Gospel Story Finder

A girl I will call Liz is an example of what I am talking about. She was a student in a math class with a girl I will call Lindsay, who noticed that there was just something about Liz that “glowed,” as she put it. Lindsay admitted that she really didn’t think Liz knew her, but she still made her feel good. She really stood up for what she believed, and she always made others feel good and included. For several weeks Lindsay observed Liz. Then one day, Liz didn’t show up at school. Then another and then another passed. Lindsay finally learned that Liz was very ill with life-threatening meningitis.
She came home from school and just sat at the table crying. It wasn’t like she and Liz were close friends, but she said to her mom that they just had to do something to help her. Lindsay suggested that perhaps their whole family could fast and pray for Liz. What a shock it was for the mother to hear that coming from one of her own children, because fasting and prayer had not been mentioned in their home for years. When Lindsay and her mom talked with the rest of the family about it that night at supper, there was some resistance, but Lindsay pleaded with them and finally they all agreed to fast and pray for Liz, a stranger. The most wonderful thing happened. It wasn’t long before Liz returned to school appearing healthy and happy as ever. But even more important than this, the experience brought the most remarkable spirit of hope into Lindsay’s home. Because of it, some serious changes have taken place in their family. They are now having family prayer together, something that had not happened for years.
Liz’s goodness glowed, and it was catching. Liz, if you are here tonight, I would just like to say, “Thank you! By your goodness you have blessed at least one whole family whom you probably do not even know. And who knows how many others have been guided as you held high your torch.”

Kathy listened as Mr. Sodeberg explained how people migrated in the United States. She was excited about her new history class. Flipping through the pages of her new history book, Kathy stopped at a picture of Brigham Young. She had never realized Brigham Young’s significance in United States history before.
Mr. Sodeberg finished his lecture. “There will be homework every day,” he said. “Your first assignment is due tomorrow.”
At home Kathy sighed as she looked at all the questions Mr. Sodeberg had assigned.
“Tough day at school?” Mom asked.
“Homework every day,” Kathy said. She remembered the picture in her history book. “Mom, Brigham Young is in my textbook. What makes him so important in U.S. history?”
“He directed the migration of thousands of Latter-day Saints to the Salt Lake Valley. Then he organized them into settlements,” Mom said. “That took a lot of planning. It was a significant part of the country’s westward migration.”
The next day Mr. Sodeberg announced, “Next week we will perform a readers’ theater. Each of you will dramatize a character of the westward migration. Your parents and other students will be invited to attend the performance.”
Mr. Sodeberg began assigning characters and handing out scripts. When he asked who wanted the part of Brigham Young, Kathy quickly raised her hand.
“Tonight’s homework is to begin memorizing your part,” Mr. Sodeberg said. “You must recite it perfectly. Your grade depends on it.”
Kathy read over her part as she and her friend Laura left class. A terrible feeling came over her. “This is all wrong,” she said to Laura. “It makes Brigham Young sound dishonest.”
“You just see things differently because of your church,” Laura said.
“I can’t say these things,” Kathy said.
“You have to recite them perfectly,” Laura reminded her.
Tears rolled down Kathy’s cheeks as she ran home and burst through the front door.
“More homework?” Mom asked.
“Worse,” Kathy said, handing her the script. “Read this.”
Mom read the script and shook her head. “This writer didn’t know a lot about Brigham Young.”
“What should I do?” Kathy asked.
“First let’s find a Brigham Young costume,” Mom said.
Kathy tried on Grandpa’s long black coat and rolled up the sleeves on her brother’s white shirt. Mr. Grandi next door showed Kathy how to walk with his extra wooden cane.
Mom found a tall black hat in a closet and put it on Kathy’s head. “You’d make Brigham Young proud,” Mom said. “Now you need a new script.”
Kathy looked for information about Brigham Young in Church history books and on the Church website. Soon the script was rewritten.
“The true story of Brigham Young,” Kathy said.
On the day of the performance, Kathy’s class gathered in the auditorium. Parents and other students waited in their seats. Mr. Sodeberg introduced the program; then he stood offstage as the students recited their parts.
Alex recited his script perfectly, but Randall mixed up his words. Mr. Sodeberg made him begin again. Kathy squeezed her cane. When it was her turn, Kathy recited the true story of Brigham Young.
“Did you change your script?” Laura asked after the performance.
“Yes. I told the truth,” Kathy said.
“Here comes Mr. Sodeberg,” Laura said.
“Well done, ladies,” Mr. Sodeberg said. “Kathy,” he continued, “you were the best Brigham Young I have ever seen.”

Hermann Mössner was nervous as he walked into the chapel. He and his friends from the English prison camp were still in their uniforms, marked with the letters “P.O.W.” Everyone knew those letters stood for “prisoner of war.” What would the members of the branch think? Would they see him as their enemy?
Hermann was from Germany. After being forced to fight in World War II, he had been captured by British soldiers and sent to the prison camp. This was the first time he’d been allowed to go to church since being captured.
Hermann took a deep breath as he sat down on one of the benches. He could see the branch president, George Camm, sitting at the front. President Camm was Hermann’s friend. Seeing him smile made Hermann feel better.
Several months ago, President Camm came to visit Hermann at camp after hearing that he was the only member of the Church there. At first Hermann was a little worried. Would President Camm hate him? Their countries had fought against each other in the war, after all.
But when Hermann and President Camm met, they smiled and shook hands. Then they prayed together. They sang songs and talked about the gospel. They even took the sacrament together.
“I love you, my brother,” Hermann said when President Camm had to leave. He saw tears in President Camm’s eyes as he waved goodbye.
After that, President Camm visited Hermann every Saturday. During the rest of the week, Hermann did his best to live the gospel. He shared his testimony with the other prisoners while they worked in the fields. He answered their questions while they carved wood after a long day’s work. Sometimes he prayed with them.
“Hey, Hermann,” one of the prisoners had said one night. “Could I join you and Mr. Camm on Saturday?”
Hermann looked up from the block of wood he was carving. He smiled. “Of course!”
“May I too?” another prisoner asked.
Hermann and President Camm were very excited to teach more of the prisoners. Soon some of them even wanted to be baptized!
And now, as Hermann looked around the chapel at the families waiting for church to start, he felt peace. Some members were nervous around Hermann at first. But soon everyone came to trust him. The other prisoners who wanted to learn about the gospel got permission to leave camp to go to church with Hermann on Sundays. Later, Hermann was even called to be the branch Sunday School president.
Time passed, and Christmas got closer. Hermann wanted to do something to thank the members who had been so kind to him. Then he had an idea! It was almost time for the branch Christmas party. Hermann gathered more blocks of wood and started carving. One by one, he turned the blocks into little cars, elephants, planes, trains, and horses.
Finally the day of the party arrived. Everyone ate food and sang Christmas songs together. Hermann and his friends from camp sang Christmas songs in German.
Then Hermann pulled out a big bag. Inside were 40 wooden toys! Hermann gave one to each Primary child. It was a Christmas they would never forget.
After three years in the prison camp, Hermann returned to his family in Germany. Years later, Hermann visited the same chapel in Leeds, England, he attended as a prisoner of war. Some of the grownups there told him they still had the wooden toys he had carved for them when they were children!
See Come, Follow Me for Moroni 7–9 and Christmas.

Recently I read the true account of a dramatic manifestation concerning these promises. A faithful member of the Church, John A. Larsen, served during World War II in the United States Coast Guard on the ship USS Cambria. During a battle in the Philippines, word came of an approaching squadron of bombers and kamikaze fighter planes. Orders were given for immediate evacuation. Since the USS Cambria was already gone, John and three companions gathered their gear and hurried to the beach, hoping for a lift out to one of the departing ships. Fortunately, a landing craft picked them up and sped toward the last ship leaving the bay. The men on that departing ship, in an effort to evacuate as quickly as possible, were busy on deck and had time only to throw ropes to the four men, that they might hopefully be able to climb to the deck.
John, with a heavy radio strapped to his back, found himself dangling at the end of a 40-foot (12 m) rope, at the side of a ship headed out to the open sea. He began pulling himself up, hand over hand, knowing that if he lost his grip, he would almost certainly perish. After climbing only a third of the way, he felt his arms burning with pain. He had become so weak that he felt he could no longer hold on.
With his strength depleted, as he grimly contemplated his fate, John silently cried unto God, telling Him that he had always kept the Word of Wisdom and had lived a clean life—and he now desperately needed the promised blessings.
John later said that as he finished his prayer, he felt a great surge of strength. He began climbing once again and fairly flew up the rope. When he reached the deck, his breathing was normal and not the least bit labored. The blessings of added health and stamina promised in the Word of Wisdom had been his. He gave thanks to his Heavenly Father then, and throughout the remainder of his life, for the answer to his desperate prayer for help.2

When Richard Moyer lost his job, he and his family ate food from their home storage, paid bills using their savings, and continued to pay tithing faithfully. Despite his unemployment, Brother Moyer was amazed to see that he made exactly U.S. $1.00 more income that year than the previous one. “I have always attributed that miracle in our lives to paying tithing,” Brother Moyer explains. “The Lord always blesses you when you do the things He wants you to do.”
President N. Eldon Tanner (1898–1982) of the First Presidency taught that tithing is a commandment with a promise: “As you discharge this obligation to your Maker, you will find great, great happiness, the like of which is known only by those who are faithful to this commandment.”2 Obedience to this commandment brings peace and security. As Church members pay tithes and offerings they will experience miracles in their lives, as the Moyer family did.

Young Women in the San Jose California South Stake are wondering why everyone tells such horror stories about boot camp. As far as they’re concerned, it’s about the greatest thing to do with their free summer days.
Of course, their “boots” were a little different than those worn in the military, and it was a training camp for living a Christlike life, rather than serving as a soldier. BOOT (which stands for “building our own testimonies”) camp had a lot of the same activities that all girls’ camps have. But the highlight of camp was having poems written by the girls set to music by their stake president. The songs were then sung by a guest soloist at a special camp fireside, and tape-recorded for the girls to keep.
“It made my poem sound so good,” says April Gustavson. “I couldn’t believe it was something that I wrote.”

Brandon already knew a little about the Church. “I had been to meetings with Teren and with his cousin before,” Brandon says, “but I wasn’t as consistent as I should have been. Then the Palmers invited me to their family home evenings.” One of the first lessons was about Joseph Smith’s efforts to find the true Church. “I liked how Joseph was looking for the right Church, wanting to gain peace and faith like I wanted to,” Brandon recalls. The Spirit bore witness that Joseph’s story was true, and Brandon accepted the commitment to study and pray. That was a turning point. The next day he sent a text message to Brother Palmer: “I asked God, and He told me this is true.”
The more he studied and prayed, the more he found answers. He started coming to seminary, going to church, and meeting with the missionaries. “The discussions were good,” he says. “The missionaries explained things. They made it easier to understand, and they taught me the commandments—the Word of Wisdom, tithing, all of the things that Heavenly Father wants us to do.”
But what impressed him the most was how he felt about showing his love for the Savior through service. “The gospel has brought me closer to Christ,” Brandon says. “I’ve learned a lot about how important it is to serve others, because when you do, you’re serving Him.”

Several years ago, Sister Packer and I determined that we should get our records in order. However, under the pressure of Church responsibilities with my travels about the world, and the obligations with our large family and a home to keep up both indoors and outdoors, there just was not enough time. We were restless and finally determined that we would have to make more time in the day.

So during the Christmas holidays, when we had a little extra time, we started. Then as we moved back to a regular schedule after the holidays, we adopted the practice of getting up an hour or two earlier each day.

We gathered everything we had together and in the course of a few weeks, we were amazed at what we were able to accomplish. The thing that was most impressive, however, was the fact that we began to have experiences that told us somehow that we were being guided, that there were those beyond the veil who were interested in what we were doing. Everything that needed to happen began to happen.

As we have traveled about the Church and paid particular attention to this subject, many testimonies have come to light. Others who assemble their records together are having similar experiences. It was as though the Lord was waiting for us to begin.

We found pictures, records and stories we had wondered about for a long time. It seemed as though they came to us almost too easily. More than this, things that we never dreamed existed began to show up. We began to learn by personal experience that this research into our families is an inspired work. We came to know that an inspiration will follow those who move into it. It is just a matter of getting started.

Once we started, we found the time. Somehow were able to carry on all of the other responsibilities. There seemed to be an increased inspiration in our lives because of the work.

But we must decide, and the Lord will not tamper with our agency. If we want a testimony of genealogical and temple work, we must do something about it.

The Lord will bless you once you begin this work. This has been very evident to us. Since the time we decided that we would start where we were, with what we had, many things have opened to us. We are still not, by any means, experts in genealogical research. We are, however, dedicated to our family. And it is my testimony that if we start where we are, each of us with ourselves, with such records as we have, and begin putting those in order, things will fall into place as they should.

There weren’t many Latter-day Saints in the small town of Princeton, New Jersey, where I spent my childhood. Mine was the only Latter-day Saint family in the town when I was growing up. As a result, my friends didn’t know much about the Church. Most of my classmates were Christians, however, and each morning our teacher would have us take turns reading out loud from the Bible—something that isn’t done in public schools today.
When my turn came, I always chose to read the thirteenth chapter of 1 Corinthians, which is about charity, the pure love of Christ. I had had a special experience as a little boy that impressed me that the scripture was true and was for me. Every time I read it, I had a strong feeling about my future, including my future family. It was a feeling of kindness and love for them. That seemed like a strange thing for a little boy to feel, so I didn’t tell anyone about it. I didn’t tell my brothers; they probably would have laughed at me. And I didn’t tell my parents, either.
When I was eleven, I received a special blessing from my uncle, a patriarch, whom I had never met. In the blessing, I was promised the very things I’d hoped for but had kept hidden in my heart—that I would have the home and family I had always dreamed about. The promises in that blessing have since been fulfilled. I have an absolute testimony of priesthood blessings, and I know that those who are worthy to give blessings are inspired by God.
As I was growing up, there were no Church chapels in the entire state of New Jersey, and so for a time our little branch met in a hotel in a nearby town. My earliest memory of having a testimony of the gospel was when I was five or six years old and we were having a meeting in the ballroom of the hotel. An important visitor was there. I don’t remember now who he was, but he was very thin and tall, and I believe he had white hair.
I had grown restless near the end of the meeting as he was speaking, and my mother had been trying to keep me quiet, but she finally let me sit backward in my chair so that my legs were dangling from it. Although I wasn’t facing the speaker, I was listening to him. Suddenly I felt a burning in my heart, just like the burning described in Doctrine and Covenants 9:8: “And if it is right I will cause that your bosom shall burn within you; therefore, you shall feel that it is right.” [D&C 9:8] I remember turning around and seeing this tall man with the light streaming in from the large windows behind him, and I knew that he was a servant of God and that what he was saying was true. The feeling I had then was as clear and sure as anything could be.
During World War II, the Latter-day Saints in Princeton met for church in our house. I learned then that the Church is not a building; the Church isn’t even a lot of people. I felt close to Heavenly Father and knew that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is His church; it didn’t matter that our little branch met in our dining room. It was fun because when you came downstairs on Sunday, you were in church. The branch members were my father, the branch president; my mother, who played the piano; my two brothers and me, the only youth in the branch; a few graduate students or servicemen; and a few older women who were converts to the Church and whose husbands were not members. Rarely would there be more than ten or fifteen people attending. The sacrament was prepared on the dining room table, which also served as the pulpit. During fast and testimony meeting, I always wondered why the older women cried. I later realized that they cried because they were so happy and grateful to be with the Latter-day Saints in that little branch.
It’s nice to have lots of Latter-day Saints in our meetinghouses. It’s wonderful to have the full programs of the Church. But even where there are only a very few members of the Church, the Lord is there, and He can bless people in wonderful ways. I know that God reaches out to all His children. In the scriptures it says, “Where two or three are gathered together in my name, … there will I be in the midst of them” (D&C 6:32).
Some of you children may live in places where there aren’t many other members of the Church. And some of you may feel lonely even where there are many members, perhaps because you feel that no one understands you or that you aren’t a part of things. But as long as you are faithful and reach out to the true Church of Jesus Christ, and as long as there is even one holder of the priesthood and one or two faithful people to help you, you can have tremendous spiritual experiences and learn and grow in the gospel.

When two Latter-day Saint missionaries visited the Graybeal home in 1959, Alexandria knew their message was special. Her husband and two children were touched, too, and the Graybeals progressed toward baptism. When Brother Graybeal learned that the Air Force was transferring him to Germany, he decided to be baptized before he left. Alexandria, however, was struggling to know whether Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. Some time later, after the family had moved to Germany, her husband said, “If you really want to know, go to Heavenly Father and ask him.” That night Alexandria did just that. “I don’t know what happened,” she explains, “but the next morning I knew Joseph Smith was a prophet.” Alexandria and the two children were baptized a short time later in Kerlsrue, West Germany, in June 1960.
“I just felt wonderful,” Sister Graybeal says, remembering her baptism. “My testimony was strengthened after that, and I couldn’t get enough of the gospel. I studied and studied. It was like walking through a door and finding that the light was shining. It was beautiful.”

Several years ago I spoke at a meeting for members and investigators in the Peru Lima South Mission. I don’t know why I started talking about revelation and the importance of having a prophet, but as I did, I noticed two young men on the first row listening attentively and taking notes. After the meeting, those two young men came to me and said, “You talk about prophets and about revelation. We thought that there weren’t any prophets after John the Baptist.” The young men had been sent by the local priest to find out what I said. I had to catch a plane and didn’t have time to explain more about prophets and revelation. However, I did tell them that if they wanted to have personal revelation, they should read the Book of Mormon and follow the counsel in Moroni 10. I gave them each a Book of Mormon and marked Moroni 10:4–5 [Moro. 10:4–5]. Three months later I received a letter from those young men telling me that they had been baptized. One year later I received another letter saying that they were both preparing to go on missions. The Book of Mormon was what converted them.

In Blackfoot, Idaho, Laurels in the Fifth Ward started from scratch—literally, for that’s what happens when you work with freshly sheared, washed, and dried lamb’s wool! Then came a whole summer of carding the wool, and with only one carder. But the resulting batting was light and fluffy. These Laurels also decided red, white, and blue were the appropriate colors for this year. Since they had a special recipient for their quilt in mind, they added illustrations depicting Young Women’s six areas of awareness—spiritual, cultural, social, service, recreational, and homemaking activities. The quilt was tied with lazy daisy, blue-yarn stitches, and each girl added her name in a corner. Then the whole activity was sewed up with a trip to Salt Lake and a visit with the quilt’s new owner—President Spencer W. Kimball.

Sister Linda K. Burton told the story of a stake Relief Society president who, working with others, collected quilts for people in need during the 1990s. “She and her daughter drove a truck filled with those quilts from London to Kosovo. On her journey home she received an unmistakable spiritual impression that sank deep into her heart. The impression was this: ‘What you have done is a very good thing. Now go home, walk across the street, and serve your neighbor!’”

For example, when Kenneth Miklya was converted to the gospel, the priests quorum in the St. Paul Minnesota First Ward took care of all the baptismal arrangements, under the bishop’s direction. One seventeen-year-old priest conducted the service, another presented an appropriate spiritual message, and a third baptized him. During the following months Ken received the Aaronic Priesthood and was ordained a deacon, a teacher, and a priest—all by his fellow priests quorum members. “It was a meaningful experience for all the young men involved,” says Thomas A. Holt of the St. Paul Minnesota Stake. “The priesthood became a reality to them. Most of these young men are currently serving missions.”

One day I was walking in downtown Fukui when two young men walked up to me. One of them didn’t look Japanese, but he spoke Japanese when he introduced himself.
I said, “I’m sorry, but I don’t speak Japanese. Do you speak English?”
He answered, “Of course! I’m American!”
The young man started speaking English, which I had learned in school. He told me he and his companion were missionaries for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. They talked briefly about Jesus Christ and invited me to church. I hesitated but finally agreed to go.
The first meeting I attended was a fast and testimony meeting. I came late, and as I walked into the chapel, a young woman was crying and talking about how the gospel helped her with her problems. After listening to her and to some of the other members, I realized that all of them had problems. They weren’t perfect, and they knew it. But I could also see they had something strong inside them. Their faith in God was helping them. With that kind of faith, I thought, maybe I could overcome my problems, too.
I continued attending church, and I pondered often what I learned there. I also read the Book of Mormon. One day I accepted the invitation to ask God if what I was learning was true. As I prayed, something strong touched my heart, and I thought, This is the right way. I already believe in God. It’s time to follow Him.
As I continued to pray and attend meetings, the Spirit continued to guide me. Finally I told the elders I wanted to hear the discussions. I wanted to follow God and return to His presence one day. I was baptized on 21 June 1993.
As a member of the Church, I found new strength in meeting the challenges of life in Japan. And after preparing earnestly, I was called on a mission. To my surprise, I was called to serve in São Paulo, Brazil. I was very excited about sharing the gospel in my homeland.
When I look back at my old life, I realize how blind I was. We can go through life the right way or the wrong way. At first I chose the wrong way. I knew God existed, but I wasn’t ready to follow Him. Then the gospel touched my life. Now I know that following our Savior is the only way to true happiness.

Shortly after I returned from my mission, my stake president asked me to interpret for Elder Hartman Rector Jr., then of the Seventy, who had come to Mendoza, Argentina, to preside over a stake conference. These marvelous opportunities have continued over the years. I interpreted for President Thomas S. Monson and other General Authorities during the 11 dedicatory sessions of the Buenos Aires Argentina Temple.
During four of those sessions, I read the dedicatory prayer in Spanish from the pulpit in the celestial room. My voice broke up several times because of my emotions; tears filled my eyes and flowed down my face. I was reading the inspired prayers and promises for my country from Heavenly Father, who lives and reveals His will, just as He did 12 years earlier through my mission president when I accepted the challenge to learn English.
I also interpreted for the prophet, President Gordon B. Hinckley, during the four dedicatory sessions of the Montevideo Uruguay Temple and the four dedicatory sessions of the Asunción Paraguay Temple.
It’s difficult for me to explain how sacred those moments were for me when I stood alongside prophets, seers, and revelators in the Lord’s house. I felt somewhat like Peter, James, and John when they had the amazing experience of seeing Jesus transfigured. Peter expressed my feelings when he told Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here” (Matt. 17:4).

Twenty-three-year-old Totshauna Svenstrup, her husband, Christian, and their two small daughters were four of those who responded to the call. They came out of Denmark and, after sailing to the United States, joined one of two ill-fated handcart companies that headed westward to Zion. Totshauna’s daughter, Anna Karil, at that time only five, years later wrote briefly of the trek in her journal:
“Father died just outside of Florence [Nebraska] in a wagon accident. Mother pulled the cart, and she with child. We buried Gury in the snow by the Sweetwater [Wyoming]. She froze one night next to me and Mother in the tent. We reached the Salt Lake Valley in October. In December Mother delivered a son.”

I was too slow for football, too short for basketball, and too weak for wrestling. I played freshman and JV baseball, but by the time I reached my junior year in high school, the other guys going out for the varsity team were faster, taller, and stronger.
Three strikes and I was out.
I wasn’t popular enough to run for student government, talented enough to pursue the performing arts, or courageous enough to try debate.
Game over at 17, right? Not necessarily.
In English class, I could write essays the night before they were due—and still get a decent grade. I had no problem ordering a burrito in Spanish or asking for directions to the bathroom in German—thanks to my foreign language classes. Somehow, I made the honor roll despite my grades in math. And I could make people laugh.
But did I really have any talents? I wasn’t sure until I got older.
Back in high school, I had no way of knowing that the fun I had—and the time I spent—studying Spanish and German would help me learn three languages as a full-time missionary. Nor did I know that my latent talent as a writer would lead me to my livelihood. But perhaps the Lord did.

Mark had a baby sister.
Everyone said to him, “How nice, Mark, that you have a baby sister.”
Mark’s teacher said it.
Mark’s mailman said it.
Mark’s uncle said it.
Mark’s friend said it.
Everyone said, “How nice, Mark, that you have a baby sister.” And Mark became tired of hearing it.
Mark’s mother seemed happy.
His father seemed happy.
But Mark didn’t feel happy at all, even though he would smile and say thank you when people said to him, “How nice, Mark, that you have a baby sister.”
Mark was unhappy because no one seemed to have time for him anymore.
When Mark wanted his father to play catch with him, his father had to do the shopping or go to work or rake the leaves or cut the grass.
When Mark wanted his mother to read books with him, she always had to bathe the baby or do the dishes or feed the baby or rock the baby.
Mark didn’t think it was fair. After all, he had been there first. So Mark spent a lot of time sitting around alone just thinking.
He spent a lot of time staying in his room.
He spent a lot of time doing nothing else.
One day Mark got tired of sitting around alone in his room. “Boy,” he said out loud, “I must do something about this!”
He thought and thought. He sat and thought. He walked in circles and thought. He lay down on his bed and thought. He even stood on his head and thought. At last he knew what to do.
Mark went into the kitchen where his mother was feeding the baby.
“I’ll feed the baby,” Mark offered. “I’ll feed the baby so you can start dinner. Then maybe we could read a book if there’s enough time.”
“Why, thank you, Mark,” Mother said, giving him a big hug. “I think I will have time to read if you feed the baby.”
As Mark fed his baby sister, she pushed the food out of her mouth with her little pink tongue. Soon it became a game for Mark. He tried to get some food into her mouth before she pushed it out. Before long she had eaten all her dinner.
“Good girl,” Mark smiled. “Good girl.”
His sister smiled back at him.
Mother finished peeling potatoes. “Now let’s read,” she said. Mark and his mother sat in the big chair and read books.
When Mark’s dad came home, it was still light enough to play catch. But Dad said, “Well, I guess I better finish raking those leaves.”
“I’ll help you, Dad,” Mark beamed.
“Great!” his dad answered.
Together they raked the leaves into a pile beside the porch railing. Mark stood on the porch and jumped into the pile. The leaves flew all around. Mark and his dad laughed and raked again. Then his dad jumped into the pile.
They had time to play catch too.
When they went in, Mark went over to the playpen and put his hand on the baby’s soft cheek. He thought about the people who said to him, “How nice, Mark, that you have a baby sister.”
And Mark said out loud, “Yes, it is nice.”
His baby sister smiled at him, her eyes twinkling.
And Mark smiled back at her.

Luke groaned. Everything was so noisy. His brothers, Tadd and John, were arguing again. Even from down the hall, he could hear their shouts through the door of their room. And his sister, Lizzie, had her music turned up loud again. Thump. Thump. Thump. He could always hear the steady beat of the low notes.
Luke tried asking his brothers to stop. “Go away,” Tadd told him. Then Luke asked Lizzie to turn her music down. She just turned the music up louder.
Luke wanted to go outside where he could think. But it was raining.
There was one quiet place where Luke could go, though. Yesterday his parents gave him a room of his own—one he didn’t have to share with Tadd and John. It was in the basement. It was just big enough for a bed and a table. But in his room Luke could close the door and escape from the noise.
Luke went downstairs to his new room. He looked around at the boxes he had brought down earlier. He saw a picture of Jesus sticking out of a box. Luke had gotten that picture on the day he was baptized. Looking at it always made him feel peaceful.
Luke took the picture out of the box. He set it on the table. Then he knelt down to pray. “Heavenly Father,” Luke said, “sometimes it’s so noisy here. Please help me find some peace.”
Luke lay down on his bed. He thought about Jesus. He’d learned in Primary that Jesus could always be close to him. And the Holy Ghost could always bring peace.
Soon Mom and Dad would be home from work. They would talk to Tadd and John. The fighting would stop. For a while. They would talk to Lizzie. Lizzie would turn her music down. For a while. Until Mom and Dad were gone again.
But for now, Luke lay in bed. He looked at the picture of Jesus. “Please, Heavenly Father,” Luke whispered. “Please help me to feel peace no matter what’s going on in the rest of the house.”
Later, there was a knock on his bedroom door. “May I come in?” Mom asked. “How are you doing?”
“Tadd and John were fighting again,” Luke said. “And Lizzie plays her music really loud.”
“I know. It’s hard, isn’t it?” Mom said. “Dad’s talking to your brothers right now. And I’ll talk to Lizzie tonight. But first, I wanted to see how you are.”
“I’m OK. I’m glad I have this room,” Luke said.
“Me too,” Mom said. “I see you put a picture of Jesus on the table.”
Luke smiled. “I did. And He’s going to help me make my room a place of peace.”