Gospel Story Finder

In my enthusiasm and excitement on my first day of service as a mission president, I asked the zone leaders I had invited to my home, “How much of a typical day in missionary service are you normally under the vibrating, powerful influence of the Spirit?”
They obviously did not know what to say. They acted like I had caught them by surprise. Having been converted to the Church as an adult and not having served as a young, full-time missionary, I assumed it was natural that a missionary would be always under the influence of the Spirit. How surprised I was when no missionary was saying anything.
Finally, one of them spoke up. “Last Thursday night, while we were teaching the Lehman family, we were feeling the Spirit.”
I remember my immediate response was, “That was it? How about the rest of the day?”
As soon as I asked my zone leaders what they experience when they are under the influence of the Spirit, they were all participating, describing the different effects the Spirit has in our lives. They agreed that being under the influence of the Spirit fills us with satisfying joy. It enhances our ability to make necessary adjustments, even in the most difficult circumstances. This Spirit helps us develop our intellectual capabilities and even delivers the motivation to use them. The zone leaders agreed that under the influence of the Spirit, some things that can seem uncomfortable, like hard work, getting up on time, going the extra mile, overcoming homesickness, overcoming flaws of character, and other personal sacrifices, become easier.
It became clear that, under the influence of the Spirit, we are empowered to act in wisdom. We see the complexity of a problem in its simple parts and see possible solutions unfolding in front of our eyes, to our own surprise. In other words, our creativity is developed and multiplied. That which is a burden without it becomes a privilege when we are under the influence of the Holy Spirit.
Many times in our lives it happens that the gifts of the Spirit rest dormant in us. We are not even aware of the full extent of their existence, as it was with my missionaries. Did they not have the Spirit? Of course they did. They had even passed the test of forsaking their own self-centered plans to become sacred witnesses for the Lord Jesus Christ. Still they had not fully understood the workings of the Spirit.
Why did the one elder feel the Spirit as he was teaching the Lehman family? Because at that time he and his companion were completely focused in their search for divine guidance. Too often we are not aware of the powerful gift which rests dormant in us. We cannot be grateful for that of which we are not aware, nor can we activate its power.

Once you turn 16, group dating is a great way to build friendships. You’ll want to keep in mind a few things. Follow the example below to see what outcomes your decisions may have.
Start
You worked up the nerve to ask someone out. Great job. Your date asks, “Who else is coming?” You answer:
John and Suzy. (Go to #2.)
No one. (Go to #3.)
Good answer. Group dating is important in your teenage years. What do you have planned for the date?
Go to a movie. (Go to #4.)
Go on a hike. (Go to #5.)
It’s time to rethink this one (see For the Strength of Youth [2011], 4). Your date says she won’t go without a group. What do you do?
Make it a group date instead. (Go to #2.)
Stay home.
A nice idea, but maybe not the best option. You enjoyed the show, but you sat next to each other for two hours without saying a word. What do you do next?
Go home; you’re tired. (Go to #6.)
Make a dessert. (Go to #7.)
Sounds fun! And it will give you lots of opportunities to get to know one another. Did you tell your date what the plan is?
Of course! (Go to #8.)
Whoops! (Go to #9.)
You take your date home, and she thanks you for the nice time. It’s too bad you didn’t really get to know her better instead of just watching a movie.
The group gets ice cream at someone’s home. The dessert is good, and you enjoy talking with everyone. It’s almost curfew. What do you do?
Take your date home. (Go to #10.)
Stay a little longer—you’re having fun. (Go to #11.)
You enjoyed the hike and really got to know everyone in the group. What now?
Make a dessert. (Go to #7.)
Take your date home. (Go to #10.)
Your date wasn’t prepared for hiking, so you wait inside the door for a few minutes while she changes. You’re a little late in meeting up with the group, so the hike ends up shorter than you’d planned, but it’s still fun. What now?
Make a dessert. (Go to #7.)
Take your date home. (Go to #10.)
Your date says she had a great time, thanks you for the evening, and says, “We should do that again sometime!” You smile all the way home.
When you return home after curfew, you and your date both get grounded. Even though you had fun, your date’s dad won’t let you go out again.

One of these experiences began a few years ago when I was assigned as a home teacher to a young man who had been raised in a faithful Latter-day Saint family. After he left home to attend school, he chose other paths. Month after month my home teaching companion and I visited him without success; it seemed he didn’t even hear what we said to him. But when the tempests came and he was confused, not knowing what to do to resolve his problems, it was his home teachers he sought out.
At the time I was his stake president. He told me he remembered something his mother had taught him: “The Lord hears the prayers of those who sincerely seek Him.” As he confided that he had returned to praying and reading the scriptures, I saw with joy that the Lord had touched him.
I decided to follow up with him more closely, so I asked that he be assigned as my home teaching companion. Each month he and I visited four homes, and each month I prepared four different messages in an effort to strengthen my friend and help him in his return to gospel activity. Eventually he made the decision to repent, to faithfully attend his meetings, and to sincerely partake of the sacrament. The Lord’s sacrifice was having an effect on his life.
Today the family remains active and totally integrated in the ward, and they have been sealed in the Lord’s temple. My companion continues to progress rapidly in the gospel. He married a wonderful young woman in the temple, and they now have two children. They are happy and contribute valuable service to our ward and to the Church.
Six people were converted to the gospel as a result of that experience. A collective miracle! I felt the joy described in the scriptures:
“And how great is his joy in the soul that repenteth!
“Wherefore, you are called to cry repentance unto this people.
“And if it so be that you should labor all your days in crying repentance unto this people, and bring, save it be one soul unto me, how great shall be your joy with him in the kingdom of my Father!
“And now, if your joy will be great with one soul that you have brought unto me into the kingdom of my Father, how great will be your joy if you should bring many souls unto me!” (D&C 18:13–16).

When I was 14, my father was diagnosed with cancer of the lymph nodes. Chemotherapy treatment was possible, which doctors estimated would help give my father a 50 percent chance of living eight years or longer. The decision was made to go through with the treatment, and during the next six months my father went in weekly for chemotherapy.
At the end of the chemotherapy, my ward in Bountiful held a special fast for my father. It was a marvelous experience to join in faith for a common cause. When the diagnosis came back, the doctors could find no sign of cancer. After I left for my mission, I would receive letters from my father telling me of his continued improvements and how he even ran a marathon. Things seemed to be going well.

I saw a copy of the Book of Mormon in my niece’s house in Ibadan, Nigeria. Being an avid reader, I was curious to understand why the book says it is “another testament of Jesus Christ,” so I took the book and read it.
The subtitle “another testament of Jesus Christ” opened my mind to the possibility of a universal Savior rather than just the Savior of the Israelites, which at that time was a great concern to me. His visit to the Nephites and the establishment of His laws and ordinances among those people got me wanting to know more about His ministry.
That subtitle led me to learn more about the Church. I started feeling the Spirit as I obeyed the admonitions written in the Book of Mormon, like praying to know the truth for myself (see Moroni 10:4). Now I know that the Savior lives and loves all of us.
Ezekiel Akeh, Idaho, USA

Linda Bradshaw, living in the West Midlands, has applied creative fingers to the money problem. She has developed a handmade jewellery business, selling to local tourist attractions.

“We have little spare time for out-of-school jobs, even if they are available,” she says. “Homework is heaped on us at every opportunity. We have to study hard to pass our O and A level exams. Jobs and university places are scarce. We need good results to get anywhere. I’ve learnt to manage my time and can fit in jewellery making early morning or other odd hours.”

Illustrations by Bryan Beach
K.C. played with his CTR ring during Primary. He tossed it from hand to hand.
Whoops! It slipped from his hands and fell to the ground. He couldn’t see where it fell. Then it was time to go to class.
After Primary was over, Sister Ballard saw a CTR ring on the floor. I wonder if K.C. left this behind, she thought.
She slipped it in her pocket to give to him later.
A few days later, K.C. realized he had lost his CTR ring. He looked everywhere, but he couldn’t find it.
K.C. knelt down. “Heavenly Father, please help me find my ring,” he prayed.
That same day, Sister Ballard was making dinner.
“Take K.C.’s CTR ring to him,” she felt the Spirit say.
I can’t go now, Sister Ballard thought. I’m too busy!
K.C. kept searching and praying. “Please, Heavenly Father,” he said. “Please help me find it.”
“Get K.C.’s CTR ring and take it to him,” Sister Ballard heard the Spirit say again.
She set down the carrots and went to get the ring.
K.C. came downstairs and told his mom what had happened.
“I’ve prayed and prayed, but I still can’t find it,” he said.
Just then, there was a knock at the door …
It was Sister Ballard!
“I felt like you needed this,” she said, handing K.C. his CTR ring.
K.C. smiled as he happily put his ring back on. His prayer had been answered!

Chauncey was a demon for self-improvement. To make time for study, he rigged up an electric alarm system that aroused him in the morning around 5:00 or 5:30. Then he would usually work out for about 15 minutes swinging Indian clubs. He was especially motivated to go through these exercises in the cold winter months: getting the circulation stimulated helped to compensate for the two hours he was studying without heat. On January 10 the following scene occurred:
“This morning at 6:30 I was awakened very suddenly by my electric clock and bells. I made one jump and landed out of bed on the floor. Then my understanding was clear and I, knowing that if I did not in a minute shut my electric bells off from the strong current that the batteries would be run down and the neighbors would turn out thinking there was a fire, I jumped spryly in the direction of my electric clock, but I had barely got started toward it in the blind darkness than I ran against some living thing and turned a somersault the air and fell all in a heap, and the noise of the gong sounded louder and louder. After I got my understanding, I made another attempt, shutting off the electric current and lighting the lamp looking for the person that I had fallen over. It was a chair.”

Miguel liked to help Mama in the garden. He covered the tiny seeds with dirt. He gave them some water. But not too much.
“You are doing a good job,” Mama said. “Soon we will have lots of good things to eat.”
Miguel smiled. He was happy to help.
In a few days, small sprouts poked through the dirt. Miguel watered the plants. He pulled weeds that grew next to them. Each day the plants grew a little taller.
One day, he saw a worm. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to hurt it. But would it hurt the plants? His family got most of their food from the garden.
“Mama, look!” He pointed to the worm. It wiggled in the dirt. “Will it hurt the plants?”
She shook her head no and smiled. “Worms are good for the garden.”
Miguel watched the worm dig into the ground. “It’s making holes in the dirt!” he said.
“That’s what it’s supposed to do. It’s breaking up the dirt so the roots can grow strong. It’s one of Heavenly Father’s creatures. It has its own special purpose.” Mama kissed Miguel on the top of his head. “Just like you do.”
Miguel dug around the plants. He was careful not to hurt the worm. He saw other worms. He smiled as they dug their tunnels.
Miguel liked the worms. He wanted to treat all of Heavenly Father’s creatures with respect.

You must be their counselor, their comforter, their anchor and strength in times of sorrow and distress. You must be strong with that strength which comes from the Lord. You must be wise with that wisdom which comes from the Lord. Your door must be open to hear their cries and your back strong to carry their burdens, your heart sensitive to judge their needs, your godly love broad enough and strong enough to encompass even the wrongdoer and the critic. You must be a man of patience, willing to listen though it takes hours to do so. You are the only one to whom some can turn. You must be there when every other source has failed. Permit me to read you a few lines from a letter sent to a bishop.
“Dear Bishop:
“It has been almost two years since I desperately called you asking for help. At that time I was ready to kill myself. I had no one else to turn to—no money, no job, no friends. My house had been taken, and I had no place to live. The Church was my last hope.
“As you know, I had left the Church at the age of seventeen and had broken just about every rule and commandment that there was in my search for happiness and fulfillment. Instead of happiness, my life was filled with misery, anguish, and despair. There was no hope or future for me. I even pleaded with God to let me die, to take me out of my misery. Not even he wanted me. I felt that he had rejected me, too.
“That’s when I turned to you and the Church. …
“You listened with understanding, you counseled, you guided, you helped.
“I began to grow and develop in understanding and knowledge of the gospel. I found that I had to make certain basic changes in my life that were terribly difficult, but that within me I had the worth and strength to do so.
“I learned that as I lived the gospel and repented, I had no more fear. I was filled with an inner peace. The clouds of anguish and despair were gone. Because of the Atonement, my weaknesses and sins were forgiven through Jesus Christ and His love for me.
“He has blessed and strengthened me. He has opened pathways for me, given me direction, and kept me from harm. I have found that as I overcame each obstacle, my business began to grow, enabling my family to benefit and making me feel as though I had accomplished something.
“Bishop, you have given me understanding and support through these past two years. I never would have reached this point if not for your love and patience. Thank you for being what you are as the servant of the Lord to help me, his wandering child.”

While growing up, I liked to hunt and fish. When I was about 10, I received a bow and arrow set for Christmas. A few days later, I asked my mom if I could go hunting with my bow and arrows in the red sand hills behind our house. She said OK, but to be home before dark. A rabbit soon jumped out in front of me. I shot one of my arrows at it, but missed. My bow and arrow set came with only five arrows, so I really wanted to find the one I had shot. I looked and looked, but couldn’t find it.

By then the sun was getting low, and I knew I had to get home soon. So I decided to do what I’d been taught to do if I needed help. I knelt down in the sand and asked Heavenly Father to help me find that arrow. When I opened my eyes, there it was, caught in a bush right in front of me. That was the first experience I can remember in which I really had a clear answer to my prayers. It was a strong beginning for my faith in the Lord and in the power of prayer.

I’m happy to be a Latter-day Saint here in the Philippines. I like to tell my friends that. My religion has taught me many things that my friends do not know, and one of those things is honesty. Honesty is one simple way to teach my friends to respect me and my religion. An experience that happened recently proved that.
I’d gone to school without eating any breakfast, and during class my stomach kept making this funny sound, telling me I was hungry. So during recess, I hurried to a nearby barbecue stand. I took two sticks of meat, ate them, then went back to class.
When our teacher asked us to copy something on the board, I reached into my pocket for a pencil, and found that my money for the sticks was still in my pocket! Without hesitation, I ran back to the store and paid for my snack. The vendor was so happy he gave me another stick free.
I went back to the classroom smiling but found a very angry teacher there. I’d forgotten to ask permission to leave, and she wanted to know what I’d been doing.
I told her everything, and to my surprise she put her arm on my shoulder and facing the class, she said, “Class, I want you to be honest like Julius.”
Then she asked me why I returned the money when I easily could have kept it. I answered, “Because I am a deacon, and my bishop won’t let me pass the sacrament if I’m not worthy.” She didn’t quite understand what I was talking about and asked again why I hadn’t kept the money.
I answered, “Because we believe in being honest.”
“Why? What’s your religion?” She wanted to know.
Without hesitation I said, “I’m a Mormon.”
“Oh,” she responded. “No wonder.”
My teacher made me feel like a giant that day. I’m glad I followed the 13th article of faith [A of F 1:13], which starts, “We believe in being honest, true …” Honesty really is the best policy.

But there’s something that poisons the kind of relationship I’m looking for. I first became aware of it with a close friend of mine. He and I grew up together from Primary lessons to high school dances and cared about each other deeply. I was excited to see him get ready to serve a mission. Then one day he had a look on his face that made me think he was going to announce he had a terminal illness. He blurted out he would have to delay his mission because of morality problems he’d had that started with pornography. I felt so bad for him. I still cared about him and all the memories I had with him, but the blow was a difficult one for me to handle.
My experience with my friend made me think. Even if I never viewed pornography myself, I realized it could still hurt me if people I loved chose to look at it.

After years of working and serving, the Lord prompted me to do two major things: (1) to write reading materials to help my autistic sons learn to read (public schools did not accept them due to their challenges), and (2) to open a private school to help autistic children.
The idea was overwhelming, but I knew it needed to happen. I applied everything I learned in school to the Lord’s direction. It was a lot of work, but hard work was no stranger to us. Foundation Readers, books for individuals with autism, was created. It was an enormous success and has helped many individuals with reading disabilities.
What started as a project for my sons became a tool to help others with their learning challenges. It first began with my neighbors, and then the word spread. Other parents began asking me to help their children full-time instead of teaching in the public school system. I quit my job, and, as a family, we opened a school. Through this experience, our family has grown in compassion and stronger in faith. We feel more peace and embrace challenges with the scriptures rather than panic.
Of course, our sons are direct recipients of our service along with their peers. There are so many nonverbal children who are now growing in a learning environment of love and kindness.

One special moment for the choir occurred December 28 during a rehearsal at the Jerusalem Center, the first rehearsal with David Shallon, director of the Jerusalem Symphony Orchestra. The choir sat facing the draped front wall of glass in the auditorium, and Mr. Shallon had his back to the windows as he worked with the choir. Partway through the rehearsal, someone pulled open the drapes, giving the choir a view of the old city in the daylight. As Mr. Shallon turned to look, he gave an audible gasp and paused for a moment with his hands together under his chin as he and the choir absorbed the wondrous view. It was a stirring moment for both choir and director.

I was a typical high school football player with a typical football vocabulary. I was one of the captains of the football team at El Segundo High School and didn’t have the best reputation. Glenda’s locker was a couple of lockers from mine, and whenever she walked by I suddenly improved my language. I worried that if I offended her she would avoid me.
As the semester progressed so did our mutual respect and friendship. She was unique, but I did not understand why. One thing I knew for sure, though, was that she never attended the parties I went to.
So, when she invited me to a Christmas party at her home, I didn’t know what to expect. Although I enjoyed my friends, I had seriously considered changing my bad habits. I was searching for something different. I was interested to see what kind of a party she would throw. I put on my best clothes, poured on the cologne, and off I went.
Was I surprised! I was shocked to see everyone having fun, dancing, playing games, and drinking—soft drinks! After a while, I couldn’t believe that I was having fun too. I was surprised to meet Glenda’s parents at the party, since all the parties I ever attended occurred while the parents were away. Most everyone was a bit surprised to see me. Still, they were all smiles and treated me with kindness.
As the evening ended I offered to provide rides home to anyone who needed one. Fortunately, one particular girl I had my eye on during most of the party needed a ride. I drove all around town dropping people off until we were alone. I drove her home very slowly.
I asked her what she was doing for Christmas, and she told me her family was leaving for Argentina the next day. What a small world, I thought. I briefly explained to her that my family had immigrated from Argentina 11 years ago. She said her father had served a mission there, and they were going to visit some of her father’s old friends. Soon we were at her home, and I didn’t get a chance to ask her what a mission was, but the seeds of curiosity were sown and so was my interest in her.
I knew that she and her friends from the party seemed to hang out early in the morning at the school library. I began to go to school early. Gigi and some of her friends walked home the same way I did, so I began to walk home with them.
Eventually Gigi invited me to meet her parents. As the weeks went by I began to develop a relationship with Gigi and her family. I enjoyed listening to her father’s mission stories from Argentina.
Religion was often the topic of our discussions since I didn’t understand why Gigi had so many restrictions. Finally, Gigi’s family invited me to attend their church. I thought nothing of it because I had attended the Catholic, Lutheran, Greek Orthodox, and Baptist churches, and I didn’t think that the Mormon church would be much different. Was I wrong!
I was surprised to learn that the leader of the “ward” was not paid for preaching but had a normal job. Everyone in the congregation sang, not just the choir. Then young guys I had seen at school blessed and passed the “sacrament.” After the sacrament, some members of the congregation spoke, and they were actually interesting. They testified of Christ and a living prophet. Wow! I felt good.
Following the meeting, another friend from school, Brenda, took me to meet the “elders.” I didn’t know what she meant because when I met these guys they didn’t seem much older than me. We set up an appointment, but little did I know what I was in for.
I met with the elders at Brenda’s house. As they told me the story of Joseph Smith, I began to get excited—a sort of warm, indescribable feeling grew inside me. They asked me what I thought about living prophets. I told them that I always wondered why God had no more prophets. I felt good inside and couldn’t understand why tears were welling up in my eyes.
They told me about the Book of Mormon and I responded that I always wondered about those ancient civilizations. I told them that I could believe that God would communicate to his children in the Americas just as he did to his children in the Old World.
For the next appointment I was to meet the elders at their home. I was late and had not read the pamphlet nor the few pages in the Book of Mormon they had asked me to before our meeting. When I got to their home, no one was there. I sat on the porch and waited a few minutes. Then it began to pour down rain. I thought that instead of going home and getting soaked I could wait and see if the elders made it back.
While waiting I decided to read in the Book of Mormon about Christ visiting America. I read of cities being destroyed and of the calamities and suffering. I was captivated with the story and I had to keep reading. Soon I got to the part about God introducing his son. I could not believe what I was reading. The words were so powerful, yet they brought peace to my soul. I believed them. I knew that book contained the word of God. I knew it was true!
But I was to go through a lot during my investigation of the Church. I fasted, I prayed, I read the scriptures. I wanted to get baptized. I was only 17, and my parents thought I was going through a teenage phase. They said I should wait. The elders challenged me to build my testimony anyway.
A few months later when I was 18, I was finally baptized. Little did I know that in 14 months I would go on a mission too.
I realize that it was not a single person but many people who were involved in my conversion. Each of these friends and their families played a part in the process of sowing seeds within me. I never felt judged or criticized for my past or my reputation. They opened their arms and their hearts. Little did the LDS students at my high school realize that one of the most unlikely persons would be interested in the truth they had.

My sister Rylee is allergic to nuts. If she eats any, they can make her stop breathing. One night we ate some salt water taffy, not knowing that some of the pieces had nuts in them. Rylee’s mouth started burning. Mom gave her some medicine, but it didn’t help. Next, Rylee’s throat started to burn, and she couldn’t swallow. Then her chest started to burn. It soon became hard for her to breathe.
Dad was out of town, so he wasn’t around to give her a blessing. Mom decided to call 911. The operator told her to stay on the phone until the paramedics arrived.
My sisters Kelsey and Haley and I were really worried about Rylee. We knelt on the kitchen floor and said a prayer asking Heavenly Father not to let Rylee die. Soon the paramedics arrived, but Rylee was already doing better. Mom was really surprised at her recovery.
Later, after everyone had left, we told Mom about our prayer and asked if she thought it had helped. She told us that it was probably the reason why Rylee was all right. I am grateful that Heavenly Father hears and answers prayers.Mason Cate, age 4, with help from his familyLayton, Utah

As John started down the hill toward home, fog mixed with smoke rolled over him in smothering waves. The frightened ten-year-old boy sat down to try to light the lantern Mr. West had loaned him to use in just such an emergency, but the dampness blew out the flame of the matches. John stood up, pulled his oilskin coat tighter about him, and tried to see ahead through the fog and darkness of the late afternoon.
Earlier that day John’s mother had sent him with a basket of food to the home of an old shepherd who lived alone about three miles northeast of Milnthorpe, England, where John lived with his family. It was the first time Mother had ever let John go on this errand alone, and he was both proud and excited. But he had stayed at Mr. West’s home too long, and when a dark cloud blacked out the sun before a soft rain started, John jumped up quickly and said goodbye to his old friend.
Mr. West offered to walk back with the boy to Milnthorpe, but John shook his head. “This is my first trip alone,” he explained, “and my mother wouldn’t let me come alone again if you had to take me home.”
Now John wished that Mr. West were with him. He imagined all kinds of strange sounds and movements in the fog that closed in thick around him. He had no idea where he was. Suddenly he came to a big iron gate that marked the end of the road, and from beyond the gate came the frightening growl of a dog.
John was almost paralyzed with fright. Then he remembered that his mother had told him that God was always near, even though he might sometimes think that he was all alone.
John dropped down on his knees and asked for help. As he did so, all his fear left; and he was not surprised a few minutes later to hear a voice call out of the mist, “Johnny, I’ve come to take you home.” It was Mr. West!
The young boy was John Taylor, who became the third president of the Church. Although he lived to be eighty years old, he never forgot the quick answer to his prayer as a frightened boy on that lonesome foggy evening.

“Finish your drawings, class. It’s almost time for recess,” Mrs. Johnson said.
The students hurried to finish their pictures, put away the crayons, and put on their coats.
Abbey looked up from her picture as the other children ran off, then she slowly colored a few more details. There was no hurry. Nobody ever wanted to play with her anyway.
Abbey sighed, stood up, and walked to the coat rack to grab her coat. Then she slowly walked out to her favorite tree and sat down. She looked toward the playground, where the other children were laughing and having fun. Being the new girl was hard. She missed Arizona. Before she moved she had lots of friends, and she never had to sit by herself during recess.
Abbey looked down and saw a flash of silver in the grass. It was her CTR ring! She had lost it yesterday during recess. “Well, at least I have my ring back,” she said out loud as she put the ring on her finger.
Abbey noticed a girl walking her way. She had long blonde hair that swayed back and forth with every step. It was Laurel, one of the most popular girls in class. Laurel sat down beside Abbey.
“Hi, Abbey,” Laurel said. “Do you want to play with me?”
Abbey nodded her head eagerly. “Sure. What should we do first?”
“Let’s go swing,” Laurel said.
After having a contest to see who could swing the highest, the girls talked and giggled at the edge of the playground. Abbey felt so happy. She hadn’t felt this good since before she moved.
Abbey noticed Laurel eyeing the nearby gravel path that led away from the school grounds.
“Abbey, my house is only one block from here, and my mom just bought some cookies,” Laurel said. “We could run there, grab some cookies, and be back before recess is over. No one would miss us.”
Abbey was surprised. Everyone knew that leaving the school grounds during school hours was against the rules. “But what about your mom? Won’t she be there?” Abbey asked.
“Nope. She’s at work today,” Laurel said.
Abbey knew that leaving the school grounds was wrong, but Laurel was the first person in her class to pay any attention to her, and she desperately wanted to have her as a friend. If she refused to go, Abbey was afraid Laurel might make fun of her. Then she’d never have any friends.
Abbey looked down at her CTR ring. She remembered her Primary teacher saying that even though it can be hard to choose the right sometimes, Heavenly Father blesses us when we do.
“Sorry, Laurel,” Abbey said. “I can’t go with you. It’s against the rules.” Abbey looked at Laurel expectantly, waiting to see how she would react.
Instead of getting angry, Laurel just shrugged her shoulders. “Oh, well. I thought you’d probably say that,” Laurel said. “Maybe instead I could ask my mom if you could come over tomorrow after school. Then we can still have some of those cookies.”
Abbey grinned. “That sounds great,” she said. “Hey, do you want to go collect some leaves for next week’s art project?”
Laurel nodded, and the two new friends skipped back to the big tree.

President Joseph F. Smith once told of an instance he remembered from his boyhood. He said that when he was very young he was attending a party in the Mansion House given by his uncle, the Prophet Joseph Smith. A large company was present, engaging in the festivities of the occasion. Suddenly the door opened and a man entered, dressed in ragged, shabby clothes. He was dirty, and his hair and beard were long and unkempt. He looked like a tramp. The Prophet at the time was on the other side of the room, opposite the door through which the man had come. President Smith said that Joseph, athletic man that he was, fairly sprang across the room, grabbed the shabby man in his arms, and hugged him as if he were a near and dear relative. This man was a brother in the priesthood. He had undergone a harrowing experience and made a tremendous sacrifice for his brother, the Prophet of God. (See Stephen L Richards, “The Priesthood Quorum: A Three-fold Definition,” Improvement Era, May 1939, p. 294.) The history of the Church is filled with accounts of quorum brother serving quorum brother with great love and understanding.