Gospel Story Finder

Easter was a week away. Daddy told Oliver that today was called “Palm Sunday.”
“Why?” Oliver asked.
“When Jesus came into the city of Jerusalem, people were so happy to see Him,” Daddy said. “They waved palm branches and shouted, ‘Hosanna!’ That’s why we call it Palm Sunday.”
“Can we wave palm branches too?” Oliver asked.
Mommy smiled. “Well, we don’t have any palm trees. Let’s see what other branches we can find.”
Mommy, Daddy, and Oliver went outside and cut a few small branches off a tree in their yard. The branches didn’t have any leaves yet, just tiny blossoms.
Oliver waved his branch back and forth as he took it inside. “Hosanna!” he said, just like the people in the scriptures said when they saw Jesus. Then he helped Mommy put the pretty branches in a vase.
He liked looking at the branches while they ate dinner. He thought about the branches people waved when they saw Jesus.
The next day, Mommy pulled out a basket of plastic Easter eggs. “Let’s write down why we love Jesus. We’ll put our papers in the eggs and hang them on our special branches.”
Daddy got pens and paper. Oliver told Daddy what to write. Oliver said, “I love Jesus because He’s nice.”
Oliver helped fold up the paper. He put it inside a green plastic egg.
Daddy wrote, “I love Jesus because He understands how I feel.”
Mommy wrote, “Because of Jesus, someday we will see the people we love who have died.”
“Like baby Sophie?” Oliver asked.
Mommy gave him a big hug. “Yes! You will see your baby sister again one day. That’s because Jesus lived again after He died. Because of Him, all of us can live again too.”
“That makes me happy,” Oliver said.
“It makes us happy too,” Daddy said.
They filled lots of Easter eggs with things they loved about Jesus. Then Daddy tied strings through the eggs. Oliver helped hang the eggs on the tree. It looked so pretty!
“Let’s call it the Easter Tree,” Oliver said. He counted all the colorful eggs. “We have so many reasons we love Jesus!”

My next story is about a woman I will call Mary. She was the daughter of faithful pioneer parents who had sacrificed much for the gospel. She had been married in the temple and was the mother of 10 children. She was a talented woman who taught her children how to pray, to work hard, and to love each other. She paid her tithing, and the family rode to church together on Sunday in their wagon.
Though she knew it was contrary to the Word of Wisdom, she developed the habit of drinking coffee and kept a coffee pot on the back of her stove. She claimed that “the Lord will not keep me out of heaven for a little cup of coffee.” But, because of that little cup of coffee, she could not qualify for a temple recommend, and neither could those of her children who drank coffee with her. Though she lived to a good old age and did eventually qualify to reenter and serve in the temple, only one of her 10 children had a worthy temple marriage, and a great number of her posterity, which is now in its fifth generation, live outside of the blessings of the restored gospel she believed in and her forefathers sacrificed so much for.

About those dinosaurs that need painting. The Ogden Weber Heights Stake wanted service to the community to be part of their youth conference. The city had been building a parkway along the river. One of the attractions was a dinosaur park with full-size replicas of several species of dinosaurs as they must have looked when they roamed the area. The trouble is, replicas have to stay out in the sun and snow, weather that can destroy paint jobs. So paint colors like brontosaurus brown and pterodactyl tan were soon speckling the clothes, faces, and hands of some willing painters. It’s hard to feel down when you’re hanging around the neck of a dinosaur with a paintbrush.

Then the whole stake planned a day to plant trees along the parkway. Jeff Walker, 16, from the Skyline Ward, said, “It’s nice to do something to help make our community look better. After the service project, I drove by with one of my friends. He said, ‘Man, that sure has been cleaned up a lot.’ I told him I helped with that.”

When asked what she would tell other teens in her ward and stake who were wavering about making the decision to participate, Dieuwke Stohel, 17, of the Grandview Ward said, “I would tell them, When you get done, the day cannot go wrong. Once you’re there, you’ll be really glad you went.”

Julius Tirazona, another member of the local security detail for Elder and Sister Bednar, found it refreshing to see a lighter and carefree side of Elder Bednar as he joked around with those traveling with him. “I remember fondly when Elder Bednar was speaking in Tarlac,” he recalled. “Sister Bednar suddenly joined him on the stand to react to what he said and before she sat back down, she kissed Elder Bednar on the lips.” The members of the congregation gushed and cheered, which prompted Sister Bednar to stand up again and apologize, to which Elder Bednar humorously replied: “‘You don’t apologize because you kissed your spouse,’ Elder Bednar told her with a smile.”

After taking a missionary preparation class, Kosei felt an even greater desire to bring the joys of the gospel to his friends. He started by going online. One of the main tools he uses to share gospel-related messages and content is social media.
Several of his friends have responded to these social media posts. One friend in particular came up to Kosei and said, “I have an interest in your church.”
This friend was just an acquaintance at first, but their friendship quickly deepened. “He started by asking me the differences between his faith and mine,” Kosei explains. “Although I had not spoken with him very often, we became good friends after my sharing the gospel on social media.”

It was almost Christmas, and Troy’s Pet Shop was decorated with fancy red bows for the holiday. A tiny, yellow ball of fur was curled up in a corner of the big front window. It was a kitten only eight weeks old.
The other kittens in the big front window were much prettier. The yellow kitten’s eyes were the same color as its fur, and it didn’t have a tail. Manx cats don’t have tails, but this kitten was not a Manx. It was supposed to have a tail. The kitten, however, didn’t seem to know that she was different from other cats.
“Look at that cute white kitten, Mommy,” said a little girl, pointing to the cat next to the yellow one. “I want that one for Christmas.”
“All right, dear,” said her mother.
The white kitten contentedly licked its paws.
“I want that black cat,” said a little boy soon after. His father picked up the handsome black cat and paid Mr. Troy for it.
The calico cat, most of the puppies, the goldfish, and the birds were all chosen for pets. Even the hamsters, gerbils, and guinea pigs were bought and carried out by their new owners—but not the little yellow kitten.
“Look at that funny-looking cat,” cried one little boy. “Where’s its tail?”
Mr. Troy answered, “She doesn’t have one, but she’s a very nice cat.”
“What good is a cat without a tail?” retorted the little boy. “I want that gray kitten, Daddy, the one with the fluffy tail.”
Later the yellow kitten heard a noise and looked up. Mr. Troy was talking to her: “If you aren’t sold in the next few days, I don’t know what I’ll do. I can’t keep feeding a cat that isn’t sellable. This is a business, you know.” He shook his head sadly and walked away.
The yellow kitten liked Mr. Troy. He fed her and played nice music with words like angels, peace, good will, jingle bells, joy, sleigh rides, and Christmas. The kitten didn’t know what the words meant, but the music made her feel happy.
After Mr. Troy locked the pet shop door and started to clean up for the night, he heard a whimper coming from the front of the store. A little black puppy was snuffling around forlornly in his cage. Before the shop owner could decide what to do, the little yellow kitten sat next to the puppy’s cage and started to purr. And when the puppy curled up next to her, the kitten licked him through the bars of the cage. The puppy was soon asleep.
Relieved, because he wanted all his animals to be happy, Mr. Troy went home.
Before the shop opened the next day, a whole new shipment of puppies and kittens was delivered. Mr. Troy told the delivery man, “Business has been so good that I don’t think I’ll have any trouble selling them all before Christmas.”
Mr. Troy put the new kittens into the front window with the little yellow kitten. They ran round and round, making pitiful sounds because they were afraid. The yellow kitten went to each one and licked it on the nose. Soon the new kittens felt safe and began giving themselves baths. They purred in time to the Christmas music.
“Well, isn’t that something!” exclaimed Mr. Troy, who had been watching them. “I’ve never seen anything like that.” Just then his attention went to a small puppy that was yelping frantically. A much larger puppy was growling at it.
“Here, now. None of that,” said Mr. Troy. He took the small puppy out of the pen. The large puppy gave a final growl and lay down.
But the small puppy couldn’t stop shaking and whimpering, despite all that Mr. Troy tried to do. “I’m a busy man,” the shop owner explained placatingly, “and we’re opening soon. I can’t stand here holding you all day. What am I going to do?”
He looked around and saw the tiny, yellow kitten. As he looked at the puppy, then back at the kitten, he thought, Well, it’s worth a try, and he put the puppy right next to the little yellow kitten. In no time at all the two were playing contentedly with each other. Mr. Troy shook his head in wonder. “I think that that cat has something. She certainly calms the animals down.”
That day was the busiest day of the holiday season for Mr. Troy. People were in and out all day. The small puppy went to a kind old man. In fact, most of the new kittens and puppies were sold.
It was a busy day for the little yellow kitten, too, because whenever an animal became nervous or excited—and many of them did with all the hustle and bustle in the store—Mr. Troy put it in the front window with the yellow kitten. The little kitten licked and purred and played gently with the upset animal until it relaxed.
Mr. Troy was very tired but very happy as he closed up for the night and went home.
The next day was almost as busy for Mr. Troy and the little yellow kitten. Just before closing, the shop owner went to the front window and looked at the yellow kitten. “Well, tonight is Christmas Eve. You haven’t been sold, and I don’t think you ever will be. But it doesn’t matter. You’re something special. Tail or no tail, pretty or not, you are an exceptional cat. You bring peace to the other animals just as Christmas brings peace. I think I’ll call you my Christmas kitten.”
Suddenly the door opened. A man and his son ran in. “Are we too late?” the boy asked anxiously. “We need a kitten for my sister for tomorrow.” Looking in the front window, he added, “Let’s take that one with no tail. It’s different. OK, Dad?”
“It’s OK with me, Son. You’re the one who’s giving the present.”
Mr. Troy shook his head. “I’m sorry, but that one is not for sale. You may choose any of the others, though. You see, I need that yellow cat. You might say that she works for me.” He patted the yellow kitten on the head adding, “And after all, I am running a business.”

One week, I decided to declare a holiday from practicing the piano. My piano teacher did not authorize this holiday and neither did my mom. For a full week I didn’t practice. I thought it was great because I had a good time relaxing and doing other things.
The fun stopped on Thursday night, when my mom reminded me that my piano lesson was the next morning. I thought I had a solution: I woke up an hour earlier and started to practice. But I realized that my efforts were too little, too late. I had enjoyed the freedom to choose, but I hadn’t considered the consequences.
The next morning when I met with my teacher, the consequences started to unfold. I had to admit that I hadn’t practiced, and my teacher told me I should make up all the practice time I missed, in addition to my regular practice time.
I am grateful for the lessons I learned about agency, responsibility, and accountability. Every choice has a consequence, and I learned that I will make better decisions if I take time to consider the consequences first.
Blake H., Utah, USA

In September 1985, Julia received her endowment in the Johannesburg South Africa Temple. “When I first came into the temple,” she remembers, “I felt that I belonged. Before I joined the Church, when I would read the word Israel, I would throw the book aside and say, ‘It is for the whites. It is not for us. We are not chosen.’ Today, I know I belong to a royal family if I live righteously. I am an Israelite. When I was doing my ordinances in the temple, I captured the feeling that we are all on earth as one.

“Being sealed to my husband and my parents was one of the most touching experiences of my life. I feel that my parents are grateful that I have done their temple work for them. The Holy Spirit witnessed this to me.”

Julia continues to serve in the temple as often as she can. Within those walls she finds in joyful abundance the peace and love, the beauty and oneness of spirit she has cultivated in one corner or another of the Lord’s vineyard all of her life.*

Emily sat on the top of the park bleachers, her arms folded across her thin chest. “Dumb old cousins,” she muttered to herself. “Who cares about them, anyway?” She blinked her eyes and tried to ignore the burning in her throat that meant she was about to cry. She stood up and trudged down the bleachers and across the grass to where her mom was talking to Aunt Betty.
“Mom,” Emily whined, flopping down on the picnic table bench. “I don’t like this family reunion. It’s boring, and none of the other kids will let me play with them.”
“Of course they will,” said Aunt Betty in amazement.
“No they won’t,” replied Emily glumly. “They won’t even talk to me.”
“Then talk to someone else,” suggested Mom.
“Like who? Everyone else here is old. They aren’t any fun.”
“Well, thanks a lot,” said Aunt Betty.
“Oh,” Emily admitted, “you’re different. You tell neat stories.” She put her head in her hands.
“Betty,” Mom said, “do you remember some of the stories that Dad used to tell us when we were little?”
Aunt Betty smiled. “Of course I remember. Hey! That’s what you can do, Emily,” she said. “I bet if you asked the right people, you’d hear some great old stories.”
“Oh, no one would tell me anything,” Emily grumped, but she was starting to smile a tiny bit.
“True,” said Mom, “they might not. But I bet there are a lot of good stories hidden out there just waiting to be told.”
Suddenly, Emily sat up very straight. “Yeah—I could be like a detective searching for lost treasure,” she said, scrambling off the picnic bench. “I’ll start with Grandpa Charles because I already know he tells good stories!”
After a few minutes of searching through the chatting groups of relatives, Emily found Grandpa Charles sitting on the grass with his arm around Grandma A’Dell. “Hi!” said Emily. “I’m a detective. Would you help me?”
“I’ll try,” said Grandpa. “What are you looking for?”
“Stories,” Emily said, “about when you were little.”
Now Emily was laughing too. “Thanks!” she said. “Now I’m going to find some other stories.” She saw Aunt Ruth and ran across the lawn to her.
Emily the story detective kept searching. She heard stories about her mom, who was born in a house instead of a hospital, and about Tony the pony that Uncle Josh used to ride—when he could stay on! Tony liked to scrape Josh off by running under a tree branch. She found out about the time when Great-Grandad Ernest went to the store to get fresh brown bread. The baker wrapped the bread in paper so that Grandad could carry it home. On the way, he got so hungry that he poked a little hole in the crust and ate the soft insides. “Mother was sure surprised to have hollow bread,” Grandad said, chuckling.
Emily was having so much fun that she forgot about the other kids. Then, while Uncle Al was telling her about getting his truck stuck in the mud, Brian and three other cousins came over to listen. They were just in time to hear the end of the story: “So I left the truck, walked home, got my sister and our other truck and went back,” said Uncle Al. “And wouldn’t you know, I got the second truck stuck too! My dad finally had to come with the tractor to pull them both out.”
When the story was over, Brian looked at Emily and asked, “Why is everyone telling you stories?”
“Because I’m a story detective,” she said.
“Can we play?” Rachel asked wistfully.
Emily wanted to say no because they wouldn’t play with her before. But she felt too happy to be mean.
“Sure,” she said. “Let’s go see Uncle Andy next.”

I have been waiting for the ice-cream truck to come down my street for a long time. Finally, one Sunday I heard the music right by my house. I was so excited, and I ran to get my money to buy an ice-cream bar. My mom reminded me that it was the Sabbath day and that we do not shop on Sunday. We keep it holy. I asked the ice-cream man if he could come back to my street on a Saturday, and he said, “OK.” I felt good that I kept Sunday special.
Holden C., age 6, Arkansas, USA

“I had a friend at school that I really admired. She seemed so self-confident and had so many friends. She invited me to attend a few church activities with her. I enjoyed them so much she invited me to come to seminary with her. I was very excited to see what seminary was like, even though it started at 6:10 A.M.
“From the moment I started attending seminary, I felt really lucky. Seminary was a fun, easy way for me to learn about the Church. I especially enjoyed learning the scriptures for scripture mastery. In fact, I enjoyed it so much that I decided to memorize all the scripture mastery verses given to us that year. Then, as I took the discussions with the missionaries and they taught a new doctrinal idea, the scripture mastery verse that applied to a new concept would come into my mind and I would understand.
“I joined the Church a few months after that. Now I find great joy in my commitment.”—Corri Anna Greiss, Morgan Hill Second Ward, Morgan Hill California Stake

Blessed also with the gift of prophecy, he influenced the lives of many. On one occasion, he returned from a three-month trip to another island and saw preparations for a fiafia (celebration) in progress to celebrate the marriage of a young man and a young woman. As he interviewed the young woman, he suddenly told her, without any other explanation, that if she married the young man, she would soon be saddened.
Opapo and Toai were not spared personal trials. Eleven of their fourteen children died before adulthood. However, through it all they seemed to increase in humility, prayerfulness, and industry. Opapo reserved 5:00 A.M. and 5:00 P.M. for prayer, but frequently prayed at other times as well. And he always provided, not only for his own family, but also for others, especially widows and the fatherless.

I was thinking how wonderful it would be to witness such a powerful response to prayer. Then I realized I already had.

I was working with my father on the family ranch in Robertson, Wyoming, USA. It was my mother’s birthday, and her parents had invited the family to dinner at their place on Hillard Flat, east of Evanston. In order not to disappoint my mother by arriving late, my father decided to take a shortcut through the hills. Unfortunately, April was way too early in the year to attempt that particular shortcut. As we drove into the hills, it became obvious that we were the first to attempt to cross there that spring. There was still a lot of snow.

The first part of the journey went well, but then we started to find larger and larger drifts, and it became harder and harder to get around them. At one point my father, in his pride-and-joy Suburban, decided go around a large drift by climbing up the side of a hill. The truck was unable to negotiate the slippery terrain. We tipped on an angle, with my father’s side of the Suburban completely embedded in the drift. We were completely helpless and unable to continue.

I was only 10 years old at the time, and I found the adventure quite exciting. We finally had to climb out the window to get out. I did not understand the serious nature of our situation. This was long before the age of cell phones. No one knew that we had taken the shortcut. We were around 12 miles from any homes or the highway. The temperature was plummeting, and unbeknownst to me, my father was worried that we would freeze to death.

I still remember kneeling in prayer. My father asked only two things. First, which way we should walk. Second, could my mother please know something was wrong and send help. I don’t know if my father actually said, “Please, don’t let us freeze,” but I’m sure that was on his mind.

The two requests he voiced in prayer were answered almost immediately. My father felt like we should return the way we had come. At the same time (we later learned), my mother was doing the dishes when she felt distinctly that something was wrong. She counseled with my grandfather, Joseph Barker, and they also prayed. After a short time, my grandfather said, “I know where they are. They’re at Horseshoe Bend.”

Horseshoe Bend is exactly where the Suburban was embedded in the snow.

Grandpa Barker organized two rescue parties. One, led by my uncle Brent Barker, would try to go in where we would have come out. They made the attempt but ran into drifts that were impossible to pass. Grandpa and two other uncles, my father’s brothers Max and Richard Brough, came the long way around and entered at the same place where we had started. They soon found one lonely set of tracks entering and nothing returning.

In the meantime, my father kept talking to me as we were walking. He kept asking if I was tired and if I felt like I was falling asleep. I remember thinking those were strange questions. Of course I was cold—very cold and very tired. But where would I sleep? In the snow? (I have since learned that being tired and sleepy may be signs that you’re freezing to death. My dad was worried.)

After hours of walking, we finally saw the headlights of our rescuers’ trucks. When they reached us, my mother leapt out and ran to me. She swept me up and carried me to the warm vehicle. I also remember her shaking her finger at dad—we all know how mama bear reacts when baby bear is in trouble! Let’s just say that my father’s reception was not as warm as mine.

Marcella frowned as she tried to wiggle her toes in her shoes. The shoes were too small and they hurt, but she knew she shouldn’t complain. At six years old, she knew there was no money for new ones.
The past year had been hard for the Nelson family. In May, Marcella’s tiny baby sister had died of pneumonia. And just six weeks later, her father, Eric, had been killed in an accident at work. How she missed her gentle father.
Now Marcella’s mother was struggling to support her two young daughters with her sewing. Even though she was a skilled seamstress, there wasn’t enough money. The kitchen cupboards in their small home were practically bare. No, bigger shoes just weren’t an option right now.
“Time for breakfast,” Mother called. Marcella struggled not to limp in the tight shoes as she walked to the table.
“Oh, honey.” Her mother knelt at her side. “Those shoes are too small for you, aren’t they?” Marcella could hear the worry in her mother’s voice.
“A little.” Marcella tried to sound unconcerned. “It’s all right.”
“You’re trying to be brave,” Mother said gently. “But I can see they hurt. I will try to get you some new ones soon.”
“I want new shoes too!” piped up little Arvella.
Their mother picked Arvella up in a big hug. “You know your shoes are just fine,” she said. Arvella’s shoes were hand-me-downs from Marcella. They were worn, but at least they fit properly.
Arvella stuck her bottom lip out. “I want new shoes, too,” she repeated obstinately. Marcella and her mother smiled at each other. Arvella didn’t understand their difficult position, and somehow her innocence made them feel better. They talked and laughed as they ate breakfast and cleaned up.
Suddenly Mother became serious again. “Girls,” she said slowly, “we need to go to town today. I have $2.50.”
Marcella couldn’t believe it! That was a lot of money in Utah in 1905. “That’s great!” she exclaimed. She imagined the food they could buy to stock their empty shelves. Maybe she could even get new shoes!
Marcella’s smile faded when she saw the tears in her mother’s eyes. “We owe $2.50 for tithing,” she said softly. Then she gathered her girls around her. “I know we are almost out of food. I know that you need new shoes so badly, Marcella. But if we want the Lord to bless us, we must keep His commandments.”
Then she pulled out her worn Bible and turned to Malachi. She read to the girls the Lord’s promise that if they paid tithing, the windows of heaven would open to them.
“What does it mean that the windows of heaven will open?” Arvella asked.
“It means that Heavenly Father will bless us,” Mother said. “It says that we will receive such a great blessing that there won’t be room enough to receive it. I know that we need the Lord’s blessing now more than ever. I believe His promise.”
“I believe it, too,” Marcella said.
“Me too,” Arvella chimed in.
“Oh, you are good girls.” Mother pulled them close. “Let’s pray together, and then I am going to take this money straight to the bishop.”
The girls and Mother knelt. Mother asked Heavenly Father for a way to get more food for her little family and shoes for Marcella. After the prayer, they all wiped tears from their eyes. Then, with a smile, Mother said, “Let’s go pay our tithing, girls!”
They walked the short distance to the bishop’s house and gave him the tithing. Although her feet hurt, Marcella enjoyed the walk and the good feeling in her heart. She knew Heavenly Father would bless them.
As they approached their home, they saw Uncle Silas and Aunt Maud pulling up. Both girls ran to Uncle Silas, and he swung them high into the air.
“Hello, Sarah,” Aunt Maud said, giving Mother a quick hug. “We just came to see how you and the girls are doing.”
“Well,” Arvella said seriously, “Marcella’s shoes are too small, but we paid our tithing and it will be fine.”
“Arvella!” Her mother gave her a stern look. “We’re fine, Maud. How is your family?”
They all went into the house and chatted pleasantly. Marcella quickly took off her tight shoes and put them away. She noticed her aunt and uncle looking around the house carefully. Aunt Maud even opened a cupboard as she visited. Too soon, their visitors had to leave.
Later that afternoon, Marcella was surprised to hear a cart outside. It stopped at their home, and a delivery boy came to the door. “A delivery for Sarah Nelson,” he said.
“That’s my mother,” Marcella said.
“But I didn’t order anything,” Mother objected.
Suddenly Uncle Silas appeared in the doorway next to the boy. “It’s for you, Sarah,” he said gently. “You can put everything here on the table,” he directed the delivery boy.
The boy brought in bags of food. The girls danced around the table in delight. They hugged Uncle Silas, who quickly excused himself to go home. There was so much food! Sugar, beans, flour and cornmeal, cured meats and dried fruit—the cupboards would be full! Last of all, the delivery boy brought a small package wrapped in brown paper to the table.
After the delivery boy left, the girls approached the small package. What could be inside? First Marcella and then Arvella shook it. Then Marcella carefully pulled back the paper. Into her lap fell not one, but two pairs of shoes! Marcella picked up the largest pair and put them on. They fit perfectly, and she happily wiggled her toes in complete comfort.
Then she saw Arvella’s face. Her sister had picked up the second pair of shoes and was staring at them in delight. She looked at her mother in wonder. “I thought you said I didn’t need shoes, Mama,” she said questioningly.
“Your old shoes would do,” her mother said through her tears. “But when Heavenly Father opens the windows of heaven, you never know what might pour down.”

When I was on a high adventure camping trip, our bishop gave us each a small copy of the Book of Mormon. Every morning, I would grab my camping chair and do a private reading retreat in the middle of the woods.
One morning, I had no idea what to read and thought that maybe Heavenly Father wanted me to know something. I asked God what I should read and if there was something I needed to hear.
Shortly after I uttered amen, I looked back at my scriptures and noticed that the corner of a page in the middle of the book was folded down. Dumbfounded, I flipped open to the page and read the whole chapter. That chapter of Alma talked about the armor the Nephites put on every morning before they went out into battle. I realized that scripture study (which I had been slacking in) could be my spiritual armor. I knew that my prayer had been answered and that I needed to continue spending time in the scriptures.
Sam R., California, USA

Well do I remember the comment of a family in the mission field who were investigating Church membership. The missionaries brought them to the basement of the local Moose Lodge, where the branch met, and said to them, “This is where you will find the Spirit of the Lord—here in His true church.” Hesitatingly, but with curiosity, the parents turned to the moose-head on the wall and asked, “What is the significance of the animal head as pertains to your religious beliefs?” When the missionaries explained that these were temporary meeting facilities, the next question was, “Is your church here in Sudbury on a temporary basis?” The new program will help to eliminate this problem.

A true story from Austria.
Are you excited for school to start?
Yeah, but I’m worried about math. What if I can’t do it?
It’s OK to be scared. School can be hard, but Heavenly Father can help you!
Would you like a priesthood blessing before you start school?
Sure!
Thanks, Dad!
What is five times seven?
Thirty-five.
Hmm …
Got it!
How was school?
Good. I was able to concentrate in math, just like Dad said in my blessing.
Heavenly Father is helping me focus. I can do math!

Hi! My name is Juan Bautista, and I’m from Argentina. I shine my light by sharing the gospel.
My best friend Facundo and I have known each other since we were five. We both love football! I invited him to a lot of Church activities.
Once when Facundo was having dinner with us, he asked, “Why does your family always pray?” I said it’s because Heavenly Father blesses us, and this is how we thank Him. He was amazed!
Facundo came to a family home evening when my brother Benjamin was getting ready for baptism. Facundo felt the Spirit, and he asked if he could get baptized too! My father then talked to Facundo’s parents.
The missionaries taught Facundo’s family. Then Facundo and his sister Augustine both got baptized! His parents come to church, but they haven’t been baptized yet.
Facundo asked my mom if he would ever know as much as I do about God. She smiled and said that if he studies his scriptures and prays, he could learn even more!

Six-year-old Catherine sang as she followed Joseph and his plow down the long brown furrows, dropping yellow kernels of corn into the newly turned soil.
Joseph called over his shoulder, “If Alvin doesn’t get back with some money, all that corn will go to the land agents. And from what I hear, they won’t share it with a cutworm or a crow or anything else.”
Catherine had heard her father talk about land agents, but she wasn’t sure just what they were. “What are land agents, Joseph?” she asked.
Her brother pulled the ox to a halt and explained, “They’re men who sell property. If there is a drought or your crops don’t sell and you can’t pay the mortgage money, they come and take the farm back.” Then he paused for a moment, remembering his father’s dawn-to-dark labor when they’d first cleared the land of trees to plant crops.
The whole family had helped tap the thousand sugar maple trees in the spring. Joseph also remembered the split-wood chairs and baskets and the straw brooms his father had made to sell to help pay for the farm. His father had even worked for other farmers to earn money. But still there wasn’t enough.
Catherine brought her brother back from his recollecting. “Are they going to take our farm, Joseph?”
“It looks like it, unless we can raise some more money. We’ve all helped. But it hasn’t been enough.” Joseph sighed as he slapped the reins against the rump of the ox. “I wish I could do something more.”
“You’ve been helping to clear trees and plowing and planting the corn and pumpkins. That’s a big help.
“Sure. But we need money. And we need it right away.”
Catherine let out a deep breath and sat down on the broken black earth. “Will we have to let the land agents take our farm?” she asked.
“ If we can’t pay all the mortgage money, we will. And the law supports them. But it just doesn’t seem right after we’ve spent two years clearing trees from 24 hectares of land and planting crops and building a four-room log house besides. They’d only turn around and sell it again for a lot of money, and we wouldn’t get anything for all the improvements we’ve made.”
Catherine understood now why some folks said the land agents were really land robbers.
Young Joseph looked into the open window of the house. His mother was just lifting the lid on the cooking pot in the fireplace. She left the stew sputtering against the pot lid as she called to her family, “Supper’s ready!”
Later after supper, Joseph’s father, as always, felt for his spectacles. When his hand found the lower right-hand pocket of his vest, that was the signal for a reading from the Bible and for family prayer.
That night the family had an extra long prayer. Father Smith thanked Heavenly Father for his “mercy which endureth forever.” Then he pleaded for help in somehow obtaining the money that was needed. When all members of the family had added their amen, they sang the usual hymn:
The song was interrupted by a loud knock. Mr. Smith opened the door and invited a neighbor from down the road to come in.
“Thank you, Joseph. I came to ask if you’d let me hire one of your boys for a few days. I need to dig a well.”
Alvin was away working and young Joseph knew his father needed Hyrum to help cut trees. “I could do it, sir,” he said eagerly.
His father smiled. “Joseph’s able. He’ll give you a good day’s work for a day’s pay.”
“I know your boys are good workers. They’ve worked alongside their father until they’re better than most men. That’s why I’m here. Young Joseph will be fine.”
Joseph was so happy that he had to take a big breath to keep from shouting out loud: “The Lord is surely opening up the way. We will get the money we need. I’m sure of it.” He was so sure that he wasn’t a bit surprised when Alvin arrived home a few days later with the money he had earned. Just the same, it was a tense moment when the whole family gathered to count their savings. Is it enough? they wondered.
Joseph held his breath as the money was counted. It was enough; they had enough. Tears and laughter mingled as they realized that Alvin’s earnings added to what Joseph and the others had been able to raise would save their farm!

Illustration by Allen Garns
Our family has a Christmas tradition of giving gift bags of food, gloves, hats, and other necessities to those in need. In 2016, Christmas Eve was especially cold for the area of California, USA, we live in. We were bundled up, but we were still shivering!
As we drove to a park near our home where many people who are homeless stay, we saw a man huddled in the meager shelter of a bus stop, covered in an old blanket. My husband, Dennis, stopped the car and took our son, Jonathan, with him to give the man a gift bag. Our daughter, Abbey, and I stayed in the car and watched.
The man lifted his head as Dennis handed him the bag. A huge smile spread across the man’s face. They shook hands and began to talk. This was unusual because normally there isn’t much of an exchange.
After several minutes, Dennis returned to the car and opened the trunk.
“Is everything OK?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said. “I’m giving him my parka. He needs it more than I do.”
I was speechless. This was a really nice parka that Dennis had worn only a handful of times! Dennis went back to the man and helped him put on the warm parka. The man’s face was beaming. Dennis and the man continued talking.
I felt compelled to meet this man. I opened my car door, and Abbey followed me. Dennis smiled as we approached, and he introduced us to the man. I extended my hand and asked for his name.
He took my hand, smiled warmly, and replied, “Jesús.”
My family continued the conversation, but I didn’t hear much after that. I kept thinking of the significance of this sweet man’s name: Jesús—the name of our Savior. In that moment, I was reminded of the Savior’s teaching: “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me” (Matthew 25:40). That experience forever changed me.