Gospel Story Finder

A friend of mine told me how she had once handled a situation that embodies the same principle. Married in a civil ceremony, Anne and Bob had set a goal to be sealed in the temple. For a time they were both active in the Church, but Bob gradually lost interest. He and his sports-minded friends looked forward to watching Sunday afternoon football on television.

Anne rose early each Sunday morning, made breakfast for her family, straightened the kitchen, and got herself and their two small children ready for church meetings. She left Bob with a kiss and a smile. In sacrament meeting, she struggled alone with the children, even though her husband had offered to care for them at home.

She said, “I knew it was critical that I set a good example for him and my children. I prayed that Bob would come around if I kept my faith in him. After church, I would pause before entering the house, clear my mind of any negative feelings, and remember how much I loved him. Sometimes the living room was messy with popcorn and cans, but I wouldn’t allow those things to interfere with our relationship.”

After asking her husband’s permission, Anne started preparing to receive her own temple endowment. At first, Bob made only small concessions to living gospel principles. Later, he resumed attending church with his family and finally joined in preparing to attend the temple. Eventually, they were sealed as a family for eternity.

Anne said, “I think he saw the difference the gospel had made in my life. He also noticed that his family was progressing. One day, he just decided to catch up.”

Bishop Edgley has told you a basketball story. I think I’d like to tell you a baseball story. I was reminded of it while watching a program on the Public Broadcasting System one evening not long ago. It was a program on baseball, once the great American pastime.
I recognize that baseball has little interest for people in most nations of the world, but I speak of it to highlight a principle that has meaning for people everywhere.
The event of which I speak occurred in the World Series of 1912. It was an eight-game series because one of the games was called at midpoint because of darkness. Playing fields were not electrically lighted at that time. It was the last game and the score was tied 1–1. The Boston Red Sox were at bat, the New York Giants in the field. A Boston batter knocked a high-arching fly. Two New York players ran for it. Fred Snodgrass in center field signaled to his associate that he would take it. He came squarely under the ball, which fell into his glove. It went right through his hand and fell to the ground. A howl went up in the stands. The roaring fans couldn’t believe it. Snodgrass had dropped the ball. He had caught hundreds of fly balls before. But now, at this crucial moment, he dropped the ball. The New York Giants lost. The Boston Red Sox won the series.
Snodgrass came back the following season and played brilliant ball for nine more years. He lived to be eighty-six years of age, dying in 1974. But after that one slip, for sixty-two years when he was introduced to anybody, the expected response was, “Oh, yes, you’re the one who dropped the ball.”

The girls enjoy going to Primary in the nearby town of Belfair. Their teachers lovingly challenge them to learn and grow in the gospel. Larisa’s teacher, Sister Crowell, helps her make fun things, like a faith plant and paper dolls from different countries. Michelle’s teacher, Sister Reynolds, challenged her class to bear their testimonies. Michelle said that one of the hardest things she’s ever done was follow Sister Reynolds up to the front of the chapel to bear her testimony, but that afterward she felt very good and was glad that she had done it.

Mary Ann Stearns, step-daughter of Elder Parley P. Pratt, in her unpublished autobiography, relates an experience that her family had with the Prophet Joseph that also illustrates his great capacity for kindness. Returning from his mission to England with his family and a group of immigrants by way of St. Louis, Missouri the group was detained four weeks because of cold weather and the great chunks of ice that floated on the a!most frozen Mississippi River. When they finally did arrive in Nauvoo the anxiety of the Britons to see the Prophet Joseph was only exceeded by the anxiety of the Saints in Nauvoo concerning the safety of the immigrants. Thus Joseph and Hyrum and a large company of people were at the landing to greet the newcomers. Elder Pratt introduced the company to the two illustrious leaders and when all except the Pratts had disembarked and had gone to their homes, the Prophet came into the cabin of the boat where the Pratts were.
“After a cordial greeting, he took a seat and taking the little boys, Parley and Nathan, upon his knees, seemed much affected, Brother Pratt remarking, ‘We took away three children and have brought back five.’ Then Brother Joseph said, “Well, well, Brother Parley, you have returned bringing your sheaves with you,” the tears streaming down his face. Brother Pratt, seeing the general emotion this caused, said, ‘If you feel so bad about our coming home, I guess we will have to go back again,’ tears of joy filling his own eyes.”
Elder Pratt’s remark seemed to break the spell, smiles returned and joy continued to fill all their hearts. Then Joseph, arising, said, “Come, Brother Parley, bring your folks right up to my house; it is only a little way, and you can be more comfortable after your long journey.” Sister Pratt, very ill, was placed in a large comfortable chair and carried by Brother Hodge and others of Joseph’s bodyguards to the Prophet’s home where a really special evening was enjoyed by the entire family.

Why?
Sven stood watching as his brothers, Nils and Erik, began digging. An icy wind had started, and the snow was falling hard again. It had been snowing steadily now for ten days. Sven folded his arms tightly against his body, more out of habit than for warmth; the question was more bitter than any pain the cold and the snow could bring.
Why had He brought them here for this?
Back behind his family’s tent Sven could see the other members of the company moving their carts into line getting ready to start for the day. A large man wrapped in a heavy wool blanket left the line and walked to their camp and stood by their fire.
“I’m sorry about your mother,” the man said, “but there’s no time for this. You’ll just have to cover her with snow. We have to be moving.”
Nils slammed his pick down and glared at the man: “We won’t bury her in the snow.”
“We’ll catch up,” Erik said.
The man glanced over his shoulder at the line of handcarts.
“We’ve lost people who’ve stayed behind and tried to catch up.”
“The wolves …” Erik said. “It’s hard enough for our father as it is. We can’t bury her in the snow.”
The man looked at the tent and nodded his head.
“I heard your father was taking it pretty badly.”
The man held his hands over the fire for nearly a full minute savoring the heat.
“We can’t help you if you get into trouble. I’m sorry. There were five others who died last night.” The man turned and walked away. Nils started hammering at the frozen earth again. Erik looked at Sven.
“Get the covering from the handcart and put it in the tent.”
The canvas was frozen stiff. Sven shook the snow from it and then carefully folded it. In the tent he found his father kneeling next to his mother. Except for the paleness of his mother’s face, she looked more alive than his father did.
“You’d better come out by the fire, father,” Sven said. His father didn’t move. He was a large man. He’d been a stonecutter in Sweden and planned on helping to build the temple in Zion.
Now, Sven thought, his face looks like it’s been cut from the same gray stone he once worked with. Sven set the canvas down and backed out of the tent. Through the haze of the falling snow he could see the line of handcarts moving slowly away. He watched until they vanished.
When the grave was nearly two feet deep, Erik stopped digging. “This will have to do.”
“No,” Nils said. “It’s not deep enough.”
“It’s nearly noon. We won’t be able to catch up to the company if we wait any longer.”
“Just a little more.” Nils started digging again. Erik stepped from the grave.
“Sven, you’ll have to help me.”
Erik bent down and entered the tent. Sven followed. Their father hadn’t moved. He was still kneeling next to their mother.
“We’ve finished digging, father.”
Their father remained motionless.
“We’re nearly half a day behind the company.”
Erik took a deep breath, picked up the canvas, and spread it next to his mother’s body. He then took the blanket that was covering her and laid it on the canvas. Sven knew they needed the blanket, but it felt right to leave it with her. She’d given them so much.
Why?
The question was now an incessant drumming in his consciousness that muted all other thoughts and memories.
“She looks so young,” Erik said. “It’s as if death is giving her back her youth.”
Sven looked at her face. She did look young. There was a slight smile. He remembered how easily a smile had always come to her face. When they had decided to go to Utah, he remembered how happy she had been. “Zion,” she’d said. “We’re going to Zion.” Sven had never heard a word spoken with more pleasure.
“Zion.” He unconsciously whispered the word out loud. His father looked up at him.
“Lift her shoulders,” Erik said.
They lifted her onto the blanket and then carefully wrapped her in it. Erik tied the bundle with a cord. Their father followed them out of the tent. Nils stepped from the grave, and they laid the body down gently. The dark earth in the grave and the canvas were quickly covered by snow.
“What do we say? The prayer should be right.”
“I’ve never done it before, not a funeral,” Erik said. “I think father should do it.”
He shook his head without looking up.
“Maybe it’s like the baptism prayer.”
“We have the priesthood,” Erik said. “It will be right. The words will come.”
Erik reached out his hand for Nils and his father. They took hands, the four of them, and knelt in the snow.
“By the power of the Holy Melchizedek Priesthood and in the name of the Savior,” Erik began the prayer. He whispered the words and sometimes the sound of his voice was lost in the wind, but still, somehow, they all heard the prayer.
Sven felt the tenseness in his brother’s hands relax. The pain that he felt also should have been softened by the prayer, but the question, the drumming noise in his head that was as intense as thunder, was too loud.
Why?
How could God allow this to happen? Sven had seen others die on the journey to Zion, friends, people he loved, but somehow that was distant, and then his mother had always been there to help him understand. In Sweden when his best friend, Ole, had drowned, his mother had talked with him the entire night after the accident happened. Where was she now for this death, the death that he needed her the most for?
When the prayer was finished, they stood.
“I wish we had some flowers, anything.”
“She always loved flowers.”
Erik took the shovel and began to fill the grave.
Their father held out his hand. “Wait.”
He walked over to the cart and took out a small bag and then walked back to the grave. He poured the contents of the bag into his hand.
“They were her favorite flowers.” His voice was hoarse.
He scattered the dark seeds over the grave.
That night, when they finally reached the company, and two days later, when help reached them from Salt Lake City, the question with its dulling thunder was still with Sven. It was with him five years later when he was traveling from Salt Lake City to the East to buy equipment for their stonecutting business.
The weather was cool and crisp when the sun came up over the mountains. Sven’s breath steamed up in the morning, but the newborn sunlight was warm on his face. It was spring. The leaves on the trees were a bright yellow-green, and the earth was covered with new grass.
Sven made his way carefully down a slope. He’d been drawn back to this area. This was where they had traveled with their handcarts. Somewhere on this trail his mother was buried.
He started up a long narrow swale. The floor of the hollow was covered with clover, and dandelions were scattered along the edge of a small stream. Sven couldn’t remember the stream or the trees or even the shape of the land, but the place was still familiar. His recognition was more of a feeling. The morning was warm now. The sunlight was strong, but Sven felt cold. He shivered. The question was drumming hard. It was more than just a question about his mother’s death now. It was his own death that he was facing also.
Sven stopped. There was something, something familiar, a fragrance. It was a memory that took him back beyond the day when his mother had died, back to Sweden. It was a good smell, the smell of his old home. With it came the memory of other smells of baking bread, of a warm fire, of linen. He started walking toward the fragrance. The small valley twisted ahead, and around the turn it broadened into a meadow. Sven stopped again. He began to feel what he knew was true, about eternity, about the things his mother had tried to teach him, about life continuing after death.
An area in the meadow, near the stream, was covered with the same flowers his mother had planted around their home in Sweden.

Sometimes Janick’s enthusiasm for life carries him away. One day his mother, Esther, called his father at his office, which is near their home. She was having a hard time getting Janick to settle down; she asked her husband to come home and talk to him. His father came home. He told Janick that he needed to learn to help his mother in preparation for the day when he would hold the priesthood. “He really listened seriously to me,” his father said. “He behaved much better. He knew that we expected something of him.”

What you have done remarkably well together is to cherish, watch over, and comfort each other. I was a witness of that threefold miracle just one month ago in your service to one sister. As her father, I thank you and I want to extend my thanks to God, who guided one visiting teacher.
Our daughter Elizabeth, who lives in another state and time zone from us, was at home with her three-year-old daughter. Her other child was in her first week of kindergarten. Elizabeth was six months pregnant and looking forward to the birth of her third child, which the doctors said would be another girl. Her husband, Joshua, was away at his work.
When she saw that she was passing blood and that the flow was increasing, she called her husband on the phone. He told her to call for an ambulance and that he would meet her at the hospital, which was 20 minutes from her home. Before she could place the call, she heard a knock at the front door.
At the door she was surprised to see her Relief Society visiting teaching companion. They had no appointment for that morning. Her companion had simply felt she ought to come by to see Elizabeth.
She helped her into the car. They arrived at the hospital minutes before Joshua arrived from his work. The doctors decided in less than 20 minutes to take the baby by surgery to save Elizabeth and her baby. So a tiny girl came into the world, crying loudly, 15 weeks ahead of schedule. She weighed one pound, eleven ounces (765 g). But she was alive, and so was Elizabeth.
The words of Lucy Mack Smith were in part fulfilled that day. A faithful member of the Relief Society, prompted by the Holy Ghost, watched over, cherished, and comforted her sister in God’s kingdom. She and the tens of thousands of others who have given such inspired service over the generations have not only the thanks of those they helped and their loved ones but also of the Lord.
But the miracle of one Relief Society sister arriving to help just in time is multiplied through the power of a unified society of sisters. Here is just a part of the message Elizabeth’s bishop sent to Elizabeth and to Joshua at the hospital hours after the baby was born: “The Relief Society president has everything under control. We are already building a future plan to assist with your girls at home so Elizabeth can travel back and forth to the hospital while the unnamed cute baby remains there. We’ve done it before, long term, and [our] people jump at the chance.”
The bishop went on to say, speaking for himself and the ward: “We’ve even come to the hospital and sat with kids in the playroom when moms didn’t want to leave them somewhere else.”
And then: “We won’t execute our plan without coordination and concurrence from you, of course. Just wanted to let you know not to worry about the things we can [and will] do.”
What they did for my daughter made it possible for her to have a precious moment when she held, for the first time, her tiny daughter.
And then the bishop closed his message to Joshua and Elizabeth with one that sisters send out of their commitment across the earth to serve others for the Master: “Keep the faith.”

“Hey, wake up,” someone says, poking you.
Groggily, you look at the clock next to your bed. It’s 6:30 a.m.? What’s going on? Wait, that’s not your clock. And this isn’t your bed. Where are you?
“Hey,” the voice says, “you’re the one who wanted to follow us around. It’s time to get the day started.”
As you peer up at the missionary standing over your bed, you finally remember what’s going on. Church magazines offered you the opportunity to follow a missionary companionship around for a day, and you jumped at the chance to see what missionary life is really like.
You just didn’t realize it would start this early.
“Hi, I’m Elder Jesse Ward, from Utah,” the tall missionary says as you sit up. “Welcome to Spain. This is my companion, Elder Pierrick Triplet.”
Elder Triplet is from France, and he isn’t learning just Spanish but English too. Despite the challenge of having to learn two languages at once, Elder Triplet is grateful to be on a mission.
“I’m a convert,” he says. “I’ve had a great change in my life, and I’d like others to have it too. A mission can be hard work, but seeing someone change his or her life is worth it.”
They’ve got your attention. You’ve always heard that a mission can be the best two years of your life. Today you get a chance to find out why.
6:41 a.m. After taking time to pray, the missionaries spend some time working out. Push-ups, sit-ups, even a little light weight lifting are the usual for Elder Ward. Breakfast follows a shower and shave. Cold cereal is a favorite.
8:07 a.m. Missionaries spend a good deal of time studying individually and as a companionship so they can obtain the word before declaring it (see D&C 11:21). After language study and personal scripture study, it’s time for companionship study using Preach My Gospel.
9:55 a.m. Missionaries dedicate a lot of time to planning, at the beginning of the day, throughout the day, and at the end of the day. They talk not just about what they’re going to do but about what each investigator needs.
Today the elders are talking about a man from France, an investigator they’re going to invite to be baptized.
“He’s worried,” Elder Triplet says. “He doesn’t feel worthy.”
“Let’s talk about repentance and how God remembers sins no more,” Elder Ward suggests after the companions think it over. “Why don’t you teach it in French to make sure he understands?”
The last thing the elders do before leaving is pray—again. This is one of many prayers they’ll offer today. Missionary work requires a lot of heavenly help. Then it’s out the door and off to the bus stop in a hurry.
11:09 a.m. Missionaries talk to anyone anywhere anytime about the gospel, because they never know who is going to be interested. While waiting for the bus, the missionaries chat with a young man and give him a pamphlet with their phone number on it.
11:21 a.m. A 10-minute bus ride and a short walk later, the missionaries arrive at a rented meetinghouse at the same time as their investigator. The meeting begins well, but the investigator’s concerns push the 45-minute lesson they had planned on to more than an hour.
“That was the most frustrating lesson I’ve ever been in,” Elder Triplet says afterward. “He likes the Church. He thinks it’s true. He wants to pay tithing. But he doesn’t believe he needs to be baptized again. He was a little argumentative.”
“He’s a great guy,” Elder Ward says, shaking his head. “Maybe he’ll be ready to talk about baptism next time.”
2:06 p.m. The missionaries jump on another bus, this time to El Casco, the historic quarter of Toledo, Spain. They stop by an investigator’s business to invite him to an activity that night.
“You can get lost in here really quick if you aren’t paying attention,” Elder Ward says of the maze of narrow streets lined with buildings that seem to lean over those walking below.
2:24 p.m. While navigating the tight streets, the missionaries stop to offer help to a woman carrying a heavy load. They spend a moment explaining who they are and what they do, but the woman isn’t interested.
2:47 p.m. It’s siesta time in Spain, so the missionaries catch a bus back to their apartment, or piso, for lunch. “Everything shuts down between 2:00 and 4:00 p.m.,” Elder Ward explains. “Some people get mad if you knock on their doors.”
“This is chorizo, or sausage,” Elder Triplet says poking at lunch. “It’s typical food. We eat a lot of noodles and chorizo because it’s cheap and easy to make.”
“The mission is great preparation for marriage,” Elder Ward laughs as he mixes his Kool-Aid. “You have to learn to get along, cook, clean, do laundry, budget, and take care of yourself.”
4:24 p.m. Back in El Casco, the missionaries meet with a counselor in the mission presidency about current activation efforts.
“This is a great area,” says Elder Ward, who explains that Church attendance has gone from about 15 to 80 members each week because one family set the example of fellowshipping.
4:59 p.m. The elders end up with a little unexpected free time on their hands, but missionaries are used to doing some planning on the fly. Their backup plan was to do some tracting.
5:42 p.m. In El Casco, where so many people live above street level, knocking on doors often means carrying on conversations with people on their balconies. And even in historic tourist towns, a missionary has to look out for dogs.
The elders have some success: “We found some great people,” Elder Ward says. “There were some youth from Paraguay. They invited us back tomorrow.” And some failure: “We had a half-hour conversation with one man,” Elder Triplet says. “It was like talking to a wall.”
7:45 p.m. Two buses later the elders make it to the activity they had planned with the sister missionaries who work in the same city, Sister Kathleen Bonifay and Sister Brittany Hofman.
The people they were expecting to come didn’t. “That’s the way it goes sometimes,” Elder Ward says. But after a little footwork, the missionaries are able to gather a handful of other investigators living nearby. After a hymn and a video, you can feel the influence of the Holy Ghost as the missionaries bear testimony of the Book of Mormon as another witness of Jesus Christ. The activity is a success.
“The Lord takes care of you when you put forth your best planning and best effort,” says Sister Bonifay.
9:13 p.m. After a hike to the bus stop, the elders and sisters have made it back to their respective apartments, where they’ll call their leaders, review the day and their long-range plans, and make plans for the next day.
“Well, this is what we do,” Elder Ward tells you. “It doesn’t change much.”
Elder Triplet laughs. “We are the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow.”
Things didn’t go exactly as the elders had planned, but the day went well anyway. They made some good contacts, pulled off a powerful activity, bore testimony of Christ, and did their best to follow the promptings of the Holy Ghost.
“I’ve heard people say these are the best two years of their lives,” Elder Triplet says. “The two years are great, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re the best 730 days of my life. There are some days I thought would never end. But I have loved being a missionary.”
Elder Ward agrees. He has mixed emotions about leaving. “I always thought I’d be excited to go home,” he says. “But I see life differently now. I love my life. I’m a missionary. I’m speaking to people about Christ every day. Leaving will be bittersweet.”
You’ve enjoyed getting a taste of missionary work as well. As exciting as it is, missionary work can be exhausting. Now it’s time to get some rest and prepare yourself for your day as a missionary. It has a way of coming faster than you think.

Kimberly Martino, 13, along with her parents, four sisters, and her brother, accepted the challenge given them and the other members of the Lewisville Texas Stake to read the Book of Mormon as a family.
“I thought it was neat when we finally finished,” Kimberly said. “We made a goal and we reached it. And at a stake fireside I was able to tell the story about how Nephi’s bow broke when he went into the wilderness to hunt.”
Kimberly’s stake president, President Gordon T. Watts, came up with the idea. “I called it the ‘100-Day Book of Mormon Program.’ It was the end of May, and I challenged everyone to read the Book of Mormon by September 1st.” Kimberly and her family, along with more than 100 members of the stake, received certificates of completion.

A fine example of this are Erick and Gloria Corazon Andrada from San Fernando, La Union. Their two sons are part of the 4600 missionaries whose desire to serve is not deterred by the pandemic.
As parents, they naturally felt some fear for their health and safety, but their faith is stronger, and their trust in God full, so they gave their sons their full support and encouragement.
Their older son Alvin Joshua came home in July 2022 after serving for two years in the Philippines Baguio Mission. He was originally called to serve in Manchester, England but due to travel restrictions he was reassigned to his home mission. Their second son Dallin Ivan is currently serving in the Philippines Quezon City Mission. I have met Elder Andrada when I recently toured their mission. He was doing very well training a new missionary.
Brother Andrada says: “As parents we only want our children to be happy, and they found it while serving full-time missions. We can never exchange the joy they feel and gain from serving the Lord for anything. Sending them to serve missions despite the pandemic has been a wise and inspired decision.”
For Brother and Sister Andrada, the best way to prepare their children to serve missions is by being examples of covenant keepers who serve and minister joyfully. They would invite the missionaries for family home evening, provide them with referrals, and they would help and support young adults in their ward as they prepare to serve missions.
They counsel parents not to prioritize academics and careers over seminary, attending FSY, and serving missions. According to Sister Andrada, “school will prepare them for life, missionary service will prepare them for eternity. Our son returned as a more loving and caring person. He was totally transformed by his mission, and he found the kind of joy that any parent could only wish for their child.”
Thank you to all the Erick and Gloria Andradas in the Church for preparing and helping your children to come unto Christ, make and keep covenants and serve a full-time mission. I invite all of us to follow their examples.

Dear Reed,
It was awesome to get my very own letter from you. I’ll keep writing to you, if you’ll keep writing to me. But I still miss you very, very much! Nobody else calls me Buddy, but you can because I will always be your buddy.
Last night was our second grade Spring Sing. Everyone was there but you. Even Grandpa Richards was there, and your girlfriend Kelly. She says that she misses you very much, but I know that she doesn’t miss you as much as I do.
After the Sing we went to get ice-cream cones, and we talked about you. Mom and Dad said that you seem grown-up now. Natalie and Rachel said that they’re proud to be the sisters of a missionary. Scooter didn’t say anything because he’s too young.
I ate two scoops on my cone, one scoop of chocolate and one scoop of your favorite, pralines-and-cream. I did it for you.
I still have something I need to tell you, but I’m still afraid to tell you.
Love,Buddy

Early in April Chauncey traveled to Salt Lake City with LeRoi, who had been staying with him. They took the train as far as Ogden, where Chauncey visited his cousin, his uncle, and other relatives, and went to the cemetery to see the burial spot of his father, who had been murdered in 1894. They then continued to Salt Lake City. The busy day was not over: “On arriving LeRoi C. Snow took me through the electric light works, business college, bicycle school, and Christensen’s Dancing Academy. … We then went to my aunt’s house.”
The next day, after a trip to the depot to get their baggage, LeRoi showed him ZCMI, the Deseret News building, and the natatorium, where they took a swim. On April 6 they went to see the City and County building:
“It is a fine, large, immense and beautiful structure in outside appearance, with a town clock and tower, in which we were favored with the privilege of ascending into. We went through the principal halls and some rooms, winding our way gradually to the top. We were in the clock and saw the four chimes that make known the time. At last we reached the high tower and could see all over the city, being up a height of 263 feet.”
After attending all of the sessions of general conference, they visited the Deseret Museum and Science Building at the University of Utah and attended a class in theology at LDS College. Later Chauncey visited the gymnasium and the public library.

Joseph Smith himself was a great friend to many. He said, “Friendship is one of the grand fundamental principles of ‘Mormonism’; [it is designed] to revolutionize and civilize the world, and cause wars and contentions to cease and men to become friends and brothers” (History of the Church, 5:517).

And yet, he knew that friendship was more than an abstraction. He learned one day that a brother’s house had been burned by enemies. When Church members said they felt sorry for him, the Prophet took some money from his pocket and said, “I feel sorry for this brother to the amount of five dollars. How much do you … feel sorry [for him]?” (in Hyrum L. Andrus and Helen Mae Andrus, comps., They Knew the Prophet [1974], 150).

Following the directions of Church leaders was an accepted thing to Don McBride. When he was nine years old, his father had accepted a call from President John Taylor to leave his home in Santaquin, Utah, to colonize the Gila Valley area of Arizona. Life was hard there; scarce rainfall made farming difficult. Water was obtained only by irrigation. Don and his brothers helped support the family by freighting goods across Indian territory.
On January 13, 1897, Don McBride married Mary LaPreal Nuttal. In October of that year, their son, Donald, was born. When the call came from the First Presidency to serve a mission in the Samoan Islands, Don, with the support of his wife, accepted immediately.
In June 1898 Elder McBride, with only a few dollars in his pockets, left for Salt Lake City to be set apart for his mission. There he received a special blessing from a General Authority of the Church. The blessing contained a promise that if he would fill an honorable mission, obeying those who were in authority over him, he would have power to command the winds and waves of the sea to be still.
Elder McBride thought little of this promise upon his arrival in Samoa. He worked diligently to master the Samoan language. In his mission journal he wrote, “Fasted all day and prayed to the Lord in secret to help me learn the language. … I study very hard to get the language, but it is slow work.” Then, as he began to feel more sure of the language, he started to offer prayers and to bear his testimony at meetings and to teach in the Church-organized schools. He even helped in translating the Bible into Samoan.
Elder McBride encountered prejudice and opposition from the ministers of other churches on the islands. He wrote, “In looking around I find the field is by no means clear and prejudice staring me in the face as the Teachers have forbidden anyone attending our meetings.”
He learned to enjoy the unaccustomed food delicacies of the Samoan people and mentions feasting on roasted bat, ula (breadfruit), and palela (a kind of sea worm). He also grew to appreciate their sincere friendliness and hospitality.
Elder McBride and his companion were called to travel to the island of Savaii to prepare for a conference to be held there. As they drew near the island in a boat, a fierce inland wind suddenly forced them back out to sea. Having no compass, they knew that they would be lost if they didn’t keep the island in sight. They and the Samoan men with them took turns rowing until all were exhausted, their hands blistered and raw.
Suddenly Elder McBride remembered the blessing that had been given to him. He arose at once and stretched forth his hands. In the name of Jesus Christ he commanded the winds and the waves to be still. Immediately the winds subsided, and the terrifying waves became peaceful, astonishing the frightened natives. Although the men were now far out to sea, they turned their boat toward the island and rowed to it safely.
Don Carlos McBride served two missions to the Samoan Islands, spending a total of nearly seven years there. In 1910, during his second mission, he was called to be the mission president. Despite the hardships and sacrifice involved, he served with obedience and love.

Diligence was demonstrated by all members of the choir, but extraordinarily so by one precious mother whom I shall never forget. Just five days after the choir had left America, I was asked to inform her that her beautiful 37-year-old daughter had died after a long illness. The leaders of this sorrowing mother offered means for her to return home from Europe. She declined the offer. She and her family had already anticipated this possibility. Their decision had been made. It was not to be interpreted as a pattern for anyone else to follow, but for her alone. Her children and grandchildren had pleaded that she remain on assignment. So she continued in all diligence, never missing a single concert! She nobly fulfilled this scriptural counsel: “Therefore be diligent … in whatsoever difficult circumstances [you] may be” (D&C 6:18).

Her example can bless each of you, just as it did her family and me.

Primary children from the Kent Washington Stake and Spanish Branch, Washington, USA, had a Friend reading challenge. Together they read 2,920 Friend stories! They put a box full of Friend magazines to read at each Church building in the stake. Each child had a punch card to keep track of how many stories they read or listened to. They even had a stake activity using ideas and recipes from the Friend. They learned to keep reading, sharing, and being a friend to everyone!

The minute Robert woke up he knew the weather was still stormy. He was glad. Maybe I can stay home from school today, he thought.
Ever since he and his parents had moved to Pinehills in late summer, Robert had been unhappy. Each school morning when he awoke he felt a nagging dread in his stomach.
Robert dressed and went into the kitchen where his mother and father stood in the doorway, looking out at the dark day. He was still clinging to the hope that his mother would let him stay home, but all she said was, “Be sure and wear your warm shirt, Robert.” There was not a word about staying home.
A horse’s hooves sounded outside. A man called, “Ready, Mr. Shaft?”
Robert’s father answered, “Be right with you,” as he put on his yellow slicker and hat.
“Are you going to help build up the dam on Indian River?” Robert asked his father.
“Yes. Every man in town is needed there, Robert. After a week of rain Pinehills’ reservoir is in danger of spilling over.”
Robert’s mother looked worried. “Indian River runs right beside the schoolhouse,” she said. “What if the dam should break?”
Robert’s father tried to ease her concern. “Don’t worry, Mother,” he said. “We’ll be there to watch it all day.”
After his father had gone Robert sat down at the table. He wasn’t hungry and he wanted to say, “I don’t feel well, Mother,” or, “Maybe I should stay home to be with you,” but she would know he was only making excuses.
“Eat your breakfast or you’ll be late for school,” Mother insisted, so Robert choked down a few mouthfuls and then, with dragging footsteps, he set out under gray clouds that sagged nearly to the tops of the trees. Down the hill he trudged, his feet swishing through the wet leaves. He sniffed the brown smell of mud. I wish I could walk to some faraway, enchanted place and never have to go to school again, he thought.
But Robert soon reached the clearing where the one-room schoolhouse stood.
Two girls immediately ran up to meet him. Freckled Rebecca skipped on one side of Robert, and Patricia walked on the other side of him. Together they chanted, “Bobby Shafto’s gone to sea, Silver buckles on his knee. He’ll come back and marry me. Pretty Bobby Shafto.”
Then both girls giggled and Robert continued on to school, feeling miserable and lonely. He couldn’t remember who first used the nursery rhyme to tease him, but soon every child in school began chanting, “Pretty Bobby Shafto!” whenever they saw him. Robert felt he didn’t have a single friend.
When he reached the schoolhouse, Robert slumped in his seat in the back row where he was the only sixth-grader. He watched the teacher write words on the chalkboard. Robert thought Miss Parker was the one pleasant thing about school.
Turning around she asked, “Has the rain started again, Robert?”
“No, Ma’am, but the clouds are full,” he answered.
“Oh, dear,” Miss Parker said, looking worriedly out the window. “Maybe I should send the children home. Indian River runs so near the school.”
“My father said every man in town is watching the dam,” Robert told her.
“Well, then I’ll begin school,” she said. “Will you please ring the bell for me?”
Students hurried past Robert as he stood beside the door clanging the brass bell. No one spoke to him except to whisper, “Pretty Bobby Shafto!” or tease, “Where’s the silver buckles for your knee?”
Slumped in his seat, Robert watched Miss Parker as she listened to the first-graders read. He couldn’t help smiling when Amy Andrews read aloud. She looked too tiny to be in school.
A rumble of thunder and a crackle of lightning made Robert and the other children jump. Just as Miss Parker said, “Don’t be frightened!” another rumbling noise shook the schoolhouse. It was the loudest sound Robert had ever heard, a heavy shuddering rumble very different from thunder.
Everyone in the room except Robert sat so still they appeared frozen. He rushed to the door and shouted, “The dam broke! Here comes the water!”
The boys and girls began to cry as Miss Parker ran to the door and stood beside Robert. They looked out at the water swirling and roaring only a few feet away from where they stood. No longer held by the dam, the water leaped from the riverbed, rushing toward the schoolhouse. Water was coming inside the schoolroom now and Robert’s feet were wet.
“Robert, help me push my desk under the attic trapdoor,” Miss Parker directed. “Then lift the children up to me if you can.”
Robert and the teacher shoved the desk beneath the little opening in the ceiling. He put a chair on the table, then climbed up to push the door aside and helped her into the attic.
“Get in line by grades,” she called down. “Youngest first. Robert will lift you up to me.”
One by one, as the water rose higher in the room, the children climbed onto the desk. Straining, Robert lifted each child high enough for Miss Parker to grab his wrists and pull him into the dim, dry attic.
When the last child in line was safely inside Robert started to climb up himself. “Amy? Where’s Amy Andrews?” Miss Parker called.
The other children cried, “She isn’t here! Where’s Amy?”
Robert jumped off the desk into the still-rising water and began to search the schoolroom. He finally found Amy clinging to a chair that had floated into a corner.
“Put your arms around my neck, Amy,” Robert told her. “Hold tight so I can lift you into the attic.”
But Robert’s legs weren’t strong enough to carry both of them through the swirling water. No matter how hard he struggled, he couldn’t reach the desk.
Up in the attic the children kept calling, “Come on, Robert!” He saw Miss Parker’s anxious expression just as the rushing water swept him off his feet and through the open door.
Robert never knew exactly what happened next. He only remembered swimming as hard as he could with Amy’s arms wrapped tightly around his neck. Then they were on a log that swept them swiftly downstream.
Robert couldn’t tell where they were. Sometimes it seemed he and Amy stayed in one place while trees and houses rushed by. Other times he looked down at the racing water and grew so dizzy he was afraid he would fall off the log. Then he’d shut his eyes and tell Amy softly, “Don’t let go!”
At a place where the river curved, the log slammed into a high bank and stuck there, but Robert knew he couldn’t climb the steep, muddy bank. His legs felt like soaked wood and it was almost more than he could do to hang onto the log with his weary arms. Amy was crying and Robert held her close as he prayed, “Heavenly Father, please send someone to find us.”
The long hours seemed to creep slowly by. At last the most welcome sound Robert had ever heard came from the bank above them. It was his father’s voice. “Here they are!” he shouted. “I’ve found Robert and Amy and they’re alive!”
It was two weeks before the flood damage was cleaned up and the school could reopen. And as Robert set out through the early morning sunshine he wondered how it would seem to be back in the schoolroom again. He was glad he had been able to help Miss Parker but he dreaded the teasing of the children as much as ever.
Walking slowly, Robert was nearly to the schoolhouse when he heard someone shout, “Here he comes!” Then someone else called, “It’s our Bobby Shaft who went to sea!”
Suddenly Robert was surrounded by all the boys and girls in the little school. Everyone was happy to see him. And even the old nursery rhyme sounded good when Amy Andrews ran up, slipped her small hand inside of Robert’s big one and said, “My pretty Bobby Shafto!”

A third fundamental in this exciting challenge of reclaiming the inactive is that of timing. The scripture rightly says:
“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
“A time to be born, … a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted.” (Eccl. 3:1–2.)
My stake missionary friend had another convincing experience that taught him never to regard people as unchanging or unchangeable. They are neither stones nor stars. They are in constant motion.
A doctor rebuffed my friend in his attempts to serve as a home teacher. This doctor was a Church member in name only. His door seemed to be permanently and tightly closed to representatives of the Church. Then one evening my friend was visiting the hospital and was surprised and saddened to find in one bed the intractable doctor. He humbly and courageously asked, “Wouldn’t you like us to give you a blessing?”
“That, above all things right now, would help me most,” affirmed the doctor, weak and dispirited. And that, said my friend, was what it took to reactivate this heretofore inactive brother. It seems that for everyone there is a time—if only the Spirit of God sensitizes our hearts to the action we should take!

As Marcia finished making the last invitation she said “There now, this party’s going to be lots of fun. It’s always good to be with special friends.”
The first two invitations were easy for Marcia to deliver. They went to Lora and Barbara who lived just down the street. Lora lived in a big white house.
“Hi, Marcia,” she said happily, opening the door. “I’m making cookies. Come in and help me.”
“Thank you, Lora,” replied Marcia, “but I can’t today. I came to bring you an invitation to a party.”
Lora’s eyes sparkled as she read the invitation. “Who are your special friends?” she asked.
“That’s a secret,” replied Marcia. “You’ll have to come to the party and find out.” She smiled and waved good-bye to Lora, then ran down the steps on her way to Barbara’s home.
“Hello, Marcia,” Barbara’s mother said as she opened the door. “Come in. Barbara’s out in back playing with the kittens.”
Marcia went through the kitchen to the back door “Hi, Barbara,” she called. “I have something for you!” A small gray kitten brushed against Marcia’s leg and she stooped down to cuddle it while Barbara opened her invitation.
“This sounds like fun,” Barbara said. “Who are your special friends, anyway?”
“Come to my party and you’ll find out,” Marcia said with a smile. This party is beginning to be fun already, she thought.
Marcia’s mother took her in the car to deliver the rest of the invitations. First they went to see Mary, who lived on the other side of Marcia’s school.
Marcia and Mary were not in the same class at school but they were good friends.
“Hi, Mary,” Marcia said when her friend opened the front door. “Will you come to a party at my house?”
“I’d love to,” Mary answered, her eyes shining in anticipation.
Mary’s mother came into the room and thanked Marcia and her mother for bringing the invitation. “Who are your special friends, Marcia?” she asked.
“That’s a secret,” Marcia answered with a smile. “Mary will find out at the party.”
Marcia’s cousin Susan lived on the other side of town. Susan was younger than Marcia but the girls always had fun when their families got together. Susan was delighted with her invitation. “Will all of your special friends be there?” she asked.
“Most of them,” answered Marcia.
The last invitation was for Connie. Connie didn’t go to the same school as Marcia, but they usually saw each other at Sunday School and sacrament meetings.
“A special friends party,” Connie repeated after she read her invitation. “This sounds like fun, Marcia. I can’t wait till Saturday.”
“You’ll have to, though,” laughed Marcia. “I’ll see you then.”
As Marcia and her mother drove back home, Marcia said excitedly, “I don’t know if I can wait until Saturday, either.”
Mary was the first one to ring the doorbell on Saturday afternoon for the party. Soon the other girls arrived and after she introduced them to each other, Marcia said, “I’m so glad you’re all here. At our last family home evening Dad explained that every friend is special in some way, so I decided to have a special friends party. I just wanted to say thanks to all of you for being my friends.”

Simon had had enough! Joe and Bob had been bragging about their pets all afternoon. Joe had two large German shepherds and a furry hamster, and Bob had a calico cat and six goldfish.
Simon didn’t have any dogs, cats, hamsters, or fish. But he did have a secret. “Come outside,” he said. “I’ll show you my pets.”
“What pets?” asked Joe.
“You don’t have any pets,” Bob scoffed.
Without answering, Simon led them into his backyard. He took them all the way to the back fence, which was overgrown with ivy. He jiggled the fence, then waited, listening, and jiggled it again. The leaves rustled.
Joe and Bob watched wide-eyed as a large brown lizard scooted out of the ivy and took refuge in the tall weeds by the garden shed.
“That’s one of my pets,” Simon told them. “His name is Leonard. He lives right here in the ivy and takes care of himself. I don’t even have to feed him. Mom and Dad are glad we have him, though, because he eats bugs.”
“Lucky you,” said Joe. “My mom doesn’t like lizards. If one shows up in our yard, she chases it away.”
“So does my cat,” Bob sighed.
“Come and see my next pet,” said Simon, glad that his friends liked his first one.
He led them to a shady corner of the yard where the ground was moist. “This is Oliver,” he said, pointing at a small, spotted toad sitting on a mossy rock. “He eats insects too.”
The boys watched with interest as Oliver took three short hops.
“My third pet lives over here,” said Simon, heading for the corner of the garage. He pointed up at the eaves. “That’s Edith.”
A large brown spider hung in the middle of a filmy web. “You should see her web at night,” said Simon. “The moonlight makes it shine. You can come over some evening to see it,” he offered.
“I’d like that,” said Joe.
Bob nodded his agreement.
“I have one more pet to show you,” said Simon.
He took them to the peppertree and pointed up into its spreading branches. “You have to look very carefully, or you’ll miss her,” he told them.
Peering through the leaves, the boys saw a small, gray bird sitting motionless on a nest.
“I call her Penelope,” Simon explained. “She chose our yard out of all the yards in the neighborhood for her nest. She knows she’s safe here; we won’t hurt her. Her eggs are almost ready to hatch. I’m going to watch the babies grow and learn to fly.”
“Boy! I wish a bird would build a nest in my yard,” said Bob, with a wistful sigh,
“A bird wouldn’t feel safe in your yard,” Joe pointed out. “Your cat would scare it.”
“I know,” agreed Bob glumly. “Will you let us see the baby birds when they hatch, Simon?”
“Sure,” answered Simon, “as long as you don’t get too close. We don’t want to scare them.”
“Hey, Simon, whenever you want to visit my cat or watch my goldfish, let me know,” offered Bob.
“And you can play with my dogs and hamster, too,” Joe added promptly.
“Thanks!” said Simon. “And you can come to see my pets anytime you want to. It’ll be fun to share my secret pets with my friends.”