The girls in Alaska are making a lot of quilts these days.
Recently, the young women of the Fairbanks Alaska First Ward each quilted a blanket for the local women’s center. There is a tradition there of giving handmade quilts to women who suffer the loss of a child.
Meanwhile, in the Palmer Second Ward in the Wasilla Alaska Stake, the young women were busy making quilts for the California earthquake victims. Members of the Relief Society helped the girls put together 18 quilts in three hours. Laurel Patience Pierce spear-headed the project.
That’s a lot of warmth spread around by young women from the icy North.
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FYI:For Your Info
Summary: Young women in two Alaska wards made quilts for people in need. In Fairbanks, they created blankets for a women’s center tradition of comforting those who lost a child. In Palmer, with Relief Society help, they made 18 quilts in three hours for California earthquake victims.
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👤 Youth
👤 Church Members (General)
Charity
Emergency Response
Relief Society
Service
Young Women
They Are All Mine
Summary: A mother with four young children is asked at a grocery store if all the children are hers. She explains that she and her husband have welcomed each child through faith, despite financial uncertainty and public questioning about having so many children.
She acknowledges the exhaustion and challenges of parenting small children, but says gospel teachings and prayer help her see motherhood as important, meaningful work. Her conclusion is a joyful affirmation that her children are hers and that she is grateful for the calling to raise them.
“Are these all yours?”
It’s a question I hear often, so it didn’t surprise me when I heard it from the lady behind me in line at the grocery store. I looked at my six-year-old and five-year-old daughters standing on either side of my full cart, my toddler happily swinging her legs from the seat in front, and my four-month-old baby strapped to my chest.
“Yes, they are all mine,” I said, smiling.
From the time my husband and I started our family, our choices about how many children to have and when to have them have often come into public question. The decision to have our first child was not a logical one, at least not according to the standards of the world. We were still in our early 20s. Having just recently graduated from college, my husband was searching for a “real job.” We had a meager income and no insurance. Still, the impression was undeniable that spirits eagerly waited to come to our family, so we proceeded with faith.
We were blessed with a healthy pregnancy, a beautiful baby girl, and a stable job with a career track. I was grateful to be able to stay at home with my daughter and the three children who followed. All were brought into our family after strong divine impressions that the time was right, but that didn’t make it easy to explain to others why we would have so many children so close together.
The many inquiries I unfailingly receive often question my judgment: “Why so many?” “Do you not realize how much it costs to raise a child to age 18?” “Can you really give each child the attention and opportunity he or she needs?” And, of course, “Are you done yet?”
I hope we’re not done, even though the years of parenting small children are intense and extremely challenging physically, emotionally, intellectually, and spiritually. There are days when children need to be fed, diapers need to be changed, babies need to be soothed, and noses need to be wiped—all at the same time. At such times I question my sanity and wonder if I know what I am doing. On those days the voice of the world seems to laugh in derision, as if to say, “Told you so!”
But how grateful I am during those moments for the teachings of the gospel of Jesus Christ and the value it places on families. Every day I rely on gospel principles taught by prophets past and present to know that my work as a mother—and it is work—is the most important thing I could be doing in my life and is worth every effort. In answer to fervent prayer, I receive divine assistance daily to do what I am asked to do in my home. Through His tender mercies, a loving Father in Heaven allows those days of absolute exhaustion to come punctuated with moments of incandescent joy.
So to the woman at the grocery store and to others who wonder why I would devote my heart and soul to raising children, I proudly reply, “Yes, they are all mine—gratefully, whole-heartedly, and without hesitation!”
It’s a question I hear often, so it didn’t surprise me when I heard it from the lady behind me in line at the grocery store. I looked at my six-year-old and five-year-old daughters standing on either side of my full cart, my toddler happily swinging her legs from the seat in front, and my four-month-old baby strapped to my chest.
“Yes, they are all mine,” I said, smiling.
From the time my husband and I started our family, our choices about how many children to have and when to have them have often come into public question. The decision to have our first child was not a logical one, at least not according to the standards of the world. We were still in our early 20s. Having just recently graduated from college, my husband was searching for a “real job.” We had a meager income and no insurance. Still, the impression was undeniable that spirits eagerly waited to come to our family, so we proceeded with faith.
We were blessed with a healthy pregnancy, a beautiful baby girl, and a stable job with a career track. I was grateful to be able to stay at home with my daughter and the three children who followed. All were brought into our family after strong divine impressions that the time was right, but that didn’t make it easy to explain to others why we would have so many children so close together.
The many inquiries I unfailingly receive often question my judgment: “Why so many?” “Do you not realize how much it costs to raise a child to age 18?” “Can you really give each child the attention and opportunity he or she needs?” And, of course, “Are you done yet?”
I hope we’re not done, even though the years of parenting small children are intense and extremely challenging physically, emotionally, intellectually, and spiritually. There are days when children need to be fed, diapers need to be changed, babies need to be soothed, and noses need to be wiped—all at the same time. At such times I question my sanity and wonder if I know what I am doing. On those days the voice of the world seems to laugh in derision, as if to say, “Told you so!”
But how grateful I am during those moments for the teachings of the gospel of Jesus Christ and the value it places on families. Every day I rely on gospel principles taught by prophets past and present to know that my work as a mother—and it is work—is the most important thing I could be doing in my life and is worth every effort. In answer to fervent prayer, I receive divine assistance daily to do what I am asked to do in my home. Through His tender mercies, a loving Father in Heaven allows those days of absolute exhaustion to come punctuated with moments of incandescent joy.
So to the woman at the grocery store and to others who wonder why I would devote my heart and soul to raising children, I proudly reply, “Yes, they are all mine—gratefully, whole-heartedly, and without hesitation!”
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👤 Parents
👤 Children
👤 Other
Children
Family
Gratitude
Judging Others
Love
Parenting
Women in the Church
Timing
Summary: The speaker reflects on how life plans can be disrupted by war, career changes, and unexpected callings, showing that the Lord’s timing often differs from our own. After a planned missionary service, a military mobilization, a call to the Quorum of the Twelve, the death of his wife June, and later marriage to Kristen, he learned to trust God’s will and timing. He concludes that we should anchor our lives in eternal commitments, accept what we cannot control, and take the long view of eternity.
Life has some strange turns. I will share some personal experiences that illustrate this.
When I was a young man I thought I would serve a mission. I graduated from high school in June 1950. Thousands of miles away, one week after that high school graduation, a North Korean army crossed the 38th parallel, and our country was at war. I was 17 years old, but as a member of the Utah National Guard, I was soon under orders to prepare for mobilization and active service. Suddenly, for me and for many other young men of my generation, the full-time mission we had planned or hoped for was not to be.
Another example: After I served as president of Brigham Young University for nine years, I was released. A few months later the governor of the state of Utah appointed me to a 10-year term on the supreme court of the state. I was then 48 years old. My wife June and I tried to plan the rest of our lives. We wanted to serve the full-time mission neither of us had been privileged to serve. We planned that I would serve 20 years on the state supreme court. Then, at the end of two 10-year terms, when I would be nearly 69 years old, I would retire from the supreme court and we would submit our missionary papers and serve a mission as a couple.
I had my 69th birthday two years ago and was vividly reminded of that important plan. If things had gone as we planned, I would have submitted papers to serve a mission with my wife June.
Four years after we made that plan I was called to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles—something we never dreamed would happen. Realizing then that the Lord had different plans and different timing than we had assumed, I resigned as a justice of the supreme court. But this was not the end of the important differences. When I was 66, my wife June died of cancer. Two years later I married Kristen McMain, the eternal companion who now stands at my side.
How fundamentally different my life is than I had sought to plan! My professional life has changed. My personal life has changed. But the commitment I made to the Lord—to put Him first in my life and to be ready for whatever He would have me do—has carried me through these changes of eternal importance.
Faith and trust in the Lord give us the strength to accept and persist, whatever happens in our lives. I did not know why I received a “no” answer to my prayers for the recovery of my wife of many years, but the Lord gave me a witness that this was His will, and He gave me the strength to accept it. Two years after her death, I met the wonderful woman who is now my wife for eternity. And I know that this also was the will of the Lord.
I return to the subject with which I began. Do not rely on planning every event of your life—even every important event. Stand ready to accept the Lord’s planning and the agency of others in matters that inevitably affect you. Plan, of course, but fix your planning on personal commitments that will carry you through no matter what happens. Anchor your life to eternal principles, and act upon those principles whatever the circumstances and whatever the actions of others. Then you can await the Lord’s timing and be sure of the outcome in eternity.
The most important principle of timing is to take the long view. Mortality is just a small slice of eternity, but how we conduct ourselves here—what we become by our actions and desires, confirmed by our covenants and the ordinances administered to us by proper authority—will shape our destiny for all eternity. As the prophet Amulek taught, “This life is the time for men to prepare to meet God” (Alma 34:32). That reality should help us take the long view—the timing of eternity.
I pray that each of us will hear and heed the word of the Lord on how to conduct ourselves in mortality and set our standards and make our commitments so that we can be in harmony and in tune with the timing of our Father in Heaven.
When I was a young man I thought I would serve a mission. I graduated from high school in June 1950. Thousands of miles away, one week after that high school graduation, a North Korean army crossed the 38th parallel, and our country was at war. I was 17 years old, but as a member of the Utah National Guard, I was soon under orders to prepare for mobilization and active service. Suddenly, for me and for many other young men of my generation, the full-time mission we had planned or hoped for was not to be.
Another example: After I served as president of Brigham Young University for nine years, I was released. A few months later the governor of the state of Utah appointed me to a 10-year term on the supreme court of the state. I was then 48 years old. My wife June and I tried to plan the rest of our lives. We wanted to serve the full-time mission neither of us had been privileged to serve. We planned that I would serve 20 years on the state supreme court. Then, at the end of two 10-year terms, when I would be nearly 69 years old, I would retire from the supreme court and we would submit our missionary papers and serve a mission as a couple.
I had my 69th birthday two years ago and was vividly reminded of that important plan. If things had gone as we planned, I would have submitted papers to serve a mission with my wife June.
Four years after we made that plan I was called to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles—something we never dreamed would happen. Realizing then that the Lord had different plans and different timing than we had assumed, I resigned as a justice of the supreme court. But this was not the end of the important differences. When I was 66, my wife June died of cancer. Two years later I married Kristen McMain, the eternal companion who now stands at my side.
How fundamentally different my life is than I had sought to plan! My professional life has changed. My personal life has changed. But the commitment I made to the Lord—to put Him first in my life and to be ready for whatever He would have me do—has carried me through these changes of eternal importance.
Faith and trust in the Lord give us the strength to accept and persist, whatever happens in our lives. I did not know why I received a “no” answer to my prayers for the recovery of my wife of many years, but the Lord gave me a witness that this was His will, and He gave me the strength to accept it. Two years after her death, I met the wonderful woman who is now my wife for eternity. And I know that this also was the will of the Lord.
I return to the subject with which I began. Do not rely on planning every event of your life—even every important event. Stand ready to accept the Lord’s planning and the agency of others in matters that inevitably affect you. Plan, of course, but fix your planning on personal commitments that will carry you through no matter what happens. Anchor your life to eternal principles, and act upon those principles whatever the circumstances and whatever the actions of others. Then you can await the Lord’s timing and be sure of the outcome in eternity.
The most important principle of timing is to take the long view. Mortality is just a small slice of eternity, but how we conduct ourselves here—what we become by our actions and desires, confirmed by our covenants and the ordinances administered to us by proper authority—will shape our destiny for all eternity. As the prophet Amulek taught, “This life is the time for men to prepare to meet God” (Alma 34:32). That reality should help us take the long view—the timing of eternity.
I pray that each of us will hear and heed the word of the Lord on how to conduct ourselves in mortality and set our standards and make our commitments so that we can be in harmony and in tune with the timing of our Father in Heaven.
Read more →
👤 General Authorities (Modern)
👤 Youth
Adversity
Missionary Work
War
Young Men
Christmas Surprises
Summary: Ten-year-old Peter Hagen worries that Christmas on the Dakota plains will be lonely without stores or friends. After making homemade decorations, he cuts pictures of desired gifts from a catalog and hangs them on the tree so each family member receives a symbolic present. The family enjoys the simple celebration, popcorn, and the spirit of being together.
Peter Hagen sat at the kitchen table in their small cabin and watched his mother remove four loaves of bread from the oven. Usually the smell of freshly baked bread made him feel happy, but today he was worried.
“Will we have a Christmas this year?” Peter asked his mother.
“Of course we will,” Mother replied. “We’re not in Ohio anymore, but I think our Christmas will be just as good as if we were. You’ll see.”
Already Peter missed the gaily decorated Christmas tree, wrapped presents, delicious cookies, and the friends with whom he’d spent so many happy hours.
It was just ten months ago that ten-year-old Peter, his five-year-old sister, Ruthie, and their parents had journeyed west from Ohio by covered wagon to settle on the plains of the Dakota Territory. Peter couldn’t understand how his father could think that living on a farm in such a lonely area was worth leaving their comfortable home in Ohio.
“How can Christmas be the same?” Peter asked his mother. “There aren’t any stores where we can buy presents, or any friends to enjoy shopping with even if there were stores.”
“Well, Peter, there are many kinds of gifts we can give besides the ones we buy in a store,” answered Mother.
That evening at supper Peter was still worried about celebrating Christmas in their new home. “Dad, will we at least have a Christmas tree this year?” he asked.
“We’ll have a tree,” Father said as he smiled at Peter and Ruthie. “We couldn’t bring our tinsel and glass ornaments with us, so we’ll have to depend on you to make the decorations for our tree.”
“That might be fun,” said Peter. He noticed Ruthie was smiling too.
“I’d like a doll for Christmas,” Ruthie said suddenly. “A big doll with a pretty dress.”
“Maybe, Ruthie,” Mother answered finally. “But don’t count too much on it.”
Oh, I hope she can have a doll, Peter thought. I still wish we were back in our old home where there were stores so we could buy things.
“What would you like for Christmas, Dad?” Peter asked.
Father thought a moment and answered, “I suppose a new saddle for our horse.”
“And what do you want, Mom?” Ruthie asked.
“I would like a piano just like the one we left behind,” Mother replied. “I do miss my music.”
Peter couldn’t help but join in with a wish for himself. “I’d like some ice skates. It’s not easy to skate on the pond in my boots.”
After supper Peter and Ruthie started making Christmas decorations. Mother showed them how to carve stars out of yellow lye soap. They tied bows out of different colored ribbons and cut yarn into short strips.
“The yarn can be our tinsel,” Peter told Ruthie. “I can hardly wait to see our tree!”
The new ornaments were stored on a shelf until Christmas Eve, when it was the family tradition to decorate the Christmas tree.
As Christmas drew near, Ruthie continued to talk about a new doll and Mother hummed some of the songs she used to play on her piano. It made Peter feel sad to think that each one couldn’t have the gift he or she wanted most.
Peter went to his room and pulled out a wooden box from under his bed where he kept his most prized possessions. He opened the box and took out a pocketknife given to him by his best friend back in Ohio, some stones he found in a stream along the way to Dakota, two drawing pencils, a pair of scissors, a spelling award he won last year in the fifth grade, and an old catalog.
As Peter slowly turned the pages of the catalog, he noticed a page full of pictures of saddles. An idea flashed into his mind. They’ll have to use their imaginations, Peter thought, but I can make sure everyone will have a special Christmas present this year!
On Christmas Eve Peter and his father brought in a small evergreen tree and placed it in the center of the kitchen on a wooden stand. Ruthie hung the soap stars and bows on the tree while Peter draped the yarn tinsel over the branches. Then Peter hung some oddly shaped paper ornaments on the tree. One had a dark brown picture on it.
“What have we here?” asked Father as he turned the picture over so he could look at it. “Why, it’s a saddle!” he declared.
“It’s your Christmas saddle, Dad. Now all you need is a paper horse,” Peter said with a big smile.
Peter handed Ruthie a picture he had neatly cut out of the catalog. “Here’s your doll, Ruthie. It’s only a paper picture, but she’ll be part of our wishing game. Maybe next year you’ll have a real doll.”
Ruthie held the picture gently in her hands and said, “She’s pretty. If we put her on top of the tree, she can be our angel.”
Father picked Ruthie up, and she hung the doll on the top of the tree.
Mother could see a picture of a piano dangling near the saddle ornament. “And I have my piano,” she said as she hugged Peter.
“I wanted us to have what we each wanted most for Christmas,” Peter said. He held up a picture of a pair of skates and hung it on the tree. “And here are my ice skates.”
“Well, Peter, I think we’re having a nice Christmas. After all, Christmas is in our hearts, and as long as we’re together, we’ll always have the same good Christmas we used to have back in our old home,” his mother said.
“Next year we’ll probably have some of those gifts sitting under the tree instead of hanging on the tree,” Father laughed, but Peter thought that Father seemed to have a sudden hoarseness when he spoke.
“Are you all ready for popcorn?” Mother asked.
“Popcorn!” cried Peter and Ruthie. That was a real Christmas treat!
Ruthie and Mother seemed happy as they roasted the popcorn. And Father was getting ready to read the story of the first Christmas from the Bible.
Peter smiled and looked around. The tree was gaily decorated, and there were presents—even if they were only paper ones.
It is a nice Christmas, he thought. Suddenly he knew just what his mother meant when she said, “After all, Christmas is in our hearts!”
“Will we have a Christmas this year?” Peter asked his mother.
“Of course we will,” Mother replied. “We’re not in Ohio anymore, but I think our Christmas will be just as good as if we were. You’ll see.”
Already Peter missed the gaily decorated Christmas tree, wrapped presents, delicious cookies, and the friends with whom he’d spent so many happy hours.
It was just ten months ago that ten-year-old Peter, his five-year-old sister, Ruthie, and their parents had journeyed west from Ohio by covered wagon to settle on the plains of the Dakota Territory. Peter couldn’t understand how his father could think that living on a farm in such a lonely area was worth leaving their comfortable home in Ohio.
“How can Christmas be the same?” Peter asked his mother. “There aren’t any stores where we can buy presents, or any friends to enjoy shopping with even if there were stores.”
“Well, Peter, there are many kinds of gifts we can give besides the ones we buy in a store,” answered Mother.
That evening at supper Peter was still worried about celebrating Christmas in their new home. “Dad, will we at least have a Christmas tree this year?” he asked.
“We’ll have a tree,” Father said as he smiled at Peter and Ruthie. “We couldn’t bring our tinsel and glass ornaments with us, so we’ll have to depend on you to make the decorations for our tree.”
“That might be fun,” said Peter. He noticed Ruthie was smiling too.
“I’d like a doll for Christmas,” Ruthie said suddenly. “A big doll with a pretty dress.”
“Maybe, Ruthie,” Mother answered finally. “But don’t count too much on it.”
Oh, I hope she can have a doll, Peter thought. I still wish we were back in our old home where there were stores so we could buy things.
“What would you like for Christmas, Dad?” Peter asked.
Father thought a moment and answered, “I suppose a new saddle for our horse.”
“And what do you want, Mom?” Ruthie asked.
“I would like a piano just like the one we left behind,” Mother replied. “I do miss my music.”
Peter couldn’t help but join in with a wish for himself. “I’d like some ice skates. It’s not easy to skate on the pond in my boots.”
After supper Peter and Ruthie started making Christmas decorations. Mother showed them how to carve stars out of yellow lye soap. They tied bows out of different colored ribbons and cut yarn into short strips.
“The yarn can be our tinsel,” Peter told Ruthie. “I can hardly wait to see our tree!”
The new ornaments were stored on a shelf until Christmas Eve, when it was the family tradition to decorate the Christmas tree.
As Christmas drew near, Ruthie continued to talk about a new doll and Mother hummed some of the songs she used to play on her piano. It made Peter feel sad to think that each one couldn’t have the gift he or she wanted most.
Peter went to his room and pulled out a wooden box from under his bed where he kept his most prized possessions. He opened the box and took out a pocketknife given to him by his best friend back in Ohio, some stones he found in a stream along the way to Dakota, two drawing pencils, a pair of scissors, a spelling award he won last year in the fifth grade, and an old catalog.
As Peter slowly turned the pages of the catalog, he noticed a page full of pictures of saddles. An idea flashed into his mind. They’ll have to use their imaginations, Peter thought, but I can make sure everyone will have a special Christmas present this year!
On Christmas Eve Peter and his father brought in a small evergreen tree and placed it in the center of the kitchen on a wooden stand. Ruthie hung the soap stars and bows on the tree while Peter draped the yarn tinsel over the branches. Then Peter hung some oddly shaped paper ornaments on the tree. One had a dark brown picture on it.
“What have we here?” asked Father as he turned the picture over so he could look at it. “Why, it’s a saddle!” he declared.
“It’s your Christmas saddle, Dad. Now all you need is a paper horse,” Peter said with a big smile.
Peter handed Ruthie a picture he had neatly cut out of the catalog. “Here’s your doll, Ruthie. It’s only a paper picture, but she’ll be part of our wishing game. Maybe next year you’ll have a real doll.”
Ruthie held the picture gently in her hands and said, “She’s pretty. If we put her on top of the tree, she can be our angel.”
Father picked Ruthie up, and she hung the doll on the top of the tree.
Mother could see a picture of a piano dangling near the saddle ornament. “And I have my piano,” she said as she hugged Peter.
“I wanted us to have what we each wanted most for Christmas,” Peter said. He held up a picture of a pair of skates and hung it on the tree. “And here are my ice skates.”
“Well, Peter, I think we’re having a nice Christmas. After all, Christmas is in our hearts, and as long as we’re together, we’ll always have the same good Christmas we used to have back in our old home,” his mother said.
“Next year we’ll probably have some of those gifts sitting under the tree instead of hanging on the tree,” Father laughed, but Peter thought that Father seemed to have a sudden hoarseness when he spoke.
“Are you all ready for popcorn?” Mother asked.
“Popcorn!” cried Peter and Ruthie. That was a real Christmas treat!
Ruthie and Mother seemed happy as they roasted the popcorn. And Father was getting ready to read the story of the first Christmas from the Bible.
Peter smiled and looked around. The tree was gaily decorated, and there were presents—even if they were only paper ones.
It is a nice Christmas, he thought. Suddenly he knew just what his mother meant when she said, “After all, Christmas is in our hearts!”
Read more →
👤 Parents
👤 Children
👤 Pioneers
Adversity
Children
Christmas
Family
Gratitude
Sacrifice
Self-Reliance
Matt and Mandy
Summary: Mandy asks her dad who should repent when one person calls another a mean name and the other responds by punching. Her dad explains that both are responsible for repenting of their own wrongs. The next day, Mandy apologizes to Linda, who responds with another insult, but Mandy still chooses to accept it and later feels happier.
Mandy: Dad, if somebody called somebody else a really mean name and then the second somebody punched the first somebody, who would need to repent?
Dad: Well, the first somebody would need to repent of the mean name, and the second somebody would need to repent of the punching.
Mandy: But wouldn’t the first somebody be worse because she started it?
Dad: Does it matter who’s worse? Both have done wrong, and both need to apologize and repent.
The next day—Mandy: Linda, I’m really sorry I punched you. How can I make it up to you?
Linda: You can get out of my sight, you toad!
Mandy: Thanks, Linda. I will.
That night—Dad: Somebody seems a lot happier.
Mandy: Somebody is.
Dad: Well, the first somebody would need to repent of the mean name, and the second somebody would need to repent of the punching.
Mandy: But wouldn’t the first somebody be worse because she started it?
Dad: Does it matter who’s worse? Both have done wrong, and both need to apologize and repent.
The next day—Mandy: Linda, I’m really sorry I punched you. How can I make it up to you?
Linda: You can get out of my sight, you toad!
Mandy: Thanks, Linda. I will.
That night—Dad: Somebody seems a lot happier.
Mandy: Somebody is.
Read more →
👤 Children
👤 Parents
Agency and Accountability
Children
Forgiveness
Parenting
Repentance
Favored by God to Accomplish His Work
Summary: A newly called Area Seventy traveled from Calabar to Abidjan for a district conference and struggled with French, facing miscommunications and feelings of inadequacy. He prayed for help, received an interpreter for the conference, and later was gently counseled by his wife to stop murmuring. The next day, he was unexpectedly assigned to teach English to French majors at his university, creating daily opportunities to practice French; a fellow servant also suggested a helpful training method. He recognized the Savior’s support and felt empowered to return to the French-speaking country multiple times with faith.
Recently, I found myself in a situation where I struggled to overcome this.
Not too long after I was called as an Area Seventy in the Africa West Area, I was assigned to a district conference in Soubre, a town about six hours’ drive from Abidjan, the capital of the Ivory Coast.
As I journeyed from Calabar through Lagos to Abidjan, I peacefully pondered what I had prepared and what the Savior would have me say and do. However, when I arrived at the Abidjan airport, where interactions and exchanges are in French, I started experiencing feelings of linguistic inadequacy. I have limited ability in French, which made it difficult to communicate and ask for assistance at the airport. My poor pronunciation resulted in the taxi driver taking me to the wrong hotel, and only with the help of a passerby were we able to arrive at the right one.
Eventually, safely in my hotel, where I was able to reach mission support, I reminded myself how Nephi and the brother of Jared were blessed because they worked by faith and never murmured against God, even when details of their assignments were unknown to them.
In my state of helplessness, including challenges communicating and ordering food, I reminded myself of the words in Alma 37:36 encouraging us to, “Cry unto God for all [our] support”. I followed this pattern and prayed for strength and direction, waited patiently, and trusted in God’s timing.
A temporary relief came as the mission president provided an interpreter for the Saturday session, which was a great blessing. As I returned to my room later that evening, I continued asking the Lord for wisdom to see me through His first assignment for me (alone) in a French speaking country. The desire of my heart was to accomplish His purpose. The Sunday session was similar, and I never ceased calling upon the Lord. As I journeyed home after the meetings and several visits to the homes of members, I earnestly pled with the Lord to know how I was going to overcome this language barrier problem.
Upon arriving home, I shared my frustrating language ordeals with my wife, and she gently reminded me to stop murmuring, and encouraged me to trust in divine help. Her sincere admonition reminded me of Elder Neal A. Maxwell’s explanation that “murmurers have short memories. . . . [and] the longest list of demands”.
I already had two on my list and was not willing to have it increased.
I was home the next morning when a call came from a student who introduced himself as the class representative of the modern languages and translation studies at the University of Calabar where I teach.
His call was to inform me that I had just been assigned to teach English composition to the first-year students of that department who were majoring in French! I was in a state of bewilderment. Certainly, this was not the handiwork of man and if it was not, then it was God setting up support structures for me, not to only succeed, but for me to acknowledge Him. As I entered the class on my first day, the students welcomed me saying, “Bonjour professeur, tu es la bienvenue dans notre classe.”
“Bonjour” I replied.
This class is like a miniature French-speaking community in a country with English as its second and official language.
Today I am making some progress. It is slow, but I am grateful for this because I am compelled to always interact in French with them both in and out of class. But this was not all. As I shared my experience with a fellow servant of the Lord, he was also kind enough to suggest how to project my trainings in French and English to ease the training process, save time, and reduce interference.
I am glad to witness the Savior’s support as I no longer rely only on my strength.
He miraculously made the French class available to me when I least expected it. He has further supported me with a smart training method from a fellow servant as I humbly asked for help. But above all, He has strengthened me with the Spirit to trust in Him and in His timing. I know He can provide support for and help me accomplish what He wants me to, both now and in the future, so I will never allow myself to be worried over things.
Little wonder, this year’s schedule shows me returning to this same French speaking country five times. I am strong! I know like Nephi, no matter the nature of my calling, if I trust in Him and His timing, I need not fear nor doubt. “For I know that the Lord giveth no commandments [or assignments] unto the children of men, save He shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which He commandeth them” (1 Nephi 3:7).
Not too long after I was called as an Area Seventy in the Africa West Area, I was assigned to a district conference in Soubre, a town about six hours’ drive from Abidjan, the capital of the Ivory Coast.
As I journeyed from Calabar through Lagos to Abidjan, I peacefully pondered what I had prepared and what the Savior would have me say and do. However, when I arrived at the Abidjan airport, where interactions and exchanges are in French, I started experiencing feelings of linguistic inadequacy. I have limited ability in French, which made it difficult to communicate and ask for assistance at the airport. My poor pronunciation resulted in the taxi driver taking me to the wrong hotel, and only with the help of a passerby were we able to arrive at the right one.
Eventually, safely in my hotel, where I was able to reach mission support, I reminded myself how Nephi and the brother of Jared were blessed because they worked by faith and never murmured against God, even when details of their assignments were unknown to them.
In my state of helplessness, including challenges communicating and ordering food, I reminded myself of the words in Alma 37:36 encouraging us to, “Cry unto God for all [our] support”. I followed this pattern and prayed for strength and direction, waited patiently, and trusted in God’s timing.
A temporary relief came as the mission president provided an interpreter for the Saturday session, which was a great blessing. As I returned to my room later that evening, I continued asking the Lord for wisdom to see me through His first assignment for me (alone) in a French speaking country. The desire of my heart was to accomplish His purpose. The Sunday session was similar, and I never ceased calling upon the Lord. As I journeyed home after the meetings and several visits to the homes of members, I earnestly pled with the Lord to know how I was going to overcome this language barrier problem.
Upon arriving home, I shared my frustrating language ordeals with my wife, and she gently reminded me to stop murmuring, and encouraged me to trust in divine help. Her sincere admonition reminded me of Elder Neal A. Maxwell’s explanation that “murmurers have short memories. . . . [and] the longest list of demands”.
I already had two on my list and was not willing to have it increased.
I was home the next morning when a call came from a student who introduced himself as the class representative of the modern languages and translation studies at the University of Calabar where I teach.
His call was to inform me that I had just been assigned to teach English composition to the first-year students of that department who were majoring in French! I was in a state of bewilderment. Certainly, this was not the handiwork of man and if it was not, then it was God setting up support structures for me, not to only succeed, but for me to acknowledge Him. As I entered the class on my first day, the students welcomed me saying, “Bonjour professeur, tu es la bienvenue dans notre classe.”
“Bonjour” I replied.
This class is like a miniature French-speaking community in a country with English as its second and official language.
Today I am making some progress. It is slow, but I am grateful for this because I am compelled to always interact in French with them both in and out of class. But this was not all. As I shared my experience with a fellow servant of the Lord, he was also kind enough to suggest how to project my trainings in French and English to ease the training process, save time, and reduce interference.
I am glad to witness the Savior’s support as I no longer rely only on my strength.
He miraculously made the French class available to me when I least expected it. He has further supported me with a smart training method from a fellow servant as I humbly asked for help. But above all, He has strengthened me with the Spirit to trust in Him and in His timing. I know He can provide support for and help me accomplish what He wants me to, both now and in the future, so I will never allow myself to be worried over things.
Little wonder, this year’s schedule shows me returning to this same French speaking country five times. I am strong! I know like Nephi, no matter the nature of my calling, if I trust in Him and His timing, I need not fear nor doubt. “For I know that the Lord giveth no commandments [or assignments] unto the children of men, save He shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which He commandeth them” (1 Nephi 3:7).
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👤 Jesus Christ
👤 Church Leaders (Local)
👤 Young Adults
👤 Church Members (General)
👤 Other
Adversity
Diversity and Unity in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints
Education
Faith
Gratitude
Holy Ghost
Ministering
Miracles
Patience
Prayer
Sunderland and Billingham Stakes Share Faith With Community
Summary: The mayor and mayoress of Stockton-on-Tees attended the service and were warmly welcomed by local leaders and members. They expressed enthusiasm for the music and testimonies; when presented with a Book of Mormon, the mayor said he already had one but gladly accepted another and praised its artwork.
Those in attendance at the Why I Believe service were also delighted to be joined by the mayor and mayoress of Stockton-on-Tees, Jim and Pauline Beall. Councillor Beall, having been born and raised in Stockton-on-Tees, is a man who is passionate about helping the community and local people. He has a great wealth of experience in the social care sector, having worked in this field for 33 years previously. The care and compassion of him and his wife, Pauline, shone through as they visited the Billingham meetinghouse.
Sam Cox, Billingham Stake Relief Society president, reflected on the night when she said, “It was a pleasure to be able to welcome the mayor and mayoress of Stockton-on-Tees into the Billingham meetinghouse, as we celebrated together being a part of this faith community. Why I Believe has such a depth to it, yet through beautiful music and the words spoken, we felt a witness of the love that Heavenly Father has for us. What a blessing it was to have an evening where the focus was on our Saviour, Jesus Christ, the Prince of Peace, the Solid Foundation in whom we believe.”
The mayor and mayoress shared great enthusiasm and awe about the music and testimonies they heard and were extremely grateful for the invitation. When they were presented with a Book of Mormon, the mayor mentioned that he already had a Book of Mormon sitting on his bookshelf at home but would be more than happy to take another. He commented on the beautiful artwork that can be found in the Book of Mormon. It was a fantastic evening to share in belief and faith with each other.
Sam Cox, Billingham Stake Relief Society president, reflected on the night when she said, “It was a pleasure to be able to welcome the mayor and mayoress of Stockton-on-Tees into the Billingham meetinghouse, as we celebrated together being a part of this faith community. Why I Believe has such a depth to it, yet through beautiful music and the words spoken, we felt a witness of the love that Heavenly Father has for us. What a blessing it was to have an evening where the focus was on our Saviour, Jesus Christ, the Prince of Peace, the Solid Foundation in whom we believe.”
The mayor and mayoress shared great enthusiasm and awe about the music and testimonies they heard and were extremely grateful for the invitation. When they were presented with a Book of Mormon, the mayor mentioned that he already had a Book of Mormon sitting on his bookshelf at home but would be more than happy to take another. He commented on the beautiful artwork that can be found in the Book of Mormon. It was a fantastic evening to share in belief and faith with each other.
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👤 Other
👤 Church Leaders (Local)
👤 Church Members (General)
Book of Mormon
Faith
Jesus Christ
Love
Missionary Work
Music
Relief Society
Testimony
The Feather Bed
Summary: Pioneer children Tommy and Betsy endure a bitter winter day as their family leaves Nauvoo, braving hail and crossing a frozen river they see as a bridge provided by Heavenly Father. Welcomed at Sugar Creek, they warm by campfires and eat bread sawed from a frozen loaf. That night, many babies are born, and Tommy and Betsy give up their featherbed to help keep a newborn and mother warm. They later learn nine babies were born and feel joy from their act of kindness.
Tommy and Betsy were excited and happy about going out west. “It is just like going on a picnic,” said Betsy.
“It would be if it weren’t so cold,” replied Tommy, as he snuggled down into the featherbed that his father had thrown over the supplies in the bottom of the wagon. It was like settling down into a giant pillow. Its feathery softness kept Tommy and Betsy snug and warm, even though the wind was blowing, snow was falling, and ice was forming on the edges of the wagon cover.
The road was ice-covered. As they started down the steep slope to the river, Father called to Tommy and Betsy, “You had better get out of the wagon and walk. It will be safer that way.”
Tommy and Betsy hated to leave the cozy warmth of their featherbed, but they did not say so. Instead, they climbed out of the wagon and, lowering their heads into the wind, walked the remaining distance down the hill to the river. While they were waiting for their father and mother, it started to hail. The hailstones were big, and to Tommy and Betsy it felt as if it were raining bullets. Betsy was frightened; both she and Tommy were freezing. Tommy said, “Let’s jump up and down and laugh at the hailstones. At least that will help us get warm.” And that was the way their father and mother found them—laughing at the hailstorm.
When Tommy and Betsy saw Father leading the frightened oxen and Mother walking by his side, holding a pan to protect his head from the hailstones, they were glad that they were found laughing instead of crying. Happily they climbed into the back of the wagon and settled once more into the cozy warmth of their featherbed.
In a moment or two, Tommy raised a corner of the wagon cover and peeked out. To his amazement he saw wagons coming from every part of town. “How can they all cross the river?” he wondered aloud. “The ferry is locked in ice.”
His father, who at that moment was near the back of the wagon, heard Tommy and answered him. “We will go across the river on the bridge our Heavenly Father has provided—a bridge of ice a mile long.”
Tommy looked across the river. It was so far to the other side! Could a river so big freeze solid enough to hold up a heavy covered wagon? He was breathless with fear that when his father moved the oxen onto the ice it would crack, but it did not! Tommy and Betsy sighed with relief as one wagon after another followed until there was a whole train of them moving slowly across the river. The ice would hold!
For a moment all was quiet, and into their hearts came a feeling that their Heavenly Father really loved them and that he would watch over and protect them on their journey west. It was then that a woman started to sing, and soon others joined in. The singing continued until the wagon train arrived at Sugar Creek.
Sugar Creek was the place where the Saints expected to camp until the weather was warmer. The people who had arrived there the week before heard the singing, and they built campfires—many of them—to welcome the travelers and so that all could get warm when they arrived. Tommy and Besty were thankful for the campfires. They stood in front of the one nearest their wagon and turned first to one side and then to the other, until they were toasty warm. Tommy left the fire first to help his father feed the oxen and milk the cow.
“Betsy,” called her mother, “please bring a loaf of bread out of the bread box so we can have bread and milk for supper.”
The loaf of bread was frozen solid. Her mother tried to cut it with a knife. Then she tried to break it with a hammer, but she only succeeded in making Betsy laugh. When her father came with a pail of milk, he said, “I’ll get the saw,” and they all laughed when they saw him try to cut that little loaf of bread with his big saw. He succeeded in breaking off small pieces. Tommy and Betsy put these pieces into the warm milk.
That night when Tommy and Betsy snuggled down into their warm featherbed, they thought of all that had happened during the day. Betsy thought of her kitten, of the chair with the big round back, and of the clock they’d left back in Nauvoo. In her mind she could hear the clock saying “Sleep, Betsy. Sleep, Betsy,” just as it used to do. And Betsy was soon asleep.
With Tommy it was different. He thought about the wicked men who had driven them from Nauvoo, and he hoped these men would not follow them out west. The more he thought, the more wide awake he became. Because he was so wide awake, he heard all the noises of the camp. It sounded as if many people were going from one wagon to another. Then he heard the ice on the wagon cover crack as Father raised a corner and said, “Tommy, Betsy, wake up!”
Tommy was up in an instant. “Is something the matter?” he asked.
“Sister Johnson has a new baby girl,” replied his father. “Your featherbed would help the mother and the baby keep warm on this bitter cold night.”
By that time Betsy was awake, and both she and Tommy helped their father pull the featherbed out of the wagon. Afterwards, her father bundled Betsy up in some quilts and she went back to sleep.
Tommy was too excited to sleep. Instead, he stood by the fire, which was blazing brightly. He had been there just a minute or so when his mother came out of Sister Johnson’s wagon carrying the baby. “It will only be a minute before the featherbed is ready, and then we will tuck her in next to her mother, and she will be snug and warm,” she said. “In the meantime, it is much warmer here by the fire than it is in the wagon.” Tommy looked at the ice on the wagon cover and knew that this was true.
The next morning when he and Betsy asked about the baby, their mother said, “Instead of just one new baby, there were nine babies born last night.”
“Nine new babies!” Tommy and Betsy could hardly believe their ears.
Mother looked from one to the other and said softly, “I know of at least one of those babies who is doing well because two kind children gave up their precious featherbed so the baby could be warm.”
Tommy and Betsy smiled at each other, and a warm glow of happiness filled their hearts.
“It would be if it weren’t so cold,” replied Tommy, as he snuggled down into the featherbed that his father had thrown over the supplies in the bottom of the wagon. It was like settling down into a giant pillow. Its feathery softness kept Tommy and Betsy snug and warm, even though the wind was blowing, snow was falling, and ice was forming on the edges of the wagon cover.
The road was ice-covered. As they started down the steep slope to the river, Father called to Tommy and Betsy, “You had better get out of the wagon and walk. It will be safer that way.”
Tommy and Betsy hated to leave the cozy warmth of their featherbed, but they did not say so. Instead, they climbed out of the wagon and, lowering their heads into the wind, walked the remaining distance down the hill to the river. While they were waiting for their father and mother, it started to hail. The hailstones were big, and to Tommy and Betsy it felt as if it were raining bullets. Betsy was frightened; both she and Tommy were freezing. Tommy said, “Let’s jump up and down and laugh at the hailstones. At least that will help us get warm.” And that was the way their father and mother found them—laughing at the hailstorm.
When Tommy and Betsy saw Father leading the frightened oxen and Mother walking by his side, holding a pan to protect his head from the hailstones, they were glad that they were found laughing instead of crying. Happily they climbed into the back of the wagon and settled once more into the cozy warmth of their featherbed.
In a moment or two, Tommy raised a corner of the wagon cover and peeked out. To his amazement he saw wagons coming from every part of town. “How can they all cross the river?” he wondered aloud. “The ferry is locked in ice.”
His father, who at that moment was near the back of the wagon, heard Tommy and answered him. “We will go across the river on the bridge our Heavenly Father has provided—a bridge of ice a mile long.”
Tommy looked across the river. It was so far to the other side! Could a river so big freeze solid enough to hold up a heavy covered wagon? He was breathless with fear that when his father moved the oxen onto the ice it would crack, but it did not! Tommy and Betsy sighed with relief as one wagon after another followed until there was a whole train of them moving slowly across the river. The ice would hold!
For a moment all was quiet, and into their hearts came a feeling that their Heavenly Father really loved them and that he would watch over and protect them on their journey west. It was then that a woman started to sing, and soon others joined in. The singing continued until the wagon train arrived at Sugar Creek.
Sugar Creek was the place where the Saints expected to camp until the weather was warmer. The people who had arrived there the week before heard the singing, and they built campfires—many of them—to welcome the travelers and so that all could get warm when they arrived. Tommy and Besty were thankful for the campfires. They stood in front of the one nearest their wagon and turned first to one side and then to the other, until they were toasty warm. Tommy left the fire first to help his father feed the oxen and milk the cow.
“Betsy,” called her mother, “please bring a loaf of bread out of the bread box so we can have bread and milk for supper.”
The loaf of bread was frozen solid. Her mother tried to cut it with a knife. Then she tried to break it with a hammer, but she only succeeded in making Betsy laugh. When her father came with a pail of milk, he said, “I’ll get the saw,” and they all laughed when they saw him try to cut that little loaf of bread with his big saw. He succeeded in breaking off small pieces. Tommy and Betsy put these pieces into the warm milk.
That night when Tommy and Betsy snuggled down into their warm featherbed, they thought of all that had happened during the day. Betsy thought of her kitten, of the chair with the big round back, and of the clock they’d left back in Nauvoo. In her mind she could hear the clock saying “Sleep, Betsy. Sleep, Betsy,” just as it used to do. And Betsy was soon asleep.
With Tommy it was different. He thought about the wicked men who had driven them from Nauvoo, and he hoped these men would not follow them out west. The more he thought, the more wide awake he became. Because he was so wide awake, he heard all the noises of the camp. It sounded as if many people were going from one wagon to another. Then he heard the ice on the wagon cover crack as Father raised a corner and said, “Tommy, Betsy, wake up!”
Tommy was up in an instant. “Is something the matter?” he asked.
“Sister Johnson has a new baby girl,” replied his father. “Your featherbed would help the mother and the baby keep warm on this bitter cold night.”
By that time Betsy was awake, and both she and Tommy helped their father pull the featherbed out of the wagon. Afterwards, her father bundled Betsy up in some quilts and she went back to sleep.
Tommy was too excited to sleep. Instead, he stood by the fire, which was blazing brightly. He had been there just a minute or so when his mother came out of Sister Johnson’s wagon carrying the baby. “It will only be a minute before the featherbed is ready, and then we will tuck her in next to her mother, and she will be snug and warm,” she said. “In the meantime, it is much warmer here by the fire than it is in the wagon.” Tommy looked at the ice on the wagon cover and knew that this was true.
The next morning when he and Betsy asked about the baby, their mother said, “Instead of just one new baby, there were nine babies born last night.”
“Nine new babies!” Tommy and Betsy could hardly believe their ears.
Mother looked from one to the other and said softly, “I know of at least one of those babies who is doing well because two kind children gave up their precious featherbed so the baby could be warm.”
Tommy and Betsy smiled at each other, and a warm glow of happiness filled their hearts.
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👤 Pioneers
👤 Early Saints
👤 Children
👤 Parents
👤 Church Members (General)
Adversity
Charity
Children
Faith
Family
Gratitude
Miracles
Sacrifice
Service
Preparing for the Temple
Summary: Inspired by President Hunter’s counsel, Kuteka Kamulete of Zaire met with his branch president and obtained a temple recommend despite living far from a temple. Later, a work trip to North Korea enabled an unexpected stopover in Switzerland, where he attended the Swiss Temple. He received his endowment and expressed deep gratitude for the experience.
Members who follow President Hunter’s counsel sometimes find temple doors open to them in surprising ways. One such member was Kuteka Kamulete of Zaire. Although he lived thousands of kilometers from the nearest temple, President Hunter’s words touched his heart. He met with his branch president and received a recommend. Later, through an opportunity at work to travel to North Korea, in unexpected and unusual ways he was able to arrange a stopover in Switzerland and attend the Swiss Temple.
He later wrote: “How humble and grateful I felt! … I received my endowment that day, and it has been the greatest gift in my life” (“From Zaire to the Lord’s House,” Liahona, August 1997, 9).
He later wrote: “How humble and grateful I felt! … I received my endowment that day, and it has been the greatest gift in my life” (“From Zaire to the Lord’s House,” Liahona, August 1997, 9).
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👤 General Authorities (Modern)
👤 Church Leaders (Local)
👤 Church Members (General)
Covenant
Faith
Gratitude
Obedience
Ordinances
Temples
Melvin Mouse Thinks Hard
Summary: Melvin Mouse wakes excited to play with his ball but discovers it is missing. He searches his favorite places and asks a robin, a rabbit, a grasshopper, and a butterfly for help, growing discouraged when he can’t find it. After thinking carefully about where he last had it, he remembers putting it in his toy chest and joyfully finds it there.
Melvin Mouse jumped out of bed. “It’s morning,” he said. “Sleep’s done. I’m going to play with my ball today. I’m going to throw it and roll it and bounce it off the wall. That’s what I’m going to do today.”
Melvin pattered downstairs to eat the seeds and bread crusts Mama and Papa Mouse had ready for his breakfast. Then he went to find his ball. Was it in his closet? Was it on his rocker? Was it under his bed?
“It’s gone!” cried Melvin Mouse. “Where is it? Did someone take it?”
“Come, Melvin,” said Mama Mouse. “Stop and think. When was the last time you played with your ball? Where did you have it?”
“Think hard, Melvin,” urged Papa Mouse. “That’s what you must do.”
Melvin thought hard and finally he remembered. Yesterday he had played with his ball on the lawn by the house. He had rolled and kicked it to his favorite places. Now he knew where to look.
Melvin pushed his way through the grass to the stump of an old oak tree. Robin Redbreast was pecking at the stump, hunting for grubs. “Have you seen my ball?” Melvin asked the robin. “It’s round and smooth and has red stripes on it.”
Robin Redbreast twisted his head to look around. “No, I haven’t seen your ball,” he chirped. “But I’ll keep my eyes open for it.”
“That’s very kind,” said Melvin Mouse. He darted through the grass to a tall pine tree he liked to visit. A soft bed of old brown needles lay under it. The tree’s bottom branches tickled the ground. And resting under the branches was a young brown rabbit. She wiggled her nose at Melvin Mouse.
“Have you seen my ball?” Melvin asked the brown rabbit. “It’s round and smooth and has red stripes on it.”
The rabbit hopped to the left and to the right. She sniffed the pine-scented air. “Sorry. I haven’t seen your ball. It’s not in this bed of pine needles. Why don’t you sit and rest with me for a while?”
“Thank you,” replied Melvin Mouse, “but I’d better keep looking.” Melvin scurried through the grass to the porch steps at the back of his house. He was sure he would find his ball there!
The porch steps were old and creaky. Many feet had walked on them, and many things were lost under them. Just now a grasshopper came hopping down the stairs.
“Have you seen my ball?” Melvin asked. “It’s round and smooth and has red stripes on it.”
“I’ve been hopping around all morning, my friend, and I haven’t seen your ball. But let me take a peek under these old porch steps for you.”
The long-legged grasshopper hopped twice and landed on the ground, where a loose board allowed him to look under the steps. “Well,” said the grasshopper, “there’re a puzzle piece, a broken flowerpot, two pencils, and a bird’s nest with no eggs.”
“It’s no use!” cried Melvin Mouse. “My ball is lost. I thought hard, I remembered, and I looked where I played with it last. I even asked for help. But it’s lost, and I’ll never see it again.”
The morning breeze made Melvin shiver. He decided to warm himself in the flower bed in the front yard while he tried to think of something else fun to do.
He ran around the house to the flower bed. New flowers had pushed their way through the crumbly soil, and a yellow tulip stretched tall, aiming for the sun. As Melvin sat in a sunny spot and watched a pretty speckled butterfly on the tulip’s leaves, tears began to trickle from the little mouse’s eyes.
The butterfly saw Melvin’s tears and asked, “What’s the matter? Don’t you like spring?”
“Oh, I do,” said Melvin. “But I wanted to play with my ball today. It’s round and smooth and has red stripes on it. I’ve looked and looked, but it’s lost.”
“Round, smooth, red stripes? That’s a ball worth finding. Don’t give up. Think hard. Where did you see it last?” asked the butterfly.
Melvin Mouse tried one more time to remember. It wasn’t at the oak stump. It wasn’t at the pine tree. And it wasn’t at the porch steps. Those are my favorite places to play, Melvin thought. I played at each of them yesterday. Then I went home. I took my ball, and I … I … I put it away in my toy chest!
Melvin ran to the front door of his house. He hurried inside, scrambled up the stairs to his room, and lifted the lid of his toy chest. There was his ball! It was round and smooth and had red stripes on it, just as he remembered.
“I found you!” he shouted happily. “Now I’m going to roll you and throw you and bounce you off the wall!”
And he did.
Melvin pattered downstairs to eat the seeds and bread crusts Mama and Papa Mouse had ready for his breakfast. Then he went to find his ball. Was it in his closet? Was it on his rocker? Was it under his bed?
“It’s gone!” cried Melvin Mouse. “Where is it? Did someone take it?”
“Come, Melvin,” said Mama Mouse. “Stop and think. When was the last time you played with your ball? Where did you have it?”
“Think hard, Melvin,” urged Papa Mouse. “That’s what you must do.”
Melvin thought hard and finally he remembered. Yesterday he had played with his ball on the lawn by the house. He had rolled and kicked it to his favorite places. Now he knew where to look.
Melvin pushed his way through the grass to the stump of an old oak tree. Robin Redbreast was pecking at the stump, hunting for grubs. “Have you seen my ball?” Melvin asked the robin. “It’s round and smooth and has red stripes on it.”
Robin Redbreast twisted his head to look around. “No, I haven’t seen your ball,” he chirped. “But I’ll keep my eyes open for it.”
“That’s very kind,” said Melvin Mouse. He darted through the grass to a tall pine tree he liked to visit. A soft bed of old brown needles lay under it. The tree’s bottom branches tickled the ground. And resting under the branches was a young brown rabbit. She wiggled her nose at Melvin Mouse.
“Have you seen my ball?” Melvin asked the brown rabbit. “It’s round and smooth and has red stripes on it.”
The rabbit hopped to the left and to the right. She sniffed the pine-scented air. “Sorry. I haven’t seen your ball. It’s not in this bed of pine needles. Why don’t you sit and rest with me for a while?”
“Thank you,” replied Melvin Mouse, “but I’d better keep looking.” Melvin scurried through the grass to the porch steps at the back of his house. He was sure he would find his ball there!
The porch steps were old and creaky. Many feet had walked on them, and many things were lost under them. Just now a grasshopper came hopping down the stairs.
“Have you seen my ball?” Melvin asked. “It’s round and smooth and has red stripes on it.”
“I’ve been hopping around all morning, my friend, and I haven’t seen your ball. But let me take a peek under these old porch steps for you.”
The long-legged grasshopper hopped twice and landed on the ground, where a loose board allowed him to look under the steps. “Well,” said the grasshopper, “there’re a puzzle piece, a broken flowerpot, two pencils, and a bird’s nest with no eggs.”
“It’s no use!” cried Melvin Mouse. “My ball is lost. I thought hard, I remembered, and I looked where I played with it last. I even asked for help. But it’s lost, and I’ll never see it again.”
The morning breeze made Melvin shiver. He decided to warm himself in the flower bed in the front yard while he tried to think of something else fun to do.
He ran around the house to the flower bed. New flowers had pushed their way through the crumbly soil, and a yellow tulip stretched tall, aiming for the sun. As Melvin sat in a sunny spot and watched a pretty speckled butterfly on the tulip’s leaves, tears began to trickle from the little mouse’s eyes.
The butterfly saw Melvin’s tears and asked, “What’s the matter? Don’t you like spring?”
“Oh, I do,” said Melvin. “But I wanted to play with my ball today. It’s round and smooth and has red stripes on it. I’ve looked and looked, but it’s lost.”
“Round, smooth, red stripes? That’s a ball worth finding. Don’t give up. Think hard. Where did you see it last?” asked the butterfly.
Melvin Mouse tried one more time to remember. It wasn’t at the oak stump. It wasn’t at the pine tree. And it wasn’t at the porch steps. Those are my favorite places to play, Melvin thought. I played at each of them yesterday. Then I went home. I took my ball, and I … I … I put it away in my toy chest!
Melvin ran to the front door of his house. He hurried inside, scrambled up the stairs to his room, and lifted the lid of his toy chest. There was his ball! It was round and smooth and had red stripes on it, just as he remembered.
“I found you!” he shouted happily. “Now I’m going to roll you and throw you and bounce you off the wall!”
And he did.
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👤 Other
Agency and Accountability
Children
Friendship
Kindness
Patience
Many Ways to Learn
Summary: Lisa began cosmetology school at 16 and arranged a high school schedule that allowed afternoon training. Now in college studying theater tech, she explains that cosmetology was part of her plan to help pay for school. Her skill also enables her to serve others and save her family money on haircuts. Everything is unfolding as she hoped.
What does learning how to cut hair have to do with setting up stage lights?
“It’s all part of my plan,” says Lisa, a young adult now in her first year of college.
Lisa started cosmetology school at age 16. She even found a program that let her attend shorter days at high school so she could train at cosmetology school in the afternoons. The fact that she’s now at college studying theater tech doesn’t mean that the whole salon thing didn’t work out, either. In fact, everything is unfolding exactly how she’d hoped.
“I wanted to have a skill I could use to help pay for college,” Lisa says. “Plus, it lets me serve other people and save money on family haircuts for the rest of my life!”
“It’s all part of my plan,” says Lisa, a young adult now in her first year of college.
Lisa started cosmetology school at age 16. She even found a program that let her attend shorter days at high school so she could train at cosmetology school in the afternoons. The fact that she’s now at college studying theater tech doesn’t mean that the whole salon thing didn’t work out, either. In fact, everything is unfolding exactly how she’d hoped.
“I wanted to have a skill I could use to help pay for college,” Lisa says. “Plus, it lets me serve other people and save money on family haircuts for the rest of my life!”
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👤 Young Adults
Education
Employment
Family
Self-Reliance
Service
Have They Accepted the Gospel?
Summary: During Holy Week, the narrator reflected on Jesus' promise of resurrection and wondered if deceased relatives had accepted the gospel. Prompted to search FamilySearch, they discovered a rare-surname branch with over 50 relatives' names and details, which they recorded. Their family then began performing ordinances for that line, leading to many more names being found and a deepened conviction of faith.
I would like to tell you of an experience that strengthened my understanding of temple worship and the benefits it brings to us and our ancestors.
It was Holy Week. The traditional activities commemorating the last week of the Savior were present everywhere. The Christian world joined the celebration, more motivated by tradition than by understanding.
At one point on that Good Friday, I stopped to reflect on the words that Christ expressed to Martha at Lazarus’ tomb. With deep attention and hope, she listened as “Jesus said unto her, I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live:
“And whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die. Believest thou this?”2
As the words of hope and faith nested in her heart, the reality of the miracle followed. Lazarus was called to life and to be among his own again.
“If I believe,” I told myself, “we will all live again after we die.”
Immediately, my thoughts turned to my ancestors and the words revealed to the prophet Joseph F. Smith, just weeks before his death, came to my mind in connection with the experience of Martha and Mary:
“While this vast multitude waited and conversed, rejoicing in the hour of their deliverance from the chains of death, the Son of God appeared, declaring liberty to the captives who had been faithful;
“And there he preached to them the everlasting gospel, the doctrine of the resurrection and the redemption of mankind from the fall, and from individual sins on conditions of repentance.”3
I thought about some of my family members I knew before they left this life. “Could it be that they accepted the gospel?” I wondered.
Reflection was followed by the impulse to go to the FamilySearch site and look in my family tree, as if there I could find the answer I was looking for.
When I opened the site and saw that I could also search for information about my ancestors in other sites related to FamilySearch, I decided to try one of them.
When I checked it, I saw a family name on the site. Yes, it was the same name as my great-uncle, married to the sister of my maternal grandmother. It was not a common surname and it was not easy to pronounce.
The person with that last name was the administrator of a family tree. Upon entering that tree, I found a family treasure. Before my eyes appeared more than 50 names with photos, names, dates, professions, and even with the nicknames by which some of them were known.
The time passed very quickly. I did not want to stop recording the information that had miraculously appeared before me.
Until that moment, that surname and that branch of the family, were not on my agenda because I did not have enough information.
At the end of the day, my thoughts returned to the question: “And my ancestors, have they accepted the gospel?”
Tears ran down my cheeks as I said to myself, “Yes,” and again Martha’s words to the Savior came to my mind as an echo, “Yes, I believe.”
As our family began to perform the ordinances for that family line, the tree began to bloom. There were no longer only 50 names as many more were found when the desire to know and do came to my mind and heart.
“Behold, the field was ripe, and blessed are ye, for ye did thrust in the sickle, and did reap with your might, yea, all the day long did ye labor; and behold the number of your sheaves! And they shall be gathered into the garners, that they are not wasted.”4
It was Holy Week. The traditional activities commemorating the last week of the Savior were present everywhere. The Christian world joined the celebration, more motivated by tradition than by understanding.
At one point on that Good Friday, I stopped to reflect on the words that Christ expressed to Martha at Lazarus’ tomb. With deep attention and hope, she listened as “Jesus said unto her, I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live:
“And whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die. Believest thou this?”2
As the words of hope and faith nested in her heart, the reality of the miracle followed. Lazarus was called to life and to be among his own again.
“If I believe,” I told myself, “we will all live again after we die.”
Immediately, my thoughts turned to my ancestors and the words revealed to the prophet Joseph F. Smith, just weeks before his death, came to my mind in connection with the experience of Martha and Mary:
“While this vast multitude waited and conversed, rejoicing in the hour of their deliverance from the chains of death, the Son of God appeared, declaring liberty to the captives who had been faithful;
“And there he preached to them the everlasting gospel, the doctrine of the resurrection and the redemption of mankind from the fall, and from individual sins on conditions of repentance.”3
I thought about some of my family members I knew before they left this life. “Could it be that they accepted the gospel?” I wondered.
Reflection was followed by the impulse to go to the FamilySearch site and look in my family tree, as if there I could find the answer I was looking for.
When I opened the site and saw that I could also search for information about my ancestors in other sites related to FamilySearch, I decided to try one of them.
When I checked it, I saw a family name on the site. Yes, it was the same name as my great-uncle, married to the sister of my maternal grandmother. It was not a common surname and it was not easy to pronounce.
The person with that last name was the administrator of a family tree. Upon entering that tree, I found a family treasure. Before my eyes appeared more than 50 names with photos, names, dates, professions, and even with the nicknames by which some of them were known.
The time passed very quickly. I did not want to stop recording the information that had miraculously appeared before me.
Until that moment, that surname and that branch of the family, were not on my agenda because I did not have enough information.
At the end of the day, my thoughts returned to the question: “And my ancestors, have they accepted the gospel?”
Tears ran down my cheeks as I said to myself, “Yes,” and again Martha’s words to the Savior came to my mind as an echo, “Yes, I believe.”
As our family began to perform the ordinances for that family line, the tree began to bloom. There were no longer only 50 names as many more were found when the desire to know and do came to my mind and heart.
“Behold, the field was ripe, and blessed are ye, for ye did thrust in the sickle, and did reap with your might, yea, all the day long did ye labor; and behold the number of your sheaves! And they shall be gathered into the garners, that they are not wasted.”4
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👤 Church Members (General)
👤 Other
Baptisms for the Dead
Faith
Family
Family History
Plan of Salvation
Temples
Where We’re Supposed to Be
Summary: Elder Warwood unexpectedly inherited mission bicycle maintenance responsibilities despite limited experience. His brother Dan extended a planned visit and, as a skilled mechanic, taught him bike repair over nearly three weeks. With this help, Elder Warwood now manages mission finances and keeps many bicycles running, recognizing the Lord’s provision.
Meanwhile, Elder Warwood was discovering his own unexpected path. “When we came out, I didn’t know what I was going to do,” he admits. When another senior missionary couple had to return home early, Elder Warwood inherited their bicycle maintenance responsibilities, in which he had little experience. “I know enough about bike repair to get myself in trouble,” he laughs.
The solution came through family. His brother Dan was planning to visit New Zealand for just one week with his wife. Sister Warwood suggested they extend their stay. “Gary could really use some help with bikes.” Her sister-in-law’s response was immediate: “Oh, Dan would love that.”
Dan, a skilled mechanic, ended up staying almost three weeks, teaching Elder Warwood everything about bicycle repair. “He fixes anything,” Elder Warwood says gratefully. “The Lord just provided that help.” Now he manages both mission finances and keeps dozens of bicycles running.
The solution came through family. His brother Dan was planning to visit New Zealand for just one week with his wife. Sister Warwood suggested they extend their stay. “Gary could really use some help with bikes.” Her sister-in-law’s response was immediate: “Oh, Dan would love that.”
Dan, a skilled mechanic, ended up staying almost three weeks, teaching Elder Warwood everything about bicycle repair. “He fixes anything,” Elder Warwood says gratefully. “The Lord just provided that help.” Now he manages both mission finances and keeps dozens of bicycles running.
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👤 Missionaries
👤 Other
Family
Missionary Work
Self-Reliance
Service
Stewardship
Gobo Fango
Summary: As a dying act, Gobo’s mother left her three-year-old son in a tree on the Talbots’ property in 1857, where Ruth Talbot found and took him in. After the Talbots joined the Church, Henry Talbot prayed for guidance when a ship captain refused to take Gobo, and he smuggled the boy aboard rolled in a rug; later, when a mob searched a train, Sister Talbot hid Gobo under her hoop skirt. The family reached Utah, adopted Gobo, and he grew into a faithful, hardworking sheepherder who consecrated his savings to help build the Salt Lake Temple. Years later, his temple work was completed, and he was sealed to Ruth and Henry Talbot in the temple he helped fund.
Mother sat back and started the amazing story of a little boy and his mother who was very ill. “Gobo was a three-year-old boy in 1857. His mother knew that she was dying and could no longer care for him, so she tucked him into the branches of a tree on the Talbots’ property. Ruth Talbot soon found the starving boy and gently coaxed him from the tree. Tired and cold, little Gobo climbed down and into the arms of his new mother. The entire Talbot family cared for Gobo as one of their own.
“When the family was taught by Mormon missionaries and joined the Church, they had a strong desire to follow President Brigham Young’s counsel to join the Saints in America. The Civil War was starting, and it was dangerous to bring Gobo to America because he was black. When the ship’s captain refused to allow Gobo on the boat, Henry Talbot knelt and asked for Heavenly Father’s guidance. He knew that Gobo would not be able to take care of himself if left behind.
“An idea came to Brother Talbot—his prayer was answered! He would roll Gobo into a large rug and smuggle him on and off the ship. Gobo was afraid to be wrapped inside the dark, heavy carpet. However, he had faith in the prophet’s counsel to go to America, so he remained very still and quiet. No one knew of the precious treasure tucked away in the old, faded rug.
“Once in America, Gobo was excited to start his new life there. He wanted to meet the prophet and see the temple that the missionaries in Africa had told him about.
“The family journeyed mostly by train. At one station, they were startled by an angry mob boarding it. Someone had told them that a child slave was being smuggled through. Gobo was not a slave, but the mob would not have believed it.
“Quickly Sister Talbot lifted her large hoop skirt and hid him underneath. Gobo pulled his knees tightly against his chest and held his breath until the mob left and his mother took him upon her lap. She reminded him that he was a child of God and explained that their home with the Saints in Utah would be a place of acceptance and love for their entire family, including Gobo. She assured him that their fellow brothers and sisters in the gospel understood what it was like to be persecuted and judged. Surely they would not turn Gobo away.
“Sister Talbot was right, and as soon as they could, the Talbots adopted Gobo.
“Once in Utah, Gobo grew into a righteous, hardworking sheepherder. He was always faithful to his baptismal covenants. In 1886, when a tablet of paper cost two cents, he willed his entire life savings—some five hundred dollars—to help build the Salt Lake Temple. Years later, the temple work was done for Gobo and he was sealed to Ruth and Henry Talbot in the very temple he helped build.”
“When the family was taught by Mormon missionaries and joined the Church, they had a strong desire to follow President Brigham Young’s counsel to join the Saints in America. The Civil War was starting, and it was dangerous to bring Gobo to America because he was black. When the ship’s captain refused to allow Gobo on the boat, Henry Talbot knelt and asked for Heavenly Father’s guidance. He knew that Gobo would not be able to take care of himself if left behind.
“An idea came to Brother Talbot—his prayer was answered! He would roll Gobo into a large rug and smuggle him on and off the ship. Gobo was afraid to be wrapped inside the dark, heavy carpet. However, he had faith in the prophet’s counsel to go to America, so he remained very still and quiet. No one knew of the precious treasure tucked away in the old, faded rug.
“Once in America, Gobo was excited to start his new life there. He wanted to meet the prophet and see the temple that the missionaries in Africa had told him about.
“The family journeyed mostly by train. At one station, they were startled by an angry mob boarding it. Someone had told them that a child slave was being smuggled through. Gobo was not a slave, but the mob would not have believed it.
“Quickly Sister Talbot lifted her large hoop skirt and hid him underneath. Gobo pulled his knees tightly against his chest and held his breath until the mob left and his mother took him upon her lap. She reminded him that he was a child of God and explained that their home with the Saints in Utah would be a place of acceptance and love for their entire family, including Gobo. She assured him that their fellow brothers and sisters in the gospel understood what it was like to be persecuted and judged. Surely they would not turn Gobo away.
“Sister Talbot was right, and as soon as they could, the Talbots adopted Gobo.
“Once in Utah, Gobo grew into a righteous, hardworking sheepherder. He was always faithful to his baptismal covenants. In 1886, when a tablet of paper cost two cents, he willed his entire life savings—some five hundred dollars—to help build the Salt Lake Temple. Years later, the temple work was done for Gobo and he was sealed to Ruth and Henry Talbot in the very temple he helped build.”
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👤 Missionaries
👤 Pioneers
👤 Early Saints
👤 Other
Adoption
Adversity
Baptism
Baptisms for the Dead
Conversion
Faith
Family
Kindness
Love
Prayer
Race and The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints
Racial and Cultural Prejudice
Revelation
Sacrifice
Sealing
Temples
Person to Person, Please
Summary: An 18-year-old named Paul, a would-be baseball player turned soldier, sails toward a dangerous amphibious assault in the Pacific after hearing a chaplain warn of heavy casualties. Assigned to the seventh wave after six waves were destroyed, he wades ashore and, amid death and fear, prays to know if God lives and if the gospel is true. He receives a spiritual confirmation that brings him a firm testimony.
READER 2: One 18-year-old boy stood on the deck of a troop ship out in the Pacific.
READER 1: He didn’t really want to be there.
READER 2: He really wanted to be on a baseball diamond. For almost all of his 18 years, he had wanted to be on a baseball diamond, and five major league scouts were considering him.
READER 1: Then Uncle Sam called. Suddenly he didn’t have a bat in his hand.
READER 4: He had a rifle, and he was on a troop ship.
READER 2: The water was almost like glass. The ship lay there still and calm.
READER 4: Three thousand men were crowded onto the bow of the ship singing “Abide with Me.”
READER 2: Then the chaplain started speaking:
READER 3: Now, men, I’m not going to kid you tonight. You’ve been training for what you’re going to do for the last year, and you know full well what’s before you. All our statistics tell us that a lot of you aren’t going to make it. About half of you will lay your lives down in this attack. What I’m saying, men, is that half of you will be standing before your Maker tomorrow morning before 8 o’clock. Are you ready?
READER 1: And the boy Paul, who wanted most of all to be a big league baseball star, suddenly wanted very much to know the answers to certain questions: Does God really live? Why am I out here? Does he care about me?
READER 2: The whistle went off at 5 o’clock in the morning, and he was assigned to the seventh wave.
READER 4: The first six waves didn’t even get ashore. They were completely blown out of the water.
READER 5: By then the tide was in, and I had to wade ashore in water clear up to my chest. I had to push through the dead bodies of my friends. I was asking a lot of questions. Why’s that wonderful 19-year-old kid lying face down in the water there? Why? Finally I was pulled ashore and I got about 10 feet on the beach where I dug a small—a mighty small—hole. There I took off my helmet and started to ask the Lord why? “Why, Lord? Why should I be out here? Do you live? Are you real? Is Jesus Christ really a Savior? Is Joseph Smith a prophet?” And then it came, that sweet, inner commitment and verification. It was Spirit touching spirit, saying in a solid voice: “It is so.” A testimony was born because I asked with real intent to know. I really wanted to know. “Are you there, Lord? Will you tell me?” And he did.
(Music: 20 second organ interlude “Abide with Me”)
READER 1: He didn’t really want to be there.
READER 2: He really wanted to be on a baseball diamond. For almost all of his 18 years, he had wanted to be on a baseball diamond, and five major league scouts were considering him.
READER 1: Then Uncle Sam called. Suddenly he didn’t have a bat in his hand.
READER 4: He had a rifle, and he was on a troop ship.
READER 2: The water was almost like glass. The ship lay there still and calm.
READER 4: Three thousand men were crowded onto the bow of the ship singing “Abide with Me.”
READER 2: Then the chaplain started speaking:
READER 3: Now, men, I’m not going to kid you tonight. You’ve been training for what you’re going to do for the last year, and you know full well what’s before you. All our statistics tell us that a lot of you aren’t going to make it. About half of you will lay your lives down in this attack. What I’m saying, men, is that half of you will be standing before your Maker tomorrow morning before 8 o’clock. Are you ready?
READER 1: And the boy Paul, who wanted most of all to be a big league baseball star, suddenly wanted very much to know the answers to certain questions: Does God really live? Why am I out here? Does he care about me?
READER 2: The whistle went off at 5 o’clock in the morning, and he was assigned to the seventh wave.
READER 4: The first six waves didn’t even get ashore. They were completely blown out of the water.
READER 5: By then the tide was in, and I had to wade ashore in water clear up to my chest. I had to push through the dead bodies of my friends. I was asking a lot of questions. Why’s that wonderful 19-year-old kid lying face down in the water there? Why? Finally I was pulled ashore and I got about 10 feet on the beach where I dug a small—a mighty small—hole. There I took off my helmet and started to ask the Lord why? “Why, Lord? Why should I be out here? Do you live? Are you real? Is Jesus Christ really a Savior? Is Joseph Smith a prophet?” And then it came, that sweet, inner commitment and verification. It was Spirit touching spirit, saying in a solid voice: “It is so.” A testimony was born because I asked with real intent to know. I really wanted to know. “Are you there, Lord? Will you tell me?” And he did.
(Music: 20 second organ interlude “Abide with Me”)
Read more →
👤 Young Adults
👤 Church Members (General)
👤 Other
Adversity
Conversion
Death
Doubt
Faith
Holy Ghost
Jesus Christ
Joseph Smith
Prayer
Testimony
War
Relief Society Keeps Me Singing
Summary: The author acknowledges she doesn’t sing well and recalls a teenage friend who once highlighted her mistakes. In one ward, she was needed to sing in a small group for a stake preparation meeting, where she first truly felt what it meant to sing praises to the Lord. Despite limited talent, Relief Society practice brought her unexpected happiness.
I do not sing well. In fact, one of my teenage friends used to stop singing when we sat together in church so that everyone would know the musical mistakes were mine and not hers. But in one ward, I was really needed as part of a small group singing for stake preparation meeting. While we sang that day, I realized for the first time what it means to sing praises to the Lord. Although I still do not sing well, because of practice in Relief Society I have experienced a happiness I might otherwise never have known.
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👤 Friends
👤 Church Members (General)
Friendship
Happiness
Music
Relief Society
What Comes Around, Goes Around
Summary: For his Eagle project, Jeremy organized a massive collection of used eyeglasses for people in Central and South America. After creating thousands of flyers, his troop helped distribute them, and media coverage brought in donations from across the country, including from the Los Angeles Temple and a car rental company. Jeremy was encouraged by letters and the steady stream of doorbell rings as more glasses arrived.
Jeremy’s latest endeavor will help thousands see. For his recently completed Eagle service project, Jeremy was responsible for collecting over 2,000 pairs of used glasses to send to an optometry school, which would then catalog them and send them to Central and South America.
But just as Jeremy helped many people with his Eagle project, many helped Jeremy complete it. Jeremy created over 3,000 flyers, which the Scouts in his troop helped deliver. Soon both local and national papers picked up the story, and Jeremy was receiving glasses from all over the country. The Los Angeles Temple sent a box of glasses left by patrons over the years, and a car rental company sent a crateful of glasses that had been left in their cars. Encouraging letters accompanied many of the offerings.
“It was so great hearing from all those people,” Jeremy says. “I can’t believe so many would respond. Every time the doorbell rang, Dad would look at me and say, ‘More glasses!’”
But just as Jeremy helped many people with his Eagle project, many helped Jeremy complete it. Jeremy created over 3,000 flyers, which the Scouts in his troop helped deliver. Soon both local and national papers picked up the story, and Jeremy was receiving glasses from all over the country. The Los Angeles Temple sent a box of glasses left by patrons over the years, and a car rental company sent a crateful of glasses that had been left in their cars. Encouraging letters accompanied many of the offerings.
“It was so great hearing from all those people,” Jeremy says. “I can’t believe so many would respond. Every time the doorbell rang, Dad would look at me and say, ‘More glasses!’”
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👤 Youth
👤 Parents
👤 Church Members (General)
Charity
Service
Young Men
Gifts of Love from Children to Children
Summary: Primary children in an English-speaking branch in Bangkok collected and prepared clothing to donate to children in Thailand’s Issan region. The gifts brought joy to the recipients, including Sarawuth, Oranut, Chanchira, Uthaiwan, two girls in the Srisaket Branch, and Sister Pongsuwan, who had never before owned shoes. The article concludes that the children’s love was returned with bright smiles and warm thank-yous as gifts of the heart were exchanged.
Eight-year-old Sarawuth Buttho’s eyes lit up as he looked into the package of clothes. He turned and darted up the stairs into the living area of his “home on stilts” in the Ubon Branch in Thailand. After a few minutes, he called to his father, “Dad, I’ve never seen clothes like this. Come and show me how to put them on.”
Sarawuth’s sister, Oranut, and her friend, Chanchira Thondee, clasped their bags of treasure and ran next door to Chanchira’s house, where they tried on their new clothing. Seeing Oranut’s smile, watching Chanchira whirl in her ruffled lavender dress, or catching a glimpse of Sarawuth in his first-ever white shirt and tie would have been more than enough to thank the children in Bangkok for their wonderful gift.
The Primary children in the English-speaking branch in Bangkok, Thailand, had heard about their brothers and sisters in the Issan region of Thailand. They knew that they were very poor and that they had very few clothes to wear. In fact, they learned that the only change of clothing these children had was their school uniform, which they wore to school every day. They did not have any special clothes for Sunday.
Encouraged to begin to serve their fellowman in any way they could, the Primary children in Bangkok began a project to share what clothing they could spare with the children in the Issan region. They brought the clothing they wanted to donate to Primary, where the leaders made sure everything was clean, pressed, and mended. Clothing for about twenty children was then placed in plastic bags and tagged to show the size and age of the boy or girl who would receive it.
After missionaries serving in the region distributed the parcels of love, they reported some wonderful stories of gratitude:
Uthaiwan Arkomkong, age three, lives with her father and mother in a small room at the side of an equipment yard where her father works as a mechanic. Normally very shy, little Uthaiwan laughed and danced around the room when she put on the yellow ruffled dress that was in her package.
In the Srisaket Branch, two eight-year-old girls received dresses on the very day they were to be interviewed for baptism. They were happy to have their pictures taken in their new dresses on this special day.
When a pair of shoes was put aside by a teenager because they “squeezed her toes,” they were taken to Sister Pongsuwan, mother of three young daughters. “Do you want to be Cinderella?” asked Brother Dang as he knelt before her and slipped the shoes on her tiny feet. The shoes fit perfectly. Sister Pongsuwan danced and twirled with happiness, telling everyone that she had never had a pair of shoes before!
The love of the Primary children in Bangkok for their young brothers and sisters in the Issan region was returned many times with bright smiles and warm “thank yous” as gifts of the heart were exchanged—children to children.
Sarawuth’s sister, Oranut, and her friend, Chanchira Thondee, clasped their bags of treasure and ran next door to Chanchira’s house, where they tried on their new clothing. Seeing Oranut’s smile, watching Chanchira whirl in her ruffled lavender dress, or catching a glimpse of Sarawuth in his first-ever white shirt and tie would have been more than enough to thank the children in Bangkok for their wonderful gift.
The Primary children in the English-speaking branch in Bangkok, Thailand, had heard about their brothers and sisters in the Issan region of Thailand. They knew that they were very poor and that they had very few clothes to wear. In fact, they learned that the only change of clothing these children had was their school uniform, which they wore to school every day. They did not have any special clothes for Sunday.
Encouraged to begin to serve their fellowman in any way they could, the Primary children in Bangkok began a project to share what clothing they could spare with the children in the Issan region. They brought the clothing they wanted to donate to Primary, where the leaders made sure everything was clean, pressed, and mended. Clothing for about twenty children was then placed in plastic bags and tagged to show the size and age of the boy or girl who would receive it.
After missionaries serving in the region distributed the parcels of love, they reported some wonderful stories of gratitude:
Uthaiwan Arkomkong, age three, lives with her father and mother in a small room at the side of an equipment yard where her father works as a mechanic. Normally very shy, little Uthaiwan laughed and danced around the room when she put on the yellow ruffled dress that was in her package.
In the Srisaket Branch, two eight-year-old girls received dresses on the very day they were to be interviewed for baptism. They were happy to have their pictures taken in their new dresses on this special day.
When a pair of shoes was put aside by a teenager because they “squeezed her toes,” they were taken to Sister Pongsuwan, mother of three young daughters. “Do you want to be Cinderella?” asked Brother Dang as he knelt before her and slipped the shoes on her tiny feet. The shoes fit perfectly. Sister Pongsuwan danced and twirled with happiness, telling everyone that she had never had a pair of shoes before!
The love of the Primary children in Bangkok for their young brothers and sisters in the Issan region was returned many times with bright smiles and warm “thank yous” as gifts of the heart were exchanged—children to children.
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👤 Children
👤 Parents
👤 Church Members (General)
Charity
Children
Gratitude
Kindness
Service
Tara’s Music
Summary: Tara, a young church member, feels lonely because her parents do not share her faith and have resisted attending church with her. After hearing the Primary song “I’m trying to be like Jesus,” she realizes she needs to be more loving and patient with her parents.
When she returns home, her gentle kindness softens her parents’ hearts. They ask about the song and the peaceful feeling it gives her, and by the end of the story, they want to begin family prayers together. Tara offers the blessing on the food, showing a hopeful change in her family.
Tara let the soft strains of the prelude music wrap themselves around her. Slowly she felt herself relax. People whispered, feet scuffled, but she heard only the muted notes of the organ.
The bishop stood and welcomed everyone to sacrament meeting. Tara looked around. All around her were families—mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters. Everyone had someone. All except her. She was alone.
The Millers, who picked her up every week, had invited Tara to sit with their family, and Tara did, but it wasn’t the same as sitting with one’s very own family.
Tara listened to the talks and the prayers, but it was the music that touched her in a way she didn’t fully understand. She only knew that it made her feel warm and peaceful inside.
She’d been baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints six months ago. Since then, she’d attended church every Sunday. There was so much to learn that sometimes she felt overwhelmed.
But she kept coming back, wanting that sweet feeling she had whenever she entered the church. If only her parents would come with her, just once! If they did, they’d experience the same feelings she had. She just knew it.
She pushed away the thought. Her parents weren’t likely to ever come to church with her. They’d been against her joining the Church in the first place. They’d only agreed to let her be baptized because she’d asked them so many times. She was nearly ten now, they’d said, and old enough to make her own decisions.
This morning had been like every other Sunday morning since Tara had started going to church. Her mother had been tight-lipped with disapproval. Her father had barricaded himself behind the Sunday newspaper. Neither had spoken to her as she got ready. When she’d begged them to go with her, their answer was the same as it always had been: No.
In Primary, Tara felt the same spirit she’d had in sacrament meeting. Again, it was the music that sparked something inside her. Why wouldn’t Mom and Dad come and feel it too?
As the Primary children sang “I’m trying to be like Jesus,” tears started rolling down her cheeks. She brushed them away, hoping no one had noticed. She listened to the words. Had she been trying to be like Jesus in how she acted around her parents? Or had she been demanding that her parents believe as she did?
She grew uncomfortable, remembering how she’d tried to pressure them into coming to church with her. She wanted so much to share the gospel with her parents and have them by her side at church that she hadn’t been very loving or patient. Sometimes she even got mad at them for not coming.
During the ride home with the Miller family, she decided, I’m going to practice what the song says. I’m going to try to be like Jesus. She smiled as she let herself into the house.
Humming softly, she changed out of her Sunday clothes. She was still humming as she went downstairs.
She found her father in the living room, lying on the sofa with the newspaper tented over his head. She gently pushed it aside to give him a kiss.
He looked up. “What’s that for?”
“Because I love you and I’m happy.” She smiled at him and then went into the kitchen.
Her mother was stirring something on the stove. She looked up as Tara came in.
“Can I help?” Tara asked.
“Would you set the table, please?”
Tara hummed as she put plates, glasses, and silverware on the table.
“What’s that you’re humming?” her mother asked.
“A song I learned at church.” Tara hesitated. “Would you like to know the words?”
Her mother smiled. “If it makes you this happy, I think I would.”
Tara sang the words, her voice breaking on the last one.
“It’s a beautiful song,” her mother said, a little hitch in her voice. “Are all the songs at your church that pretty?”
“They’re all different,” Tara said. “But most of them make me feel this way.”
“What way is that?” Her mother stopped what she was doing and turned to Tara. She looked like she really wanted to know.
Tara chose her words carefully. “Happy inside. Kind of peaceful.”
Her mother pushed back a strand of hair. “I’d like some of that feeling for our whole family.”
As the family sat down to dinner, Tara felt her mother’s gaze on her. Hesitantly she asked, “Tara, would you give a blessing on the food?”
Tara looked up, surprised. Her family never said a prayer before a meal. She looked at her father. He nodded and said, “Your mother and I have been wanting to start having prayers in our family. This will be a good way to begin to do it, if that’s all right with you.”
Tara smiled peacefully as she bent her head. “Heavenly Father, we thank Thee …”
The bishop stood and welcomed everyone to sacrament meeting. Tara looked around. All around her were families—mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters. Everyone had someone. All except her. She was alone.
The Millers, who picked her up every week, had invited Tara to sit with their family, and Tara did, but it wasn’t the same as sitting with one’s very own family.
Tara listened to the talks and the prayers, but it was the music that touched her in a way she didn’t fully understand. She only knew that it made her feel warm and peaceful inside.
She’d been baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints six months ago. Since then, she’d attended church every Sunday. There was so much to learn that sometimes she felt overwhelmed.
But she kept coming back, wanting that sweet feeling she had whenever she entered the church. If only her parents would come with her, just once! If they did, they’d experience the same feelings she had. She just knew it.
She pushed away the thought. Her parents weren’t likely to ever come to church with her. They’d been against her joining the Church in the first place. They’d only agreed to let her be baptized because she’d asked them so many times. She was nearly ten now, they’d said, and old enough to make her own decisions.
This morning had been like every other Sunday morning since Tara had started going to church. Her mother had been tight-lipped with disapproval. Her father had barricaded himself behind the Sunday newspaper. Neither had spoken to her as she got ready. When she’d begged them to go with her, their answer was the same as it always had been: No.
In Primary, Tara felt the same spirit she’d had in sacrament meeting. Again, it was the music that sparked something inside her. Why wouldn’t Mom and Dad come and feel it too?
As the Primary children sang “I’m trying to be like Jesus,” tears started rolling down her cheeks. She brushed them away, hoping no one had noticed. She listened to the words. Had she been trying to be like Jesus in how she acted around her parents? Or had she been demanding that her parents believe as she did?
She grew uncomfortable, remembering how she’d tried to pressure them into coming to church with her. She wanted so much to share the gospel with her parents and have them by her side at church that she hadn’t been very loving or patient. Sometimes she even got mad at them for not coming.
During the ride home with the Miller family, she decided, I’m going to practice what the song says. I’m going to try to be like Jesus. She smiled as she let herself into the house.
Humming softly, she changed out of her Sunday clothes. She was still humming as she went downstairs.
She found her father in the living room, lying on the sofa with the newspaper tented over his head. She gently pushed it aside to give him a kiss.
He looked up. “What’s that for?”
“Because I love you and I’m happy.” She smiled at him and then went into the kitchen.
Her mother was stirring something on the stove. She looked up as Tara came in.
“Can I help?” Tara asked.
“Would you set the table, please?”
Tara hummed as she put plates, glasses, and silverware on the table.
“What’s that you’re humming?” her mother asked.
“A song I learned at church.” Tara hesitated. “Would you like to know the words?”
Her mother smiled. “If it makes you this happy, I think I would.”
Tara sang the words, her voice breaking on the last one.
“It’s a beautiful song,” her mother said, a little hitch in her voice. “Are all the songs at your church that pretty?”
“They’re all different,” Tara said. “But most of them make me feel this way.”
“What way is that?” Her mother stopped what she was doing and turned to Tara. She looked like she really wanted to know.
Tara chose her words carefully. “Happy inside. Kind of peaceful.”
Her mother pushed back a strand of hair. “I’d like some of that feeling for our whole family.”
As the family sat down to dinner, Tara felt her mother’s gaze on her. Hesitantly she asked, “Tara, would you give a blessing on the food?”
Tara looked up, surprised. Her family never said a prayer before a meal. She looked at her father. He nodded and said, “Your mother and I have been wanting to start having prayers in our family. This will be a good way to begin to do it, if that’s all right with you.”
Tara smiled peacefully as she bent her head. “Heavenly Father, we thank Thee …”
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👤 Children
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Baptism
Children
Conversion
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Music
Patience
Prayer
Sacrament Meeting
Let Us Raise Our Voice of Warning
Summary: He and other Latter-day Saints repeatedly helped a new neighbor family with landscaping while the husband expressed satisfaction in his own church. Acts of kindness continued for years as love grew. Later, the family’s son returned and revealed he had joined the Church, influenced by that love.
I’ve seen what “suffereth long” and “endureth all things” mean. A family moved into a house near us. The home was new, so I was part of the crew of Latter-day Saints who spent a number of nights putting in landscaping. I remember the last night, standing next to the husband of the family as we finished. He surveyed our work and said to us standing nearby, “This is the third yard you Mormons have put in for us, and I think this is the best.” And then he quietly but firmly told me of the great satisfaction he got from membership in his own church, a conversation we had often in the years he lived there.
In all that time, the acts of kindness extended to him and his family never ceased, because the neighbors really came to love them. One evening I came home to see a truck in their driveway. I had been told they were moving to another state. I approached to see if I could help. I didn’t recognize the man I saw loading household things into the truck. He said quietly as I drew near, “Hello, Brother Eyring.” I hadn’t recognized him because he was the son, now grown older, who had lived there, married, and moved away. And because of the love of many for him, he was now a baptized member of the Church. I don’t know the end of that story because it will have no end. But I know that it began with love.
In all that time, the acts of kindness extended to him and his family never ceased, because the neighbors really came to love them. One evening I came home to see a truck in their driveway. I had been told they were moving to another state. I approached to see if I could help. I didn’t recognize the man I saw loading household things into the truck. He said quietly as I drew near, “Hello, Brother Eyring.” I hadn’t recognized him because he was the son, now grown older, who had lived there, married, and moved away. And because of the love of many for him, he was now a baptized member of the Church. I don’t know the end of that story because it will have no end. But I know that it began with love.
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👤 Church Members (General)
👤 General Authorities (Modern)
👤 Other
Baptism
Conversion
Friendship
Kindness
Love
Ministering
Missionary Work
Service