Gospel Story Finder

They don’t get chased by dogs or have companions. They don’t write letters home on preparation days because they still live at home, in Pleasant Grove, Utah. But the Willeys—Anthony, 18, Elizabeth, 16, and Kristina, 14—are still missionaries, music missionaries, actually. They were set apart in the Salt Lake Tabernacle.
“When I was set apart,” Elizabeth says grinning, “I was told, ‘Now you’re the youngest sister missionary.’ It made me feel special.” And she enjoyed being the youngest sister missionary until a year or so later when her little sister Kristina was set apart and took over as the youngest.
As music missionaries, Anthony, Elizabeth, and Kristina can share the gospel without ever opening their mouths. Anthony says music missionaries can reach people that regular missionaries might not be able to.
“Music reaches people who wouldn’t hear about the Church any other way. It isn’t like knocking on a door and going into someone’s house; it’s more subtle,” he says.
Elizabeth says, “People listening to good music will feel the Spirit, and when they feel the Spirit, they’re willing to learn more.”
So do the Willeys lug their violins, violas, and basses from door to door playing inspirational music for people? Not exactly. If you’ve ever seen a Church music broadcast or attended one on Temple Square, you’ve probably seen how Anthony, Elizabeth, and Kristina share the gospel through music. They are some of the youngest members of the Orchestra at Temple Square.
Being so young compared to the other members of the orchestra doesn’t bother these teens a bit. They actually love it. Elizabeth says, “Even though there are only a few members under 20 in the orchestra, I feel like I fit in. I think it’s great because there isn’t any goofing off. Everyone had to work so hard to get here.”
How did they get to be in such a prestigious orchestra at such a young age? “Lots and lots of practice,” Anthony says.
To be in the Orchestra at Temple Square you have to be one of the top musicians in the Church, able to play whatever difficult piece might be put in front of you. And it’s a huge time commitment.
Kristina says, “Being a part of the Orchestra at Temple Square is my favorite thing I’ve ever done, but it’s been a sacrifice. It’s hard to find time for homework and friends because we have to practice every day and rehearse several times a week.”
But Anthony, Elizabeth, and Kristina all say the hard work is worth it.
“It’s neat to be able to see the audience’s reaction when we perform,” Elizabeth says. “The Spirit is always there. It makes me feel like all my hard work has paid off.”
The teens’ mom and dad go to their concerts and sit up in the balcony where they can see all their children. Their mother, Denise, says, “When the music gets going, the Spirit sweeps over me and over the whole audience.”
The beautiful music the orchestra plays on Temple Square helps many people feel the Spirit. After the concerts are over, members of the audience can learn more about the Church from the full-time and Church service missionaries standing at the doors.
Anthony loves the missionary opportunities that being a member of the Orchestra at Temple Square has given him. “Being a member of the orchestra has made me want to be a better person,” he says, “and it has prepared me to be a better full-time missionary.”
Anthony, Elizabeth, and Kristina are not the only members of their family involved in music. Their younger siblings Alexander, Catherine, and Rebekah (also pictured above) have also been playing instruments nearly as long as they’ve been able to walk. The Willeys agree that music helps bind their family together. They also say that good music can bless everyone’s life, whether they play an instrument or not. Elizabeth says, “Anyone can enjoy music on some level. You don’t have to be a professional musician.”
Anthony says, “There are lots of opportunities for teens to learn music. You can sing in a ward youth choir or join your school band, choir, or orchestra.”
Alexander, 13, says listening to good music helps him with his schoolwork. He says, “Listening to Mozart before a test can help you perform well. Good music can clear your mind so you can learn or remember things better.”
Kristina listens to uplifting music when she’s sad because it makes her feel better. She says, “Good music can invite the Spirit. It’s like a prayer” (see D&C 25:12).

Let me tell you about a young Laurel president who explained it this way: “‘You see,’ she said, ‘I was called to be a class president of 17 girls, and the bishop said I was responsible for them. I was scared to death. I didn’t even know for sure where they were. Then he told me to decide on my counselors and reminded me of the need to pray and ask the Lord. I wondered how it worked—how would I know who the Lord wanted?’ …
“‘I wrote 17 names on a piece of paper. Then I prayed about those names. … I kept thinking and praying and [crossing off names] until the third day. With only two names remaining, I had a strong feeling that I knew who Heavenly Father wanted. That’s how it works’” (Ardeth G. Kapp, “Yes, You Are Old Enough, Girls,” New Era, May 1974, p. 14).

Sir Thomas More understood the power of promises. He wouldn’t take an oath to support Henry VIII’s divorce, and because of it he lost everything. In the movie A Man for All Seasons, when he was imprisoned in the Tower of London, his daughter comes to him, saying that the family has no candles to read by and frequently sits in silence wondering what will happen to him.
“Father,” she says, “‘God more regards the thoughts of the heart than the words of the mouth.’ Or so you’ve always told me.”
More: “Yes.”
Margaret: “Then say the words of the oath and in your heart think otherwise.”
More: “What is an oath then but words we say to God? Listen, Meg, when a man takes an oath, he’s holding his own self in his own hands. Like water. And if he opens his fingers then—he needn’t hope to find himself again. Some men aren’t capable of this, but I’d be loathe to think your father one of them.”
The gospel of Christ is a gospel of promises. Baptism is a promise, renewed with every partaking of the sacrament. Why make promises? Because, as one Sunday School class of 16-year-olds decided, there is a difference between saying, “I’ll do it” and “I promise I’ll do it.”

When I was about eight years old, I attended Lafayette School, which was very close to Temple Square. One day at lunchtime, my mother took me out for lunch at the Lion House, which is a house where President Brigham Young used to live. While we were there, she noticed President Heber J. Grant eating lunch. Taking me over, she introduced me to him, and he shook my hand. I knew he was different from other men. Since that time, I have shaken hands with the next eight Presidents of the Church. Each time, I could feel the honor and dignity of the prophet.

Sometimes we need strength because life is hard for us. Christy wanted to memorize the Articles of Faith and earn her Gospel in Action award. It was extra hard for her because she has a disease called cerebral palsy. But Christy had faith the Lord would help her. She listened to the tapes of the Articles of Faith songs over and over. She practiced hard, learned to sing all the songs, and earned her award. Her family and friends were blessed by her good example.

Recently the Young Women of the Leavenworth Second Ward in Kansas came up with a super service activity. They decided to make children-size quilts to donate to Humanitarian Services. The girls spent several nights working on their quilts. They learned to cut fabric and batting, how to pin them together, how to stitch around the perimeter, and finally how to finish it off using a quilting machine.
Hannah Fowles, a Beehive, said, “I learned how much fun it can be to help other people. Not only did I learn to quilt, but it was spiritual and beneficial as well as being fun.”

Recently I stopped at a grocery store to quickly pick up a few things for dinner. As I turned the corner, I came face-to-face with an older gentleman. I smiled, as I was relieved that we hadn’t collided. He smiled and said, “Thank you for your smile. I needed it.” I also needed his smile. Smile—it will make a difference for you and for others. What would life be like if we couldn’t give and receive smiles?

Earlier this year, my husband and I moved across the country from Texas to New Jersey. A couple of months after settling in, I decided I was ready to brave the journey to the Manhattan New York Temple.
Getting to the temple from our house requires me to walk a quarter mile, catch a bus, walk a couple of blocks, and then take the subway.
On that first journey to the temple, I saw a lot of people, cars, buses, and bikes. I saw people playing instruments, taking photos, shopping, commuting to work, and eating at restaurants. I didn’t think much of it at the time; it was just another day in the city.
When I finally stepped out of the subway tunnel, I walked until I reached the temple doors. I was relieved that I’d made it and had time to spare before the session started.
As I walked in, I saw paintings of the Savior. I saw the beautiful, white, perfectly clean interior of the temple. I was greeted by the smiling faces of loving temple workers, welcoming me and directing me where I needed to go.
Out of nowhere, I was overcome with emotion. My heart filled with gratitude, and I realized my eyes were filling with tears.
I’ve thought about that moment a lot. I was overwhelmed by the stark contrast of my day—I experienced the hustle and bustle of the city and then the immediate and peaceful calm that the temple offers. I was moved by the tangible sense of refuge in the Lord’s house and the peace the gospel of Jesus Christ offers each of us.
I don’t think there’s anything inherently bad about living in a busy, fast-paced world. There are times when I really love it! But I learned that there is so much power in being willing to slow down and focus on what matters most.
President Russell M. Nelson said: “If you don’t yet love to attend the temple, go more often—not less. Let the Lord, through His Spirit, teach and inspire you there. I promise you that over time, the temple will become a place of safety, solace, and revelation.”
I went to the temple that day simply because I thought it had been too long since my last visit. I didn’t necessarily go with a question in mind or a desire for a certain prayer to be answered. Regardless of my intentions, I walked into the temple and knew it was the best possible place I could be that day. As President Nelson taught, the temple really did become a place of solace for me.

A musical play written by Pat Davis and Dean Murdock, presented by the service and activities committee, illustrated the problems faced by both youths and advisers when it comes to planning activities.
Bill Harrington, a priests group leader, planned to spend Saturday with his girl friend Leslie Ann until he remembered his assignment to plan an activity for Tuesday night. (“There goes today. My Saturday down the tube. Tomorrow’s Sunday and church, and Monday is school and family night, and zap, it’s Tuesday. Today’s the only day left.”)
But a friend offers an easy way out.
“The solution’s a snap. There’s no need to go bananas. Just turn the whole thing over to the service and activities committee people.”
Bill and his friends decide to assign their three advisers fried chicken, potato salad, and 14 gallons of lemon-lime slush. They consider their planning for Tuesday complete.
When alone Bill admits that “lately I just go around in circles.” He sings of living on a merry-go-round, and wishes “before my life’s through, please can’t I be blessed with nothing to do?”
Meanwhile the advisers have gone to the bishop. They don’t recall any prior plans for a “cook out/ sing out next Tuesday night to be held on the lawn of the State Capitol.” The priests adviser remembers another activity involving a “bowling party at 3:00 A.M., and then the Explorer Bake-off contest, with the smallest cookies being three feet in diameter.”
The advisers feel that young people don’t know how to have fun anymore, and they suggest a return to the “good old days” of 1942 and argyle socks, Ellery Queen, jitter-bugging, the Andrew Sisters, and dances that had “dignity.” One recalls his first roadshow: “I was an onion in the garden of love … or was it an artichoke?”
But the bishop points out that there is room for both the experience of the advisers and the enthusiasm and desires of the youths. He tells the adults: “You people are resource people. It’s through you that these young folks can obtain specialists to assist with their projects. lt’s up to you to subtly and gently lead our youth to the realization that service comes before activity. Your job is twofold—to help carry out plans, but also to help make plans. When working with youth, you people can be partners, equals, and friends, rather than worrying about the importance of your role.”
With the advisers put at ease the bishop turns his attention to Bill, who confesses that “this time I really blew it. I just remembered your saying that the service and activities committee people were there to help us, and I guess I didn’t bother to read the exact points of contact you gave me to follow. I forgot I was supposed to go through my adviser.”
The bishop tells Bill of the examples of other youths who have had to face up to situations that seemed overwhelming—David against Goliath, Joseph and his brothers, Joseph Smith and his New York neighbors. “Bill, we’re not asking you to exceed the best of these brethren. We’re asking you to equal the best of yourself. And if you try, I promise that you will see some of those whose abilities and talents you admire running behind you trying to catch up. But remember, there are no shortcuts.”
Bill meets with the members of the service and activities committee and his adviser. Together they work out a feasible plan for Tuesday’s activity. He presents the idea of a box-lunch supper exchange involving the entire ward to his friends, who agree with his suggestion that they provide the entertainment.
After congratulating Bill on the outcome of the evening, the bishop reminds him that “no one ever achieved true greatness without a few setbacks. The really great ones kept on trying and never gave up.”
“That’s true,” adds a member of the service and activities committee, “men like Thomas Jefferson, Abraham Lincoln, Sebastian Webber.”
“Sebastian Webber?” asked one youth. “I never heard of him.”
“Exactly, he gave up.”

I sat, legs crossed, in my dorm room. My roommate’s bed was empty because she had gone away for the weekend, so I started to fold my clean clothes on it. I glanced up at our big wall clock. Finally it was a quarter to three. I picked up my keys and headed to the campus mail boxes. When I got back to my room, I sank to the floor, let a pile of mail fall to my side, and ripped open a far more important letter.
Keller had written me back, finally. Before when I had written to him, he made it a point to answer quickly. The news in this last letter must have really shocked him. I could understand that. It had taken me almost two weeks to get my thoughts together and finally write the letter. I had written him almost two months ago about our father’s health problems. Neither of us had been particularly close to Dad, but when I found out he had cancer, I knew Keller would want to know immediately. This letter also provided me an opportunity to ask a question that I had needed an answer to for a long time.
Ever since Keller and I were little we knew only two things about Dad, that he loved Mom and that he loved our house. He loved Mom because of her patience, her wisdom, her strength, and her beauty—both inside and out. He loved our house because he had grown up there; his father had died there. Keller and I sometimes wondered if Dad loved us or the house more. We knew he loved Mom the most, but his love for the house was always a mystery.
Our family had lived in that house since I was a baby. It was an old house and had lots of problems. The basement flooded when we had heavy rains, and the well dried up at least once every summer. The house was out in the middle of nowhere, so in the winter our road didn’t even get plowed. Dad bought a tractor and every morning, before he went to work, he plowed out our whole road, from one end to the other.
Keller and I didn’t mind being out in the middle of nowhere though. We used that as an excuse to go wherever we wanted and do whatever we wanted. We built dams in the creek, forts in the woods, and clay slides in the front yard. The house was perfect for two adventurous children like us, and it was perfect for Dad too. Only Mom seemed to be bothered by the frequent problems, but she never complained. She kept herself almost too busy, planting and maintaining our gardens, pruning our apple trees, and raising two fearless explorers. She handled it all so well that no one even realized that she was sick. She kept it from everyone until she was too bad off to continue hiding it. She still wanted to do her jobs, and finally Dad had to take off work just to keep her in bed.
Every day Dad would go into her room and find out what she wanted him to do that day. He even let her tell him how to do the jobs. He knew perfectly well how to weed a garden, but he let her tell him how to do it anyway. The last instructions that she gave him were to help me with my bath and to make Keller take his. She died when Keller was seven and I was five.
Dad lost his job when he asked for the rest of the summer off to take care of us. They said he had already taken too much time. Dad spent close to five months hunting for a new job. He wanted one close enough to our house so that we wouldn’t have to move. He got a position at an architectural firm 71 miles away. He spent more time there than at home.
As we grew up, living in the country lost its appeal. All the problems with the house were a lot worse when there was no one around to fix them. When Dad came home each night, he would fix dinner, take a shower, and then go straight to bed. It seemed that almost overnight a once huge house grew too small, and Keller and I no longer wanted to explore. Neither of us had bothered to replant the gardens once we were old enough to do the work, and Mom’s apple trees had gone years without pruning. All the magic and life that Mom had brought to the house had died with her. Since Dad worked in the city it just made sense that we should live closer to it. If we moved we could get a newer house and not have to worry about the problems. He continued to commute, however, no matter how much we argued in favor of moving.
“That reminds me of your question, which I didn’t think was as strange as you thought I would. I even think I have an answer for you that might actually make sense. Part of it I learned here on my mission.
“I realized long ago that Dad doesn’t firmly believe in God because no one has ever reached him with the message; neither you nor I could do it. I think his house is the only place on earth that he feels connected to his father. After Mom died, I think he felt the same thing there with her. He doesn’t know about the afterlife, or doesn’t believe in it, so earthly connections are very important to him.
At that moment I understood just how much our house meant to Dad. It meant as much to him as the Church meant to Keller and me. It’s the same for anyone who has ever valued anything. From the moment I joined the Church I began a journey toward eternity. Before I reach my destination, I’ll travel through life and have great trials and sacrifices. But when I arrive home to be with my Heavenly Father, the value of being there will be a thousand times greater than the value of all I might ever have possibly had to give up.

That kind of harvest is being enjoyed throughout Brazil. It extends even to the far reaches of the Amazon. On a map, the Amazon River appears to slice off the top of South America in its 6,400 kilometer course from the Andes Mountains in the west to the Atlantic Ocean in the east. This great river, 145 kilometers wide at its mouth, is deep enough for ocean-going vessels to navigate upstream approximately 1,000 kilometers.
One of the many who rely on the river for a livelihood is Brother Honorato Bruce Rolim, a member of the Itaporanga Branch in the small Amazonian town of Itacoatiara. A fisherman, Brother Rolim was himself gathered into the gospel net when he invited the full-time missionaries into his home and then accepted the baptismal challenge. His wife, Nilza, a member of another church, was fearful of taking such a step.
“My friends warned me against The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” she says. “They told me that if my husband joined the Church he would go to hell, and if I followed him, I would go there, too.”
But Brother Rolim had a strong testimony that the Church was true, and he wanted Nilza and their oldest boys to be baptized. So he made a plan. Itacoatiara is a town of relatively few motorized vehicles. Horse-drawn carts are fairly common, a bus circles the outskirts of the town, and bicycles are pedaled over bumpy or unfinished roads. But most people walk. It is a 3.2 kilometer walk to church from the Rolims’ home.
“I was sure my wife would never make the effort to go to church if she had to walk there for the first time,” he says. “But I felt that if I could get her to church just once, she would feel the Spirit. My plan was to hire a taxi to take her for that first visit.” It took more than three months to save the (U.S.) $7.00 taxi fare.
Nilza was impressed by her husband’s thoughtfulness. “Once I got to church, I felt at home,” she remembers. “I felt comfortable with the members. I learned more about the gospel that one morning than I had ever learned in all the time I had attended my own church.” Soon, she and two sons, Helio, 14, and Euciney, 8, were baptized. The third son, Honorato, was baptized when he came of age.
Like many Brazilian Saints, the Rolims gladly share their testimony of the gospel by inviting friends into their home to meet the missionaries. Their fellowshipping efforts have resulted in at least 35 baptisms.
“Brother and Sister Rolim are typical of the Brazilian Saints,” says Elder Matthew Connelly, a returned missionary who served in Itacoatiara. “They are eager to share the gospel. For example, a member family invited my companion and me to their home to meet with a few nonmember friends. We expected maybe two or three people, but the family had more than 20 people there for us to talk to.”

Another moving story of loyalty is that of Stephen Markham, who appeared in the Prophet’s later life at nearly every occasion of peril. When Joseph was imprisoned in Missouri, Stephen Markham brought the Smith family safely to Illinois. 15 When Joseph was illegally detained and abused by two Missouri constables, it was Stephen Markham who defied them, shamed them into humane behavior, and helped prevent the Prophet’s abduction to Missouri.16 At Carthage, it was Brother Markham who offered to trade clothes and help the Prophet escape.17 On the day of the martyrdom, Brother Markham was returning to the jail with medicine for Willard Richards when the conspiring guards challenged him, attacked him, and finally forced him away at bayonet point to keep him from returning to the Prophet. Prodded onto his horse, he was poked so many times that his boots filled with blood.18 Joseph Smith’s last journal entry records a prophecy spoken to Stephen Markham that “if I and Hyrum were ever taken again, we should be massacred.”19 The measure of Brother Markham’s love is his brave effort to prevent that prophecy’s fulfillment.

In the marvelous experience of Brigham Young in February of 1847, when the Prophet Joseph appeared to him in a dream or vision, Brigham pleaded to be reunited with the Prophet. Brigham Young asked the Prophet if he had a message for the Brethren. The Prophet said:
“Tell the people to be humble and faithful, and be sure to keep the spirit of the Lord and it will lead them right. Be careful and not turn away the small still voice; it will teach you what to do and where to go; it will yield the fruits of the kingdom. Tell the brethren to keep their hearts open to conviction, so that when the Holy Ghost comes to them, their hearts will be ready to receive it.”
The Prophet further directed Brigham Young as follows: “They can tell the Spirit of the Lord from all other spirits; it will whisper peace and joy to their souls; it will take malice, hatred, strife and all evil from their hearts; and their whole desire will be to do good, bring forth righteousness and build up the kingdom of God” (Manuscript History of Brigham Young, 1846–1847, compiled by Elden J. Watson, Salt Lake City, 1971, page 529).

Some time ago I read the following Associated Press dispatch in the newspaper. An elderly man had shared, from early manhood, a one-room cabin near Canisteo, New York, with his brother. At the funeral for his brother, he disclosed that following a quarrel in their young manhood, they had divided the room in half with a chalk line, and neither had crossed the line or spoken a word to the other since that day—62 years before. What a powerful and destructive hidden wedge.

Elder Mason had another experience just weeks after his marriage that helped him prioritize his family responsibilities. He said:
“Marie and I had rationalized that to get me through medical school it would be necessary for her to remain in the workplace. Although this was not what we [wanted] to do, children would have to come later. [While looking at a Church magazine at my parents’ home,] I saw an article by Elder Spencer W. Kimball, then of the Quorum of the Twelve, [highlighting] responsibilities associated with marriage. According to Elder Kimball, one sacred responsibility was to multiply and replenish the earth. My parents’ home was [close to] the Church Administration Building. I immediately walked to the offices, and 30 minutes after reading his article, I found myself sitting across the desk from Elder Spencer W. Kimball.” (This wouldn’t be so easy today.)
“I explained that I wanted to become a doctor. There was no alternative but to postpone having our family. Elder Kimball listened patiently and then responded in a soft voice, ‘Brother Mason, would the Lord want you to break one of his important commandments in order for you to become a doctor? With the help of the Lord, you can have your family and still become a doctor. Where is your faith?’”
Elder Mason continued: “Our first child was born less than a year later. Marie and I worked hard, and the Lord opened the windows of heaven.” The Masons were blessed with two more children before he graduated from medical school four years later.9

One young Latter-day Saint in Mayagüez says, “When I was 15, I started smoking because my friends pressured me. After two weeks, I knew this was not what I wanted to do.” Kneeling by his bed, this young man poured out his heart to Heavenly Father and asked for help to quit smoking and to be able to deal with peer pressure. He stopped smoking immediately, but the tormenting of some of his friends continued. “I guess I’ll always have pressure from my friends at school,” he says, “but now I know the Lord will help me to deal with it.”

As a 15-year-old boy, I needed a friend, especially when my family moved hundreds of miles away from my home community, my high school, my ward, and my best friend. Entering San Luis Obispo High School in California as a junior, without a friend, I found that friend. He wasn’t my age. There were no Latter-day Saint young men my age in the San Luis Obispo Branch. Looking back, I know that the friend who, perhaps more than any other, influenced my life for good, was a man the age of my parents.

Arthur Godfrey was president of the San Luis Obispo Branch of the Church and a teacher of agricultural science at the high school. Positive and sincerely interested in all of us, he became our friend. When I needed a job, he helped me find one in the community cannery. When I arrived late for work one afternoon, he forcefully taught me the absolute necessity of being on time, of how essential were duty and keeping promises.

A 15-year-old boy benefits when a friend believes in him. President Godfrey did that for me. He understood me, knew my weaknesses, yet believed that I could accomplish something with my life. Such trust imparted new confidence in me.

I enjoy all the Church magazines very much. Until I left home and went on a mission, I never fully realized how filled they were with the words of the Lord as spoken through his prophets and other inspired men and women. I am working diligently to share the gospel with a girl back home in Virginia, and I have been turning more and more to the Church magazines in my efforts to fully answer her many questions.
My missionary apartment has a good-sized stack of Church magazines, of course, so one day I went through the whole stack, picking out those that I thought my friend would benefit from. When I finished, the stack I had picked out was larger than the stack that was left. I knew I couldn’t send that many magazines, so I tried again. About halfway through I stopped because every magazine had at least one good article or message. Finally I gritted my teeth and picked out the very best, but I still sent her a good-sized stack, along with a subscription to the New Era and the Ensign. I know that every one of those 23 issues will help her testimony grow, just as anyone reading them, member or nonmember, will be touched by them in some way.
Elder WoodmanIowa Des Moines Mission

It was a spring day in Helsinki, Finland. The sun was shining brightly, and the snow was melting fast. For hours I had been working with my boys, Juha, eight, and Hannu, six, to keep melting snow from flooding our cellar. The nearby drain that should have handled the pooling water was still frozen solid.
As my husband left for work that morning, he told us to make sure we kept the water out of the cellar. We worked hard until the afternoon, when it was time to leave for Primary. (At that time Primary was held on a weekday.) I told my boys, however, that they would have to miss Primary in order to help stop the water from getting into the cellar. Besides, my husband wasn’t a member of the Church, and he would not understand how important Primary was to our sons.
In unison, Juha and Hannu assured me that if we went to Primary, Heavenly Father would see to it that the water wouldn’t reach the cellar. I looked back and forth from the pooling water to the faith-filled faces of my sons. Part of me said, “You cannot go because no power can stop the water from flooding the cellar.” I appealed to Heavenly Father with a prayer in my heart. Then I made a difficult decision.
“We are going to Primary now!” I declared as I threw down the buckets. No matter what happened, I was not going to injure my children’s faith.
The boys had a wonderful time at Primary. But as we drove home afterward, the closer we got to our house, the more my fears grew. Reaching the yard, the boys ran quickly to the cellar door. Looking down, they cried out, “Mother, what did we tell you?” I hurried over. I will never forget the sight that greeted my eyes. The area was completely dry, as if it had been mopped. There were no signs of water anywhere. Even now, 40 years later, it is hard for me to believe what I saw.
The glow in my boys’ eyes reflected joy and trust in Heavenly Father. Joy—and gratitude—filled my heart too!
No power in the world can beat childlike faith. The scriptures say that if we believe and doubt not, we can move a mountain (see Matthew 17:20). That day the power of my children’s faith stopped a flood.

Liam is learning to balance the things he needs and wants to do. He may be busy, but there’s one thing he makes time for every day—the gospel of Jesus Christ.

“I recently decided that I would read at least one chapter of the Book of Mormon—just one chapter—every single day,” Liam says. “It takes me maybe five minutes. But it gives me an extra boost, so I’m willing to take that challenge.”

Reading the scriptures every day has helped Liam more than he thought it would. “Sometimes when I have a bad day, reading something comforting can put me back on top again. But if it’s been a good day, it can also remind me to be grateful that things are going well. I’m glad I’ve been able to stick to my goal.”

Liam is busy with lots of hobbies and responsibilities. But making time every day to read the Book of Mormon has blessed his life.