Several months ago, I heard a grandmother recount the heartbreaking experience of her young daughter who suffered the devastating loss of an infant girl just days after her birth. Amid overwhelming grief, her daughter sought comfort in God’s plan and held fast to the hope that one day she would be reunited with her baby girl. In a quiet moment of compassion, a caring doctor offered words of comfort to the grieving mother. With remarkable resolve, the mother replied, “Do not worry about us. We know where she is going, and we will see her again.” [4]
This kind of faith, holding to God’s promises even in life’s most difficult moments, empowers us to overcome every challenge. It also serves as a foundation that leads us to a life full of deep and lasting joy.
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Choose to Believe
Summary: Elder Homer recounts a grandmother’s story about her daughter losing an infant girl only days after birth. In the midst of grief, the daughter clung to God’s plan and the hope of reunion. When a doctor tried to comfort her, she responded with steady faith that they would see the child again.
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👤 Parents
👤 Children
👤 Other
Harden Not Your Hearts, Be Heart Smart
Summary: During a siege in 1141, Wolf, Duke of Bavaria, prepared to surrender Castle Weinsberg to Emperor Konrad's forces. The women requested permission to leave carrying their valuables, then emerged carrying their husbands on their backs instead, moving Konrad to grant unexpectedly favorable peace terms.
We all know that love between a man and woman can grow until it becomes a force of tremendous power. I came across a story that illustrates this point. Variations of the tale are found in the folklore of Eastern Europe, but it was said to have happened during the Middle Ages in Germany.
The year was 1141 and Wolf, the Duke of Bavaria, was besieged inside his castle of Weinsberg by the army of Frederick and his brother the Emperor Konrad.
The siege had lasted long, and Wolf realized he had no choice but to surrender. Messengers rode back and forth, terms were proposed, conditions allowed, and arrangements completed. Wolf and his army prepared to give themselves over to their bitter enemy. But the wives of Weinsberg were not prepared to lose everything. They sent a message to Konrad, asking the governor to promise safe passage for all women in the garrison that they might come out with as many of their valuables as they could carry on their backs.
The request was graciously granted, and soon the castle gates opened. Out came the women- but not as supposed. They carried neither gold nor jewels on their backs, but each one of them was bending under the weight of her husband, whom she hoped to save from the vengeance of the conquering army.
Konrad was so moved by this extraordinary act that he made peace with the duke of Bavaria on much more favorable terms than expected. These women gave new meaning to the idea of supporting their husbands.
The year was 1141 and Wolf, the Duke of Bavaria, was besieged inside his castle of Weinsberg by the army of Frederick and his brother the Emperor Konrad.
The siege had lasted long, and Wolf realized he had no choice but to surrender. Messengers rode back and forth, terms were proposed, conditions allowed, and arrangements completed. Wolf and his army prepared to give themselves over to their bitter enemy. But the wives of Weinsberg were not prepared to lose everything. They sent a message to Konrad, asking the governor to promise safe passage for all women in the garrison that they might come out with as many of their valuables as they could carry on their backs.
The request was graciously granted, and soon the castle gates opened. Out came the women- but not as supposed. They carried neither gold nor jewels on their backs, but each one of them was bending under the weight of her husband, whom she hoped to save from the vengeance of the conquering army.
Konrad was so moved by this extraordinary act that he made peace with the duke of Bavaria on much more favorable terms than expected. These women gave new meaning to the idea of supporting their husbands.
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👤 Parents
👤 Other
Wood for the Widows
Summary: The year after their father's example of service, the family faces a sorrowful Christmas following his death two weeks earlier. Ron suggests, “Let’s go get wood,” and the brothers gather firewood for their widowed mother. In the years that follow, they continue cutting wood for other widows each Christmas, quietly doing it in memory of their father and ensuring their mother never went without.
The next year, Christmas was not so happy. We sat around solemn-faced after opening our presents. Finally Ron said, “Let’s go get wood.”
Nothing more needed to be said. We all got our coats, hats, and gloves and headed out the door. Again we were getting wood for a widow. But this time it was our mother. It wasn’t that we needed the wood; it meant something deeper. Two weeks before Christmas my dad had died. He left seven children to be raised by my mother.
I suppose because of one act of kindness and the lessons my dad taught his boys, he assured that his wife would never go without wood. We not only got wood for our mother, but often we would get it for other widows. On many Christmases, after we opened our presents, my brothers and I would go out and cut wood for one of the widows. Though it was never spoken openly between us, we were all doing it in memory of our father.
Nothing more needed to be said. We all got our coats, hats, and gloves and headed out the door. Again we were getting wood for a widow. But this time it was our mother. It wasn’t that we needed the wood; it meant something deeper. Two weeks before Christmas my dad had died. He left seven children to be raised by my mother.
I suppose because of one act of kindness and the lessons my dad taught his boys, he assured that his wife would never go without wood. We not only got wood for our mother, but often we would get it for other widows. On many Christmases, after we opened our presents, my brothers and I would go out and cut wood for one of the widows. Though it was never spoken openly between us, we were all doing it in memory of our father.
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👤 Parents
👤 Children
👤 Other
Adversity
Christmas
Death
Family
Grief
Kindness
Service
Single-Parent Families
A Prize Well Earned
Summary: Mindy, a blind girl, enters her poem in a school district contest and navigates the event independently with help from her cane and her mother’s directions. She overhears a woman pitying her and hoping the judges will reward her blindness, which strengthens Mindy’s resolve to succeed on merit. When she wins second place, she proudly recites her poem from memory and affirms she won because the poem was good, not because she is blind.
Mindy unfolded her collapsible cane, ready to go when her mother had the car warmed up.
“Come on, Mindy,” she heard her mother call. “Time to go.”
Mindy clutched a manila envelope under one arm and went down the steps of the porch. One, two, three, she counted silently, moving her cane down the steps as she went. Then she moved it back and forth on the sidewalk, exactly twenty-three steps to the car.
“Let me carry that, honey,” her mother suggested, taking the envelope from Mindy’s outstretched hand. Mindy folded up her cane and slid into the front seat.
She held her face out the window as the car moved off down the street. The air felt cool and brisk and made her hair dance. Mindy was so excited she could hardly stand it. Today she was going to enter her poem in the children’s poetry contest the school district was sponsoring. She had carefully written several poems on her braillewriter, then picked out the best one. Her mother had typed it up for her to give to the contest judges.
“This is very good,” her mother had said. “I hope the judges will think so too.”
Mindy was hopeful, but it was exciting just to have written a good poem. She leaned back, humming a little tune to herself. “Tell me what it’s like outside,” she asked her mother after a while. “I can hear some birds singing and the air feels cool. Is the sun out?”
“No,” said her mother. “It’s hiding behind a cloud. It may even rain today.”
Mindy hoped it would rain. She liked to feel the drops against her face or hear the rain beating on the roof. She liked the smell of damp earth and the booming thunderclaps.
“We’re almost there,” Mindy said. “I can hear the trains that run near the school and smell the flowers that grow by the fence.”
Mindy put her fingers on her watch that had no glass to cover the hands. “It’s four-fifteen,” she said. “We still have a few minutes.”
After the car had been parked at the school, Mindy opened the door and stepped out. Extending her cane, she asked, “Mother, may I have my poem now?”
“Just a moment,” her Mother replied, “until I explain where we’re going. Turn right, up one step, then about five steps to me,” directed her mother, who had become very good at judging distances for Mindy.
Mindy followed her mother’s directions, then reached for the envelope. Tucking it under her arm, she walked beside her mother, stepping up when the steps went up and down when they went down. Using her cane, she could go anywhere as long as she knew the right direction.
Someone was walking behind them. Judging by the click of high heels and the shuffle of another pair of shoes, Mindy was pretty sure it was a woman and a boy. Probably another contestant with his mother, she thought. The woman was murmuring, and Mindy could barely hear what she was saying.
“Look at that girl,” Mindy heard the woman say. “Poor little thing. How dreadful it must be to be blind. I hope the judges take that into consideration and give her a prize. She really deserves one.”
Mindy clutched her envelope tighter. She had worked hard on her poem, and she certainly didn’t want to win because she was sightless. Just before they entered the auditorium, she took her mother’s arm. “About how many steps to the judges’ table?” she asked.
Her mother looked in the door and replied, “About ten steps straight ahead.”
“Do I have to write anything?” Mindy whispered.
“No,” answered her mother. “It looks like the judges are doing all the writing. You just have to answer their questions.”
Mindy folded up her cane. “Hold this for me, please,” she said.
Mindy slowly walked the ten steps. When she felt the edge of the table she stopped, held out the manila envelope, and someone took it from her.
“Name?” a man’s voice asked.
Mindy instantly turned slightly to face him. “Mindy Martin,” she replied.
“Age?”
“Ten.”
“School?”
“Franklin,” responded Mindy, hoping that she was looking straight into the face of the man asking the questions.
“Thank you,” said the man.
Mindy turned around and walked the ten steps back to her mother. “How did I do?” she asked, squeezing her mother’s hand.
“Just fine,” whispered her mother. She helped Mindy to a chair next to the middle aisle.
Everyone listened while the judges read the children’s poetry aloud. Then they waited while the judges had a conference to decide who the winners were.
After conferring with each other, a man walked to a microphone at the front of the room. Everyone was quiet when he cleared his throat. “We have reached a decision,” he said. “The first-place winner is … Charles Monroe, for his poem ‘Sunflowers.’”
The audience clapped appreciatively, and Charles went up to the microphone to read his poem. Everyone listened carefully and nodded in agreement that his poem deserved a prize.
The man stepped forward again after Charles had finished.
“The second-place winner is … ,” he paused a moment. Mindy held her breath, and turned her face in the direction of the man’s voice. “Mindy Martin for her poem ‘Rain.’”
“Mother?” she questioned anxiously.
“Out to the aisle and then twenty steps straight ahead,” her mother whispered back. Mindy stood up, afraid she might trip or walk into someone’s chair, but somehow she made it up to the microphone.
“Mindy, would you please read your poem,” the man said and put a paper into her outstretched hand.
Mindy didn’t even pretend to look at the paper. She knew the poem by heart. She turned her happy face toward the audience, toward where she thought her mother was and began to recite her poem:
I love to hear the gentle rain
Dancing on my windowpane.
I know how fast the thirsty ground
Laps up the drops that sprinkle down.
And when the rain is pouring hard,
Making puddles in the yard,
I love to snuggle warm in bed
And hear the rain pound overhead.
The crowd applauded in approval. Mindy made her way back to her mother, who gave her a little hug. “I knew you could do it!” she said.
“And I won on my own,” said Mindy, “because my poem was good, not because I’m blind.”
Mindy’s mother gave her another hug. “You deserved to win, Mindy. Your poem was good. No one could argue with that.”
When the contest was over, Mindy put out her hand.
“I’ll take my cane now,” she said, smiling.
“Come on, Mindy,” she heard her mother call. “Time to go.”
Mindy clutched a manila envelope under one arm and went down the steps of the porch. One, two, three, she counted silently, moving her cane down the steps as she went. Then she moved it back and forth on the sidewalk, exactly twenty-three steps to the car.
“Let me carry that, honey,” her mother suggested, taking the envelope from Mindy’s outstretched hand. Mindy folded up her cane and slid into the front seat.
She held her face out the window as the car moved off down the street. The air felt cool and brisk and made her hair dance. Mindy was so excited she could hardly stand it. Today she was going to enter her poem in the children’s poetry contest the school district was sponsoring. She had carefully written several poems on her braillewriter, then picked out the best one. Her mother had typed it up for her to give to the contest judges.
“This is very good,” her mother had said. “I hope the judges will think so too.”
Mindy was hopeful, but it was exciting just to have written a good poem. She leaned back, humming a little tune to herself. “Tell me what it’s like outside,” she asked her mother after a while. “I can hear some birds singing and the air feels cool. Is the sun out?”
“No,” said her mother. “It’s hiding behind a cloud. It may even rain today.”
Mindy hoped it would rain. She liked to feel the drops against her face or hear the rain beating on the roof. She liked the smell of damp earth and the booming thunderclaps.
“We’re almost there,” Mindy said. “I can hear the trains that run near the school and smell the flowers that grow by the fence.”
Mindy put her fingers on her watch that had no glass to cover the hands. “It’s four-fifteen,” she said. “We still have a few minutes.”
After the car had been parked at the school, Mindy opened the door and stepped out. Extending her cane, she asked, “Mother, may I have my poem now?”
“Just a moment,” her Mother replied, “until I explain where we’re going. Turn right, up one step, then about five steps to me,” directed her mother, who had become very good at judging distances for Mindy.
Mindy followed her mother’s directions, then reached for the envelope. Tucking it under her arm, she walked beside her mother, stepping up when the steps went up and down when they went down. Using her cane, she could go anywhere as long as she knew the right direction.
Someone was walking behind them. Judging by the click of high heels and the shuffle of another pair of shoes, Mindy was pretty sure it was a woman and a boy. Probably another contestant with his mother, she thought. The woman was murmuring, and Mindy could barely hear what she was saying.
“Look at that girl,” Mindy heard the woman say. “Poor little thing. How dreadful it must be to be blind. I hope the judges take that into consideration and give her a prize. She really deserves one.”
Mindy clutched her envelope tighter. She had worked hard on her poem, and she certainly didn’t want to win because she was sightless. Just before they entered the auditorium, she took her mother’s arm. “About how many steps to the judges’ table?” she asked.
Her mother looked in the door and replied, “About ten steps straight ahead.”
“Do I have to write anything?” Mindy whispered.
“No,” answered her mother. “It looks like the judges are doing all the writing. You just have to answer their questions.”
Mindy folded up her cane. “Hold this for me, please,” she said.
Mindy slowly walked the ten steps. When she felt the edge of the table she stopped, held out the manila envelope, and someone took it from her.
“Name?” a man’s voice asked.
Mindy instantly turned slightly to face him. “Mindy Martin,” she replied.
“Age?”
“Ten.”
“School?”
“Franklin,” responded Mindy, hoping that she was looking straight into the face of the man asking the questions.
“Thank you,” said the man.
Mindy turned around and walked the ten steps back to her mother. “How did I do?” she asked, squeezing her mother’s hand.
“Just fine,” whispered her mother. She helped Mindy to a chair next to the middle aisle.
Everyone listened while the judges read the children’s poetry aloud. Then they waited while the judges had a conference to decide who the winners were.
After conferring with each other, a man walked to a microphone at the front of the room. Everyone was quiet when he cleared his throat. “We have reached a decision,” he said. “The first-place winner is … Charles Monroe, for his poem ‘Sunflowers.’”
The audience clapped appreciatively, and Charles went up to the microphone to read his poem. Everyone listened carefully and nodded in agreement that his poem deserved a prize.
The man stepped forward again after Charles had finished.
“The second-place winner is … ,” he paused a moment. Mindy held her breath, and turned her face in the direction of the man’s voice. “Mindy Martin for her poem ‘Rain.’”
“Mother?” she questioned anxiously.
“Out to the aisle and then twenty steps straight ahead,” her mother whispered back. Mindy stood up, afraid she might trip or walk into someone’s chair, but somehow she made it up to the microphone.
“Mindy, would you please read your poem,” the man said and put a paper into her outstretched hand.
Mindy didn’t even pretend to look at the paper. She knew the poem by heart. She turned her happy face toward the audience, toward where she thought her mother was and began to recite her poem:
I love to hear the gentle rain
Dancing on my windowpane.
I know how fast the thirsty ground
Laps up the drops that sprinkle down.
And when the rain is pouring hard,
Making puddles in the yard,
I love to snuggle warm in bed
And hear the rain pound overhead.
The crowd applauded in approval. Mindy made her way back to her mother, who gave her a little hug. “I knew you could do it!” she said.
“And I won on my own,” said Mindy, “because my poem was good, not because I’m blind.”
Mindy’s mother gave her another hug. “You deserved to win, Mindy. Your poem was good. No one could argue with that.”
When the contest was over, Mindy put out her hand.
“I’ll take my cane now,” she said, smiling.
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👤 Children
👤 Parents
👤 Other
Children
Disabilities
Judging Others
Parenting
Self-Reliance
Ty’s Courage
Summary: Ty is anxious about foot surgery despite family prayers and a blessing from his dad. At the hospital, he asks to pray and feels a peaceful confirmation from the Holy Ghost. He proceeds with the surgery and later leaves the hospital relieved and smiling, grateful for the courage he received.
Ty climbed into the car with Mom and Dad for the long trip to the hospital. He felt sick to his stomach. He would rather go to school all day than have surgery on his foot!
Over the past several weeks, Ty’s family had prayed that his surgery would go well. Ty had also prayed that he would not be too scared. Last night Dad had given him a blessing that he would be courageous and that the surgery would fix the problem with his foot.
So why did he still feel so nervous?
“Don’t worry, Ty,” Dad said from the driver’s seat. “The surgery is very simple, and the doctor knows what he’s doing. Everything is going to be fine.”
Ty nodded, but he didn’t feel any better. His parents had explained to him that even though he didn’t have any problems walking or running now, if he didn’t have this surgery, his foot would have problems in the future.
Maybe it would be better to just deal with the problems later on, Ty thought.
As they pulled into the parking lot of the hospital, Ty started to cry. Surgery sounded so scary!
“Sweetheart, don’t worry,” Mom said, turning around in the front seat.
“I don’t want to have the surgery!” Ty said, choking down tears.
“Ty, this surgery is a blessing,” Mom said. “We live in a time when doctors can fix your foot so you can have a healthy, active life. We have all been praying for you, and Dad gave you a blessing last night. Heavenly Father will help you. It’s going to be OK.”
Ty knew everything Mom said was true, but he still felt scared. Dad parked the car and turned around to face Ty.
“What can we do to help you, Ty?” Dad asked.
Ty was quiet for a long time. He thought about what Mom had said. He knew Heavenly Father could help him be ready for his surgery. Maybe he just needed to show a little more faith.
“I want to say another prayer,” Ty said.
“Who do you want to say it?” Dad asked.
“I’ll say it,” Ty said.
Sitting in the car in front of the hospital, they all bowed their heads, and Ty started to pray.
“Dear Heavenly Father,” he said, “please help me be brave so I can have this surgery. Thank you for blessing us with good doctors and medicine so I can get better. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
A warm feeling of peace filled Ty as he finished the prayer.
“Do you feel that?” Mom asked.
“Yeah. Is that the Holy Ghost?” Ty asked.
“Yes,” Dad said. “That’s the Holy Ghost telling us everything’s going to be all right.”
“What do you think, Ty? Are you ready to go in?” Mom asked.
Ty took a deep breath. He still felt a little nervous, but he knew it was going to be OK. He nodded his head. “I’m ready,” he said.
A few hours later, Ty left the hospital with a bandaged foot. Dad pushed him out to the car in a wheelchair. He would need to walk on crutches for the next few weeks, but the doctor had said the surgery went well. Ty had a smile on his face. He knew the Holy Ghost had helped him be courageous.
Over the past several weeks, Ty’s family had prayed that his surgery would go well. Ty had also prayed that he would not be too scared. Last night Dad had given him a blessing that he would be courageous and that the surgery would fix the problem with his foot.
So why did he still feel so nervous?
“Don’t worry, Ty,” Dad said from the driver’s seat. “The surgery is very simple, and the doctor knows what he’s doing. Everything is going to be fine.”
Ty nodded, but he didn’t feel any better. His parents had explained to him that even though he didn’t have any problems walking or running now, if he didn’t have this surgery, his foot would have problems in the future.
Maybe it would be better to just deal with the problems later on, Ty thought.
As they pulled into the parking lot of the hospital, Ty started to cry. Surgery sounded so scary!
“Sweetheart, don’t worry,” Mom said, turning around in the front seat.
“I don’t want to have the surgery!” Ty said, choking down tears.
“Ty, this surgery is a blessing,” Mom said. “We live in a time when doctors can fix your foot so you can have a healthy, active life. We have all been praying for you, and Dad gave you a blessing last night. Heavenly Father will help you. It’s going to be OK.”
Ty knew everything Mom said was true, but he still felt scared. Dad parked the car and turned around to face Ty.
“What can we do to help you, Ty?” Dad asked.
Ty was quiet for a long time. He thought about what Mom had said. He knew Heavenly Father could help him be ready for his surgery. Maybe he just needed to show a little more faith.
“I want to say another prayer,” Ty said.
“Who do you want to say it?” Dad asked.
“I’ll say it,” Ty said.
Sitting in the car in front of the hospital, they all bowed their heads, and Ty started to pray.
“Dear Heavenly Father,” he said, “please help me be brave so I can have this surgery. Thank you for blessing us with good doctors and medicine so I can get better. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
A warm feeling of peace filled Ty as he finished the prayer.
“Do you feel that?” Mom asked.
“Yeah. Is that the Holy Ghost?” Ty asked.
“Yes,” Dad said. “That’s the Holy Ghost telling us everything’s going to be all right.”
“What do you think, Ty? Are you ready to go in?” Mom asked.
Ty took a deep breath. He still felt a little nervous, but he knew it was going to be OK. He nodded his head. “I’m ready,” he said.
A few hours later, Ty left the hospital with a bandaged foot. Dad pushed him out to the car in a wheelchair. He would need to walk on crutches for the next few weeks, but the doctor had said the surgery went well. Ty had a smile on his face. He knew the Holy Ghost had helped him be courageous.
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👤 Children
👤 Parents
👤 Other
Children
Courage
Faith
Family
Health
Holy Ghost
Parenting
Peace
Prayer
Priesthood Blessing
Far, Far Away:Missionary Christmas Stories
Summary: Elder James B. Kunzler describes how spending Christmas in the mission field helped him focus on the Savior rather than the holiday rush. He says members strengthened the missionaries during the season. The highlight of the missionwide conference was receiving letters from home, which moved everyone to tears before the closing testimony meeting.
Elder James B. Kunzler
I must say it was really nice not to worry about all that holiday rush everyone else worried about. Spending all our time during the season teaching of the Savior’s life and plan for all his children here on this earth sure put things into perspective. It is a blessing to spend time in the mission field during Christmas even though you are away from home.
Members were a great source of strength to me during the holiday season. They all tried to do what they could to make the time away from home easy on us as missionaries.
I think the highlight of our missionwide conference was when all the missionaries received letters from home. Sister Anderson, the mission president’s wife, had them sent months in advance to read before the closing testimony meeting. The whole building was filled with tear-streaked faces, and I must admit I shed a few myself.
I must say it was really nice not to worry about all that holiday rush everyone else worried about. Spending all our time during the season teaching of the Savior’s life and plan for all his children here on this earth sure put things into perspective. It is a blessing to spend time in the mission field during Christmas even though you are away from home.
Members were a great source of strength to me during the holiday season. They all tried to do what they could to make the time away from home easy on us as missionaries.
I think the highlight of our missionwide conference was when all the missionaries received letters from home. Sister Anderson, the mission president’s wife, had them sent months in advance to read before the closing testimony meeting. The whole building was filled with tear-streaked faces, and I must admit I shed a few myself.
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👤 Missionaries
👤 Church Members (General)
👤 Parents
Christmas
Jesus Christ
Ministering
Missionary Work
Teaching the Gospel
Testimony
The Proclamation:
Summary: Feeling the duty to provide spiritually for their children, the author and his wife began family testimony meetings on fast Sundays. The first efforts were met with hunger complaints and reluctance. Persevering, they soon felt the Spirit more, and the meetings became a cherished time of spiritual sharing.
Another time the words “Parents have a sacred duty to rear their children in love and righteousness, to provide for their physical and spiritual needs” weighed heavily on my mind. Our family members loved and had a good time with each other, but I felt that we were far from our spiritual potential. The words of the proclamation inspired my wife, Juanita, and me to begin having a family testimony meeting on fast Sunday after church. Unfortunately, our first attempt did little to provide for our children’s spiritual needs. None of them really wanted to be there. Several children complained about how hungry they were, and our youngest asked several times, “When is this going to be over?” Still, we persevered, and after a few months the complaining stopped and we started feeling the Spirit more. This family testimony meeting became a precious time to share sacred truths and to help us “rear [our] children in love and righteousness.”
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👤 Parents
👤 Children
Children
Family
Fasting and Fast Offerings
Holy Ghost
Love
Parenting
Teaching the Gospel
Testimony
Joseph Smith Lecture 4: Joseph Smith and Trials
Summary: At Far West, a mob of about 3,500 men prepared to destroy the Latter-day Saints, who were vastly outnumbered. After a messenger offered safe passage to a few non-Mormons, they chose to stay with the Saints. Joseph then sent back a bold warning that if the troops did not withdraw, he would send them to hell, and the militia pulled back.
In Far West, Missouri, the mob lined up about 3,500 men, preparing to attack and destroy every Mormon there. There were between two and three hundred, including two or three Jack-Mormons (in those days that term meant a Mormon sympathizer). Aware of those three, a man came with a flag of truce and said, “We’re going to wipe you out, but we understand that a few of you aren’t Mormon: they can come with us.” Those non-Mormons decided they would stay. Then said the Prophet to the man with the white flag, “Go back and tell your general to withdraw his troops or I will send them to hell.”61 John Taylor, who was present that day, said years later, “I thought that was a pretty bold stand to take.”62 That may be the understatement of the nineteenth century. The man went back with his flag, and the militia withdrew.
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👤 Joseph Smith
👤 Early Saints
👤 Other
The Thoughts of Our Hearts or Why Do We Do What We Do?
Summary: The speaker describes driving home with his family after one of his son's poor piano lessons and criticizing his sons for not preparing. His 11-year-old son bluntly says he does not care, revealing his lack of internal desire to improve. The speaker reflects that, for now, his son practices only because his parents require it, though he hopes maturity will eventually change his heart.
Brothers and sisters, I need to start with a little confession. My wife, Ann, and I are tyrants. We want our three children to play the piano, and we stop just short of shackling their ankles to the bench to make sure that happens. The other night as we were driving home from an especially dismal piano lesson, I was haranguing my two sons over their sad performance and obvious lack of preparation. As soon as I took a breath, my 11-year-old seized the opportunity to adjust my thinking.
“Okay, Dad, I had a bad lesson tonight. But, do you know what? I don’t care.”
Where had he learned to express himself so clearly? My firstborn apparently possesses not an ounce of desire to excel at the piano, in spite of years of coaxing and persuasion from his parents. Can any of you relate? Does “You will thank me later for making you practice” sound familiar to you? Or “You will be grateful you learned to play the hymns when you hit the mission field.” Ever heard that?
I am counting on Adam’s heart softening toward the piano as he matures, because he is actually quite talented. I have the feeling that he will go through the same cycle of change that I did, eventually developing a very personal, internal desire to master the piano for the love of music and what it does for his soul. But, for now, my wife and I accept the fact that he will need steady external motivation if we expect to see any progress. Adam will practice the piano because we force him to.
“Okay, Dad, I had a bad lesson tonight. But, do you know what? I don’t care.”
Where had he learned to express himself so clearly? My firstborn apparently possesses not an ounce of desire to excel at the piano, in spite of years of coaxing and persuasion from his parents. Can any of you relate? Does “You will thank me later for making you practice” sound familiar to you? Or “You will be grateful you learned to play the hymns when you hit the mission field.” Ever heard that?
I am counting on Adam’s heart softening toward the piano as he matures, because he is actually quite talented. I have the feeling that he will go through the same cycle of change that I did, eventually developing a very personal, internal desire to master the piano for the love of music and what it does for his soul. But, for now, my wife and I accept the fact that he will need steady external motivation if we expect to see any progress. Adam will practice the piano because we force him to.
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👤 Parents
👤 Children
Saving the Stories
Summary: Latter-day Saint Scout Chris Collier chooses to document Gary’s Creek Cemetery for his Eagle project and meets local stakeholders, including Mr. Lacy and longtime caretaker Mr. Brooks, whose memory holds the only record of many graves. With guidance from Sister Louthain at the family history center, Chris organizes the data for both the church and the Family History Library. He later returns with a group of teens to record the graves, working alongside members of Gary’s Creek church. The project preserves vital information and fosters unity across religious and racial lines.
All it took was a call to Gary’s Creek Missionary Baptist Church in Tennessee for Chris Collier to find the perfect Eagle Scout project.
Chris, a member of the Memphis First Ward, Memphis North Stake, says, a little nervously, “This is something that’s never been done before.” Gary’s Creek church asked him to document its cemetery—the oldest black cemetery in Shelby County.
Chris first needs to meet everyone involved and decide how much help he will need on the project. He drives to Gary’s Creek Cemetery on a road paved over the old stagecoach line. As soon as he steps out of the car, he has to swat at a mosquito. It’s the height of Tennessee heat in August, and it’s so humid you can practically drink the air. But that isn’t going to stop Chris.
There’s a group waiting for him at the gate to the cemetery. Mr. Lacy, who has many ancestors buried here, greets Chris. “This cemetery is a gold mine for genealogists,” Mr. Lacy tells Chris as he adjusts his wide-brimmed hat. “Think of all those people’s stories buried under the ground.” Mr. Lacy has uncovered the story of one of his ancestors buried here—Joseph H. Harris, better known as “Free Joe.” He wrote two books about Free Joe’s adventures and is turning them into a Hollywood screenplay.
Chris walks through the cemetery with his notebook and camera. The huge trees’ heavy branches droop in the heat, and thick emerald grass covers some of the grave markers completely. There are all types of people buried here, from tiny babies to Civil War veterans. Some of the markers are simple rusty spikes in the ground; others have hand-carved names in aged, chipped stones. Nobody can tell what they say, except for the caretaker, Mr. Brooks.
Mr. Brooks has been caretaker of Gary’s Creek Cemetery since 1939. He moves slowly around the cemetery with the help of his cane and quietly points out different grave markers to Chris. Mr. Brooks is the only one who knows the names on and locations of all the graves. His father was caretaker before him.
“I used to walk around the cemetery with my father while he helped me memorize the graves,” Mr. Brooks says. Many of the graves are unmarked, and the only documentation is in Mr. Brooks’s memory. If Mr. Brooks dies, the information dies with him. Chris isn’t going to let that happen.
Leslie Louthain, the director of the LDS family history center in the area, and her husband are also here to help. She gives Chris tips on how to put all the information in a database. He’ll give one copy to the Gary’s Creek church and send one to the Church’s Family History Library in Salt Lake City.
Sister Louthain thoughtfully examines a grave marker near the woods until she discovers there is more than family history in this cemetery.
“There are snakes in those trees!” she shrieks. Her husband laughs, and she heads for higher ground.
As Chris wraps up his first visit, he sighs. “I’m feeling a little overwhelmed. This one cemetery could be a lot of separate projects,” he says. But he isn’t afraid to plunge in anyway.
Chris doesn’t feel so overwhelmed when he comes back with a big group of teens to help him. The ladies from Gary’s Creek church provide lunch, and it isn’t as hot, because now it’s well into autumn.
Chris divides up the teens into groups to document the graves, with the help of Mr. Lacy and Mr. Brooks, of course. You can barely tell who belongs to which church because everyone is mixed together, trying to get all the information recorded.
As Chris wraps it all up, everyone is pleased. The members of Gary’s Creek church can rest easy, knowing the information in their vast cemetery has been preserved, and Chris’s group can be satisfied knowing they’ve helped preserve information for future family history work.
The cemetery seems a little more peaceful now, thanks to Chris, because the richness of its history won’t be lost. Who knows what stories might later be uncovered?
As Chris takes a reflective look around the cemetery, Mr. Lacy says, “Family history is going to be what brings religions and races together.” And in his little corner of Tennessee, Chris helped do just that.
Chris, a member of the Memphis First Ward, Memphis North Stake, says, a little nervously, “This is something that’s never been done before.” Gary’s Creek church asked him to document its cemetery—the oldest black cemetery in Shelby County.
Chris first needs to meet everyone involved and decide how much help he will need on the project. He drives to Gary’s Creek Cemetery on a road paved over the old stagecoach line. As soon as he steps out of the car, he has to swat at a mosquito. It’s the height of Tennessee heat in August, and it’s so humid you can practically drink the air. But that isn’t going to stop Chris.
There’s a group waiting for him at the gate to the cemetery. Mr. Lacy, who has many ancestors buried here, greets Chris. “This cemetery is a gold mine for genealogists,” Mr. Lacy tells Chris as he adjusts his wide-brimmed hat. “Think of all those people’s stories buried under the ground.” Mr. Lacy has uncovered the story of one of his ancestors buried here—Joseph H. Harris, better known as “Free Joe.” He wrote two books about Free Joe’s adventures and is turning them into a Hollywood screenplay.
Chris walks through the cemetery with his notebook and camera. The huge trees’ heavy branches droop in the heat, and thick emerald grass covers some of the grave markers completely. There are all types of people buried here, from tiny babies to Civil War veterans. Some of the markers are simple rusty spikes in the ground; others have hand-carved names in aged, chipped stones. Nobody can tell what they say, except for the caretaker, Mr. Brooks.
Mr. Brooks has been caretaker of Gary’s Creek Cemetery since 1939. He moves slowly around the cemetery with the help of his cane and quietly points out different grave markers to Chris. Mr. Brooks is the only one who knows the names on and locations of all the graves. His father was caretaker before him.
“I used to walk around the cemetery with my father while he helped me memorize the graves,” Mr. Brooks says. Many of the graves are unmarked, and the only documentation is in Mr. Brooks’s memory. If Mr. Brooks dies, the information dies with him. Chris isn’t going to let that happen.
Leslie Louthain, the director of the LDS family history center in the area, and her husband are also here to help. She gives Chris tips on how to put all the information in a database. He’ll give one copy to the Gary’s Creek church and send one to the Church’s Family History Library in Salt Lake City.
Sister Louthain thoughtfully examines a grave marker near the woods until she discovers there is more than family history in this cemetery.
“There are snakes in those trees!” she shrieks. Her husband laughs, and she heads for higher ground.
As Chris wraps up his first visit, he sighs. “I’m feeling a little overwhelmed. This one cemetery could be a lot of separate projects,” he says. But he isn’t afraid to plunge in anyway.
Chris doesn’t feel so overwhelmed when he comes back with a big group of teens to help him. The ladies from Gary’s Creek church provide lunch, and it isn’t as hot, because now it’s well into autumn.
Chris divides up the teens into groups to document the graves, with the help of Mr. Lacy and Mr. Brooks, of course. You can barely tell who belongs to which church because everyone is mixed together, trying to get all the information recorded.
As Chris wraps it all up, everyone is pleased. The members of Gary’s Creek church can rest easy, knowing the information in their vast cemetery has been preserved, and Chris’s group can be satisfied knowing they’ve helped preserve information for future family history work.
The cemetery seems a little more peaceful now, thanks to Chris, because the richness of its history won’t be lost. Who knows what stories might later be uncovered?
As Chris takes a reflective look around the cemetery, Mr. Lacy says, “Family history is going to be what brings religions and races together.” And in his little corner of Tennessee, Chris helped do just that.
Read more →
👤 Youth
👤 Church Members (General)
👤 Church Leaders (Local)
👤 Other
Diversity and Unity in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints
Family History
Race and The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints
Service
Unity
Young Men
President Wilford Woodruff and Thoughts for Youth
Summary: After learning of Joseph Smith and being baptized, Wilford Woodruff finally met the Prophet in Kirtland. Their unusual first meeting included Joseph carrying a pistol and asking Wilford to help tan a wolf skin. Woodruff later reflected that despite all the apostasies and afflictions he witnessed afterward, he never doubted the truth of the work.
Wilford Woodruff was born in Farmington, Hartford County, Connecticut, 1 March 1807. He learned the trade of a miller. He worked as a miller in a number of communities in his native state. He first learned of Joseph Smith through a newspaper article in the spring of 1832. He was twenty-five. Some nineteen or twenty months later he met Elders Zera Pulsipher and Elijah Cheney in Rushland, New York, where he had moved and was farming. On 31 December 1833 he was baptized by Zera Pulsipher. Four months later he first met Joseph Smith in the streets of Kirtland, Ohio. I would like to read to you about his first meeting with the Prophet Joseph Smith. He recorded,
Before I saw Joseph I said I did not care how old he was, or how young he was; I did not care how he looked—whether his hair was long or short; the man that advanced that revelation was a prophet of God. I knew it for myself. I first met Joseph Smith in the streets of Kirtland. He had on an old hat, and a pistol in his hand. Said he, “Brother Woodruff, I’ve been out shooting at a mark, and I wanted to see if I could hit anything.” And, said he, “Have you any objection to it?”
“Not at all,” said I. “There is no law against a man shooting at a mark, that I know of.”
He invited me to his house. He had a wolf skin, which he wanted me to help him to tan; he wanted it to sit on while driving his wagon team. Now, many might have said, “You are a pretty prophet; shooting a pistol and tanning a wolf skin.” Well, we tanned it, and used it while making a journey of a thousand miles. This was my first acquaintance with the Prophet Joseph. And from that day until the present, with all the apostasies that we have had, and with all the difficulties and afflictions we have been called to pass through, I never saw a moment when I had any doubt with regard to this work.
Before I saw Joseph I said I did not care how old he was, or how young he was; I did not care how he looked—whether his hair was long or short; the man that advanced that revelation was a prophet of God. I knew it for myself. I first met Joseph Smith in the streets of Kirtland. He had on an old hat, and a pistol in his hand. Said he, “Brother Woodruff, I’ve been out shooting at a mark, and I wanted to see if I could hit anything.” And, said he, “Have you any objection to it?”
“Not at all,” said I. “There is no law against a man shooting at a mark, that I know of.”
He invited me to his house. He had a wolf skin, which he wanted me to help him to tan; he wanted it to sit on while driving his wagon team. Now, many might have said, “You are a pretty prophet; shooting a pistol and tanning a wolf skin.” Well, we tanned it, and used it while making a journey of a thousand miles. This was my first acquaintance with the Prophet Joseph. And from that day until the present, with all the apostasies that we have had, and with all the difficulties and afflictions we have been called to pass through, I never saw a moment when I had any doubt with regard to this work.
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👤 Joseph Smith
👤 Early Saints
👤 Other
When Ye Do What I Say
Summary: Elder Boyd K. Packer’s counsel inspired the narrator to lovingly express to her husband what his baptism would mean to her. After fasting and praying, she asked him if he could accept the gospel; he declined, and she gently told him he couldn't give her the thing she wanted most. Within six months he was baptized. Friends, a Sunday School teacher, and their missionary son’s letters also encouraged him, and by 1974 he served as a second counselor in the bishopric.
But it was the inspiring words of Elder Boyd K. Packer of the Council of the Twelve, given at the Relief Society conference in Salt Lake City in the fall of 1971, that gave me the courage to tell my husband how I felt about him joining the Church. Among other things, Elder Packer said:
“I have often said that a man cannot resist membership if his wife really wants him to have it, and if she knows how to give him encouragement.
“If you have faith enough and desire enough, you will yet have at the head of your home a father and husband who is active and faithful in the Church.
“Some who have long since lost hope have said bitterly, ‘It would take a miracle!’ And so I say, Why not? Why not a miracle! Is there a purpose more worthy than that?
“And I repeat, if your husband doesn’t feel at home going to church, then do everything you can to make him feel at church while he’s at home.
“Sisters, make the gospel seem worthwhile to them, and then let them know that that is your purpose.
“He needs to know, he needs to be told that you care about the gospel and what it means to you.” (“Begin Where You Are—at Home,” International Magazines, July 1972.)
Now an apostle of the Lord had told me to tell my husband what it would mean to me for him to accept the gospel. What a task! In our home the gospel was never mentioned unless my husband started talking about it first. I wept, trying to figure out how I’d ever be able to do it. Then I remembered the scripture, “I, the Lord, am bound when ye do what I say; but when ye do not what I say, ye have no promise” (D&C 82:10). I decided once again to fast and pray and trust in the Lord. It took me until January 1972 to find the courage to speak.
Then, one night, I asked Norman if he felt he could ever accept the gospel. He gave me a firm, but not unkind, no. Taking a deep breath, I told him how much the boys and I loved him, what a fine father and husband he had been; but, I said, he was unable to give me the thing I wanted most of all. Well, I had done it! An apostle of the Lord had told me to do it. Within six months of that night, after thirty-seven years of marriage, Norman was baptized. It was indeed a miracle.
Looking back on the months following that January conversation, I can see that many things happened to bring this about. Some friends from Salt Lake City gave Norman the book, No More Strangers by Hartman and Connie Rector, and challenged Norman to take his place at the head of his family and bear the priesthood. After our younger boy’s missionary farewell, where Norman spoke briefly, Norman’s Sunday School teacher challenged him to be baptized. Steven wrote letters of encouragement and asked his dad to read the Book of Mormon. Douglas also bore testimony to him. Though Steven had left a nonmember father behind in 1972, he returned in 1974 to find his father sitting on the stand as second counselor in the bishopric.
“I have often said that a man cannot resist membership if his wife really wants him to have it, and if she knows how to give him encouragement.
“If you have faith enough and desire enough, you will yet have at the head of your home a father and husband who is active and faithful in the Church.
“Some who have long since lost hope have said bitterly, ‘It would take a miracle!’ And so I say, Why not? Why not a miracle! Is there a purpose more worthy than that?
“And I repeat, if your husband doesn’t feel at home going to church, then do everything you can to make him feel at church while he’s at home.
“Sisters, make the gospel seem worthwhile to them, and then let them know that that is your purpose.
“He needs to know, he needs to be told that you care about the gospel and what it means to you.” (“Begin Where You Are—at Home,” International Magazines, July 1972.)
Now an apostle of the Lord had told me to tell my husband what it would mean to me for him to accept the gospel. What a task! In our home the gospel was never mentioned unless my husband started talking about it first. I wept, trying to figure out how I’d ever be able to do it. Then I remembered the scripture, “I, the Lord, am bound when ye do what I say; but when ye do not what I say, ye have no promise” (D&C 82:10). I decided once again to fast and pray and trust in the Lord. It took me until January 1972 to find the courage to speak.
Then, one night, I asked Norman if he felt he could ever accept the gospel. He gave me a firm, but not unkind, no. Taking a deep breath, I told him how much the boys and I loved him, what a fine father and husband he had been; but, I said, he was unable to give me the thing I wanted most of all. Well, I had done it! An apostle of the Lord had told me to do it. Within six months of that night, after thirty-seven years of marriage, Norman was baptized. It was indeed a miracle.
Looking back on the months following that January conversation, I can see that many things happened to bring this about. Some friends from Salt Lake City gave Norman the book, No More Strangers by Hartman and Connie Rector, and challenged Norman to take his place at the head of his family and bear the priesthood. After our younger boy’s missionary farewell, where Norman spoke briefly, Norman’s Sunday School teacher challenged him to be baptized. Steven wrote letters of encouragement and asked his dad to read the Book of Mormon. Douglas also bore testimony to him. Though Steven had left a nonmember father behind in 1972, he returned in 1974 to find his father sitting on the stand as second counselor in the bishopric.
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👤 General Authorities (Modern)
👤 Parents
👤 Other
👤 Children
👤 Missionaries
👤 Church Members (General)
Apostle
Baptism
Bishop
Book of Mormon
Conversion
Courage
Faith
Family
Fasting and Fast Offerings
Marriage
Miracles
Missionary Work
Prayer
Priesthood
Relief Society
Testimony
Telii: Friend, Teacher, and Leader
Summary: In 1850, a company including Louisa Barnes Pratt and her daughters reached Tubuai ahead of Elder Pratt. Louisa asked to meet Telii and Nabota, who hosted a feast despite illness, and the evening ended in joyful himene singing.
In February 1846, Elder Pratt left the branches in Anaa and Tubuai, bound for the United States. He promised to return with additional missionaries. Four and a half years later, on October 21, 1850, 21 travel-weary Latter-day Saints—seven men, five women, and nine children—arrived on the shores of Tubuai.11 Elder Pratt, called to lead a contingent of missionaries back to the islands, had returned in advance of the rest of the group but was detained by colonial officials in Tahiti who were suspicious of the missionaries. Louisa Barnes Pratt, Elder Pratt’s wife, and their four daughters, however, were with the company. Louisa immediately asked to be introduced to her husband’s “old friends” Telii and Nabota. An older man guided her and the other missionaries to Telii and Nabota’s home, where, despite having been sick for several days, Telii had prepared a feast of pork, fish, po’e (a local dish made from taro root), and fruit. The rest of the evening was spent celebrating their arrival by singing himene late into the night. “The music was delightful,” Louisa said. “Their voices are loud and clear.”12
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👤 Missionaries
👤 Church Members (General)
👤 Parents
Adversity
Diversity and Unity in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints
Family
Friendship
Kindness
Missionary Work
Music
Religious Freedom
The Good Life
Summary: After growing up, Nate left on a mission and wrote home early in his service with a dramatic declaration that he would only come home early in a body bag. The speaker saw this as a sign of total commitment to Christ and missionary service. Nate's simple written goals showed how plain, realistic goals help a person stay fully engaged in the Lord's work.
Nathan eventually grew up and left on a mission. In one of his first letters home he declared, "The mission is hard, but the only way I'm coming home early is in a body bag!" Talk about commitment. He was all-in. It was a proud "DAD" moment for me.
My son was essentially declaring, "I'm willing to give the ultimate sacrifice for Christ." Meaning, I am willing to sacrifice my life to teach His gospel. He had a simple focus of being present on the mission.
Here is a list of some of his first goals set in the mission field.
Stay awake in All meetings on Monday.
Use the last study time right.
Don't go home for the next 23 months.
Make meaningful goals tomorrow night.
As we can see, goals don't need to be complicated to execute a plan. They just need to be real. The more plain and reasonable a goal is, the better!
My son was essentially declaring, "I'm willing to give the ultimate sacrifice for Christ." Meaning, I am willing to sacrifice my life to teach His gospel. He had a simple focus of being present on the mission.
Here is a list of some of his first goals set in the mission field.
Stay awake in All meetings on Monday.
Use the last study time right.
Don't go home for the next 23 months.
Make meaningful goals tomorrow night.
As we can see, goals don't need to be complicated to execute a plan. They just need to be real. The more plain and reasonable a goal is, the better!
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👤 Missionaries
👤 Parents
👤 Young Adults
Nourish the Roots, and the Branches Will Grow
Summary: As a child in Zwickau, Germany, the speaker attended sacrament meetings in an old villa and sometimes helped pump the organ bellows. While viewing stained-glass windows of Jesus Christ and Joseph Smith, he felt a powerful spiritual witness of the truth. Returning to Zwickau in 2024, he found the chapel had been demolished, yet his testimony had only grown stronger. He concludes that buildings fade, but a testimony rooted in Christ endures.
The year 2024 is something of a milestone year for me. It marks 75 years since I was baptized and confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Zwickau, Germany.
When I think about my personal journey of discipleship, my mind often goes back to an old villa in Zwickau, where I have cherished memories of attending sacrament meetings of the Church of Jesus Christ as a child. It is there where the seedling of my testimony received its earliest nourishing.
This chapel had an old air-driven organ. Every Sunday a young man was assigned to push up and down the sturdy lever operating the bellows to make the organ work. I sometimes had the great privilege of assisting in this important task.
While the congregation sang our beloved hymns, I pumped with all my strength so the organ would not run out of wind. From the bellows operator seat, I had a great view of some stunning stained-glass windows, one depicting the Savior Jesus Christ and another portraying Joseph Smith in the Sacred Grove.
I can still remember the sacred feelings I had as I looked at those sunlit windows while listening to the testimonies of the Saints and singing the hymns of Zion.
In that holy place, the Spirit of God bore witness to my mind and heart that it was true: Jesus Christ is the Savior of the world. This is His Church. The Prophet Joseph Smith saw God the Father and Jesus Christ and heard Their voices.
Earlier this year, while on assignment in Europe, I had the opportunity to return to Zwickau. Sadly, that beloved old chapel isn’t there anymore. It was torn down many years ago to make room for a large apartment building.
I admit that it’s sad to know that this beloved building from my childhood is now just a memory. It was a sacred building to me. But it was just a building.
By contrast, the spiritual witness I gained from the Holy Ghost those many years ago has not passed away. In fact, it has grown stronger. The things I learned in my youth about the fundamental principles of the gospel of Jesus Christ have been my firm foundation throughout my life. The covenant connection I forged with my Heavenly Father and His Beloved Son has stayed with me—long after the Zwickau chapel was dismantled and the stained-glass windows were lost.
When I think about my personal journey of discipleship, my mind often goes back to an old villa in Zwickau, where I have cherished memories of attending sacrament meetings of the Church of Jesus Christ as a child. It is there where the seedling of my testimony received its earliest nourishing.
This chapel had an old air-driven organ. Every Sunday a young man was assigned to push up and down the sturdy lever operating the bellows to make the organ work. I sometimes had the great privilege of assisting in this important task.
While the congregation sang our beloved hymns, I pumped with all my strength so the organ would not run out of wind. From the bellows operator seat, I had a great view of some stunning stained-glass windows, one depicting the Savior Jesus Christ and another portraying Joseph Smith in the Sacred Grove.
I can still remember the sacred feelings I had as I looked at those sunlit windows while listening to the testimonies of the Saints and singing the hymns of Zion.
In that holy place, the Spirit of God bore witness to my mind and heart that it was true: Jesus Christ is the Savior of the world. This is His Church. The Prophet Joseph Smith saw God the Father and Jesus Christ and heard Their voices.
Earlier this year, while on assignment in Europe, I had the opportunity to return to Zwickau. Sadly, that beloved old chapel isn’t there anymore. It was torn down many years ago to make room for a large apartment building.
I admit that it’s sad to know that this beloved building from my childhood is now just a memory. It was a sacred building to me. But it was just a building.
By contrast, the spiritual witness I gained from the Holy Ghost those many years ago has not passed away. In fact, it has grown stronger. The things I learned in my youth about the fundamental principles of the gospel of Jesus Christ have been my firm foundation throughout my life. The covenant connection I forged with my Heavenly Father and His Beloved Son has stayed with me—long after the Zwickau chapel was dismantled and the stained-glass windows were lost.
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👤 General Authorities (Modern)
👤 Children
👤 Church Members (General)
Baptism
Covenant
Holy Ghost
Jesus Christ
Joseph Smith
Music
Sacrament Meeting
Testimony
The Restoration
FYI:For Your Information
Summary: Bored youth in the East Liverpool Branch decided to create an original silent movie with a full cast of characters. Young Women wrote the script and enlisted Aaronic Priesthood members to perform. The project provided fun and culminated in a showing at a dance.
The Mutual-age youth of the East Liverpool Branch in Ohio were starting to get bored last summer, but instead of taking a nap, they decided to put their heads together and plan a special project. The idea they came up with was an original silent movie, complete with a hero, heroine, two villains, and a poor little fellow named Elmer who is in love with Penelope, the heroine. The Beehives, Mia Maids, and Laurels wrote the script and talked the Aaronic Priesthood members into joining them as performers. The result was a lot of fun, and a movie to show at a dance last fall.
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👤 Youth
Movies and Television
Unity
Young Men
Young Women
Lindsay’s Priesthood Blessing
Summary: Before surgery, Lindsay’s family held a family home evening about priesthood blessings, and her father gave her a blessing promising peace. At the hospital, Lindsay still felt afraid until she noticed a hospital worker wearing a CTR ring. The familiar symbol brought a warm, peaceful feeling, fulfilling the blessing’s promise and easing her fears.
Lindsay felt nervous as she looked around the hospital room. She knew that soon someone would come to take her to the operating room for surgery. Mom and Dad stood close to her bed.
A few days before, Lindsay’s family had had a special family home evening. Mom gave a lesson about priesthood blessings. Then each member of the family told about a time when he or she was blessed by the power of the priesthood. Lindsay felt peaceful and happy as she listened to their testimonies. Mom explained that the peaceful feeling was the Holy Ghost telling Lindsay that what she was hearing was true.
At the end of the lesson, Lindsay’s older brother, who held the Melchizedek Priesthood, put a drop of consecrated oil on her head and said a prayer. Then Dad gave her a wonderful blessing. He said that Heavenly Father knew and loved her. He said that the doctors would be blessed in their work and that the surgery would go well. He also promised that Lindsay would have a special feeling of comfort and peace that would replace her fears.
Waiting in the hospital, Lindsay tried to be brave, but tears slowly leaked from the corners of her eyes. Two men in hospital clothes came into her room and said it was time for the surgery. They were kind as they tried to cheer her up, but still Lindsay’s fear did not go away.
Lindsay hugged Mom and Dad from her bed. Then one of the men pulled up the railing on her bed so she would be safe as they wheeled her down the hall. As Lindsay turned to see what he was doing, she saw a familiar silver ring on his finger. A warm, peaceful feeling filled her heart as she saw the letters CTR on the ring. Lindsay smiled as her fears slipped away. She knew that everything was going to be fine.
A few days before, Lindsay’s family had had a special family home evening. Mom gave a lesson about priesthood blessings. Then each member of the family told about a time when he or she was blessed by the power of the priesthood. Lindsay felt peaceful and happy as she listened to their testimonies. Mom explained that the peaceful feeling was the Holy Ghost telling Lindsay that what she was hearing was true.
At the end of the lesson, Lindsay’s older brother, who held the Melchizedek Priesthood, put a drop of consecrated oil on her head and said a prayer. Then Dad gave her a wonderful blessing. He said that Heavenly Father knew and loved her. He said that the doctors would be blessed in their work and that the surgery would go well. He also promised that Lindsay would have a special feeling of comfort and peace that would replace her fears.
Waiting in the hospital, Lindsay tried to be brave, but tears slowly leaked from the corners of her eyes. Two men in hospital clothes came into her room and said it was time for the surgery. They were kind as they tried to cheer her up, but still Lindsay’s fear did not go away.
Lindsay hugged Mom and Dad from her bed. Then one of the men pulled up the railing on her bed so she would be safe as they wheeled her down the hall. As Lindsay turned to see what he was doing, she saw a familiar silver ring on his finger. A warm, peaceful feeling filled her heart as she saw the letters CTR on the ring. Lindsay smiled as her fears slipped away. She knew that everything was going to be fine.
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👤 Children
👤 Parents
👤 Young Adults
👤 Church Members (General)
Children
Courage
Faith
Family
Family Home Evening
Health
Holy Ghost
Love
Parenting
Peace
Prayer
Priesthood
Priesthood Blessing
Testimony
“To Thine Own Self Be True”
Summary: As a seventeen-year-old, Joe was swept into a mob by his friends after being told a man had harmed a girl. At the hanging site, the mob leader ordered Joe to kick the horse beneath the accused man, and Joe yielded to the pressure. When the victim was later found innocent, Joe spent decades in anguish over what he had done and learned the terrible cost of ignoring conscience.
A man told this story about his youth. It seems that when he was seventeen, he used to run with a gang of boys who had great times together. One night after they had been together, he heard the shouting of excited people coming toward his house. Being curious, he dressed and went downstairs to discover that a mob was approaching. It was not long until it arrived and from it sprang three or four of his friends, all members of the gang. One of them said to him, “Come with us, Joe. This man has hurt a girl and we’re going to lynch him.” Before Joe could ask any questions, they grabbed him by the arms and he was swept along in a swirling, shouting sea of humanity.
A mile from his house was a large oak tree. Almost before he knew what was happening, the mob had placed a rope around the accused man’s neck, placed him on a horse, and thrown the rope over the limb of a tree. The moment of death had arrived. Have you ever known such a moment when important things weigh in the balance?
A profound silence came over the mob. The last details of the lynching had been completed. Quite by chance or by the force of circumstance, Joe found himself right next to the horse. Suddenly, the leader—and every mob has such a leader—shouted at him. “Joe, kick that horse and let’s get this thing over with.” The tension within Joe could not be described. He’d never seen this man before. But here Joe was with all these people watching him, anxious for him to carry out the command. He felt the pressure as he hesitated, but then, blinded by emotion and the desire to have the approval of the mob, he kicked the horse. The man met his death.
The next day the mob discovered that they had lynched an innocent human being. This man had had nothing to do with the alleged crime. And for sixty-five years Joe tried to find peace. He wished again and again in the agony of his soul that at the moment when the mob took him along and he found himself by the side of the horse he had had the ability and courage to live as his conscience dictated.
But from his agony and suffering he reported that he learned many things. He learned that some people try to have many consciences. “This is the way I act with the gang because I want their approval. And this is the way I act in school or at work. This is the way I act in church, but this is the way I act on Saturday night.”
A mile from his house was a large oak tree. Almost before he knew what was happening, the mob had placed a rope around the accused man’s neck, placed him on a horse, and thrown the rope over the limb of a tree. The moment of death had arrived. Have you ever known such a moment when important things weigh in the balance?
A profound silence came over the mob. The last details of the lynching had been completed. Quite by chance or by the force of circumstance, Joe found himself right next to the horse. Suddenly, the leader—and every mob has such a leader—shouted at him. “Joe, kick that horse and let’s get this thing over with.” The tension within Joe could not be described. He’d never seen this man before. But here Joe was with all these people watching him, anxious for him to carry out the command. He felt the pressure as he hesitated, but then, blinded by emotion and the desire to have the approval of the mob, he kicked the horse. The man met his death.
The next day the mob discovered that they had lynched an innocent human being. This man had had nothing to do with the alleged crime. And for sixty-five years Joe tried to find peace. He wished again and again in the agony of his soul that at the moment when the mob took him along and he found himself by the side of the horse he had had the ability and courage to live as his conscience dictated.
But from his agony and suffering he reported that he learned many things. He learned that some people try to have many consciences. “This is the way I act with the gang because I want their approval. And this is the way I act in school or at work. This is the way I act in church, but this is the way I act on Saturday night.”
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👤 Youth
👤 Friends
👤 Other
Revelation
Summary: As a new counselor in a stake presidency, the speaker initially opposed the proposed location for a new stake center. After praying, he felt a strong impression that he was wrong and removed his opposition. The decision proved wise, confirming the restraining revelation.
One of my first experiences in being restrained by the Spirit came soon after I was called as a counselor in a stake presidency in Chicago. In one of our first stake presidency meetings our stake president made a proposal that our new stake center be built in a particular location. I immediately saw four or five good reasons why that was the wrong location. When asked for my counsel, I opposed the proposal, giving each of those reasons. The stake president wisely proposed that each of us consider the matter prayerfully for a week and discuss it further in our next meeting. Almost perfunctorily I prayed about the subject and immediately received a strong impression that I was wrong, that I was standing in the way of the Lord’s will, and that I should remove myself from opposition to it. Needless to say, I was restrained and promptly gave my approval to the proposed construction. Incidentally, the wisdom of constructing the stake center at that location was soon evident, even to me. My reasons to the contrary turned out to be short-sighted, and I was soon grateful to have been restrained from relying on them.
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👤 Church Leaders (Local)
Holy Ghost
Humility
Obedience
Prayer
Revelation
Rainy Day
Summary: After mocking his friend Lissa's new kitten's name, Corey refuses to apologize and ends up playing alone in the rain. Realizing puddles aren't fun without a friend, he sends a cardboard boat down the gutter to Lissa. He then approaches her, apologizes for making fun of the name, and they happily play together again.
“Why are you still inside?” Corey’s mother asked. “You always like to play in the puddles when it rains.” Corey sat on the window seat, watching the last of the rain drip-drip-drip off the roof. “I always play in the puddles with Lissa,” he said. “But we had a fight yesterday.”
“Oh?”
“She named her new kitten Mannington. I told her that was a dumb name for a cat.”
“Did you tell her you were sorry?”
Corey stuck his chin out stubbornly. “I’m not sorry,” he said. “It is a dumb name.”
Mother smiled and said, “Do you remember the name you gave the goldfish we had last year?”
Corey remembered that he had named the timid little goldfish Shark, just to be funny. “I guess it was kind of a dumb name, too,” he admitted. “I think I’ll go outside now.”
Corey spattered a few puddles with his rubber boots. He swish-swished through the water running down the gutter.
“Puddles aren’t any fun alone,” he mumbled. “There’s nobody to splash with or to help me throw big rocks in the puddles.”
He started slowly back home. He didn’t kick through the puddles. He didn’t even jump over them. He walked around them with regular, un-rainy-day steps.
In front of his house the rainwater ran along the curb like a little river. He watched the leaves scooting along like tiny boats toward Lissa’s house.
Lissa was outside playing by herself too. I know what I’ll do, Corey thought, racing into his house. In a few minutes he came back with a cardboard boat that he had made out of an old cereal box.
He launched his boat into the gutter, then hid behind a tree to watch. Bump … dip … spin. It was a rough ride, but his craft was seaworthy.
Lissa squealed happily when she saw the boat. She reached down and plucked it from the water. Then she looked up and saw Corey peeking out from behind the tree. She waved and called to him.
When he got close to her, he said, “I think Mannington is a fine name for your cat. I’m sorry I made fun of it.”
“Thanks, Corey, for telling me that.” She smiled at him and handed him the boat. “Come on—let’s see who can find the biggest puddle to splash in.”
“Oh?”
“She named her new kitten Mannington. I told her that was a dumb name for a cat.”
“Did you tell her you were sorry?”
Corey stuck his chin out stubbornly. “I’m not sorry,” he said. “It is a dumb name.”
Mother smiled and said, “Do you remember the name you gave the goldfish we had last year?”
Corey remembered that he had named the timid little goldfish Shark, just to be funny. “I guess it was kind of a dumb name, too,” he admitted. “I think I’ll go outside now.”
Corey spattered a few puddles with his rubber boots. He swish-swished through the water running down the gutter.
“Puddles aren’t any fun alone,” he mumbled. “There’s nobody to splash with or to help me throw big rocks in the puddles.”
He started slowly back home. He didn’t kick through the puddles. He didn’t even jump over them. He walked around them with regular, un-rainy-day steps.
In front of his house the rainwater ran along the curb like a little river. He watched the leaves scooting along like tiny boats toward Lissa’s house.
Lissa was outside playing by herself too. I know what I’ll do, Corey thought, racing into his house. In a few minutes he came back with a cardboard boat that he had made out of an old cereal box.
He launched his boat into the gutter, then hid behind a tree to watch. Bump … dip … spin. It was a rough ride, but his craft was seaworthy.
Lissa squealed happily when she saw the boat. She reached down and plucked it from the water. Then she looked up and saw Corey peeking out from behind the tree. She waved and called to him.
When he got close to her, he said, “I think Mannington is a fine name for your cat. I’m sorry I made fun of it.”
“Thanks, Corey, for telling me that.” She smiled at him and handed him the boat. “Come on—let’s see who can find the biggest puddle to splash in.”
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👤 Children
👤 Parents
👤 Friends
Children
Forgiveness
Friendship
Kindness
Parenting