Gospel Story Finder

Many times we magnify our callings individually, quietly, without fanfare. I’m thinking of an elders quorum president, Kirk Barnett of Las Vegas. Visiting a hospital early one morning, he was impressed to ask if any other LDS were there. He was told of an elderly grandmother awaiting her first surgery for a brain hemorrhage. She had no family or friends present, no one to encourage her. She was terrified! President Barnett sat with her for two hours. His hand was white from her strong grip. She said she loved him at least twenty times.

The earliest instance of which I have recollection of spiritual feelings was when I was about five years of age, a very small boy. I was crying from the pain of an earache. There were no wonder drugs at the time. That was 85 years ago. My mother prepared a bag of table salt and put it on the stove to warm. My father softly put his hands upon my head and gave me a blessing, rebuking the pain and the illness by authority of the holy priesthood and in the name of Jesus Christ. He then took me tenderly in his arms and placed the bag of warm salt at my ear. The pain subsided and left. I fell asleep in my father’s secure embrace. As I was falling asleep, the words of his administration floated through my mind. That is the earliest remembrance I have of the exercise of the authority of the priesthood in the name of the Lord.

While on a family vacation, we got separated from my dad and little brother. It was getting dark. The rest of the family didn’t know what to do. I told them we should pray. We said a prayer, and then we started to walk to some other stores. We looked up the street and saw my dad and my little brother! I was happy. I knew that God loved us and helped us find our dad.
Oliver P., age 8, São Paulo, Brazil

Every year Elder David O. McKay put his cow Bossie in a truck and took her up the canyon to graze on his farm. But one year Bossie disappeared before the family had moved her.
Lawrence: Father, I didn’t tie Bossie up, and now she’s gone! I was in the house for only a minute or two.
Elder McKay: Don’t worry. She’s probably headed up the canyon.
Elder McKay and Lawrence found Bossie at the mouth of the canyon. Someone had tied her to a post.
Elder McKay: Let’s see if she can get up the canyon by herself. I’ll leave this note on her halter:
Note: “Please let me pass; I’m going to grass.”
Bossie made it to the farm in the canyon in good time. From that year on, Elder McKay always let Bossie loose in the spring because he trusted her to go straight to the farm.

A true story from Denmark.
Amalie loved to be a helper. She helped Mom put plates on the table. She helped Dad find his shoes. And she said the prayer at family scripture time.
Every Sunday, Amalie’s family went to church. Mom played the piano. Her older sister, Emma, held the door for everyone. Dad said the announcements. Her older brother, Alexander, passed the sacrament. Everyone got to help at church.
Everyone except her!
Amalie knew that Jesus Christ helped everyone He met. She wanted to help like He did! But she couldn’t play the piano. She couldn’t help with the announcements either. She felt a little sad. Maybe she would get to help when she was older.
One day before church, the branch president came up to Amalie. He smiled “Would you pass out the hymnbooks?” he asked.
Amalie smiled back. “Yes!”
Carefully, she took a stack of green hymnbooks off a shelf. She put a book on each seat.
When church started, everyone opened their hymnbooks. Amalie felt so happy. She had helped them all so they could sing together!
From then on, everyone in Amalie’s family helped at church. Mom played the piano. Emma held the door. Dad said the announcements. Alexander passed the sacrament. And Amalie put the hymnbooks on the seats.
Amalie felt happy that she could help Heavenly Father. She knew He wanted her to help like Jesus did.
Illustrations by Dave Williams

Daniel’s eyes lit up as he tore the last of the wrapping paper off the box. He lifted off the lid, then shouted, “Yippee! They’re just what I wanted!”
Inside the box were a pair of shiny, new cowboy boots. They were black and had a white design stitched on them. Daniel had wanted cowboy boots for a long time.
“Try them on,” his five-year-old brother, Steven, said.
“Yes! Yes! Try them on!” echoed Daniel’s three-year-old sister, Sara. Carefully he lifted the right boot out of the box. He turned it over in his hand, feeling the smooth black leather.
“I hope you like them,” Mom said. “Dad thought that they would be just right for you.”
Daniel nodded happily. “Wow!” he exclaimed as he admired them. He gently pulled the boot onto his right foot, lifted the other boot out of the box, and pulled it onto his left foot. He wiggled his toes inside the boots. Then he stood up, stomped his feet, and jumped twice. They fit perfectly!
“It looks like they’re just the right size,” Dad said.
“Thanks, Mom and Dad! They’re just what I wanted!” Daniel leaned forward on his feet, then rocked back. He balanced on one foot, then the other.
“I think he likes them,” Dad whispered to Mom.
“Just be careful with them,” Mom cautioned. “If you get them in the water or get them muddy or scuffed up, they won’t look new anymore.”
“I’ll take real good care of my boots!” Daniel promised as he bent over and ran his hand along the shiny black toe.
He did take good care of his cowboy boots. He always jumped over any water on the sidewalk. He never skipped through any mud puddles, and he always walked very carefully so that he wouldn’t make scuff marks on them. Every night when he took them off, he shined them with a soft cloth, then placed them side by side next to his bed. The cowboy boots stayed black, shiny, and new-looking.
Early one morning, as Daniel was finishing his breakfast, his mother asked him if he would go to the post office and mail a letter for her.
“Sure, Mom.”
“Be sure you wear a jacket, Daniel. It looks like the wind is picking up.”
After he put on his jacket and hat, he took the letter from his mother and started out for the post office.
The sky was overcast, it was windy, and it looked like it might rain. But Daniel was so happy to be wearing his new boots, that he didn’t notice. He skipped down the sidewalk and soon reached the post office. He mailed Mom’s letter and started home. The wind was blowing hard, so he zipped up his jacket and adjusted his hat so that it would not blow off. Then he started to jog. He passed Mr. Campbell’s bakery and Mrs. Goodson’s little sewing shop. He hurried past the Tuckers’ house and the Andersons’. By then, the wind was so strong that leaves and bits of paper were flying through the air, and dust was getting in his eyes.
Suddenly he stopped. He saw something very strange—a large white object flying by him! He blinked the dust out of his eyes and looked again. The flying white object was a man’s shirt! It fluttered, twisted, and flopped, then came to a stop right in a huge mud puddle!
“Catch that shirt!” A breathless voice exclaimed behind him. “I’ve been chasing it for five minutes! Oh, look at it now!”
Daniel turned around just as Mrs. Tucker caught up to him.
“I hung my laundry out on the clothesline this morning,” she said, panting from her run. “The breeze was quite nice, and I thought that it would dry my clothes quickly.” She took a deep breath. “But it suddenly got so windy! Now look at the shirt!” she moaned. “My husband needed to wear it tonight. Oh, now what am I going to do?” She threw her hands up in the air.
“I’ll get it for you, Mrs. Tucker,” Daniel quickly volunteered.
Mrs. Tucker’s face brightened. “Could you do that?” She looked hopeful. “I have to get the rest of my laundry off the clothesline before anything else blows away! Thank you so much!” Mrs. Tucker was already hurrying home.
Daniel stepped cautiously toward the huge mud puddle. It was starting to rain, and he didn’t want any mud splashing on his boots. The shirt had landed in the middle of the muddy water. He bent down and tried to reach it, but his arms weren’t long enough. He stood up and looked around for a long stick that he could pull the shirt out with. There were no long sticks anywhere, but he saw a short one a few feet away. He picked it up. It might work, he thought.
He squatted and reached out over the puddle as far as he could, but the stick wasn’t quite long enough. He inched closer to the water and stretched the stick out a little farther. But it was just too short. The shirt was still out of reach. He tried again, stretching the tiniest bit farther. …
Suddenly Daniel lost his balance. He tried to keep himself from falling, but he couldn’t stop himself and fell face first into the muddy water!
He stood up, grabbed the shirt, and jumped out of the dirty puddle. He was soaked! Mud and water dripped from his head and arms. His hat was crooked and it had dirty water dripping from the brim. As he wiped a dirty sleeve across his face, he looked down at his feet. His wonderful boots were wet and covered with a thick layer of mud! Daniel couldn’t even see the white stitching on the sides. He began stomping his feet on the sidewalk to shake the mud off of his boots, but not much came off. He wiped his jacket sleeve across the toe of each boot. It came away muddy, and it didn’t help much.
Upset, Daniel tucked the dirty white shirt under his arm and walked slowly to Mrs. Tucker’s house. It was still raining a little, but he didn’t even notice. All he could think about was his boots. No longer were they black, shiny, and new-looking. Now they’re ruined! he thought.
Daniel returned the shirt to a very grateful Mrs. Tucker. She thanked him and gave him a homemade chocolate chip cookie. He took a little bite as he walked home. But even though chocolate chip cookies were his favorite, he could barely taste it. All he could think about was his boots.
He felt so miserable that he didn’t see the little girl standing under a tree. He did hear her crying, though. It was Katie. She played with his sister, Sara. “What’s wrong, Katie?” he asked.
“My kitten climbed this tree when it started to get windy, and I can’t get her down.”
“I’ll help you.” Katie pointed to the top of the tree where a frightened kitten was clinging to a branch, and Daniel started to climb the tree. The wet branches grabbed at his jacket and scraped his legs and hands as he climbed toward the kitten. Finally he reached her. He gently lifted her off the branch, tucked her into the front of his jacket, and climbed down the tree.
Katie was very happy to have her pet safe and sound. She thanked Daniel and ran off cradling the kitten in her arms.
Daniel felt good. He was glad that he had helped Katie. But as he looked down to zip his jacket, he saw his boots—they were not only wet and muddy, they were also scratched and scuffed! Daniel sighed sadly. He was sure that his parents wouldn’t be very happy when they saw his boots.
He was going up the lane to his house, when he saw Dad trying to herd the new lambs back into their pen. “Do you need some help, Dad?” Dad gave him a long look. He noticed Daniel’s dirty face and muddy, wet clothes. He saw the scratched cowboy boots. “It looks like you’ve had a busy afternoon.”
Daniel glumly nodded.
“Well, I could sure use some help getting these lambs back into their pen. There’s a hole in the fence, and they found it!”
Daniel climbed over the fence into the lamb pen. Then he took the lambs when his father handed them over the fence. Soon all the lambs were back where they belonged. Then he helped his father fasten new wire across the hole in the fence so that the lambs couldn’t get out again.
“Thanks for the help, Son. Let’s go back to the house. It looks like it’s going to rain really hard in a few minutes!”
Daniel climbed up the fence and swung his leg over. He heard a ripping sound. He looked at his right foot in dismay. A loose wire had torn three inches on the side of his right boot. His eyes filled with tears.
Dad helped him down from the fence. “I think I can fix that with some heavy thread,” he said as he examined the tear.
Daniel just nodded slowly. His cowboy boots were really ruined now, even though he had tried hard to take care of them.
Later, in the warm kitchen, Daniel sat at the table with a cup of hot chocolate. It tasted good, but it didn’t do much to warm his spirits.
Mom put down the dish towel she had been using and sat by him. “Do you want to tell me what happened to your boots?” she asked gently.
Daniel told her about getting the shirt out of the mud puddle for Mrs. Tucker, about rescuing Katie’s kitten, and about helping Dad put the lambs back into their pen. “I’m sorry, Mom,” he said as a tear rolled down his cheek. “I really tried hard to take care of my boots.”
“I’ve noticed how well you take care of your boots,” she told him. “I’ve seen how gently you polish them and how carefully you take them off and put them away. It makes me very happy to know that you are so responsible.” She reached over and took his hand. “I’m also very pleased that you helped Mrs. Tucker, Katie, and Daddy today. Your boots may not be as shiny as they used to be, but it was only because you were serving others. That’s what our Savior wants us to do.
“You were always happy to wear your new boots because you had taken care of them. They may not look as new or as clean as they used to now, but every time you wear them, you will remember why.” She reached over and hugged him. “You know, Daniel, helping others is more important than clean, shiny boots.”
Daniel thought about that and felt happier.
“Let’s go clean your boots,” Mom said. “Then Daddy can sew up the tear. Of course,” she said with a twinkle in her eye, “they won’t be as bright or shiny as they used to be, but we’ll know the reason why, won’t we?”
“Yes—my boots are muddy because I was helping people, like Jesus wants me to!”

Once, when my parents were out front working in the garden, Michael and Abbie picked some cattails outside. Cattails are plants with long stems and a hot dog–looking “flower” on top. When you blow on a cattail, the hot dog part turns into white fluff, and it gets everywhere. So guess what Michael and Abbie decided to do? They waved the cattails all around the living room and covered all the furniture with fuzz.
When I saw what they’d done, I was horrified. I went outside right away to tell Mom and Dad about the mess, hoping I wouldn’t get in trouble for it. But they just made Michael and Abbie help clean it up. They didn’t even really get punished.

Halloween is a traditional autumn holiday throughout North America. And for some special adults in Idaho, it is a holiday they look forward to with great anticipation each year.
At a Halloween carnival given just for them, they arrive dressed up as clowns, hoboes, or witches (with at least one cowboy in the bunch). They bob for apples, hook treats from the fishing pond, win prizes for bean-bag tosses, and compete for goodies at the cake walk—all the usual fun that typifies Halloween. These people are special. They are handicapped.
About 50 adults ranging in age from 20 to 60 come from all over the Upper Snake River Valley of eastern Idaho to attend this carnival. They are guests of the Young Women of the Rexburg Idaho 18th Ward, Rexburg Idaho North Stake.
The event started as a service project seven years ago, and although the people who attend it receive great joy from it, the young women say they have been repaid with an increase of love and understanding for those with physical and mental handicaps.
“This project is a highlight of our year’s activities,” 17-year-old Elyse Moss says as she helps one of the guests shoot a basketball through the hoop. “They get so excited over little things—like this,” as she gestures toward the basketball standard. “They’re like little children on Christmas morning!” And as the evening progresses and both the guests and the hostesses become more comfortable with each other, “It gives you a really good feeling when one of the people asks you to have your picture taken with them,” Elyse continues. Seventeen-year-old Holly Holman adds, “I’ve learned that each person is unique. By the end of the night I’m comfortable around them and calling them by name.”
Other rewards for the young women have come from this activity. For instance, 14-year-old Megan Jeppesen says, “At first I was scared, but the carnival has helped me overcome my fears of handicapped people. Now I tutor some handicapped kids in my school.”
After an evening of games, doughnuts, and cider, the handicapped adults from eastern Idaho leave with happy hearts and bags full of treats. The Young Women of the Rexburg 18th Ward leave happy, too, and with a greater compassion for others who are different from them.

When I was first called as a bishop, I discovered that our record for subscriptions to the Relief Society Magazine in the Sixth-Seventh Ward had been at a low ebb. Prayerfully we analyzed the names of individuals whom we could call to be magazine representative. The inspiration dictated that Elizabeth Keachie should be given the assignment. As her bishop, I approached her with the task. She responded, “Bishop Monson, I’ll do it.”

Elizabeth Keachie was of Scottish descent, and when she replied, “I’ll do it,” one knew she indeed would. She and her sister-in-law, Helen Ivory—neither more than five feet tall—commenced to walk the ward, house by house, street by street, and block by block. The result was phenomenal. We had more subscriptions to the Relief Society Magazine than had been recorded by all the other units of the stake combined.

I congratulated Elizabeth Keachie one Sunday evening and said to her, “Your task is done.”

She replied, “Not yet, Bishop. There are two square blocks we have not yet covered.”

When she told me which blocks they were, I said, “Oh, Sister Keachie, no one lives on those blocks. They are totally industrial.”

“Just the same,” she said, “I’ll feel better if Nell and I go and check them ourselves.”

On a rainy day she and Nell covered those final two blocks. On the first one she found no home, nor did she on the second. She and Sister Ivory paused, however, at a driveway which was muddy from a recent storm. Sister Keachie gazed about 100 feet (30 m) down the driveway, which was adjacent to a machine shop, and there noticed a garage. This was not a normal garage, however, in that there was a curtain at the window.

She turned to her companion and said, “Nell, shall we go and investigate?”

The two sweet sisters then walked down the muddy driveway 40 feet (12 m) to a point where the entire view of the garage could be seen. Now they noticed a door which had been cut into the side of the garage, which door was unseen from the street. They also noticed that there was a chimney with smoke rising from it.

Elizabeth Keachie knocked at the door. A man 68 years of age, William Ringwood, answered. They then presented their story concerning the need of every home having the Relief Society Magazine. William Ringwood replied, “You’d better ask my father.”

Ninety-four-year-old Charles W. Ringwood then came to the door and also listened to the message. He subscribed.

Elizabeth Keachie reported to me the presence of these two men in our ward. When I requested their membership certificates from Church headquarters, I received a call from the Membership Department at the Presiding Bishopric’s Office. The clerk said, “Are you sure you have living in your ward Charles W. Ringwood?”

I replied that I did, whereupon she reported that the membership certificate for him had remained in the “lost and unknown” file of the Presiding Bishopric’s Office for the previous 16 years.

On Sunday morning Elizabeth Keachie and Nell Ivory brought to our priesthood meeting Charles and William Ringwood. This was the first time they had been inside a chapel for many years. Charles Ringwood was the oldest deacon I had ever met. His son was the oldest male member holding no priesthood I had ever met.

It became my opportunity to ordain Brother Charles Ringwood a teacher and then a priest and finally an elder. I shall never forget his interview with respect to seeking a temple recommend. He handed me a silver dollar, which he took from an old, worn leather coin purse, and said, “This is my fast offering.”

I said, “Brother Ringwood, you owe no fast offering. You need it yourself.”

“I want to receive the blessings, not retain the money,” he responded.

It was my opportunity to take Charles Ringwood to the Salt Lake Temple and to attend with him the endowment session.

Within a few months, Charles W. Ringwood passed away. At his funeral service I noticed his family sitting on the front rows in the mortuary chapel, but I noticed also two sweet women sitting near the rear of the chapel, Elizabeth Keachie and Helen Ivory.

As I gazed upon those two faithful and dedicated women and contemplated their personal influence for good, the promise of the Lord filled my very soul: “I, the Lord, am merciful and gracious unto those who fear me, and delight to honor those who serve me in righteousness and in truth unto the end. Great shall be their reward and eternal shall be their glory.”

When WWII broke out, Len and Ken were eager to serve and enlisted early. Len served in the 9th Division Cavalry (tanks) from 1938 to 1948, fighting in Egypt, El Alamein, Syria, and Borneo.
His experiences at war quickly taught him the fragility and value of life. During one campaign, Len’s commander ordered him to fire on an Italian gunner. Len pressed the wrong button, bringing the tank to a stop. The men on the tank vacated and were eventually replaced by another group. Soon after, the Italian gunner hit the tank with a shell, killing everyone inside.
“It was a pretty nasty experience,” remembers Len. “I wouldn’t be here today if I hadn’t pressed that button.”

There’s a roar of a small engine from Norma Bench’s Riverton, Utah, backyard. It means only one thing. Randy’s there. The noise is from the lawn mower.
It’s Tuesday, and Tuesday is the day Randy Johanson cuts Norma’s lawn. Well, Tuesdays and Saturdays. Why mow the grass just once a week when two cuts make it look so much better?
“I like to mulch her lawn so it doesn’t get too long and leave clumps on the grass. That doesn’t look good,” says Randy matter-of-factly.
No it doesn’t. But imagine what the lawn would look like if Randy wasn’t taking such immaculate care of it.
“He’s certainly been a lifesaver to me,” says Norma.
When it seemed as if Norma Bench’s world was falling apart, a 12-year-old deacon helped her realize things weren’t so bleak after all.
One week after Norma’s son, Brian, received his mission call to the Brazil Recife South Mission in August of 1994, her husband, Gail, died of cancer. So when Brian left for his mission, Norma was all alone.
Then another trial came her way. While helping her brother move some things, Norma fell and shattered her femur in six places. As accidents go, this one was a doozy. Doctors inserted 13 screws into her leg, and she was told she wouldn’t be up and at ’em any time soon.
Next, word came that Brian had to come home from his mission early because of medical problems that couldn’t be treated in Brazil. Norma had a lot on her mind.
During her ten-day hospital stay, she lay in bed, unable to move, pondering her situation. One of the things she worried about was who was going to take care of things around her house. She certainly couldn’t, and Brian’s condition would prevent him. But Randy had it figured out.
Randy, a member of the Riverton Fifth Ward, had been mowing the Benches’ lawn since he was ten. With Norma laid up, he just added the weeding, trimming, and general repair to his list of things to do.
“I’m happy about working for her because it’s nice to do a lot of things for neat people,” he says.
What Randy fails to mention is that he’s working for free—if you don’t count the occasional can of soda or ice cream bar that Norma gives him.
“I’ve tried to pay him,” Norma says. “I’ll hand him some money, and he says no. He’s such a good example for me. He sees things, and he knows what has to be done. He’s just a neat kid.”
Once, when Norma was still on crutches, she dropped a drinking straw to the floor. Unable to pick it up, she asked Randy if he would. The next thing Norma knew, Randy had the vacuum going through the house.
“That’s just the way he is,” says Randy’s mother, Debra. “He learned to work with his dad when he was two years old. I’ve got pictures of him helping his dad push the lawn mower.”
Norma Bench is doing much better now. It’s been more than a year since her fall, and she’s able to get around again. But Randy is still one of the constants in her life. When a tree needs to be trimmed, he’s there. When a winter storm rolls in, there’s Randy shoveling her driveway.
“I have a responsibility,” he adds. “I have the priesthood, and I’m learning more things about the Church all the time, and I feel that I can do a lot more things,” he says.
He’s right about that. But you’d have a hard time convincing Norma that Randy could do any more than he’s already doing.

During filming, my brother Byron lay in a hospital bed in California, USA, while my newborn granddaughter lay in a hospital bed in Salt Lake City, Utah. Byron was dying of cancer, and my granddaughter, born with a serious birth defect, was not expected to live.
I had to miss the reunion because my daughter Angie needed my help and support. On June 3, her first child, Athena, was born with a diaphragmatic hernia. Surgeons operated on her three days later. They did not expect her to survive.
Fortunately, my husband and I were nearby during this trying time. Each afternoon after I finished my Book of Mormon video work, Angie would leave her vigil at the hospital and join us at our motel, where we comforted her and prayed for Athena.
That night, I learned that God had taken Byron home. I’m grateful for the faith I have that I will see him and my parents again. I’m also grateful that God heard our prayers for Athena. After she spent 88 days recuperating in the neonatal intensive care unit, we finally brought her home.

Stanley was a 19-year-old investigator in Hong Kong. He was excited about the gospel and wanted to be baptized until his friends criticized the Church. He met with the missionaries. They testified that God cared enough about him to answer his prayer. They invited him to kneel and ask Heavenly Father if the teachings were true. First one companion and then the other offered a short prayer. Then Stanley prayed. When he finished his humble prayer, they asked him, “Stanley, how do you feel?” He slowly raised his head and in almost a whisper replied, “Baptism, baptism.”

In a recent general conference message, President Henry B. Eyring, Second Counselor in the First Presidency, spoke about the perilous times in the world: “The Apostle Paul wrote to Timothy, ‘This know also, that in the last days perilous times shall come’ (2 Timothy 3:1).
“… And so it will become more difficult, not easier, to honor the covenants we must make and keep to live the gospel of Jesus Christ.”1
As I heard these words, I felt anxious. I was already dealing with challenges in my home in Venezuela. So questions like, “How can I stay optimistic when the world is so dark?” and “How can I look forward to a bright future in such a blackened present?” were in my heart at the time.
But President Eyring offered the solution. He quoted Helaman 5:12, which speaks about building our foundation “upon the rock of our Redeemer, who is Christ.”
I have always believed that this scripture was true, but building my foundation on the Savior seemed a lot easier said than done. Nonetheless, as I have drawn closer to Christ, I have seen that everything works for your good when your faith is firm in Him (see Doctrine and Covenants 90:24).
A couple of months ago, I received devastating news from my family. My world seemed to be crumbling in front of me. I felt numb, confused, and so anxious that I even got sick!
I did not understand why we were facing such hardships when I was trying to be faithful. I wondered if I’d done something wrong. The future looked bleak, and I felt abandoned by Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.
In the middle of my affliction, I talked to a good friend. He told me something I will never forget: “I think this situation is a good opportunity for you to ponder on your personal relationship with the Lord. No matter what happens, it is up to you to turn to Him for help. If you do, He will provide you with the love and relief you need right now.”
Those words changed my perspective. I was angry and hurt and confused by my circumstances, but I had a choice. No matter what we’re going through, what fears we have, or what difficulties we are facing, Jesus Christ is always right beside us. We have the choice to turn toward Him with faith, not away from Him, in troubling times.
That is how we strengthen our foundation of faith in Him and withstand the hardship in the world. By choosing Him.
As Elder D. Todd Christofferson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught: “In the midst of this refiner’s fire, rather than get angry with God, get close to God. Call upon the Father in the name of the Son. Walk with Them in the Spirit, day by day. Allow Them over time to manifest Their fidelity to you. Come truly to know Them and truly to know yourself.”2
Christ was waiting for me to turn to Him for help. That didn’t mean He would make all my problems go away or fix everything in my life and family instantly, but He helped me become better, find joy, and become more refined.
And over time, as I sought the Savior through prayer, scripture study, and faith, He helped me forgive my family members and invite joy into my life again, even though some challenges are still not solved.

The Beehive girls of the Provo East Stake have become better babysitters because of the workshops they attended on child care. Besides learning how to care for and entertain children, the Provo girls learned basic first aid and what to do in an emergency. Each girl made a babysitting kit that included simple games, portable party paraphernalia, puppets, and musical instruments made out of cans. The kit also included a plastic apron with pockets for bandages, towels for cleanup, scissors, paper, and crayons. Crystal Ashton enjoys using her Kiddy Kare Kit. “The children I tend like the parties and the puppets the best. They love everything we do with the kit.” The gift of caring was added to the basket.

When I was a missionary, as my companion and I were studying, we came across a four-word verse: “Quench not the Spirit” (1 Thes. 5:19). We thought that was an intriguing verse and that quench was an interesting word. As we would walk along tracting, if we found ourselves being somewhat light-minded, one of us would say to the other, “Quench not the Spirit.” It became a phrase that would come up whenever we found ourselves beginning to say or do things we felt we shouldn’t. That phrase has continued to come to my mind at such times throughout the rest of my life.

Vicky kept going to the Rowes’ house for church every Sunday. Then Vicky shared the Book of Mormon with her mom. Soon her whole family was learning about the gospel from the Rowes. Vicky translated for everyone.
One day Mr. Rowe asked Vicky’s family a question. Vicky repeated it in Bosnian. “Will you follow the example of Jesus Christ by being baptized?”
Vicky waited. She wanted to be baptized. But she was nervous about what her family would say.
Finally, Vicky’s dad spoke. “Da.”
“Da,” her family said.
Vicky was so happy she felt like her heart was going to burst. “Yes,” she said to Mr. Rowe. “Yes, we will.”
A week later, Vicky and her family drove for five hours to the nearest Church building. Vicky felt happy as she stepped into the water to be baptized. She felt even happier when she was confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Now she would have the Holy Ghost with her always.

Qualicum Bay, British Columbia—
Jessica and Sandra Stüssi know all about family togetherness. They live across the street from the beach in a tiny town called Qualicum Bay, in British Columbia, where their parents own and operate a resort. With the waves lapping softly on the shore, the sun setting in a crimson burst, and the family sitting outside quietly enjoying ice cream cones together, it seems like heaven on earth.
But what about the days when Jessica and Sandra are helping their mom do the resort’s laundry? What about days when they seem to be moving in several directions at once to sports practices and school activities?
Of course the Stüssis aren’t perfect, but they know that keeping their home heavenly—even when they’re doing something that’s not particularly pleasant—is partly their responsibility. And they know that living the gospel will help them create love at home. Getting up at the crack of dawn every day with their mom (she’s the seminary teacher) is an important part of their success.
“Sometimes it’s hard to have your mom as a teacher because it’s hard to have lessons from her. But it’s good too because we sort of know what to expect and she knows what we need,” says Jessica. “Also, she’s wide awake when the rest of us aren’t.”
After seminary every morning, Jessica and Sandra head to a different secondary school than the other youth in their branch, making them the only Church members there.
“Going to our school can be sort of hard,” says Sandra. “Sometimes people ask me questions [about the Church] and I don’t always know how to answer them. I just try to take things one at a time.”
It’s a tough job, being the only Latter-day Saints in the whole school, but Jessica and Sandra both say that it forces them to stick to their standards—and to stick together.
“We have to back each other up,” says Sandra.
Soon Jessica will graduate and Sandra will be on her own. But their family ties will stay strong as Jessica travels to Switzerland to live with relatives for a year.
“None of the people on my mom’s side of the family are members, so hopefully I’ll be able to teach them and bring some of them into the gospel while I’m there,” she says.

I am a level 5 gymnast at my gymnastics club, and I was having a very good season. The state meet was coming up, and if I did well in the state meet, I would qualify for region. But the region meet was going to be on a Sunday. I had been working so hard to get to this point, and I wanted to go, but I felt like I shouldn’t.
A couple days later was fast Sunday, and I told my mom and dad what I was going to fast for. Together with my family we fasted that I would know what the Lord wanted me to do. I fasted Saturday night, all the way to Sunday dinner. Boy, that was hard.
That night when I was sitting with my mom, I decided that I shouldn’t go. I felt good and peaceful about my decision. The next day my mom got an email saying the region meet was changed to Friday. The following week I competed at state and took first place all-around, and now I get to go to regions in Colorado.
I know my prayer was answered. My faith in fasting and prayer is a lot stronger.

Subject: Lisa
Age: 17 years
Event: Discussion with Kara in art class
“The face you’re painting is so beautiful,” Lisa said, admiring Kara’s oil portrait.
“Thanks.”
“But she looks a little lonely to me,” Lisa remarked.
“Oh no, she’s not lonely at all. With her looks, she’s always got boys around her.”
“I suppose so,” Lisa replied. “Still, there’s something sad about her.”
“No, she’s happy, just like me.”
“Well, you certainly have boys around you; that’s for sure.”
“You could, too,” Kara suggested.
“How?”
“Just be a little more like other girls. Being a genius in mathematics doesn’t help your chances.”
“I’m no genius. I just like it.”
“Sometimes it’s smart to play dumb around boys,” Kara advised.
“Somewhere there’s a boy who won’t be put down just because I have goals to improve.”
“Where is he?” Kara asked.
“I don’t know,” Lisa said glumly.
“He isn’t here in this school. Boys are afraid of you here.”
“I don’t know where he is.”
“Face it, he doesn’t exist. Boys have to be superior. That’s how I get along so well with Larry, our football hero. He needs me to feed his ego.”
“It isn’t honest to pretend that you’re not smart.”
“Maybe not, but it gets dates. There are plenty of girls who’d love to go out with the great Larry Hill. But he’s all mine.”
The class bell rang, and they put away their paintings.
“Kara, maybe you’re seeing too much of Larry.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Once I heard him talking about you with some other boys in the hall.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got things under control. Say, let me ask Larry to get one of his friends to ask you out. There’s a party Friday night.”
Lisa thought for a moment and then said, “You know I’m a Mormon. Do you really think I’d fit in at one of your parties?”
“Do you always have to be so strict? Can’t you ever have any fun?”
“We have fun, Kara. It’s just a different kind of fun. Thanks for thinking of me, but I’d better not.”__________