Gospel Story Finder

Hi! My name is Brittany Scott. I want to tell you about a special member of our Primary class, Richie Tanner. What makes Richie special? Well, he’s developmentally delayed, or what some people call mentally handicapped. He looks like most ten-year-old boys, but he acts younger—like maybe a five-year-old. He doesn’t speak very clearly yet, and it takes him longer to learn things.
Richie and I are in the Valiant B class in the Monument Park Ninth Ward, Salt Lake Monument Park Stake. There are four children in our class, Steven Jones, Michael Knudson, Richie, and me. Our teacher is Janet Fawcett. She’s great! She always tells Richie what a good job he’s doing when he listens quietly to the lessons. Sister Fawcett calls on Richie to say prayers and to answer questions. She treats him like everyone else, and she tries to help Richie learn the gospel, just as she helps us.
Richie hasn’t always been able to sit through a lesson. So our Primary has tried different ways to help him. He used to have a special teacher, Sister Neva Clayton, just for him. She would sit with Richie in our class and take him out in the hall if he got noisy or disrupted the class in some other way. But now Richie can sit in class all by himself, just like everyone else!
I’ve seen Richie make good progress: he talks better, he pays attention longer, and he sings in Primary programs. I hope that someday Richie will be able to give a talk by himself.

During this time, I was having difficulty getting along with my mother, as teenage girls sometimes do. I can remember after disagreeing with her once, I went down to the basement to be alone. Full of confusion and remorse, I prayed for comfort. I was still sobbing when in my mind I heard these words, “Blessed art thou, Carol.” At that time I wasn’t understanding my world very well, and I felt like Heavenly Father was comforting me so that I could get through a difficult time. It strengthened my testimony so much to know that He cared.

The Warwoods always planned to go on a senior mission, and Sister Warwood was certain she knew where the Lord needed her to serve. As a neonatal nurse practitioner, she felt drawn to humanitarian work in developing countries.
“I always thought I would serve a humanitarian mission in a third-world country, something with mothers and babies,” she explains. But when they visited Africa a year before their mission call, something unexpected happened. “When I thought to myself, ‘We’ll be here in a year,’ I just had this dreaded feeling,” Sister Warwood recalls.
Back home, during a senior mission meeting, coordinators asked about their preferences. She answered, “Third world, something medical, saving lives.” The dread returned. “I thought, ‘I guess I don’t really want to serve a mission. This is a horrible feeling.’”
Everything shifted when coordinators learnt the couple’s backgrounds—he an accountant, she in healthcare. They explained that “the Mission Health Adviser (MHA) is the most coveted job in the mission because you get to know, love, and serve all of the missionaries.” Sister Warwood realised the MHA “did many of the things I did in the NICU—just with much bigger babies!”
“By the time we left the meeting, instead of feeling dread, I was very excited.” She realised: “The Lord’s been trying to tell you third-world humanitarian is not where you’re supposed to be. He couldn’t have made it more obvious.”

Sometimes people rejected the prophets because they were jealous of them and their power.

In the Book of Third Nephi when Nephi was ministering with great power, “they were angry with him, even because he had greater power than they” (3 Nephi 7:18). The people even saw Nephi raise his brother from the dead; “and the people saw it, and did witness of it, and were angry with him because of his power” (3 Nephi 7:20).

When Thomas Marsh came back to the Church after his disaffection, he explained what happened:
“I must have lost the Spirit of the Lord out of my heart. …
“I became jealous of the Prophet … and overlooked everything that was right, and spent all my time in looking for the evil; … I thought I saw a beam in Brother Joseph’s eye, but it was nothing but a mote, and my own eye was filled with the beam; … I got mad and I wanted everybody else to be mad. I talked with Brother Brigham Young and Brother Heber C. Kimball, and I wanted them to be mad like myself; and I saw they were not mad, and I got madder still because they were not. Brother Brigham Young, with a cautious look, said, ‘Are you the leader of the Church, Brother Thomas?’ I answered ‘No.’ ‘Well then,’ said he, ‘why do you not let that alone?’”2

I am aware of how one bishop marshaled his resources to assist a man who came to him for help. The man had been happily married for years, but because of a later addiction to alcohol and drugs he was left without a job, home, or family. Hard years of living on the street had degraded and humiliated him. With tears streaming down his face, he pleaded with his bishop for help.
The ward welfare committee discussed this challenge. One man knew a dentist who might be willing to replace the man’s broken front teeth. The Relief Society president suggested that nutritious food from the bishops’ storehouse might improve his health. Another suggested that this man needed someone who could spend time with him daily and help him find the strength to overcome his addictions.
As the suggestions streamed in, the bishop realized that an entire ward of concerned brothers and sisters stood ready to help.
Soon the bishop began to notice improvements. Priesthood brethren gave the man a blessing. A charitable dentist replaced his broken teeth. Food from the bishops’ storehouse improved his health. A faithful elderly couple agreed to serve as special home teachers. They were with him daily to help him stick to his resolve.
Following established principles, this good brother offered to help others in the ward. Slowly his life began to improve. Gradually the look of desperation and misery gave way to one of joy and happiness. Although it was a painful process, he was able to free himself from his addictions. He became an active member in the Church. A life of destitution and misery turned into one of hope and happiness. This is the Lord’s way of caring for those in need.

A Primary teacher shared the following example. “Today,” she said, “our five- and six-year-old class made love necklaces. Each child drew pictures on strips of paper: one of themselves, one of Jesus, and some of members of their family and loved ones. We glued the strips into circles that looped through each other to make a chain that we turned into love necklaces. As they were drawing, the children talked about their families.
“Heather said, ‘I don’t think my sister loves me. We are always fighting. … I even hate myself. I have a bad life.’ And she put her head in her hands.
“I thought about her family circumstances and felt that maybe she did indeed have a hard life. But after Heather had said this, Anna, down at the other end of the table, responded, ‘Heather, I am putting you in my necklace between me and Jesus because He loves you and I love you.’
“When Anna said that, Heather crawled under the table to get to Anna and threw her arms around her.
“At the end of class, when her grandmother came to pick her up, Heather said, ‘Guess what, Grandma? Jesus loves me.’”

Dr. D. Elden Beck stood confidently before his biology students. In one hand he held a live rattlesnake.
He felt fortunate in having a job—a good teaching position—at a time when the effects of a devastating depression were being felt across the country. He was aware that once again the people of the small southern Utah communities were responding as they usually did during hard times, with determination and stubborn endurance.
Dixie Junior College, the pride of St. George, kept her doors open even though some students, to stay in school, paid their tuition with farm produce.
Dr. Beck was not a native of southern Utah, and neither he nor his family had been involved with the seemingly endless task of subduing the arid desert. Perhaps that was why he was able to see the country not merely as a place to overcome and endure but a place of breathtaking beauty. Like the natural coral, turquoise, and silver of a precious piece of Indian jewelry, the vermilion sands and blue sky dazzled him. A part of the world that had resisted discovery now seemed to him an endless frontier for study, an endless source of wonder.
The snake squirmed and struggled. Dr. Beck prepared to demonstrate to his students how a rattler is “milked” of its lethal venom, an act he had performed many times before. As he attempted to move the snake from one hand to the other, it suddenly lurched and slashed its fangs across his thumb. He reeled back in pain and instantly released the snake. It fell to the floor with a dull thud and lay still. The class was stunned. The rattlesnake slowly revived, and by gracefully throwing loops of its body forward, it began to move across the classroom floor. With shouts and screams, students clamored upon desks and chairs. To everyone’s amazement, it was Dr. Beck who tried to calm them. He gently captured the snake and stashed it away in the classroom snake pit. Then he firmly dismissed the students from the room. Supporting his swelling hand, he walked the two blocks from the college to the St. George Hospital only to find no rattlesnake serum was available.
Dr. McGregor eventually located serum in Cedar City, some 50 miles away, and it was agreed that someone would try to deliver it by car as soon as possible.
Hours passed, and the pain and swelling not only increased but began slowly moving up his arm closer to the elbow. Florence, Elden’s wife, kept a nervous vigil.
Late that night an old bootlegger arrived with the serum. Then Dr. McGregor faced the dilemma of how much of the serum to inject, for the vial was very large. After much concern, the doctor inserted the needle in Elden Beck’s arm and administered it all.
My grandfather, Dr. D. Elden Beck, lived!
The following year Dr. McGregor delivered, in the St. George hospital, the Beck’s baby daughter, Janet Ruth, my mother.

The other day I went to the house of a friend who owns a swimming pool. He is a member of a different church, so I taught him about Joseph Smith. It surprised him to learn that Heavenly Father and Jesus appeared to Joseph Smith. I taught him about the Book of Mormon. He didn’t know about it, just the Bible. Since he didn’t have a Book of Mormon, he didn’t know about Nephi or anyone.
I taught him about the Word of Wisdom. I had asked him once before if he would smoke or drink when he got older. After teaching him the Word of Wisdom, I asked him again. And now he isn’t going to drink alcohol or smoke.
I wanted him to come to our Church, so I invited him. He was going to be gone this week, so I’m going to invite him again when he’s back.
He liked learning these things.

Ninety-year-old Samoan woman, Valaei Faloa’i Pritchard Taleni, is a loving matriarch in her family, and a friend to all who know her in her home village and abroad.
Her son, Leali’ie’e Tufulasi Taleni, is a senior lecturer at the University of Canterbury, and a bishop in the Mona Vale Ward in Christchurch.
He says that his mother “is a true pioneer of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Samoa. Her great legacy comes from the demonstration of the Samoan values of tautua (service), fa’aaloalo (respect), osiosiga (reciprocity), loto alofa (generosity), fa’asinomaga (belonging), ola fa’a’eagaga (spirituality), ola magafagafa (tolerance) and aofia faatasi (inclusivity) enveloped in the value of alofa (love).”
This year, Valaei celebrated her 90th birthday with family and friends. The milestone gave her and those who love her the chance to look back on decades of service to her family, her Church, and her community.
Born and raised in the village of Tafua on the island of Savai’i, Valaei married Leali’ie’e Ova Taleni from the village of Vaiafai, Iva on Savai’i.
Valaei began her life in the Congregational Christian Church of Samoa, also known as the EFKS church. Her husband introduced her to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and she was baptised in the McKay Branch (now a ward) on Savai’i.
Leali’ie’e and Valaei served in many Church callings over the years, including Leali’ie’e as branch president and bishop; and Valaei as Relief Society president, Primary president and Sunday School teacher.
In 1976, the couple attended the Church’s general conference in Salt Lake City, Utah, in the United States—leading to an article about their visit in the Ensign (now known as The Liahona).
The couple raised 15 children including some who were adopted.
Her son, Leali’ie’e Tufulasi Taleni, says their mother was a “key support for Dad throughout his service in the Church, and in his role in the village as matai (chief).”
She also served her family, her extended family, and her entire village throughout her life.
Bishop Taleni is grateful for his mother’s “passion for supporting us all in our education—this goes beyond her own children.” He says that she supported children from their extended family and village, “making sure they went to school.”
He recalls that “Mum used to run a shop in the village. That shop was very much operated not only to support our family but also to help villagers with their basic needs.” In later years, the shop was a hub for helping people with welfare needs.
“Mum is known for her generosity, hard work, and love for people. She was very organised and always conscious about making sure the family was well fed and looked after, with a clean house.” He said that the health and wellbeing of the family was always important to her.
Underpinning her life is her faith in God. “All her life she has studied the scriptures regularly and prayed and fasted faithfully. These are all part of her spiritual nourishment,” her son says. “She totally believes in tithing and contributing to fast offerings.”
Valaei continues to be a supporter of missionary service. Bishop Taleni remembers that their “home was the home of missionaries in the village for many years. She called these missionaries her own children and took care of them in many ways.”
Seven of her own children and ten of her grandchildren have served missions for the Church. Many of her children and grandchildren continue to serve in the Church.
The Church has grown over the years on the island of Savai’i. “When Mum joined the Church, during that time there was only one stake or district in the whole island, now there are six stakes,” Bishop Taleni says.
“Mum has seen many changes, many developments, Church events, programs, activities and services over the years. These have contributed to the growth of the Church. The missionary work and ministering have been huge on the island. Many miracles have happened. Mum and Dad’s own missionary service as Church leaders over the years have led to remarkable experiences. They left our own home village and moved to where the Lord called them to serve.”
“This really wraps up Mum’s whole story of service,” Bishop Taleni says. “She’s now at this age of her life, she may not be able to do much physically, but her legacy speaks volumes and will be forever in the hearts of her family, her children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, great-great-grandchildren, her village and community, and in the Church to which she belongs.”

During her last class that day, Kim had a hard time staying awake. It wasn’t too surprising since she’d been out late the night before with Derek.
She looked around for something to keep her eyes open. In the vacant desk across the aisle from her, she noticed a tattered notebook that someone from a previous class must have left. She picked it up and started thumbing through what was some kind of personal journal. There was no name on the cover.
I shouldn’t read this, she thought to herself. But she did.
September 11At church today the bishop talked about chastity. He told us to be faithful to the person you’re going to marry even though you don’t know who it’s going to be. Sounds like maybe a good idea, but it would be a lot easier if I at least knew her name and what state she lived in. I hope she’s doing the same thing for me wherever she is. I wonder what she’s doing this very minute.
Kim read the entry over again. This is written by a guy, she thought, a guy who goes to church and thinks about chastity. She shook her head. There’s nobody like that in this school, at least not that I’ve ever met.
She forgot about being sleepy and also about Mr. Hadley’s lecture as she read the next entry in the journal.
September 15I’ve got a chance to get a job after school and on Saturdays. I’d be working at Sooper Dooper. If I work, it’ll mean I won’t be able to go out for basketball so I don’t know if I want to do it or not. One thing’s for sure, I need to save some money for my mission.
September 21Started watching a movie on TV tonight. In the movie a guy meets a girl, and five minutes later the two of them are talking about sleeping together. Well, that was enough for me. I turned off the TV and ran two miles. It started to rain while I was out there. I got wet, but I didn’t care because it was so nice out. There was nobody else outside except me. I guess they were all inside watching TV.
This guy isn’t real, she thought. I’ve never met a guy who turns off the TV in that kind of scene.
The bell rang and everyone got up to leave. Kim knew she should give the notebook to Mr. Hadley, but she wanted to read some more. She took it with her and stuffed it in her book bag just as Derek showed up to take her home.
He was excited. “Guess what. I just got a long-distance call in the football office. You’ll never guess who it was. Go ahead, guess.”
“I don’t know.”
“The offensive coordinator from Tennessee. Can you believe it? He wants me to fly out there and visit the campus. He says they think I’d fit in real good with their program. They want me.”
“That’s great, Derek. Way to go.” She hugged him.
“You know what this means? It means I’m going to be a superstar. We have to celebrate.”
“I’m really happy for you, Derek. But I’m just not in the mood for celebrating,” she said.
“Why not? What’s the problem?”
“Nothing. I just don’t feel like it today, that’s all.”
“There must be a reason.”
“I just don’t want to. All we’ll end up doing is making out. Can’t we go out on a real date?”
“Date? Okay, I’ll get us a couple of six-packs and some nachos.”
“No, Derek. Not today. I have to study tonight anyway.”
“Maybe you’ll change your mind.”
They started outside to Derek’s car. “Derek, you know most of the guys who go out for sports. Have you ever known any basketball players on the team who believe in chastity?”
Derek was puzzled. “Chastity? What’s that?”
“It’s waiting until you’re married,” she said.
“That’s a joke, right?”
“No, I’m serious.”
“Come on, Kim. There’s nobody like that around here.”
“That’s what I thought too, but now I think maybe there’s at least one.”
“Well, even if there is, so what? He’s nobody you’d be interested in.”
“Why do you say that?” Kim asked.
“Admit it, Kim. One of the reasons you like going with me is because when we walk into a dance after a game, everybody turns and looks at us. Everyone in school wishes they were like us. We’re the ones who make things happen. Let’s face it. You like the attention as much as I do.”
She decided to bring the journal notebook home with her. As they walked to his car, Derek draped an arm around her shoulder. As soon as they got in his car, he leaned over and kissed her. “Are you sure you don’t want to go with me now?” he asked softly.
“I’m sure.”
After dinner Kim went to her room and read more from the notebook.
October 7Went to general priesthood meeting with Dad. Afterward he took me out for pizza. We had a good time. I can’t believe it, but he played video games with me while we waited for our pizza. He’s pretty bad at it, but at least he tried.
October 22Took Tamra to homecoming. We had a good time, but I wish she didn’t live so far away. If there were just one more member of the Church at school, someone I could talk with sometime, like at lunch.
Kim wanted to know more about the boy who’d written this. She remembered a girl who had a class in the same room just before her class. She phoned. “Does anybody sit in the fourth desk in the row next to the door in social studies?”
“How should I know?”
“Just think about it, okay?”
“Fourth desk, huh? Let me think. Karen Wilson sits in that seat. Why do you want to know?”
“No reason. I’m looking for a guy who sits in that desk. It must be in one of the earlier classes.”
“How can you think about anyone else when you have Derek?” the voice on the phone questioned.
Kim started to watch TV. After about 10 minutes, a man and a woman ended up in bed together. He wouldn’t watch this, she thought to herself. She turned the TV off and went to her bedroom, where she read some more.
November 6Sometimes being the only member of the Church in school is really hard. All the friends I had in junior high are all drinking now. It seems like I’m the only one left who isn’t.
November 9Went to see the bishop for a birthday interview. I told him how hard it is to be the only Church member in school and how alone I feel sometimes and how much I wish there was a girl here who believed the same as I do. He suggested I write letters to the girl I’m going to marry and give them to her after I’m married. So maybe I’ll do that. Here goes.
To the girl I’m going to marry someday:
I don’t even know your name or where you live or anything about you, but I know you’re growing up some place the same as me. Do you ever get discouraged? I do. I have friends at school but nobody I can really talk to about what I’m thinking because none of them believe the same way. I just want you to know I’m trying to live the way I should. I’m doing okay so far, but it’s not easy sometimes. All my friends are drinking now, so there’s not much I can do with them anymore on the weekends. I run along a bike path when I need to think. I really wish we could spend some time together now.
I’ll be glad when I finally get to meet you. I want to live so I never do anything that I’d be ashamed to tell you about.
There are a lot of things I need to do now to prepare for the future. Right now the biggest thing is to save up for my mission. And after that I need to try to figure out what I want to do for a living.
I’ve been thinking about you lately and about when we get married. Sometimes it’s hard not to think about the things that go with marriage. But I guess I can stand holding off until you’re my wife. My bishop says it’s worth waiting, to make it the way God wants it to be.
Guess what. I love you even if I don’t know your name or where you live.
Love, your future husband,Mike
She read through the entire journal. The last entry had been written just a week before.
February 17The missionaries came and asked us to try to find somebody they can teach. We all said we’d try. I wish I could find someone at school who wants to know about the Church, but about the only time anybody mentions Mormons is when classes study about the pioneers. Our family set a date to introduce somebody to the gospel. It’s two weeks from now. We don’t know who it’s going to be, but we’re praying as a family that one of us will be able to find someone.
Kim set the notebook down. Now she felt a little guilty for invading someone’s privacy. But she also felt she’d never known anyone as well as she knew this person. She would have liked to read it every night, but she promised herself that she’d turn it in to lost and found.
What do I know about him so far? she thought as she stood at the window looking at the street. His first name is Mike. He took a girl named Tamra to homecoming. He has a birthday in November. He never went out for basketball. Instead he works at Sooper Dooper.
She went through her high school yearbook from last year and wrote down a list of everyone with the first name of Mike or Michael.
The phone rang. It was Derek.
“Michigan wants me too!”
“That’s great, Derek. I’m really glad for you.”
“I just got off the phone with one of the coaches. He’s flying out to see me next week. Tennessee would be okay, but playing for Michigan is what I’ve always dreamed of since I was a little kid. Can you imagine playing in front of 106,000 people? You could go to college there too. We have to celebrate now, Kim. I’ll be over in a minute to pick you up.”
Kim knew what that meant. “Derek, you could come over and be here with my family, but I don’t want to go out.”
“Look, there are plenty of girls who’d jump at a chance to go out with me.”
“I know that.”
“So what’s your problem all of a sudden?”
“I know you’re a super athlete and everything, but I don’t know, maybe that isn’t enough.”
“Not enough? What are you talking about? What else is there to life if it’s not this? You, me, football.”
“I’m not sure, but I’ll be sure to tell you if I ever find out.”
“Look, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but some girl is going to party with me tonight. If it’s not you, then it’ll just have to be somebody else.”
“I don’t always have to do what you want me to do.”
“What’s going on here anyway? This is the biggest day of my life, and you’re trashing it.”
“Sorry, but I just don’t feel like going out with you tonight,” she said.
“Well, I guess that’s it then. I’ll find somebody else. No problem.”
“Is that all I am to you, Derek? Just somebody who’ll go along with whatever you have in mind to do?”
He swore at her and then hung up.
The next morning Kim decided to find out who’d written in the notebook. Before school started she lingered across the hall from the classroom where she’d found the notebook. A girl sat in the desk she was interested in.
During second period she got permission to leave her class for a few minutes. She walked by the room again. There was a boy sitting at the desk where she’d found the notebook. Somehow she knew he was the one she was looking for. At first she was disappointed. She couldn’t remember seeing him around. He’d never been at any of the parties she’d gone to. He wasn’t in student council with her. She didn’t even remember him from any of the dances or parties she’d attended. He wasn’t a star athlete like Derek.
“He’s just average,” she whispered to herself.
The class was taking a test so everyone’s eyes were on their papers. She stood there in the hall and stared at him. Kim couldn’t decide what to think. He’ll never be like Derek, she thought. If I went with him to a dance, none of the girls would tell me how lucky I am. Derek will probably play pro football. Someday he’ll be rich and famous. People will always look up to Derek.
But this guy is just another boy. He isn’t as tall or as well built as Derek. It’s not too late for me to get Derek back. I’d be crazy to break up with him for someone like this. Besides, this guy probably wouldn’t even want to go with me because I’m not a Mormon. At most, we’d just end up being friends, she reasoned. I’m not sure I could even live the way he does. He’s sort of cute, I guess, but on a scale of one to ten, Derek’s a nine-and-a-half and this guy’s a—I don’t know—a six. But at least if we were spending time together, we might go on a real date occasionally instead of always doing what Derek wants.
Her thoughts trailed off because she noticed him look up. He must have been aware that someone was staring at him because he glanced through the door at her.
Kim smiled and pointed to the notebook. “Is this yours?” she mouthed the words.
He smiled and nodded his head.
“I’ll wait for you,” she mouthed again.
He turned in his exam early and came out to see her. The halls were still empty, and they were alone.
“I found this,” she said. “I would have turned it into lost and found, but I saw it was like a diary and I didn’t want people reading it.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem.” She gave him the notebook. “Oh, my name is Kim.”
“I’m Mike Simon. Well, thanks for getting this back to me.”
She knew that if he walked away she’d probably never talk to him again. She didn’t want that to happen because at least once in her life she wanted to know what it was like to have a friend who didn’t demand a price for his friendship. She’d never had that before. She knew she was giving up Derek and all he could offer her, but more than anything she wanted to have a real friend.
Just then the bell rang, and the door flew open. People crowded on either side of them as they stood in the hall.
“Well, thanks again,” he said. He turned to walk away.
I can’t let him get away, she thought. “Wait,” Kim called out.
“What?”
“I’d like to talk to you sometime, but not now because I’m really busy this week.”
“I understand. You go with Derek Reeves, don’t you?”
“I did. We just broke up. Well, I have to run now too. The reason I’m so busy is because I’m doing a report in social studies about Mormons and I’m having a really hard time finding anything. Well, see you around sometime.”
She walked three steps before he realized what she’d said.
“Wait a minute,” he said.
She turned around.
“I could help you. I’m a Mormon.”
“No kidding? That would be great if you could help me.”
They leaned against the lockers in the hall and set up a time for her to go to his house and meet the missionaries so they could teach her about the Church.
In her next class she promised herself that sometime she would tell him the truth about what had happened with the journal. But not now. Right now she just wanted to see what it was like to have a friend like him.
Maybe he’s the real superstar in this school, she thought, smiling. Maybe he’s a superstar in the things that really matter.

On the same day members in other areas of London joined in Helping Hands projects at Haven House Children’s Hospice and Richard House Children’s Hospice.
At Richard House, 18 members of the Stratford Ward painted an office space, weeded, cut plants, swept the grounds, and fixed tools. This was the hospice’s first contact with the Church, said Charlotte Illera, project manager for the service project at Richard House.
“I was touched with the way the volunteers took on their tasks with enthusiasm and joy,” she said. “Even a simple task such as sweeping a path was done to its best.”

Shortly after this call came to me, I was traveling by plane from Baton Rouge, Louisiana, to Salt Lake City. A young businessman stepped to my seat in the plane and introduced himself as a Latter-day Saint. He asked if I was traveling to attend meetings, and I answered, “Yes.”
“Will you see President Benson?”
“I think that is unlikely in view of the nature of the meetings.”
“When you see him, will you tell him that though we have never met, I have a deep love for him?”
He returned to his seat.
It was late in the day; soon the lights were dimmed, giving me ample opportunity to think about that experience.
Brothers and sisters, there is great safety in having a love for the Brethren.

“Grandma, I’m so sorry, but I can’t go to church with you. I forgot to bring a dress and shoes,” I told her in my most regretful voice. Not wanting to go to a ward of strangers, I had purposely left my church clothes home when I visited Grandma. I hadn’t washed my hair nor put on any makeup, and I waited until a half hour before church to give Grandma the news. I was positive Grandma would agree I was not fit for church.
Smiling, Grandma quickly appraised my condition: “Rachelle, this isn’t a problem. We’re close to the same size, and I have the perfect outfit for you.” She opened her closet and pulled out a blue paisley grandma-skirt with a coordinating pink blouse. The sleeves were too long, and the skirt’s hem swished around my ankles. Not only was Grandma taller than me, but she also had long, narrow feet. After attempts with different shoes, she helped me stuff tissues in the toes of some colorful beaded loafers.
“You look beautiful,” Grandma beamed. I pasted on a smile, but I was aware I couldn’t look anything but ridiculous in an old-lady dress with flat, greasy hair. Grandma was optimistic, and with her sweet prodding, we headed out the door for church.
“Bishop,” Grandma said as we entered the foyer, “I’d like you to meet my granddaughter Rachelle. She’s come to visit me for a few days.” I shook hand after hand as Grandma proudly introduced me to practically everyone in her ward.
It was a relief when sacrament meeting began and we were seated quietly on the bench. I was so embarrassed I couldn’t concentrate on any of the announcements or songs. I kept my head down, hoping none of the young men had seen me. I was seriously wishing I were in my own dress, wearing makeup, with stylish hair.
The priests began to reverently bless the sacrament. It wasn’t until the priests began to bless the water that I finally started to listen and realized what I had done. I had been so worried about attending an unfamiliar ward that I had given no thought to remembering God, His Son Jesus Christ, and what They have done for us. I realized that I had even planned to break His commandment by not coming to church. I had also lied to my grandmother about forgetting my clothes. I felt ashamed.
As I thought of our Savior and His love for us, my heart lifted. I had planned to not come to church, but here I sat. This made me smile. I was grateful for Grandma, for the borrowed dress, and that Grandma loved me enough to bring me to church. She had helped me put God first and keep His commandments.
I never “forgot” my church clothes again.

I never truly appreciated the hymn “Come, Come, Ye Saints,” (Hymns, no. 30) until I was on tour with an institute choir in Wyoming and Montana. One of our last stops was at Martin’s Cove. We spent time looking around the visitors’ center and then went on a handcart pull. When we reached the top of the cove, we gathered and sang a beautiful arrangement of this sacred hymn. As I contemplated the sacrifices made for us by our forebears, I could not hold back the tears. This hymn taught me that each of us has the same responsibility to move forward with faith, trusting in the Lord. If we do this, we too will be able to proclaim, “All is well!”

As he sat there, staring sullenly at the floor and wrestling with his frustrations, I cradled him in my heart. He wanted to communicate as sincerely as I, but neither of us was having much success.
I felt that if I could just hug or hold him again—the way I did when he was small—maybe he would know of my love and concern. But at 16, my son was embarrassed by affectionate displays, especially from his father.
“I’ll never make it,” he moaned. “You expect too much, and I’m just not good enough.”
“That’s not true,” I said. My voice rose as I thought back on my adolescent insecurities. “Why, when I was your age …”
“Dad, you don’t understand,” he interrupted. “I don’t think you’ll ever understand!”
Of course I understood! My heart ached with important things I wanted to tell him—lessons I yearned to teach him. He wasn’t being fair. After all, I wasn’t that old. And it wasn’t that long ago that I had been in his place.
How many times had I sincerely told him about my own frustrations as a teenager? How many good scriptures had I quoted him? How often had I sat him down and given him good, sound advice from my own experience?
If he would just hear me out, he would realize I knew what I was talking about. But I couldn’t get him to understand because I couldn’t get him to listen to me. As he stood abruptly and prepared to leave, I called him back.
“Son, why don’t you ever listen?” I asked.
For the first time during our argument, he looked directly at me. His look startled me, but not nearly as much as his reply.
“Dad, all I ever do is listen to you. My question is, why don’t you ever listen to me?”
At first, his question surprised and upset me. Even if I had expected him to do all the listening, was that so wrong? After all, I was his father.
As I sat there, I suddenly realized that what my son had said was true. I had been talking and preaching to him when I should have been listening. My concern for him was proper, but how I expressed that concern was not.
During the next few days, I realized I had been proud of the wisdom I wished to share, but I had not learned the importance of listening. I had unintentionally been telling my son that my experience and ideas were more important than his. I cringed at my insensitivity.
My son wasn’t the only person I had not heard. I had also failed to listen to the Lord’s anointed, who have counseled parents to “spend a great deal of time listening, not just telling. This listening should be done with an open mind and heart. When children feel they can talk freely about their feelings, problems, and successes, wonderful relationships develop between parents and children” (Ben B. Banks, Ensign, November 1993, page 29).
I realized I couldn’t hope to understand my son if I continued to look at him strictly from my point of view. And I couldn’t comprehend his perspective without truly listening to him as well as to the Spirit—with both ears and heart.
I saw clearly that listening is a way of showing love. It is one of the ways we show affection for our children, even when they are too old to be cradled in our arms. By listening, we also show respect and love.
After considerable thought and repentance, I tried again.
“Do you have time for a talk?” I asked my son. “I’d like another chance.”
“Do we have to, Dad? I know you mean well, but I’d really rather not.”
“I’d like to change roles this time,” I said. “How about if you talk and I listen? I understand your disbelief, but I’ll offer advice only if you ask for it.”
His smile was a welcome contrast to the look he had given me a few days earlier. For a change, I really listened. A few times, I had to stop myself from speaking, but I learned more about my son during a half hour of listening than I had learned during several years of lecturing.
That conversation was the first of many heart-to-heart talks. I think we can share just about anything now. We don’t always agree. But by listening, we have come to understand one another and to avoid some of the pitfalls that marked our earlier conversations.
A willingness to communicate, Paul says, is part of “a good foundation against the time to come” (1 Tim. 6:18–19). Listening with our ears and our hearts may not be easy, but it is always essential—especially for family members who need a hug.

For an entire week, Sydney G., 14, from Utah, USA, visibly carried a copy of the Book of Mormon everywhere she went—to school, to her extracurricular activities, and to church. She was prayerfully trying to find someone to share the gospel with, and keeping the Book of Mormon out with her was a constant reminder of that goal.
One day, she went to the office at school and accidentally left the book there. Without even opening the cover, the office secretary knew immediately whose it was. That week, Sydney had become known at her school for carrying that Book of Mormon with her. And throughout her life, she’s become known for many other things as well.
For instance, she participates in student council. She dances for her school’s dance company. She was the lead in an Alice in Wonderland musical. She volunteers for a service group. She cheers. She crafts. She loves to spend time with her friends and family.
She’s also a strong advocate of type 1 diabetes awareness and research.
When Sydney was three, her parents noticed changes in her behavior. Among other things, she was extremely thirsty, moody, and fatigued. One day she slept for 22 hours, waking up only for moments before falling back asleep. Her parents knew something was wrong and took her to a doctor the next morning. The doctor said she was on the verge of a diabetic coma and was lucky she came in that day. Sydney and her parents now recognize that the timing was more than luck; it was a blessing.
Sydney’s diagnosis flipped her life upside down, but that hasn’t stopped her from living a life that gives back to others. Despite her age, Sydney is a leader, role model, and friend as she works to help promote diabetes awareness.
What Is Type 1 Diabetes?
Type 1 diabetes is a disease in which the pancreas produces little or no insulin, the hormone that converts glucose into energy. To treat this, people with type 1 diabetes take insulin every time they eat to help their bodies get the energy they need.
If left untreated, diabetes can have serious complications. It’s important to recognize the symptoms and be treated as early as possible. Type 1 diabetes requires constant care and vigilance throughout a person’s entire life.
In 2015, Sydney and her family participated in a fundraising managed by JDRF, an organization that helps fund research for type 1 diabetes. After the walk, Sydney wanted to keep helping. She says, “I was super excited to get out and do stuff, and I wanted to inform people of the symptoms of type 1 diabetes so they would know to get tested.” To do this, she and her mom created a social media page to promote awareness. Their first post included pictures of the walk, and they’ve continued with regular posts debunking myths about diabetes, promoting fundraisers, and showcasing diabetes-related events and activities Sydney participates in.
Sydney knows the impact youth can have in their communities, and she hopes to keep helping those around her. “Young people can make a huge difference,” she says, “and it’s good for them! They get to get out and help the community. It’s just good for the soul.”
She’s already seen some positive results from her efforts. One day, soon after they started the page, Sydney’s mom felt prompted to post Sydney’s diagnosis story. A woman in their neighborhood read the post and then, two days later, recognized the symptoms in her own daughter. As a result of a prompting, this five-year-old girl was able to receive an early diagnosis and get the medical attention she needed.
Sydney knows it’s important to have friends during times of trial, and she always strives to be that friend for people in times of need. When she heard of another young girl in the community who was just diagnosed with type 1 diabetes, Sydney immediately reached out and met with her. The girl’s mother later told Sydney about the great influence she had on her daughter. The daughter had felt alone in her trial because no one else she knew had diabetes. But immediately after Sydney’s visit, she had a friend, and that made all the difference.
Sydney also recognizes the importance of friendship in her own life and strives to include and love others. When she was about to turn 12, she was “probably more excited than anyone to go to the temple for the first time.” So for her birthday party, she invited some friends over to eat a formal dinner and then go to the temple to do baptisms and confirmations on behalf of those who have died. One of her close friends, Lindsay,* wasn’t a member of the Church, but Sydney still wanted to include her. So Sydney invited Lindsay to the birthday dinner with them and explained why the temple was so important to her.
Remember that Book of Mormon that Sydney carried around with her? She felt prompted to give it to Lindsay with her testimony. Though Lindsay respectfully said she didn’t believe in the book, Sydney didn’t focus on the rejection. Instead, Sydney just appreciated the opportunity she had to share her testimony with someone she cares about.
Though she sometimes feels discouraged, Sydney tries to stay positive and move forward in her goal to help others. She says, “I think it’s important to just keep going if you’re having a trial. It helps to focus on something positive. Like, if you fall off your bike, you just get back up and keep going, and soon you’ll forget you even fell off in the first place.”
Every day, Sydney chooses to focus on the positive of her situation by striving to be a leader in her community and a friend to those who need one. She’s learned that the smallest decisions—like deciding one day to go to a fundraiser walk with her family—can make a big difference.

And this is what he told me.
The greatest day of my life, up to that point, was the day I received my mission call. Not even being accepted for the all-state basketball team or even achieving Eagle Scout could compare. Dad and I were home alone, because Mother and the girls were spending two months in Phoenix with Grandma. I had just finished telephoning Mom to tell her the good news.
“Wow, Dad!” I said as I hung up the telephone. “I still am very surprised! Mom thinks it’s great, too. She says to tell you Grandma’s feeling a little better, by the way. Wow! I am very surprised,” and I leaped to catch hold of the top of the door frame, executing a quick little swing.
“How would you like to start your mission right away?” Dad asked quietly.
“You bet! I wish it were tomorrow! I can’t wait to get into the LTM and then take a plane for—”
“No. I mean it, Rich. How would you like to begin your mission now?”
“Now? But Dad, the letter says, ‘You will enter the missionary home in Salt Lake City on the 20th of March.’ I don’t think they let you go in early. I think you have to—”
“I don’t mean start it in the Missionary Home. I mean start it here.” He was still sitting quietly in his big chair, looking at me very steadily. Something in his expression caused me to become thoughtful. I sat on the footstool near the fireplace and just waited.
“I don’t want to make any speeches, Rich. You’re ready for your mission; we all know that. You’ve done all the right things to prepare. By the way, in case I haven’t said it lately, I’m proud of you.”
For some reason, I became emotional and tried to hide my tears by pretending to tie my shoelace.
“But a mission’s hard on the best of young people. That early adjustment brings frustration and problems most kids your age haven’t had to deal with. And I guess a certain amount of frustration is good for the soul. It makes you grow up. But sometimes, if a fellow isn’t able to tolerate those frustrations, it can really interfere with his mission, and mix him up; it can—”
“But Dad, you said I was prepared.”
“In all the big things, yes. You’ve honored your priesthood, worked hard in your quorums, done well at seminary and in the institute this past year.”
“Well then?”
“I’m talking about the little things. Your mother and I have tried to teach you a lot about personal responsibility, and I think you are a mature person—well, most of the time!” he laughed. “But you know your mother likes to spoil you a little—”
“Aw, Dad!”
“Well, she does! And I guess that is her privilege. All I’m saying is this: there are lots of little surprises in store for the missionary. If you and I begin working on them now, then your adjustment should be easier. With the two of us living alone for the rest of the summer, we could operate on the missionary companion basis and see what we can learn.” Now he sat back and waited.
“I don’t quite understand, Dad. You mean, like you’re the senior companion and I’m the junior? Great! But then what? What will we do? Go tracting? I can see us at Sister Bigelow’s door—or Brother Young’s!” I grinned as I thought of the startled looks that would appear on our neighbor’s faces if my father and I donned dark suits and went around knocking on their doors.
“No, no tracting. You’ll see what I have in mind tomorrow. Right now, I think it’s time for us to go to sleep.” He got up and stretched.
“Okay, Dad. Pretty soon. I just want to catch a little bit of the late show, and then I’ll—”
“No late show. It’s time for bed, Elder.” And something about the look he gave me made me wonder about this new senior companion of mine.
“Rise and shine!” The call came loud and clear.
I bounded out of bed, startled. Dad usually tip-toed past my room, especially in the summer. Then I saw the clock. Six A.M.! I sunk back into the bed with a laugh.
“Stop joking, Dad!” I called as I rolled over.
The door banged open.
“Out of the bed, Elder! And make it up as soon as you’ve finished praying. You’re due in the kitchen in 20 minutes.” The door shut again, this time quietly. I stared at it in amazement.
When I finally made it to the kitchen, the table was set, but Dad had done nothing else about breakfast. He sat reading the scriptures in Mom’s rocker by the window, where the sun streamed in through her white curtains and over the African violets.
“You’re on breakfast detail, today,” he said, smiling. And, as I reached into the cupboard for a box of cold cereal, he said, “Sorry, You can’t do a missionary’s work on that. Now listen carefully; I’ll only say this once.” He held up the four fingers of his right hand.
“Basic four. Remember that from health? Every meal. Milk or milk products, meat or protein, fruits and vegetables, cereals and grains. Every meal. Basic four. Now get going.”
As I searched wildly in the refrigerator, glancing back over my shoulder at Dad from time to time, I wondered what had happened to my quiet, easy-going Father.
Without tears, but with plenty of sweat and a drop or two of blood (cut myself on the fruit knife), I managed to put a basic-four breakfast on the table by 7:00 A.M. I felt pretty proud. Dad said nothing, just knelt beside his chair and talked to the Lord as he had every morning of the world since I’d been in it, and before.
Later we cleared the table together and did the dishes. Then Dad said, “Study time Elder. Let’s sit right here.”
“Now I know you’re working mornings at the supermarket. But that gives you the afternoons free. I’ve talked with the bishop, and he was delighted with my plan. He’s changed our home teaching assignments; here’s the new list.”
I took one look at it.
“Good night, Dad! This list must contain every inactive member in the ward!”
“No, not all of them. But they’ll keep us busy. This afternoon I want you to go over the list. Think about the people, the families. Think about what we can do to help them, how we can reach them. Think especially about the Marlins—we’re going there tonight and you’re giving the lesson. Well, Son, time for me to go. See you a little before five. I’ll fix dinner tonight; since you’ll be working on the lesson.” And with that he was gone.
I guess my mind has kind of confused that first meeting with the Marlins. But I know that I did everything wrong. Preached to them instead of talking. Started coughing—not on purpose, I promise—when Brother Marlin lit a cigarette (trying to catch me off guard, I was sure). I asked Linda Marlin how school was, completely forgetting that she’d dropped out.
The next morning, Dad moved into phase two. Instead of getting me up at six, he opened the door at 5:30, dressed in his jogging outfit. Seems he thought I might have gotten out of shape since basketball season.
“Missionaries do a lot of walking—especially where you’re going. Need to be in good shape,” he said as we strode briskly into the foothills north of our house. “Now then—”
Now then? I thought. What could be next? Here we were jogging in the darkness, with not even the sun to keep us company. What could be “now then”?
“Brothers and Sisters,” he began, puffing only slightly between phrases, “Today we’re happy to welcome Elder Richard Ericson, who is new to our branch. We’d like to have Elder Ericson say a few words to us. Perhaps Elder Ericson would like to talk briefly on faith.”
“Elder Ericson,” slightly short of breath, rolled his eyes and began to mumble a pretty standard two-and-a-half minute talk on faith. At the conclusion of this wonderful woodland sermon, Elder Ericson, Senior, said, “Tomorrow, brothers and sisters, Elder Ericson will give us a real talk on faith.”
That evening, one tired junior companion spent the evening hours with a triple combination, concordance, and a copy of Joseph Smith’s, Lectures on Faith. But the next morning, I felt pretty good about the talk.
Soon we were jogging every morning; I was making a basic-four breakfast every other day and a basic four dinner on the days in between; we were making regular evening visits to our home teaching families; and I was spending the evenings memorizing scriptures and preparing for the talks I was “assigned” to give while jogging. I was also doing my own laundry, cleaning my room, and budgeting every cent I earned. I can’t say as I was crazy about the hours we were keeping—up at 5:30 and in bed before 11:00—but I really felt I was building myself into a missionary. So naturally, that was time for me to get humble.

Of these women, the only one I had known was my cousin Olga.
Olga, who was from Italy, married at a very young age, but sadly, her husband was violent and unfaithful to her. With the help of her father and her brother, Olga decided to escape when she was expecting her fifth child.
She went to live with her parents and brother. After the birth of her child, Olga passed away. Olga’s parents never recovered from the shock of her sudden death.

In the mid-1960s, missionaries working in the Magdalena section of Lima, Peru, enjoyed stopping at Teresa Gai’s small store for a cold drink and cheerful chat. The little bodega occupied less than 75 square meters, and the shelves on its walls were stocked with a limited variety of canned and packaged foods. To its owner, the visits of the gregarious missionaries brought back memories of happier times.

Before World War II, Teresa’s family had enjoyed a comfortable living in their native Italy. For a year, Teresa had been the equivalent of today’s Miss Italy. But the government confiscated the family’s properties, and they were forced to flee their beloved homeland. Teresa eventually found her way to Peru, where she was married and bore a son. In time, Teresa’s husband passed away, and her only son married and left home.

Teresa busied herself by operating her bodega, with its modest two-room apartment in the rear, from early morning until late in the evening seven days a week. She welcomed the opportunity to befriend and offer moral support to the missionaries, who were far from their homes. And the missionaries welcomed the opportunity to share their gospel message with Teresa.

As the missionaries began to teach Teresa, she felt the spirit of their message. But she was troubled about whether she could keep the Sabbath day holy. Sunday, after all, was a big day for her little bodega. The missionaries encouraged her to attend church with them, but she resisted, not wanting to commit to closing her business on Sunday. After much thought, she promised, “I will go to church with you next Sunday.”

A few days later, much to her distress, Teresa realized she had promised to close her bodega and go to church the day before New Year’s—her biggest, most profitable business day of the year! She had already planned to close on New Year’s Day, which meant her store would be closed for two profitable days, only to open on Tuesday, her least productive day of the week.

She wondered how she could get out of her commitment, but to Teresa Gai, a promise was a promise. She closed the store and went to church with the missionaries. She enjoyed the services but couldn’t help thinking about the people going elsewhere to buy food for their New Year’s Eve gatherings.

Sunday afternoon and evening, from her little apartment in the rear, she could hear her customers knocking on the steel roll-down door over the front of her store. It was hard to ignore them. People depended on her. Would they understand? Would they ever come back to her bodega? With no income for two days, where would she find the money to restock her shelves that week?

With considerable apprehension, Teresa opened her bodega Tuesday morning. To her amazement, she had sold more goods and taken in more money by the end of the day than she had on any other single day since opening her store. She felt strongly that the Lord had blessed her because she had kept his day holy. Teresa never again opened her bodega on Sunday.

Partway through a worn notebook of Teresa’s daily sales, a heavy line is drawn across the page. Daily totals after the line show a significant increase.

“That line marks the day I was baptized,” Teresa said years later through tears. She was especially grateful for her testimony of the restored gospel and the many spiritual blessings that enriched her life after she joined the Church.

Following her baptism, Sister Gai immediately plunged into Church activity with her characteristic enthusiasm and willingly accepted callings to serve. In the gospel she found great joy, which she radiated and which buoyed the spirits of those around her, including the missionaries who served in her section of Lima. Considering all the treats she gave the missionaries, it is a wonder she stayed in business.

In 1986 Sister Gai attended the dedication of the Lima Peru Temple. The temple gave her one last opportunity to give unselfishly to others. Sister Gai, then nearly 80 years old, gratefully accepted a calling to be a worker in the beautiful new temple.

When I returned from my mission, I found it necessary to go to firesides and devotionals almost weekly to maintain my spirituality. The speakers fed me with their gospel insights, and I appreciated the way those insights made me feel. I had studied and taught the gospel for two years, but I didn’t seem to have the necessary skills to feed myself on a regular basis. I was just reading the scriptures and not really searching them diligently.

Gospel study is much like learning to paint. It is not intuitive or natural for everyone. We would not think of giving someone a paint palette and expect that person to become an artist immediately. Becoming a self-reliant gospel learner is the same. We can’t expect to discover great insights on a regular basis if we haven’t learned some basic gospel-study skills. President Packer explained that the scriptures “contain the fulness of the everlasting gospel, an eternity of knowledge. But one must learn to use them or the search will be discouraging.”6

That’s how it was for me—discouraging—when I first tried to find meaning and guidance from my scripture study. So I began to analyze how the speakers got their insights. It took a while, but I eventually saw how they extracted specific statements of doctrine from the scriptures; how they mined meaningful teachings about the Savior from the verses; how they formulated life-guiding principles from scriptural phrases; how they interpreted symbols; and how they connected the teachings of prophets and apostles to specific verses of scripture.

As I continued my study of the scriptures and the teachings of prophets and apostles, I found myself asking questions:
What doctrine is being taught in these verses, and what do I learn about that doctrine?
Where and when have I seen this gospel principle effectively applied?
What do I learn about Heavenly Father and His plan for my happiness?
What do I learn about Jesus Christ and His Atonement?
What does the Lord want me to learn from this?
What inspired thoughts and feelings am I receiving as I read?
Is there something here that helps me with a current challenge in my life?
What do I learn that will help me live from day to day?

As my scripture study changed, so did my teaching. I became more interested in helping people discover gospel truths that would guide them than I was in telling them what the scriptures meant to me.7 It thrilled me to see the joy others felt when they discovered something new. It was, and is, one of the most gratifying experiences of my teaching experience.

I also found that when I helped those I taught consistently use the skills and questions above, their ability to become self-reliant gospel learners accelerated. They didn’t have to go through the long process I went through.