood beside the door clanging the brass bell. No one spoke to him except to whisper, “Pretty Bobby Shafto!” or tease, “Where’s the silver buckles for your knee?”
Slumped in his seat, Robert watched Miss Parker as she listened to the first-graders read. He couldn’t help smiling when Amy Andrews read aloud. She looked too tiny to be in school.
A rumble of thunder and a crackle of lightning made Robert and the other children jump. Just as Miss Parker said, “Don’t be frightened!” another rumbling noise shook the schoolhouse. It was the loudest sound Robert had ever heard, a heavy shuddering rumble very different from thunder.
Everyone in the room except Robert sat so still they appeared frozen. He rushed to the door and shouted, “The dam broke! Here comes the water!”
The boys and girls began to cry as Miss Parker ran to the door and stood beside Robert. They looked out at the water swirling and roaring only a few feet away from where they stood. No longer held by the dam, the water leaped from the riverbed, rushing toward the schoolhouse. Water was coming inside the schoolroom now and Robert’s feet were wet.
“Robert, help me push my desk under the attic trapdoor,” Miss Parker directed. “Then lift the children up to me if you can.”
Robert and the teacher shoved the desk beneath the little opening in the ceiling. He put a chair on the table, then climbed up to push the door aside and helped her into the attic.
“Get in line by grades,” she called down. “Youngest first. Robert will lift you up to me.”
One by one, as the water rose higher in the room, the children climbed onto the desk. Straining, Robert lifted each child high enough for Miss Parker to grab his wrists and pull him into the dim, dry attic.
When the last child in line was safely inside Robert started to climb up himself. “Amy? Where’s Amy Andrews?” Miss Parker called.
The other children cried, “She isn’t here! Where’s Amy?”
Robert jumped off the desk into the still-rising water and began to search the schoolroom. He finally found Amy clinging to a chair that had floated into a corner.
“Put your arms around my neck, Amy,” Robert told her. “Hold tight so I can lift you into the attic.”
But Robert’s legs weren’t strong enough to carry both of them through the swirling water. No matter how hard he struggled, he couldn’t reach the desk.
Up in the attic the children kept calling, “Come on, Robert!” He saw Miss Parker’s anxious expression just as the rushing water swept him off his feet and through the open door.
Robert never knew exactly what happened next. He only remembered swimming as hard as he could with Amy’s arms wrapped tightly around his neck. Then they were on a log that swept them swiftly downstream.
Robert couldn’t tell where they were. Sometimes it seemed he and Amy stayed in one place while trees and houses rushed by. Other times he looked down at the racing water and grew so dizzy he was afraid he would fall off the log. Then he’d shut his eyes and tell Amy softly, “Don’t let go!”
At a place where the river curved, the log slammed into a high bank and stuck there, but Robert knew he couldn’t climb the steep, muddy bank. His legs felt like soaked wood and it was almost more than he could do to hang onto the log with his weary arms. Amy was crying and Robert held her close as he prayed, “Heavenly Father, please send someone to find us.”
The long hours seemed to creep slowly by. At last the most welcome sound Robert had ever heard came from the bank above them. It was his father’s voice. “Here they are!” he shouted. “I’ve found Robert and Amy and they’re alive!”
It was two weeks before the flood damage was cleaned up and the school could reopen. And as Robert set out through the early morning sunshine he wondered how it would seem to be back in the schoolroom again. He was glad he had been able to help Miss Parker but he dreaded the teasing of the children as much as ever.
Walking slowly, Robert was nearly to the schoolhouse when he heard someone shout, “Here he comes!” Then someone else called, “It’s our Bobby Shaft who went to sea!”
Suddenly Robert was surrounded by all the boys and girls in the little school. Everyone was happy to see him. And even the old nursery rhyme sounded good when Amy Andrews ran up, slipped her small hand inside of Robert’s big one and said, “My pretty Bobby Shafto!”

When I eat lunch in the school cafeteria, some kids talk about things that I know I shouldn’t listen to. I ask them to not talk about those things. Sometimes they stop, but sometimes they don’t. If they don’t, I move to another place so I don’t have to hear bad things. A couple of times I’ve had to eat alone.
Sometimes standing up for the right means that you aren’t liked as much, but I think it helps other people to want to choose the right too. It also means that you will attract good friends. I am glad that we have a prophet who asks us to be clean.

Becky Roller had cerebral palsy as an infant, and it left one leg twisted. At camp, that was all but forgotten. “It’s one place where everyone treats me as an equal,” she said.

This year Becky’s goal was to complete the fourth-level certificate. “The five-mile hike through the mountains was the biggest challenge,” she admits. “In a marshy spot I fell and couldn’t get up, but my friends came back. They wouldn’t leave me.

With the help of her friends, she made it. It was one more magic moment, and the magic of the moment was love.

For the last few years, I have participated in the Oakland Temple Pageant. This play depicts the miracles of the Savior in America and the history and Restoration of the Church. My first year, I sang in the balcony chorus for the last two nights only. I had seen the pageant a few times in previous years but never felt touched the way I did when I sang in it, especially on the first night.
When the person playing Joseph Smith received the plates from Moroni, he sang a song titled “I Would Exhort You” (see Moro. 10:4). Never before have I felt the way I did that night. There was nothing left to wonder. I knew it was true!

One Sunday morning during a general session of stake conference, I was asked to visit Junior Sunday School and give the boys and girls an inspirational message. I wanted to tell them about the great Book of Mormon prophet Alma, and so I asked them if they knew who Alma was.
Much to my surprise the children started laughing and one of them, pointing, said, “Of course we know! Alma’s right there.”
Then the teacher asked four-year-old Alma to stand and say his full name. He had a real Dutch family name—van het Schip—and he came from the small Dutch village of Zoetermeer (Sweeter Lake).
To these Junior Sunday School children my message about Alma became much more meaningful when I told them that the great prophet Alma was once a boy like Alma van het Schip and that because he grew up in the light of the gospel, was obedient, and learned so much about our Heavenly Father’s plan of salvation, the Lord later called him to become a great teacher and a mighty prophet. I also told them that all of Heavenly Father’s children, whatever their names may be, have an opportunity to serve the Lord when they live righteously and obey His commandments.

By Samantha Anderson
In high school I never even thought about going on a mission. But after some spiritual experiences, I began to seriously think about serving. Each time I started my papers, though, something would happen to keep me from going. I was frustrated and confused. It felt like I was getting mixed signals.
The first time I started my mission papers, my bishop and I counseled together and decided I wasn’t mentally healthy enough to go. I was depressed because one of my best friends had suddenly passed away. Later, when I felt like I was ready, my bishop helped me start my papers again. But very quickly I felt sad and upset. I felt like I didn’t want to serve a mission. That made me feel like a terrible person.
I didn’t want to move forward with my papers without having a true desire to serve, so I kept going to school and living my life. During that time I prayed, studied the scriptures, and went to church. I learned a lot about myself and about God’s will for me. Because of this, I was eventually able to feel a desire to serve again.
Besides feeling pressure from everyone around me to serve a mission, I doubted myself for not wanting to go. Did it mean I didn’t have a testimony? Was my testimony not strong enough? Was I lazy? Was I not recognizing spiritual promptings? I second-guessed the strength of my testimony and my relationship with Heavenly Father.
I knew that I couldn’t serve a mission with those negative feelings, so I decided to focus on my studies and try to stay close to the Lord—going to Church meetings, praying, reading my scriptures. Eventually, I reached a point where I was OK with my decision, and I felt that Heavenly Father was OK with it too.
One morning I was reading my scriptures, and out of nowhere came this huge desire to serve a mission! It didn’t come from any pressure, it didn’t come from wanting to impress anybody, it didn’t come from anywhere but inside myself. I prayed about it, and the feeling didn’t go away—my desire didn’t go away. So I decided to start my papers again.
After all the ups and downs I’d had so far, I was super worried that I was misreading my feelings. So I started reading Preach My Gospel, I watched The District, I talked to my mom, I started my papers. And throughout all that, I got more and more excited to go. That’s when I knew that this time, the timing was right. I knew that Heavenly Father was pleased with my decision, and yet I also knew that if I did not have the desire to serve, Heavenly Father would have supported that decision as well. In the end, it was my decision, nobody else’s.
Peace was such a huge part of it for me. Knowing that the timing was right and that it was my decision created this huge feeling of peace in my heart. That was what ultimately allowed me to serve. If I had been anxious about it, I couldn’t have done it. But that’s what the Spirit does for us: He gives us peace.

The years passed. As I was becoming a teenager, I had many dreams for my future, but somehow DeNeece was becoming what I considered to be an ideal person.
I remember the long hours the whole family spent helping her with the election for student council president. We cut out hundreds of blue vinyl “D’s” to put on her posters. During all those nights of drawing, cutting, and gluing, I was certain that she would win the election, and of course, she did. With jealous frustration, I watched her throughout that year. She never lost anything she set out to win, even the high office of governor of Girls’ State.
The inauguration was a memorable event. Our family sat on the stage in the background. I watched her smile of accomplishment as she was escorted down the long aisle lined with 409 other outstanding girls. After she took the oath of office, she was given flowers and other gifts. Cameras seemed to flash endlessly when the trophy was handed to her. During the ceremony, conflicting thoughts kept racing through my mind. DeNeece looked so beautiful as she gave her talk. But why were there tears in people’s eyes, and why did they all stand up when she finished? Why did she always win? I felt proud of her, so why was I angry with her? I was confused and could not understand myself.
The trophy for Most Outstanding Teenager of New Jersey was among her numerous awards I often admired. It took seven columns in the New York Times to summarize DeNeece’s accomplishments. The article entitled “A Jersey Teenager Is a Super Achiever” was placed on a leading page. A cold chill ran through my body as I read and reread the article. My heart and mind were torn as I struggled with my feelings. Why could she do everything so well? Why did she draw everyone to her like a magnet? I knew how much I loved her, yet I was tired of being “DeNeece’s little sister.”
That winter I decided I had to become like her. I tried ballet. I tried drama. I started doing many of the things in which she was interested. Nothing seemed right for me, and I became more frustrated. Although I had regularly prayed, I now developed an even greater need to communicate my thoughts with God. I spent many hours on my knees asking that I might gain peace of mind and understanding of DeNeece and my feelings toward her. It seemed my prayers were finally answered through DeNeece herself. Because of her deep concern for others, she sensed my growing struggle. She knew she needed to help me, so we walked and talked again in the snow.
“Michelle, I am glad you’re you. I’m grateful that you have shared your special talents with me. Help me to become more patient and understanding like you. Help me learn to be close to people on a one-to-one basis. You have so many of the refined qualities that I desire to have someday. Discover how special you really are; then be the best of what you can be. Don’t try to be another DeNeece; be a Michelle. Your gifts and talents will flourish, and we can grow together.”
I was very surprised to find that she desired some of the traits I had. She helped me see that I was trying to mold my ball exactly like hers, yet after many months of uncertain effort, my snowball was still quite small.
After our walk together, I decided to discover and develop my own strengths and talents. I tried playing the clarinet, guitar, and piano, singing, writing poetry, teaching children, and being artistic.
I recognized the beauty of music and the total satisfaction that comes from sharing it with others. When I played in church, I felt an inner fulfillment come to me as a performer and to my friends as an audience. I experienced satisfaction each time people would thank me for touching their hearts with my music.
Just as I was realizing my musical potential, I was asked to teach the three-year-olds in church. I discovered how much happiness comes when a small hand takes mine and two big blue eyes look up to me and say, “Thanks, Michelle, for being my special friend.” Serving the Lord through working with his little children helped me understand the real meaning of the scripture, “Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God” (Luke 18:16).
Through accepting other leadership responsibilities, I have had opportunities to help my friends. I have learned that many of their problems originate from their individual families or their lack of purpose in life. Through those hours of talking with them, I have grown to love and appreciate my family even more.
By trying these different experiences I have started to roll my snowball in my own unique path, using my talents as the basis. I get excited when I see the snow accumulate and grow with each new day of development.
When DeNeece came home from college this summer, we shared a free, unpressured week, our strengths and talents working together. I played the piano while we sang duets, we created unusual gifts for our family, and we walked and talked again. We spent many nights until dawn sitting on her thick shag rug sharing memorable experiences of the past years. We also talked about qualities such as being thoughtful, fellowshipping, and understanding others. Then we prayed together that our love for each other might grow continually. We talked about serving the Lord, but each in her own individual way. Finally, we were able to begin unifying our growing snowballs to create one strong snowman.
So in my thoughtful hour, watching the snow glide to the earth, I find that my talents flow gently to me as I am willing to discover my gifts and myself.