Gospel Story Finder

My friends also set a good example for me when they chose to serve missions. Although I faced some opposition, I decided I also wanted to serve a mission. That decision has shaped the rest of my life. When I served in the Samoa Apia Mission, the missionaries carried much of the priesthood leadership responsibilities, and I could see that the Church in the islands needed to be strengthened. I made up my mind to do my part—I would return to Samoa after finishing my mission and my education.

After graduation from college, my wife and I moved to Samoa, where we raised our children and worked to strengthen the Church and the community. My father, not a member of the Church, was actively involved in local business and community affairs. His motto was “If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing right.” As my siblings and I discovered the gospel and lived it to the best of our abilities, he noticed the changes for good in our lives. In 1999, President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) stayed in my father’s home on his return from the groundbreaking of the Suva Fiji Temple. During that visit, the Spirit touched my father’s heart, and I was privileged to baptize him when he was 80 years old. He found great joy in the gospel and was unashamed and bold in sharing it with others during the last days of his life.

I know the importance of being an example of the believers and the happiness it brings into our lives and the lives of others. Because of my friends’ good examples and the love of a prophet, my family and I have been blessed with the joy the gospel brings.

Every day we influence others by our actions. Let us be sure to reach out to others and share the truth of this scripture that it may bring happiness to their lives too: “Remember, remember that it is upon the rock of our Redeemer, who is Christ, the Son of God, that ye must build your foundation; that when the devil shall send forth his mighty winds, yea, his shafts in the whirlwind, yea, when all his hail and his mighty storm shall beat upon you, it shall have no power over you to drag you down to the gulf of misery and endless wo, because of the rock upon which ye are built, which is a sure foundation, a foundation whereon if men build they cannot fall” (Helaman 5:12).

Anna Kate scuffed the toes of her sneakers into the dirt and watched a cloud of dust puff up around her ankles. Her wonderful week with Grandpa and Grandma was almost over. It had been great fun, especially the part here at Aunt Pru’s cabin. Just yesterday Grandpa had taken Anna Kate to his favorite fishing spot on the Provo River, and she had caught her very first fish!
But this morning had been a disaster. First, she had slept late, and Grandpa had gone fishing without her. Then Grandma and Aunt Pru just wanted to visit in the kitchen about dull, grown-up things. Anna Kate ended up sitting on the front porch by herself, feeling bored and lonely. Worse yet, tomorrow Mommy and Daddy were coming to take her home.
Suddenly she jumped to her feet. “I’m not going to spend my last day sitting around!” she thought. “I’ll find Grandpa by myself. I know the way.” She skipped across the front yard and walked down the lane to the canyon road, looking carefully both ways before crossing. Soon she came to a small bridge over the river and hurried across to the railroad tracks that ran between Heber City and Provo, Utah. This was the secret to finding Grandpa. Cross the river and turn left, then follow the railroad tracks to a huge rock. On the other side of the rock was the fishing spot.
Anna Kate walked a long time. Where was the rock? It hadn’t seemed so far with Grandpa, and somehow the railroad tracks seemed even lonelier than the front porch. Looking for a happier thought, she remembered her baptism day. How proud she had been when her parents told her she was old enough to make wise decisions and could spend a week away from home. Plodding along, she began to wonder if running off without asking Grandma had been a wise decision.
To cheer herself up, she started singing her favorite Primary songs. She was halfway through the first verse of “Give, Said the Little Stream” when she heard a noise in a bush by the side of the tracks. It sounded a bit like a loud cricket, and Anna Kate stopped singing to listen. She decided to look for the cricket, but before she could take a single step, a voice in her head said, “RUN!” She didn’t know who was talking to her, but she didn’t have to be told twice. She ran.
She was out of breath when she finally found Grandpa fishing by the river. He looked up in surprise. “Does Grandma know you’re here?”
Anna Kate shook her head. “I’m sorry. I should have asked her.”
Grandpa smiled kindly and started putting away his fishing tackle. “Let’s hustle back to the cabin before she has a chance to worry.”
They hadn’t walked far when they saw Anna Kate’s older cousin William standing by the tracks. “There you are,” he said. “Grandma sent me to find you, and it’s a good thing.” He pointed to a bush a ways off. When Anna Kate and Grandpa got closer, they saw a huge rattlesnake with a diamond pattern down its back hiding there. “I didn’t dare let it out of my sight with you out here alone,” William said.
After that, Anna Kate always told someone where she was going. It was a long time, though, before she told anyone about the loud cricket or the voice that had saved her life. She would realize later that it had been the Holy Ghost. She already knew that it was a voice to be obeyed.

And in all they do, there is love—love both expressed and self-evident. “I love my family a lot,” Lou says, “and I know they love me too. They’ve shown me many times that they do. My daddy proved it four times in particular. Those were the four times when I fell into the water before I knew how to swim. Daddy came in after me every time—shoes and all.

“Being sealed in the temple makes me feel like I have an insurance policy on our love. If anything happens to one of us, I’ll still have my family.”

Oh, we have seen remarkable events as we have flipped the remote control of observation and memory. One of the most touching involved a young lady convert to the Church who had found in a Latter-day Saint fellow student, and in her fellow student’s home, where she was invited for family home evening, a spirit and a caring relationship she had never known in her own life. She said that since her baptism, things had not really materially changed in her own home; there were still abuse and argument and alcohol and foul language. “But,” she said, “there is one room at my house where I can go and shut the door and read the scriptures and listen to good music and pray and feel the Spirit of the Lord. In my little room I can have that blessing. One day, if the Lord will help me, I will marry a man with whom I can live in a home where we can have the Spirit of the Lord always.”

I have been a firsthand witness to the effectiveness of our humanitarian efforts. In traveling the world, I have seen the recipients of your generosity. In 1998 I visited the areas of Central America, which had been ravaged by Hurricane Mitch. Here the distribution of food and clothing was quickly organized, and the cleaning and rebuilding of devastated homes and shattered lives was a miracle to behold.

When she was 26, Cristina’s health quickly declined. She went to São Paulo for some tests. There she learned she needed another surgery. During the operation, Cristina suffered a heart attack that caused brain damage. Months passed, and she did not improve. As a family we gathered together to fast and pray for her recovery, but she did not improve. We decided to fast again, this time asking for help to accept the will of our Father in Heaven. The following day Cristina passed away.
This was not what we hoped for, but we realized this was a miracle too. Cristina no longer had to suffer. The gospel gave us joy and peace, even in moments of deep sadness. Because we have been sealed, we know we can be with Cristina again.

Brothers and sisters, it is important for us to remember that we are personally responsible for our spiritual and temporal welfare. We cannot push that on the Church. As we become self-reliant, we will also become a happier people. I remember while serving as a stake president, I was approached by a faithful brother who felt that his bishop was not doing enough to help him and his family with welfare assistance. His wife had a health challenge and needed to see a private doctor for consultation, which was quite expensive. To help solve the issue, I approached the stake Relief Society president, seeking her direction in how best the Church could assist this faithful family. She reassured me that she would look into it and give me feedback. In about a week or two, she helped identify a specialist who was able to assist the wife of this good brother without their needing to approach the Church for financial assistance. This was a lesson not only for the family themselves, but for me as their leader at the time.

My dad is older than all my friends’ dads. He is too old to do anything.
At the pool last summer, Jimmy’s dad did a triple somersault off the high dive. Everyone cheered. I asked my dad if he would do one, too.
He laughed. “Steven, I wouldn’t survive a fall like that. Let’s get in the pool, and I’ll teach you the backstroke.”
So I learned the backstroke, but no one was cheering.
In the fall, I went out for soccer. Megan’s dad was the coach. He ran up and down the field with us for hours, shouting out the plays and showing us how to kick. My dad watched from the bleachers.
“Dad, can’t you be assistant coach or something?” I asked.
“I don’t have the energy to keep going for that length of time, Steven. But I’ve thought of a few new plays I’d like to tell your coach.”
Megan’s dad used the plays, and we won most of our games. At the end-of-the-season banquet, Megan’s dad got a trophy. My dad just watched and applauded.
During the winter, our class went on a ski trip. All the fathers came, and they all skied down the toughest slopes. All except my dad. He would only go on the smallest slope.
“I don’t need any broken bones at my age,” my dad said when I begged him to try a bigger hill. And instead of always skiing, my dad helped some of the beginners learn to stay up on their skis.
Then at the end of the school year, our class had a parents’ day program. Most of the parents took off work to come and talk about their jobs. Since my dad was retired, I figured he wouldn’t have anything to talk about.
I sat next to John. I didn’t see his father on the stage. “Where’s your dad?” I asked.
“He couldn’t come. He’s away on a business trip. He’s gone a lot.” John wasn’t too happy about that.
“My dad’s always around.”
“You’re lucky.”
One by one the parents got up and talked about their jobs. Some of them had really exciting jobs. One was a pilot, and one was a paramedic. One father even taught skydiving. After the skydiver, it was my dad’s turn. What is he going to talk about? I wondered.
“My job is my son Steven,” he began. “I like to help him learn things and to participate in his activities. I hope I’m always there when he needs me. He doesn’t think I do anything exciting, but to me, being with him every day is the most exciting thing I could do.”
I was so surprised, I couldn’t move. Even when everyone else in the room stood up and applauded him, I still couldn’t move.
After the program, I ran to find my dad. I told him that I understood and that I was glad he wasn’t too old to be my dad.

Elder Oaks was born in Provo, Utah, 12 August 1932, and grew up a worker. He began working for pay only three or four years after his father died, to help his widowed mother. Dr. Lloyd Oaks’ death (of tuberculosis) left his young widow Stella with three children: Dallin, eight at the time, and the oldest; Merrill, now a Provo, Utah, ophthalmologist; and Evelyn, now Mrs. H. Ross Hammond, of Salt Lake City.
“I was blessed with an extraordinary mother,” Elder Oaks recalls. “She surely was one of the many noble women who have lived in the latter days.” He lauds her as a woman of “great faith,” a “very skilled parent,” and a woman possessed of great natural executive ability. Many outside the family would agree. Before her death in 1980, Stella Oaks was known as a force for good in Provo, in both Church and civic service.
“She gave me a great deal of responsibility and freedom. She encouraged me to have a job,” Elder Oaks explains. From the time he first worked for pay, “at eleven or twelve,” he has been continuously employed.
That first job was sweeping out a radio repair shop. He had to learn to test the radio tubes he found on the floor, to find out which were good, and that led to an interest in radio. He threw himself into study with characteristic intensity. Before he was sixteen, he had obtained a first-class radiotelephone license, which allowed him to operate a commercial radio station’s transmitter, and found a job in radio. Station managers liked to hire a “combination man”—an engineer who could double as an announcer—“but my voice hadn’t changed,” he recalls, laughing. Before long, however, that change took care of itself, and he was working regularly as an announcer.

In my early childhood, I lost both my parents. Aunt Gu Ma, an unmarried sister of my father, brought up my brother and me in the little Chinese farming village where she grew vegetables for a living. She was a wonderful person. Although she had no formal education, she instilled in us correct principles, including self-reliance and the value of hard work. We are grateful for her love and sacrifice for us.

With her husband’s encouragement—yet reluctant to leave her young sons—Ellis left for the East. She arrived in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, at three-thirty in the morning and slept on a bench in the railroad station until daybreak. Although the next few months of the valiant woman’s life were filled with constant study, she grieved for her children, and she anxiously awaited letters from home.

In the spring Ellis’s husband, Bard, came to visit her. Finding his wife weak and tired, he encouraged her to come home for the summer. After being home awhile, Ellis found that financial problems, the anguish of leaving her children again and the discovery that she was pregnant made it difficult for her to even think about returning to school. Yet her strong convictions that she should serve others, and her desire to help her family, overcame her reluctance, and she returned to her medical studies.

Back at school Ellis had to conserve what little money she had. In exchange for food, she began instructing a baker’s daughters in dressmaking. She was deeply touched when her young son sent her a letter with a pressed flower and a dollar he had earned.

Worried that her pregnancy might end her schooling, Ellis prayed all one night to the Lord that she might have the strength to finish her classes before the baby was born. Ellis did not miss a single class! On May 25, 1877, the day after she passed her exams, she gave birth to a baby girl. Ellis was delighted to have a daughter, and she wrote in her diary: “It is to me the crowning joy of a woman’s life to be a mother.”

The August heat became unbearable, so Ellis took her daughter Olea to the New Jersey countryside. Walking from farmhouse to farmhouse, Ellis finally found a home where a mother welcomed her to stay and teach her daughters dressmaking skills in exchange for board and room.

In the fall Ellis returned to her last year of school. On March 14, 1878, at the age of thirty-one, Ellis recorded in her diary: “Graduated from Woman’s Medical College of Pennsylvania.”

Upon returning home, Ellis moved her family into a house near her office. “Thus began the happiest hours of my life,” Ellis wrote. She was now with her sons and daughter. Her boys helped clean the house, tend the baby, and deliver messages. On one occasion, Ellis was on calls for a period of twenty-four hours, during which time she delivered five babies. When she returned home, her two boys were waiting for her; they immediately rushed her off to bed and made sure she was not disturbed while she rested.

Sometimes when Ellis returned home from visiting the sick, her arms were loaded with eggs, chickens, or butter. Usually she received a twenty-five dollar fee for such calls, but she knew how little money some of her patients had and she was glad to help them in any way she could. “My needs were never so urgent,” she wrote, “that I felt the necessity of placing bills in the hands of collectors.”

Ellis soon realized that she and the few other women doctors in the area were not enough. In the fall of 1878 she opened her School of Obstetrics and Nursing. It was not unusual for Ellis to be pregnant or for her to be holding the baby of one of her students while she lectured.

After returning from medical school, Ellis gave birth to four children—two boys, who died in infancy, and two girls.

Not only did Ellis teach classes in Utah, she also traveled with her children to teach in Canada, Mexico, Colorado, and Nevada.

Successfully combining motherhood and a medical practice, Dr. Shipp helped thousands of people during her lifetime. She died in 1939 at the age of ninety-two.

One transfer day I had the chance to talk to Brother Tsuya. I found out that he had joined the Church in Hawaii. I told him that my grandfather had served a mission in Hawaii and was there during the attack on Pearl Harbor. Brother Tsuya was very surprised and said he had joined the Church then but didn’t remember an Elder Squire. I told him that it was my mom’s father, Elder Thurgood, who had served in Hawaii.
Brother Tsuya almost fell out of his chair and yelled out “Elder Thurgood is your grandpa?” He related the story of their meeting. He said while he was eating a meal in the Hawaiian community style, he was being inappropriate and was taking the Lord’s name in vain among other things. A missionary, my grandfather, had spoken up and asked him to stop. Brother Tsuya said he took the name of the Lord in vain again. He said that my grandpa had come over to him, hit him on the shoulder, and lectured him about how little he knew about life, how he wasn’t as smart as he thought, how he needed to quit smoking and do a bunch of things differently or he wouldn’t ever amount to anything.
Brother Tsuya told me that when he went home that night, he knew my grandpa was right. He thought about it and decided he wanted to make some changes. He ran into two similarly dressed missionaries a couple of weeks later and listened to the discussions with a sincere desire to change. Brother Tsuya gave much of the credit for his decision to listen to the missionaries to my grandpa.
I quickly wrote home telling my family I had huge news and that Grandpa Thurgood needed to be there when I made my telephone call at Christmas. When I called home, I finally told him that I had met somebody he brought into the Church. I will always remember how quiet he became as he said, “Ryan, you are mistaken. I never brought anybody into the Church on my mission.”
I asked him if he remembered hitting a smart-aleck Japanese kid at dinner in Hawaii and then lecturing him on how much he needed to change his life. He became instantly curious and said that he did remember the incident well. He was transferred away shortly after that and hadn’t heard more.
I told him that two weeks later that boy had decided to listen to the discussions because of what you said to him that night. He had later married in the temple in Hawaii. He had served in various callings in the Church and blessed many, many lives. He served as a mission president in Japan for three years. He also served as president of the MTC in Japan. He had served multiple missions with his wife.
My Grandpa Thurgood was in tears and couldn’t talk to me after that. He had spent over 50 years thinking his mission hadn’t made a difference to anybody. When the Tsuyas completed their mission in Brazil, my grandpa and his wife went to the temple with them and had a tearful reunion.

When my son Davy joined his school’s cross-country team in his fourth-grade year, his great talent for running quickly became apparent. He placed high in races against other competitive runners, and we were very proud of him.
Davy was soon invited to join a running club some local coaches had started. It was a great opportunity, but there was one problem—many of the meets were on Sundays. So Davy turned down their invitation.
When Davy didn’t accept their invitation the next year, the coaches assumed my husband and I were preventing him from joining the club. But we let them know the choice was Davy’s own.
Davy’s answer to the coaches was, “I would really like to join the club, but I don’t run on Sundays.”
By the sixth grade, Davy had developed a real “kick” in his running that kept him among the top two or three runners in every school meet. Again came the invitation to join the running club. This time there was an added incentive—the boys were planning to go across the United States to compete in the national finals for their age group. The coaches and team members really wanted Davy to join them.
Davy received the priesthood and was ordained a deacon that year. When he discussed with us the invitation from the running club, we asked only, “Son, what about your priesthood responsibilities?”
Davy’s answer to the team was, “I need to be in church on Sundays.”
The club went to the national finals, competed against teams from all over the country, and won; they were the national champions. When the boys returned home, the school, the parents, and the club coaches were ecstatic with their accomplishment. The school held a special assembly with newspaper reporters and TV cameras. They called the boys up one by one as loud applause rang from the audience.
Davy sat and watched as each boy received the recognition that might have been his had he chosen differently. My heart ached for him as I saw the tears in his eyes. I tapped him on the shoulder, and we left the cheering crowd. In a secluded spot, I held him tight, and we cried together for a moment. Then I told him how proud I was of him. Davy had done what Heavenly Father expected of him. The admiration of the crowd and the recognition of the world are powerful attractions, but they have little to do with our eternal progress.
A few days later, I shared Davy’s experience with a friend. Shortly afterwards, my friend sent Davy a letter, along with a trophy. On the trophy was inscribed, “Davy: A Champion of Youth.”
The letter read: “You were given agency to choose. Thank you for your example. You are truly a champion.”

That happened to Jerry, a Protestant gentleman in his mid-60s who lives in Mesa, Arizona. Jerry’s father was a Baptist minister; his mother, a Methodist minister. One day Jerry’s close friend Pricilla shared with him the pain she felt from the death of her child during childbirth and a bitter divorce that occurred shortly thereafter. Struggling as a single mother, Pricilla has four children—three daughters and a son. As she opened her heart to Jerry, she confessed that she was thinking of taking her own life. With all the strength and love Jerry could muster, he tried to help her understand that her life had value. He invited her to attend his church, but Pricilla explained that she had given up on God.

Jerry did not know what to do. Later, while watering trees in his yard, this man of faith prayed to God for guidance. As he prayed, he heard a voice in his mind saying, “Stop the boys on the bikes.” Jerry, a little bewildered, wondered what this meant. As he reflected on this impression, he gazed up the street and saw two young men in white shirts and ties riding bicycles toward his home. Stunned by this “coincidence,” he watched them ride by. Then, realizing that the situation required him to act, he shouted out, “Hey, you, please stop! I need to talk to you!”

With a puzzled but excited look, the young men stopped. As they approached, Jerry noticed that they wore name tags identifying them as missionaries in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Jerry looked at them and said, “This may sound a little weird, but I was praying and was told to ‘stop the boys on the bikes.’ I looked up the street, and here you are. Can you help me?”

The missionaries smiled, and one said, “Yes, I am sure we can.”

Jerry explained the worrisome plight of Pricilla. Soon the missionaries were meeting with Pricilla, her children, and Jerry. They discussed the purpose of life and God’s eternal plan for them. Jerry, Pricilla, and her children grew in faith through sincere prayer, their study of the Book of Mormon, and the loving fellowship with members of the Church. Jerry’s already strong faith in Jesus Christ grew even stronger. Pricilla’s doubts and thoughts of suicide turned to hope and happiness. They were baptized and became members of Christ’s restored Church.

Once there was an old man who lived with his three young sons in a small village in Vietnam. Though they all loved each other very much, the boys seemed to always be fighting and quarreling.
One day the father called them to him. “My sons,” he said, “I want each of you to bring me a chopstick.”
“Yes, Father,” they said, and each ran to get a chopstick.
When they stood before him again, he said to his oldest son, Ta, “Can you break your chopstick?”
“Yes, Father. That’s easy.” He snapped his chopstick in two.
The father asked his middle son, Hai, “Can you break your chopstick?”
“Yes, Father. That’s easy.” Hai snapped his chopstick in two.
“Can you break your chopstick?” the father asked his youngest son, Thu.
“Yes, Father. That’s easy.” It was harder for him, but he was able to break his chopstick in two.
“Now,” the father said to his youngest son, “bring me three unbroken chopsticks.”
Thu ran to get them.
“When you hold them together, can you break them?” asked the father.
Thu tried as hard as he could, but he could not break the three together. Hai also tried, but he couldn’t break them.
Ta, being the oldest, thought he might break the three, but try as he would, he could not do it.
“I hope you have learned from the chopsticks,” said their father.
One day soon after that, Thu was taking his new ball to a friend’s house to play. At the end of his street, a bully, much bigger than Thu, jumped out and took the ball away from him.
“Please give it back,” Thu begged. But the bully would not. Thu went home and told his brothers what had happened.
Ta and Hai looked at each other. “Chopsticks?” they said, and they went to find the bully. “What are you doing with our brother’s ball?” they asked.
“Aw, I just borrowed it,” said the bully, looking nervously at the brothers. He gave it back at once and didn’t borrow it again.
Some time later, Hai got sick and had to stay in bed for a while. He became cross and restless. “My sons,” said the father. “Have you noticed that Hai is getting very tired of having to stay in bed day and night? I wonder what can be done about that.”
“Chopsticks,” said Ta and Thu, and they began bringing things to their brother and entertaining him while he was sick. Soon he was feeling much better.
Years passed, and the boys had grown into fine young men. Each had a farm and a family of his own.
One spring a terrible rain lasted so long that the river flooded. Hai and Thu lived on high ground, but Ta lived near the river, and his entire rice field was swept away by the flood.
Hai and Thu got together to talk about their brother’s loss.
“Chopsticks?” asked Hai.
“Chopsticks,” answered Thu. And until the next rice harvest, a bag of rice appeared on Ta’s doorstep every week so that he and his family never went hungry.
When the old father, who was very old by this time, heard of it, he was sitting in front of his house in the sun. “Chopsticks,” he said, and he smiled a very happy smile.

Dewdrops hung on the tips of the long grass blades. Pam smiled as she made her way across the damp lawn. She loved early mornings in the country.
Stillness hung in the air. It was spring magic. She breathed in the sweet scent of lilacs. Everything was perfect.
One long, lonely howl filled the air.
“I’m coming, Lady,” Pam called, filling a bucket with water. She stepped inside the dog run and was immediately greeted by a wet tongue and happy barks. Trying to avoid Lady’s kisses, she filled the water bowl.
Suddenly, Lady ran to the gate of the dog run and barked.
Pam turned to see her best friend, Chuck, walking across the lawn.
“Hey,” he said. “You’re up early.” He reached over the fence to pet Lady. “My family’s going to an amusement park for the day, and Mom said we each could invite a friend. Do you want to go?”
Pam’s face lit up, but her smile soon faded. “I can’t. I promised Mom I’d watch my little brothers while she and Dad paint Grandma’s house.”
“Can’t someone else watch your brothers?”
She set the bucket down. “No.”
Chuck rubbed his chin. “Maybe your mom and dad could take them over to your grandma’s. Or maybe your grandma could watch them here.”
“It’s supposed to be a surprise for Grandma’s birthday,” Pam explained. “Dad took the day off from work so they could finish painting while Grandma’s staying with my sick aunt.”
“Oh.” Chuck’s smile disappeared. “I know it’s been a few years since you went to the amusement park. I thought it was a good idea.”
A sad smile crossed Pam’s face as she thought about the deep-red candy apples she loved, but wouldn’t be eating today. “It was a good idea. Thanks for inviting me.”
As Chuck said good-bye, Pam felt sad. No one had ever invited her to an amusement park before.
It was hard keeping her brothers happy all day long. They played with the dog. They rode bikes. They drew on the sidewalk with chalk. When her brothers grew tired, she put a blanket on the grass and read them the story of Noah’s ark.
Mom came home in time to put the boys to bed. Pam had never been happier to see her mom. Her brothers were a lot of work.
Glad for some quiet, Pam pulled a lawn chair off the porch and dragged it out onto the grass so she could sit under the stars. Fireflies swirled like sparks over the grass, flower beds, and trees.
“Hey there,” Chuck called from across the street.
“Hey, yourself,” Pam called back. “Did you get sunburned?”
Chuck laughed. “Yes, I did. It was awful. The lines were long, my favorite ride broke down, and the hot dog I ate was burnt. You didn’t miss much.”
“You’re just trying to make me feel better.”
“Maybe.” Chuck stepped into the dim light from the porch. “I thought you might be hungry.” Chuck pulled two deep-red candy apples from behind his back.
Pam’s eyes lit up. “Oh my! Those look great.”
Chuck grinned. “I’ll share, if you tell me why your family is so important.”
Pam knew what Chuck wanted to talk about. He wanted to hear more about the gospel and her belief in an eternal family.
He handed her one of the mouth-watering apples and then sat in the grass to listen while he munched on his own apple.
Somehow she had to help him understand that an eternal family was even more important to her than good friends and candy apples.

Then later on he had a heart condition, and I think President Kimball won’t object to me telling just a little of the details. He was so seriously ill that he felt that something had to be done. Dr. Russell Nelson (noted Utah heart surgeon) was his doctor. He told him that his chances were about fifty-fifty. But if he didn’t have the operation, he couldn’t expect to live many months, but if he did, there was greater hope. We discussed it in President Lee’s office for some time. Finally, President Kimball said, “I think I should be operated on.” I said, “President Kimball, you’ve made the right decision, I’m sure.”
Then he asked to be administered to by President Lee and myself. We administered to him and Dr. Nelson said, “To be operating on the President of the Council of the Twelve, an apostle of God, is a great, great responsibility, the greatest I’ve ever had.” And he said, “President Kimball is going to have a double operation.” At that time he was the only one in history I believe who had undergone, or was going to undergo, a double heart operation at that age. And Doctor Nelson said, “I’d like to have a blessing by the priesthood that I might be guided and directed and do the things that will help to save his life.”
Now, brethren, does the priesthood mean anything to you? It doesn’t mean anything to you unless you live worthy of it. So whether you are a boy twelve years of age, or whether you are seventy years of age, wherever you are, live worthy of the priesthood. Honor that priesthood. Thank the Lord that you are a bearer of the priesthood, and pray night and morning, every day, with a determination that you will do those things which the Lord would have you do. And I want to assure you that you will be happier, you will be more successful, you will be more loved and respected, and the Lord will be pleased with you if you do that which he has asked you to do.
Let us do those things which will make us happy and successful and will prepare ourselves to go back into his presence, I humbly pray in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

I grew up in Mexico with my siblings, my mother, and my grandmother. Every day after doing homework and chores, I played soccer. I loved soccer! I would pretend that my right leg was one team and my left leg was the other team.
One day when I was playing soccer, I suddenly couldn’t breathe very well. I rested for a few minutes, but I still had trouble breathing. I became so sick that I had to go to the hospital.
The hospital room had many other children in it, but I missed my family and felt very alone. Although I was not a member of the Church yet, I believed in God. Every day I prayed to be healed, but instead I got worse and worse. The doctors thought I might not live.
The doctors finally sent me home from the hospital, but I had to spend the next year in bed. I took many pills and had two shots every day. And I still had a prayer in my mind and heart. I told Heavenly Father that if I got well, I would serve Him all the rest of my life.
Then one day when I was reading in bed, I accidentally dropped my book on the floor. When I leaned down to pick it up, I realized that I was breathing normally. I dropped the book again. Again I could pick it up without any problem!
I got out of bed. At first I was dizzy because I had not walked by myself in such a long time. I looked in the mirror and saw that I was smiling. I knew that I had received an answer from Heavenly Father.
Every day since then, I have tried to do something to express my gratitude to Heavenly Father. When I grew up, I became a doctor to help answer the prayers of other children. And now I am trying to serve Heavenly Father with my calling in the Church.

One Sunday in October, I was assigned to give an important part in a program at church. But in October everyone in my family had to work hard to harvest the rice in my father’s rice fields. That included working on the Sabbath day.
I prayed to Heavenly Father, and the Spirit planted a thought in my mind: I could try to finish the harvest before Sunday. I would get up early and work every morning before school. Then every afternoon I would work after school until dark.
But by Saturday night only half of the harvest was done. I went to bed discouraged that I had not accomplished my goal. Sunday morning I awoke early to go to the fields. My father came to my room and, with a gentle smile, asked why I wasn’t going to church. My heart was full of joy. I could go to church and keep the Sabbath day holy!

I used to get upset at church when I was distracted by children making a noise or by people whispering together. One Sunday I prayed fervently to my Heavenly Father that I would be in tune with the speakers and feel the Spirit. I concentrated on what was said, and somehow the usual distractions seemed to disappear. I was so involved with the messages being delivered that I cried even through the closing prayer. I learned an important lesson that day.

Maria Espinoza AlvealChillan Chile Stake