Gospel Story Finder

Before the temple near their home was dedicated, Olivia invited her grandma to come with her to the temple open house.
I’m happy you came with us to the open house, Grandma.
Thank you for inviting me. I’ve been a little lonely since Grandpa passed away.
I miss him too.
Mom told me that when she and Dad come to the temple, they wear white clothes.
That’s right.
When you turn 12, you’ll get to come here and do baptisms for the dead.
I’m so excited!
Sealings will be performed in this room. Stand in front of this mirror and look at the mirror across the room. What do you see?
It’s as if we go on and on forever.
Just like our family, right? We’ll even see Grandpa again someday.
You’re right. If we keep the commandments, we can be with Grandpa and all of our family because we’ve been sealed in the temple.
Olivia and Grandma followed the tour guide into the temple’s celestial room.
I like how it feels in here. I feel happy.
I do too.
I love the temple, Grandma. Someday, when I’m older, I’ll come back and be married here. I’m happy that our whole family can be together forever—even Grandpa.
That’s right. I’m very thankful for the temple, for the open house, and for you.

I remember fondly our entire family’s great joy when two of our children received their calls to serve as full-time missionaries. Excitement and anticipation filled our hearts as they each opened their special letter from the prophet of God. Our daughter Jenessa was called to the Michigan Detroit Mission, and our son, Christian, was called to the Russia Moscow South Mission. What humbling and thrilling experiences, all at the same time!

As Sister Rasband and I had the privilege of presiding over the New York New York North Mission several years ago, I marveled as the missionaries arrived in New York City.
As I interviewed them on their first day in the mission, I had a profound sense of gratitude for each missionary. I felt that their call to our mission was divinely designed for them and for me as their mission president.
After finishing our mission assignment, I was called by President Gordon B. Hinckley to serve as a Seventy in the Church. Part of my early training as a new General Authority included an opportunity to sit with members of the Twelve as they assigned missionaries to serve in one of the 300-plus missions of this great Church.
With the encouragement and permission of President Henry B. Eyring, I would like to relate to you an experience, very special to me, which I had with him several years ago when he was a member of the Quorum of the Twelve. Each Apostle holds the keys of the kingdom and exercises them at the direction and assignment of the President of the Church. Elder Eyring was assigning missionaries to their fields of labor, and as part of my training, I was invited to observe.
I joined Elder Eyring early one morning in a room where several large computer screens had been prepared for the session. There was also a staff member from the Missionary Department who had been assigned to assist us that day.
First, we knelt together in prayer. I remember Elder Eyring using very sincere words, asking the Lord to bless him to know “perfectly” where the missionaries should be assigned. The word “perfectly” said much about the faith that Elder Eyring exhibited that day.
As the process began, a picture of the missionary to be assigned would come up on one of the computer screens. As each picture appeared, to me it was as if the missionary were in the room with us. Elder Eyring would then greet the missionary with his kind and endearing voice: “Good morning, Elder Reier or Sister Yang. How are you today?”
He told me that in his own mind he liked to think of where the missionaries would conclude their mission. This would aid him to know where they were to be assigned. Elder Eyring would then study the comments from the bishops and stake presidents, medical notes, and other issues relating to each missionary.
He then referred to another screen which displayed areas and missions across the world. Finally, as he was prompted by the Spirit, he would assign the missionary to his or her field of labor.
From others of the Twelve, I have learned that this general method is typical each week as Apostles of the Lord assign scores of missionaries to serve throughout the world.
Having served as a missionary in my own country in the Eastern States Mission a number of years ago, I was deeply moved by this experience. Also, having served as a mission president, I was grateful for a further witness in my heart that the missionaries I had received in New York City were sent to me by revelation.
After assigning a few missionaries, Elder Eyring turned to me as he pondered one particular missionary and said, “So, Brother Rasband, where do you think this missionary should go?” I was startled! I quietly suggested to Elder Eyring that I did not know and that I did not know I could know! He looked at me directly and simply said, “Brother Rasband, pay closer attention and you too can know!” With that, I pulled my chair a little closer to Elder Eyring and the computer screen, and I did pay much closer attention!
A couple of other times as the process moved along, Elder Eyring would turn to me and say, “Well, Brother Rasband, where do you feel this missionary should go?” I would name a particular mission, and Elder Eyring would look at me thoughtfully and say, “No, that’s not it!” He would then continue to assign the missionaries where he had felt prompted.
As we were nearing the completion of that assignment meeting, a picture of a certain missionary appeared on the screen. I had the strongest prompting, the strongest of the morning, that the missionary we had before us was to be assigned to Japan. I did not know that Elder Eyring was going to ask me on this one, but amazingly he did. I rather tentatively and humbly said to him, “Japan?” Elder Eyring responded immediately, “Yes, let’s go there.” And up on the computer screen the missions of Japan appeared. I instantly knew that the missionary was to go to the Japan Sapporo Mission.
Elder Eyring did not ask me the exact name of the mission, but he did assign that missionary to the Japan Sapporo Mission.
Privately in my heart I was deeply touched and sincerely grateful to the Lord for allowing me to experience the prompting to know where that missionary should go.
At the end of the meeting Elder Eyring bore his witness to me of the love of the Savior, which He has for each missionary assigned to go out into the world and preach the restored gospel. He said that it is by the great love of the Savior that His servants know where these wonderful young men and women, senior missionaries, and senior couple missionaries are to serve. I had a further witness that morning that every missionary called in this Church, and assigned or reassigned to a particular mission, is called by revelation from the Lord God Almighty through one of these, His servants.

Illustrations by Bradley H. Clark
One of the most challenging experiences of my life happened shortly after the passing of our 10-year-old daughter from brain cancer. The saying “You can’t take it with you” came with clarity as we looked around her room one Saturday afternoon.
Clarissa was gone, but her room still held the identifiable remnants of her earthly stay. We now had the daunting task of deciding what to do with her personal belongings. I knew that parting with a single item would not be easy, especially for my wife.
Dealing with the whirlwind of details associated with hospitals, chemotherapy, and radiation had left us little time to clean and organize.
Memories came as we packed up items she’d arranged on her headboard or bookshelf. They all held heartfelt meaning—from her favorite blanket, book, or necklace to her stuffed animals, schoolbooks, and football. My wife sobbed as we asked what to do with each item.
We gathered many of Clarissa’s books and took them to her elementary school for other children to enjoy. We gave her dresser to a neighbor. Some of her clothes went to cousins. Focusing on others helped make the difficult situation of parting with her things a little easier.
Several weeks later, as Christmas approached, my two teenage daughters asked their mother if they could use some of Clarissa’s clothes to make a special Christmas gift. They selected each article of clothing for its intrinsic family memory and carefully cut squares to represent precious moments in her life.
A few days before Christmas, they and their Young Women leader, who had helped them come up with the idea, showed me a quilt they were making. I looked in astonishment at each square of fabric, which represented an event in Clarissa’s life: a square from her football uniform, a square from the shirt we bought her on a family trip, a square from the pajama pants she wore at the hospital. Each piece, so precious and beautiful, reminded me of our time with her. I told my daughters it was perfect. I knew their mother would love it.
That Christmas morning I saw a gift given from the heart. I will always remember my wife’s expression when she opened her gift and saw what her daughters had made for her. Each night since then she has wrapped her Christmas quilt around her, recalling memories and dreaming of the day our family will be united again—thanks to the Atonement and Resurrection of Jesus Christ.

Many leaders on the ward or branch and the stake or district level plan events that bring young women and Relief Society sisters together. Diana Gardner of the Harrogate Ward, York England Stake, says that Laurels were invited to go to the temple to do baptisms on a night when their ward Relief Society sisters were performing endowments. “The Laurels and Relief Society sisters were eating dinner at the cafeteria together and walking around the temple grounds together. Their discussions have had a major impact on the young women,” says Sister Gardner.

A beauty contest for guys? Well sure, why not? It’s the custom at Springfield High School in Oregon, and last year the only three LDS contestants won first, second, and third places.
Eric Markworth of the Springfield Second Ward was crowned Mr. SHS. First runner-up was Kevin Jones, also of the Springfield Second Ward. Second runner-up was Johnny Gambee of Springfield First Ward. His sister Beth was the emcee for the event. The contestants were judged in formal wear, sportswear, and talent.
All four of the LDS students involved were early-morning seminary students, and all but Johnny, who is a junior, graduated from four years of seminary. That means the winner might have to crown himself next year. The previous winner and first runner-up will be on missions.

Allow me to share the experience of a faithful member of the Church who occupies a prominent position among the world’s microneurosurgeons. This is a position he has obtained, according to his own testimony, with the help of the Lord and through obedience to the Word of Wisdom. He joined the Church at an early age and promised himself to faithfully live the commandments. As the years went by, he had the opportunity of fulfilling two of his great goals—the opportunity to pursue a university education and to marry the woman of his dreams.
During this period of time something happened that totally changed the course of his life. One of his daughters became seriously ill with a brain disease which ultimately took her life. None of the efforts made in her behalf were sufficient to save her. During this frustrating and painful experience, which happened while he was a medical student at the university, he set a new and challenging goal, that of becoming a neurosurgeon. The fact that his daughter had suffered and died through a brain disease awakened in him the desire to study microneurosurgery, schooling that would be long and difficult.
Microneurosurgery requires, among other things, a great deal of physical discipline and dexterity. At this point in his life, while he was pursuing his studies, he discovered the blessings that come through obedience to the Word of Wisdom. He asked the Lord in humility and love that the promises contained in section 89 of the Doctrine and Covenants would be made manifest in him so he could bless the lives of those who would depend on his skill.
During those difficult learning years, he worked untiringly to become the best in his area of specialization. As the years went by, he gained great dexterity in his hands and mastered the art and the skill necessary to work on the human brain. As we can imagine, any physical slip or unsteadiness in his hands could cause damage to his patients, perhaps injuring them for life.
As he studied section 89 of the Doctrine and Covenants, he obtained a strong testimony that when we refrain from taking into our bodies substances that are harmful to it, we are blessed with intelligence and a healthy and strong body. As a doctor, he knew that these promises were there, within his reach, and he had earnestly sought them in his own behalf.
As the time arrived for his proficiency exam, the final exam in his chosen career, he prepared himself with great care in order to perform to his very best and to demonstrate to the examining doctors the skills he had acquired. The day prior to the examination, he noticed some heavy trembling in his normally skillful hands, and in humility he prayed to the Lord, asking Him to make his hands firm and sure as they had always been to this point. The following day, he discovered with great alarm that there were unsure movements in his hands. He went off to a solitary spot, and, in deep meditation, he mentally searched for any sin he may have committed that would cause him to experience this problem. But in his search, he found nothing that might be contrary to the Word of Wisdom. Then he thought, “I need these promises to come to me now,” and he prayed to our Father in Heaven with all his heart that His guidance and protection would be with him.
The time came to perform brain surgery on his patient, and when the doctor saw his hands through the microscope, he noted with great emotion that his prayer had been heard and that his hands were steadier than they had ever been.
He felt a great surge of gratitude, and his sure and skillful hands flew in their activity, healing the damaged brain of his patient. The blessings and the promises of the Word of Wisdom were with him, and he was able to carry out this difficult surgery in an hour less than the normal expectation. It was a complete success, and he humbly accepted congratulations from the examining physicians. With gratitude in his heart for the success he had achieved, he returned to his home, and there, with his family, he reviewed the promises of the Lord that “all saints who remember to keep and do these sayings, walking in obedience to the commandments, shall receive health in their navel and marrow to their bones;
“And shall find wisdom and great treasures of knowledge, even hidden treasures;
“And shall run and not be weary, and shall walk and not faint” (D&C 89:18–20).
Today as he visits some of the famous clinics and hospitals, and his colleagues have the opportunity of listening to him, he expresses to them and to members of the press: “First, I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and then I am a microneurosurgeon.” Not all prominent men achieve the humility to be able to recognize the blessings of the Lord in their lives, which are the result of obedience to the commandments, as this good member of the Church has done.

Jared Azzarini, age 10, was devastated as he watched his coach and teammates board their flight to Goiânia for the Brazilian National Gymnastics Championship without him. He had prayed as hard as he could that the airport officials would let him on the plane so he could compete with his team. But they said he could not travel without his original birth certificate. All he had brought was a copy. The original was at home.
So while his team prepared to defend the national title that he had helped win in their age group the year before, he went home with his mother. He thought about his coach’s last words to him: “If you don’t make it to the competition, the whole team will lose. We need you.”
The next available flight was the following morning. It would get him to the competition, but just in time—without a chance to warm up or get used to the equipment.
“Mom,” he said when they arrived at home, “you taught me that when we pray earnestly, the Lord will answer our prayers. I have prayed with all my heart, and nothing happened. If I go on the flight tomorrow, I will have no chance.”
Jared’s mom reassured him that “with God all things are possible” (Matthew 19:26). She called the airport. Within half an hour, the airline called and asked if Jared could get to the airport immediately. A seat had opened up on a flight that would leave right away.
“Heavenly Father really does answer our prayers!” Jared thought as he hurried to his room to thank Heavenly Father.
Jared, a member of the Intercap Ward, Porto Alegre Brazil Partenon Stake, made it to the competition in time to earn a third-place individual finish and help his team win their age division’s national championship again.

In 1931, Vashni [H.P.] Young wrote a popular best-seller entitled A Fortune to Share (Bobbs-Merrill). Vashni Young had worked as a salesman during the lush, easy, prosperous years of the late 1920s, and then the market crash of October 1929 had plunged Vashni Young, with a few million other people, into the bottomless economic pit of the early 1930s. But he did not like the depression and he had become pretty sour on this world generally. And so he bought a gun and decided to have a look at the next world by committing suicide. But before he pulled the trigger, he spent a little time thinking about his wife and children and he decided that suicide was not a very manly way to solve a problem. And so instead of shooting himself, he did a little analyzing and he discovered that his mind had been operating like a giant junk factory, turning out all kinds of mental, emotional, and spiritual junk.

Then he remembered William James, the great Harvard psychologist who said, “The greatest discovery of my generation is that you can change your circumstances by changing your attitudes of mind.” And while everybody wants to change his circumstances, Vash Young decided to change himself. He said: “I got tired of being a fool.” He wanted to get out of the junk business and so he dumped overboard a lot of his bad habits of liquor, tobacco, and irresponsibility. He decided to adopt some good attitudes, think like a man, be responsible, and go to work.

It wasn’t long before Vash Young discovered that life was much more pleasant and that his prosperity level was going up by leaps and bounds. And then he made a great discovery that he had personal possession of a vast fortune which he could share with every other person in the world without lessening his own supply.

He wrote his great book, A Fortune to Share, and gave it as wide a circulation as possible, telling people about his discovery. Then he set aside one day each week which he called “trouble day” during which he worked with other troubled people trying to persuade them to get out of the junk business and share in this great fortune which was so readily available.

I have been a member of the Church for seven years. During that time, I have always known that this is the only true Church of the Lord Jesus Christ, but at one time in my life, I wasn’t very active.
The problem started when our family moved to a new town. It took us a few months to identify the location of the meetinghouse we were supposed to go to and a few more weeks to start attending. I wasn’t very excited about the change, and after a few weeks, I stopped attending.
One day I received an unexpected but welcome visit from my bishop. He invited me to come back to church on Sundays and to attend seminary. I decided to accept these invitations.
A few weeks after I started going back to church, the bishop introduced the Duty to God program to me. He explained what it consisted of, and I became interested in starting on it.
I started filling out and completing the goals in the pamphlets. I began to realize that the Duty to God program was helping me change my life for the better. I became more active in the Church and loved going to seminary. I am trying to live the standards of the Church better, and I love to read the scriptures and the Liahona.
When I started the Duty to God program, I set goals such as going on a mission and attending the Latter-day Saint preparatory school Benemérito de las Américas, along with many other goals. Last fall, I received the Duty to God Award and the Melchizedek Priesthood, and I’ll be going on a mission soon.
I thank my Heavenly Father each day for giving me the chance to change and become a worthy member of His Church. I am grateful for the programs and leaders of the Church that helped me change.

Christopher’s heart was heavy as he walked slowly to the family car after Primary. Why does everyone but me hear the still, small voice? he wondered.
Why can everyone hear the still, small voice but me? Christopher wondered again. He knew that following his baptism almost two years ago, he was given the gift of the Holy Ghost when he was confirmed. So why doesn’t the Holy Ghost speak to me?
“How was Primary?” Mom asked as Christopher and his two younger sisters climbed into the car. Jill and Melinda excitedly started telling about their lessons and the songs they learned in singing time. Christopher just sadly stared at the floor of the car.
“What was your lesson about, Christopher?” Dad asked.
A tear rolled down Christopher’s cheek. “The Holy Ghost,” he replied softly. Sensing that something was wrong, Jill and Melinda quit chattering.
“Maybe we could talk about this a little more when we get in the house,” Mom said as the car turned into the driveway.
Later Mom and Dad invited Christopher to come to their room. “Christopher,” Mom said, “can you tell us what’s bothering you?”
Christopher looked down. He didn’t want his parents to know that the Holy Ghost didn’t talk to him. They probably heard the still, small voice all the time.
“Listen, Son,” Dad said, putting his arm around Christopher, “we can tell that you’re upset, and we’d like to help.”
Christopher felt tears ready to spill from his eyes. “Mom, Dad,” he said in a shaky voice, “why doesn’t the Holy Ghost speak to me? I’ve always tried to do what’s right. I know I make mistakes—like the time I spilled the red punch on the new carpet and said Jill did it so I wouldn’t get into trouble. But I did finally tell the truth. Do you have to be perfect like the bishop or Brother Johnson or Sister Woolett to have the Holy Ghost speak to you?”
Mom and Dad looked a little surprised. “Christopher,” Mom said, “the only perfect person who ever lived on the earth was Jesus Christ. Everyone makes mistakes. Why don’t you think the Holy Ghost speaks to you?”
“I’ve never heard the still, small voice,” Christopher replied.
“Hearing a voice isn’t the only way the Holy Ghost can communicate with you,” Mom said. “Often it’s what you feel, not what you hear. Don’t you remember that good feeling you had after you prayed and asked Heavenly Father to forgive you for blaming your sister for the carpet stain and after telling us the truth? That feeling was from the Holy Ghost.”
“It was?”
“Or how about the time when we were reading from the scriptures,” Dad added, “and you suddenly understood what Jesus Christ was really talking about in the parable about the wheat and the tares. That was the Holy Ghost teaching you.”
“Wow! I never thought about it that way before!”
“And,” said Mom, “remember when you got lost in the shopping mall last summer and you prayed for help? After you prayed, you felt calm and knew you should sit on the nearest bench and let us find you. That calm, reassuring feeling letting you know what to do was also the Holy Ghost.”
Christopher smiled. Now he understood. The Holy Ghost had been talking to him, even if he didn’t hear the still, small voice with his ears! Now he said excitedly, “What about last week when I gave my talk in Primary? I’d studied it really hard, but when I got up, I couldn’t remember it. Then I said a quick, little prayer, and suddenly my talk came back to me. That was the Holy Ghost, too, wasn’t it?”
“That’s right,” Dad said. “Helping you remember things is also a part of the gift of the Holy Ghost.”
“Wow! Now I understand! All those times the Holy Ghost really was talking to me!”

It was 11:00 at night and Megan had a research paper due the next day which she hadn’t started yet because after supper she’d gone to school to help decorate for a dance she didn’t even have a date for. On top of that she was having a biology test the next day and she hadn’t studied at all since her last test. Part of the test was going to be about the insides of a frog, which she would have known if she’d gone to lab when they dissected a frog, but she had missed that day because she was first-chair violin in orchestra and had been gone playing in a string quartet competition. She could have made up the lab after school, but she was on the high school gymnastics team and that’s when they practiced. Finally, today, the day before the exam, she had gone to Mr. Draper, the biology teacher, and begged him to let her do the frog at home.
And that’s why she now had a dead frog in a jar of formaldehyde on her desk.
Also she was supposed to give the devotional at early-morning seminary the next day.
Megan sat on her bed and looked around. Her room was a mess, and she didn’t have any clean clothes to wear because her mother had a new policy and now refused to wash anything unless it was put in the hamper. Megan never took the time to do that, so there were little piles of clothes on the floor, a pile for what she’d worn on Monday, a pile for what she’d worn on Tuesday. Her mother claimed you could tell what day of the week it was by counting piles, which her mother said was not only disgusting but unhealthy, complaining that the city Health and Sanitation Department would shut down the home if they ever saw her room.
She didn’t know what she was going to wear tomorrow. She thought about rummaging through the piles and finding something that seemed fairly clean, or else she could wash up some clothes after she finished the term paper and cut up the frog.
Half an hour earlier, at 10:30, when she had come home from decorating at school, her mother asked her if she knew what time it was. She had learned to be careful with that kind of question. One time she had said, “Of course I know what time it is,” to which her mother said, “Don’t get smart with me, young lady.” That’s when she learned that sometimes it was better to listen than to talk.
“You’re not getting enough sleep,” her mother said. “Your body needs eight hours. You should be going to bed at least by 10:00 every night.”
I’m listening, Megan thought. But you’re not understanding. How can you talk about how much sleep I need when I have so much to do?
“Did anyone call?” she asked.
“The bishop called.”
“And?”
“He wants to have a birthday interview with you. He asked about tomorrow night.”
Megan wondered if the bishop knew she had no chance of going to the dance and that’s why he suggested then. “I might have a date then.”
“Who with?”
“Someone might ask me to the dance at the last minute.” She was hoping Craig would ask her at seminary in the morning. He was always putting off things like that anyway.
“It won’t be Craig,” her mother said.
“How do you know that?”
“I was talking to his mother today. He asked a nonmember girl to the dance.”
“Who?”
“Krissie I think. I can’t remember the last name.”
“Krissie Peterson?”
“I think so.”
“He asked Krissie Peterson?” Megan raged. “How can he do that to me? I’m the one who told him to get contacts. I’m the one who told him to quit staring at the floor when he talks to people. I’m the one who taught him how to dance. So I finally get him halfway acceptable, and what does he do? He asks Krissie Peterson out. Thanks a lot, Craig. That does it! What would he think if I dated every nonmember guy who asks me out?”
“You know that wouldn’t be right.”
“Yeah, but is it right for Craig to ask a nonmember girl out?”
“I’m not Craig’s mother, but I am yours.”
She couldn’t argue with that. “I’ve got to go study now.”
“The bishop wanted me to find out if you can see him tomorrow after supper. He says he won’t keep you long if you have plans.”
“Spend Friday night talking to the bishop? I’ll go to the movies or something.”
“You can go to the movies and still see him. He’s a busy man, Megan. He says he can see you at 6:15. You’ll be done by 6:30.”
“Okay,” she said. “I surrender!”
“Good. Now can you go right to bed?” her mother asked.
“No. I’ve got to write a term paper and dissect a stupid frog.”
“For tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re just starting it now, at 10:43 at night?”
“I couldn’t do it any earlier.”
“You didn’t have to decorate for that dance.”
“I was on the decorating committee.”
“Your studies are more important than decorating for a dance.”
Why was it so hard to make her mother understand?
As Megan was about to leave, her mother said, “Oh, I did laundry today. You didn’t have anything in your hamper so I didn’t wash anything of yours.”
Megan thought about saying that was the last straw. Instead she said, “Fine. No problem. I’ll do a wash while I finish my homework.”
“Sorry, you can’t. The noise of the washer and dryer keeps your father awake. If you want to do a wash, you’ll have to do it when people are not trying to sleep. You’ll just have to wear some of your other clothes. You have plenty in your closet. What about those things Aunt Alberta gave you.”
“I wouldn’t even wear them for Halloween.”
“Then I don’t know what you’re going to wear.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m going to my room now.”
“Don’t forget to say your prayers.”
She got to her room and shut the door. She went to Monday’s pile of dirty laundry and started looking for something clean. Monday was the day the girl next to her in orchestra had challenged her for first chair. Megan had done okay and kept her first-chair position but it had been tense and sweaty, so Monday’s clothes were not candidates for what she could wear for tomorrow.
She decided that after she wrote her term paper and dissected the frog she’d wash some clothes in the bathtub. Or else maybe she could get by with using the washing machine. It would be okay if the noise didn’t wake her parents.
She pushed some clothes off the chair of her desk and sat down. She had decided to write her paper on the history of women’s gymnastics in America. She had taken the time last Saturday to go to the library and check out three books on gymnastics, but she hadn’t yet had time to read any of them.
The research paper was due at 8:00 in the morning. Maybe I can just fake it, she thought. She began to write. “Women’s gymnastics in America started small but has grown large. Many more girls are involved in gymnastics than ever before.” She counted the words. Twenty words. Only 2,980 words left to go. She tried again. “Women’s gymnastics in the United States of America started very small and tiny but now has grown much larger than it began. Many more girls from ages six years old to college age are now involved in the sport than ever before.” She counted again. Forty-two words. Now only 2,958 words left to write.
It was a long night. She ended up having to race through the books she’d checked out to get enough material, and the paper was still a little shorter than it should have been. She finished at two in the morning.
Now for the frog. She unscrewed the lid of the jar containing the frog. Just the smell of the formaldehyde was enough to make her nauseated. She was supposed to have a special knife to cut up the frog, but she’d left it at school, so she went down to the kitchen and got a plate, a fork, a bunch of paper towels, and her mother’s sharpest paring knife. She returned to her room, slid the frog out onto the plate, and sat down with the knife and fork. She touched the frog with the knife. Its skin was hard and rubbery. She looked at herself in the mirror. The way she was holding the knife and fork reminded her of suppertime for horrible creatures of the night. She knew she would throw up if she cut the frog. She slid it back into the jar.
She spent an hour reading about the insides of a frog, memorizing the words.
At 3:30, she took a load of clothes to the washing machine and started a wash, went back to her room, and set the alarm clock for 4:30 so she could get up and put her clothes in the dryer.
She slept through her alarm. The next thing she remembered was her mother telling her she’d better get going or she’d be late for seminary. She jumped out of bed and started the clothes dryer.
“Those things won’t be ready by the time you have to leave,” her mother said.
“I’ll wear them damp then.”
“You’ll catch cold if you do that.”
“No problem, I can handle it.”
“You’ll just have to wear some of Aunt Alberta’s things. I’m not having you leave here wearing damp clothes. Aren’t you supposed to give the devotional for seminary today? Don’t be late.”
While she was taking a shower, her dad knocked on the door and told her to save some hot water for the rest of the family.
Megan felt a knot, like a hot iron, growing in her stomach, but she knew she couldn’t get sick because she had a big gymnastics meet coming up in a few days.
After her shower she went to the dryer to see how her clothes were coming along. They had just ten minutes and they’d be dry. The only problem was that she should leave for seminary in five minutes. I’ll just have to be late then. She did her hair while she was waiting.
“If you say you’re going to do the devotional, then I think you should make an effort to be on time,” her mother said.
The buzzer for the dryer sounded. Megan raced to the dryer and got dressed.
Two minutes later she jumped in the car and drove to seminary. By the time she got there, they’d already begun. It was too late for her to give the devotional.
After seminary, Craig came up to her. “I was wondering if I could talk to you.”
“What about?”
“I’m taking Krissie Peterson to the dance tonight, and I need some suggestions of where to take her to eat.”
“Leave me out of this, Craig, okay?” She walked off and left him standing there.
By the time she got home after school she had a pounding headache. She lay down and slept until it was time for supper.
During supper her mother reminded her about her interview with the bishop.
“I don’t want to talk to him tonight.”
She noticed her parents looked worried, as if the reason she didn’t want to talk to the bishop was because there was some awful secret in her life they didn’t know about.
“Why not?” her father quietly asked.
“I just don’t feel like it.”
“Is that the only reason?”
“Why doesn’t everybody just get off my back!” She stood up and ran to her room and slammed the door.
She looked around her room. Everything she saw made her feel guilty about not doing something. There was her violin that she hadn’t practiced for four days and she had a lesson on Monday. There was the stupid frog she still hadn’t dissected. There was her seminary material she needed to catch up on. And there were still piles of clothes on the floor because she’d only washed enough for one day.
The phone rang. She answered it, hoping it would be one of her friends who didn’t have a date for the dance. Instead it was the bishop.
“Megan, we’ve had a hard time setting up a time for an interview, haven’t we? How is tonight for you?”
She decided she might as well get it over with. “Okay.”
She drove to the bishop’s house, talked with his wife while he got off the phone, and then went with him to his small office in the basement.
She dreaded the interview, dreaded the thought of being reminded of yet another area she wasn’t doing a good job in.
She wanted to get it over with as soon as possible. “Bishop, I haven’t done anything wrong since the last time I talked to you. That’s mainly what you want to find out, isn’t it?”
“Are you happy?” he asked.
She was surprised at the question. “Happy?”
“Yes, we’re supposed to be happy.”
“I thought we were supposed to be perfect. You can’t be perfect and happy too, can you?”
The bishop looked carefully at her. She felt as if he could see into her soul. “Megan, is something wrong?” he asked.
“Not really. It’s just that nothing I do is ever good enough. Sometimes I feel like giving up. I just can’t take it anymore.”
“You can’t take what?”
“All the pressure to do well in school and church and in gymnastics and orchestra. I try to get all A’s in school, but everything’s getting harder for me and I can’t seem to do anything right anymore. Everyone’s always mad at me for not doing better. I never have any time for myself. I have to take the ACT exam next week and I know if I don’t do well, I won’t get a scholarship, and I’ve got to have some help or I don’t see how I’ll be able to make it. Today I was supposed to give the devotional for seminary but I was late for it.”
“How have you been doing in school?”
“Not very well. I think I’m only getting a B in math. If I did more of the homework, I could do better, but there’s never enough time for everything.”
“There’s nothing wrong with a B or even a C,” the bishop said.
“No, you don’t understand, I have to get all A’s.”
“You have to? Do your mom and dad tell you that you have to get all A’s?”
“No, it’s just understood. Bishop, you know the Church says we’re supposed to be perfect, so why are you telling me it’s okay to get a C?”
“You say the Church teaches we’re supposed to be perfect. Where does it say that?”
With no hesitation, Megan answered. “Matthew 5:48.” [Matt. 5:48]
“You know that well, don’t you?”
“I only hear it about ten times a day, that’s all.”
He picked up his scriptures and turned to Matthew, chapter 5. “Who was the one speaking in Matthew 5:48?”
“Jesus.”
“What was he talking about just before he said ‘Be ye therefore perfect’?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, guess then. Was he saying how important it is to get good grades in school?”
“No.”
“Was he saying how important it is to win gymnastics meets?”
“No.”
“Was he saying how important it is to be first-chair violin in an orchestra?”
“No.”
“What was he saying then?”
“I don’t know.”
“Look here, Megan, in verse 44, [Matt 5:44] the Savior is telling us to love our enemies, and bless the ones that curse you, and be good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you and persecute you. In verse 45 [Matt. 5:45] he tells us we should do this so we can be the children of our Father in Heaven, and in verse 48 [Matt 5:48] he tells us to be perfect, even as our Father in Heaven is perfect.”
She didn’t understand what he was getting at.
He turned to Luke, chapter 6, verse 36. “Here’s the way Luke reported it. ‘Be ye therefore merciful, as your Father also is merciful.’ Megan, Jesus was talking about how we should treat each other, with love and affection and kindness, the same way Heavenly Father treats us.”
“I don’t understand.”
“He didn’t say, ‘Be ye therefore a perfectionist,’ did he?”
“No, but we’re supposed to always try to do better …”
“Let me ask you a question. Do you think Father in Heaven cares whether you get an A or a B in mathematics?”
“He wants me to do my best.”
“What if your best is a B?”
“My best can’t be a B.”
“Why can’t it?”
“Because it just can’t.”
“Can you picture yourself at the Judgment and Heavenly Father is looking over your life and he says, ‘So, I see you got a B in math in high school. Why only a B?’ Can you picture your loving Father in Heaven saying that to you?”
“No.”
“Then maybe it’s not very important to him, right?”
“It’s important to do well in school.”
“I agree. It’s important to do your best.”
She wouldn’t budge. “My best is an A.”
“In every subject?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I can get an A in any subject if I work hard enough.”
“But you have other things you need to do, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe a B is the best you can do and still do all the other things you want to do. Did you watch the Olympics last year?”
“Yes.”
“Did you watch the decathlon?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know that it’s possible for a person to win a decathlon and not win in any one of the events? All you have to do is place well in each event, and if you can do that, you can win. I think that’s true for you. I’m sure there are students in your math class who do nothing but math at night. And I’m sure there are people in the violin section that do nothing but practice violin at night. You, with your gymnastics and Church activities and music activities and everything else you do, maybe you’re being too hard on yourself to try to be the best in everything. What do you think Heavenly Father is most interested in, how well you do in your next gymnastics meet or how well you live the Ten Commandments?”
“But my mom and dad expect me to always do my best.”
“Sure, they want you to do your best within the constraints on your time. Besides, most of all they want you to be happy. Are you happy the way things are going now?”
“No.”
“Then I think you ought to make some changes in your life. Either cut down on your activities, or accept the fact that you can’t excel in everything you do. Heavenly Father doesn’t require you to be perfect in gymnastics or violin or math or even seminary attendance. He wants you to be merciful and loving. He doesn’t want you to run faster than you have strength. He doesn’t care if you get a B or a C as long as you’re making a good effort and, more importantly, that you’re really trying to be more like the Savior in the way you treat other people and in being virtuous.”
Megan felt a burden being lifted off her shoulders. Tears welled up in her eyes. She was a little embarrassed to have the bishop see her cry, but he didn’t make a big deal out of it. Pretty soon she was shaking his hand and thanking him. Then she drove home.
“How did your interview go?” her mother asked.
“It was great, Mom.” She saw a look of relief come over her mother. “He gave me some good advice.”
She went to her room and sat on the bed and thought. On the surface everything was the same—her room was still a mess, the undissected frog still sat in the jar of formaldehyde, her math homework for Monday was yet to be done, her violin still lay untouched with a lesson only three days away. And yet there was a difference in the way she felt.
A few minutes later she got up and began to clean her room. This time it’s for me, she thought with a smile.

In the spring of 1835, Rosetta and Leonora went to Kirtland, Ohio, where other Latter-day Saints lived. They returned with stories about the Church, the priesthood, and great spiritual manifestations. Five years had passed since the time Eliza first heard about Joseph Smith. The accounts of her mother and sister brought Eliza an undeniable witness of the truth. She had waited until she knew it was true. “My heart was now fixed,” she wrote. She decided to be baptized.5

In Denmark, far out in the country, there once lived a farmer and his wife. Their farm cottage was overgrown with moss, and a stork’s nest perched on its ridge. The walls were crooked, the windows were small, and only one of them could be opened. An oven for baking bread jutted out of one wall. Outside, a hedge of elderberries and willow trees surrounded a tiny pond where a duck and some ducklings swam, and in the yard there was an old dog that barked at everyone who went by.
They did without a lot of things, but they did have a horse that grazed along the edge of the road since they had no paddock for it. Sometimes the farmer rode his horse to town, and sometimes his neighbor borrowed it. This the farmer believed was to his advantage, for country people believed that one good turn deserves another. But one day the farmer thought he’d be doing himself a good turn if he traded the horse for something more useful, though he didn’t know what it could be.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” said his wife. “There’s a market in town today. Why don’t you ride the horse to town and there you can trade it for something else. Whatever you do I’m sure will be all right.”
She tied his tie in a double bow to make her husband look more handsome. Then she brushed his hat with the palm of her hand, gave him a kiss good-bye, and off he rode on the horse that was to be sold or traded, just as he saw fit.
The sun was shining, it was hot, and there was not a scrap of shade along the way. The dusty road was filled with people traveling to market. Some had wagons, some rode horses, but many were on foot. And as he rode along, the farmer noticed a man leading a cow that was as beautiful as any cow could be.
“I’ll bet that cow gives a lot of good milk,” he said to himself. Then he called to the man, “You there with the cow, I’d like to talk with you!” And when the man turned around, the farmer continued, “I know that a horse is worth more than a cow, but a cow would be more useful to me. Shall we trade?”
“Why not?” said the man.
Now the farmer had done what he had set out to do so he should have turned around and gone back home with his new cow. But since he had meant to go to the market, he decided it would be a pity to miss it.
He and the cow walked quickly along, and soon they caught up with a man who was leading a goat. Such a fine animal it was. A goat like that I wouldn’t mind owning, the farmer thought. In the winter when it’s cold we could always take it inside. Besides, I don’t have enough grazing for a cow but I would for a goat. The more he looked at the goat, the better the farmer liked it.
“How would you like to trade your goat for my cow?” he finally asked. And the bargain was made.
He hadn’t gone far with his goat when he spied a man sitting on a big stone resting. He had good reason to rest for he was holding a very large goose.
“A fine fat goose!” the farmer cried as he lifted his hat. “How pretty it would look on our pond and then Mother could feed it our potato peelings.” She has often said that we ought to have a goose, he thought to himself, and now we shall have one! “I’ll trade you my goat for your goose and throw a thank-you into the bargain,” he said to the man.
“A goat for my goose!” exclaimed the stranger. “It’s a deal, but you can keep your thank-you for I don’t like to drive too hard a bargain.”
The farmer tucked the goose under his arm and walked on. People and animals were milling all about him as he came near the market.
The town’s gatekeeper had tied his hen in his potato patch so that it wouldn’t become frightened and run away in all the confusion. Its tail was as finely feathered as that of a cock. “Cluck! Cluck,” she said and winked at the farmer.
“That hen is a beautiful bird,” said the farmer, “I wish it were mine.” A hen can always find a grain of corn on the ground where she can scratch for her food, he thought to himself. Then she’ll lay eggs for us. I think I’ll see if I can strike a bargain for her.
It was no sooner said than done. After the farmer traded his goose for the gatekeeper’s white hen, he decided he was thirsty and hungry.
Entering an inn, the farmer bumped into one of the servants who was carrying a sack over his shoulder. “What do you have in the sack?” the farmer asked.
“Rotten apples,” the servant replied. “I’m on my way to the pigpen with them.”
A whole sackful, what an awful waste! thought the farmer. I wish Mother could see it. He remembered that last year their old apple tree only had one apple. Mother had put it in the cupboard and there it lay until it was all dried up and no bigger than a walnut. Then one day she had said to him, “I feel rich just looking at it.” He began to think how good she would feel if she had a whole sackful of apples so he asked the servant for them.
“What will you give me for them?” asked the servant.
“My hen,” the farmer replied. He hardly spoke the words before he found a sack of rotten apples in his arms instead of a hen.
The inn was crowded with butchers, farmers, merchants, horse dealers, and even a couple of rich Englishmen. The farmer sat down and, without giving it a thought, he put his sack of apples down on the stove and soon they began to simmer and sizzle.
“What’s that?” asked one of the rich Englishmen, pointing to the sack on the stove.
The farmer told him how he had traded his horse for a cow, his cow for a goat, his goat for a goose, his goose for a hen, and finally the hen for a sack of rotten apples.
“Your wife will be angry when you get home,” the Englishman scoffed.
“No,” the farmer insisted. “She’ll just kiss me and say that what Father does is always right.”
“I’ll bet a barrel of gold and a sackful of silver that she won’t,” said both Englishmen at once.
“The barrel of gold is enough and, if I lose, I’ll fill a barrel for you with rotten apples and you can have Mother and me for good measure,” the farmer declared.
So the Englishmen hired the innkeeper’s horses and carriage, and off they all went to the farmer’s house. When they arrived they drove right up to the door, where a barking dog and the farmer’s wife came out to greet them.
“Good evening, Mother,” said the farmer.
“I’m glad you arrived home safely,” she answered.
“Well, I traded the horse for a cow,” said the farmer.
“Trading is a man’s business,” she said and threw her arms around him. “Now we’ll have milk, butter, and cheese.”
“But I traded the cow for a goat.”
“How clever of you,” she said happily. “We have just enough grass for a goat, and the goat’s milk will be delicious for our supper. I can knit socks and a nightshirt from the goat’s wool. What a wise and thoughtful husband you are!”
“Then I traded the goat for a fat goose,” the farmer told her.
“Oh, my good husband, are we really going to have a fat goose in November for St. Martin’s Eve?” she asked. “You are always thinking of ways to please me.”
“I traded the goose for a hen,” the farmer said proudly, for now he realized how very well he had done.
“That was a good exchange,” said the wife. “Hens lay eggs and from eggs come little chicks. Soon we’ll have a real henyard and that is something I have always wanted.”
“But I traded the hen for a sackful of rotten apples.”
“Now I must kiss you, my dear husband!” his wife said, “for while you were away I decided to make a fine supper. I wanted to make an omelet with chives, but I had no chives. Our neighbor has some but she wouldn’t loan any to me. She declared that I could never return even so much as a rotten apple, because nothing grew in our garden. Now I can trade her many rotten apples. You have made the best bargain of all.”
The Englishmen held their sides with laughter. “From bad to worse and they don’t even know it. Always happy, always contented. It’s worth the money to see such people,” they said and gave the barrelful of gold coins to the farmer.
Yes, it pays for a wife to admit that her husband is clever. And now you know that “what father does is always right!”

As a freshman in high school, Jacqueline C., from Indiana, USA, was asked to design costumes for all 25 members of her school’s play. The play was set in the late 1800s in the southern United States, so designing costumes that fit the time and place was not an easy task.
Jacqueline started by reading books about costume design, researching the time period, and looking at lots of pictures. She also spent time talking with the director about how each character should be portrayed.
After all her research, Jacqueline designed the costumes, and she made sure all the actors looked their part. “There are two characters in the play that are complete opposites,” Jacqueline says. “Their actions showed that they were opposites, and I made sure their costumes did too.”
When actors are dressed appropriately for their character, it adds a lot to the play. “Their costumes pull the whole show together and give it a polished look,” Jacqueline explains. As a costume designer, Jacqueline knows the importance of actors’ looking their part, and as a Latter-day Saint, she knows the importance of our looking our part too. “The first impression the world has of us is based on how we look,” she says.

“Before I tracked the time I spent, I thought it was going to be really hard to take time out and read the scriptures—but after realizing how much time I spent on social media, taking 10 minutes out of that felt super easy! I could read at lunch or right before seminary started.
“After I had read the scriptures, I was a lot more aware of what I looked at on social media. If I stumbled across something bad, with bad language or a negative message, I noticed it and tried to avoid it way more than before. I also noticed that my prayers were a lot more sincere and that I was receiving more answers to them. This is definitely something that I hope to continue for a lot longer!”
Izzie J., age 16, California, USA

On a winter day not long after her baptism, Renee learned firsthand about the protection of the Holy Ghost. As she walked out the doors of her school, she heard a voice say, “Stop!” She looked around. She couldn’t see anyone, so she started forward again. Once again, the voice said, “Stop!” She obeyed.
As soon as she stopped, a pile of snow and big chunks of ice slid off the roof of the building and landed right in front of her! Her heart beat fast as she looked at the snow. If those ice chunks had hit her head, she could have been badly hurt.
Renee knew the Holy Ghost had warned her to stop. That night in her prayers, she thanked Heavenly Father for the gift of the Holy Ghost.

Robert was in third grade when he designed his first website and has since been teaching himself more about computers and programming.
How did you learn about programming and computer design? My older brother Steven, who is in college now, was into computers, and I saw him programming and making websites, and I thought that was pretty cool. So he probably got me interested in computers and programming, and from there I just taught myself.

A few years ago, I was one of a few Church members in my grade. People thought I was weird because I was dedicated to living all of the standards of the Church. So one day I decided that I could compromise my standards a little bit. When I did, I noticed that I had more attention from others. But after just a few weeks, I felt guilty and turned to the Lord for repentance. He did help me, and I had to make a lot of sacrifices, but it was worth it! I truly got to see the blessings of living the gospel at school. I did lose friends and attention, but I gained respect and happiness.
Sutton K., age 15, Texas, USA

Many years ago, while on vacation with my family, I had an experience that taught me a great lesson. On a Saturday, my wife and I decided to take the children for a drive and to do some shopping. During the drive the children fell asleep, and not wanting to wake them, I volunteered to stay in the car while my wife ran into the store.
While waiting, I glanced at the car parked in front of me. It was full of children, and they were looking at me. My eyes caught the eyes of a small boy, six or seven years old. As our eyes met, he immediately stuck his tongue out at me.
My first reaction was to stick my tongue out at him. I thought, What have I done to deserve this? Fortunately, before I reacted, I remembered a principle taught in general conference the week before by Elder Marvin J. Ashton (see Conference Report, Oct. 1970, 36–38; or Improvement Era, Dec. 1970, 59–60). He taught how important it was to act instead of react to the events around us. So I waved at the little boy. He stuck his tongue out at me again. I smiled and waved again. This time he waved back.
Soon he was joined in his enthusiastic waving by a little brother and sister. I responded by waving this way and that until my arm became tired. Then I rested it on the steering wheel and continued with every creative wave I could muster, all the time hoping their parents would quickly return or that my wife would soon come back.
The parents finally did come, and as they pulled away, my newfound friends continued to wave for as long as I could see them.

One fast Sunday during Relief Society, a sister in our ward stood to bear her testimony. After stating that she had learned how much the Lord loves and cares about her, she shared the following experience.
She had been ill with pneumonia, and one morning she was having a particularly difficult time. Her appetite had diminished considerably, and the only thing she thought she could eat was some homemade bread. She was getting discouraged and had been praying for help to endure her trials.
That very morning her visiting teacher came to the door with a loaf of homemade bread. The sister bore testimony of the love she had felt from Heavenly Father. He had heard her prayers and provided her with exactly what she needed.
As I listened, I realized that I was that visiting teacher. I thought back on that morning, trying to remember why I had decided to take bread over at that time. I hadn’t heard a voice or felt a burning in the bosom. I just woke up that day and felt like making bread.
As I was preparing the loaves, I thought of a sister in our ward who was ill. I had felt helpless throughout her illness because I didn’t know what I could do to relieve her suffering. The thought came to my mind that I should take her a loaf of bread. I tried to talk myself out of it because the loaves turned out somewhat misshapen. But when I tasted one, it seemed fine. “At least she will know that I was thinking about her,” I thought.
I wrapped the warm, odd-looking loaf, and took it to her house. As I presented it to her, she smiled and thanked me but refused my offer of further assistance. I went home feeling good but still concerned that I hadn’t helped much.
Months later, when I heard her testimony, I understood that the Holy Ghost had prompted me in answer to her prayers. This experience taught me a great lesson about the importance of responding to the promptings of the Spirit. If an idea comes to us to do something good, we should do it. The Savior said, “Whatsoever thing persuadeth men to do good is of me; for good cometh of none save it be of me” (Ether 4:12).
Anytime we have a thought to do good, we can assume that it comes from the Spirit. We never know how important such promptings can be. I had no idea that a loaf of homemade bread would be an answer to a prayer that would strengthen a testimony. And when the sister was prompted to share her experience in Relief Society, she had no idea of the valuable lesson I learned about recognizing the Spirit.