Gospel Story Finder

During those two summers, I came to appreciate all the work it takes to plant and irrigate and then, after all of that is done, how hard it is to harvest. The first summer I spent at the ranch was during a very dry year, and the fields were swarming with crickets. The farmers didn’t give up, however, and they didn’t blame God that things were not going well. They just prepared to plant again the next year.
Even if conditions are perfect for farmers, there still is an incredible amount of work to do. They know that you don’t get something for nothing. My experience in Skull Valley helped me understand the law of the harvest, as described in Galatians 6:7: “For whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap.” [Gal. 6:7] We reach most of our important goals only after a great deal of effort and hard work.

I received one of those blessings just a few weeks ago. Since general conference falls on a weekend that would normally include the fast and testimony meeting, I fasted and prayed to know how I should still obey the commandment to care for those in need.
On a Saturday, still fasting, I woke at 6:00 and prayed again. I felt impressed to look at the world news. There I read this report:
Tropical Cyclone Pam destroyed many homes as it made a direct hit on Port Vila, the capital of Vanuatu. It killed at least six people in Vanuatu, the first confirmed from one of the most powerful storms ever to make landfall.
“Hardly a tree stood straight [as the cyclone] bellowed across” the Pacific island nation.4
World Vision’s emergency assessment team planned to view damage after the storm died down.
They advised residents to seek shelter in sturdy buildings such as universities and schools.
And then they said: “‘The strongest thing they’ve got is cement churches,’ said Inga Mepham [from] CARE International. … ‘Some of them don’t have that. It’s hard to find a structure that you’d think would be able to withstand a Category 5 (storm).’”5
When I read that, I remembered visiting little homes on Vanuatu. I could picture in my mind the people huddled in homes being destroyed by winds. And then I remembered the warm welcome to me of the people of Vanuatu. I thought of them and their neighbors fleeing to the safety of our cement chapel.
Then I pictured the bishop and the Relief Society president walking among them, giving comfort, blankets, food to eat, and water to drink. I could picture the frightened children huddled together.
They are so far away from the home where I read that report, and yet I knew what the Lord would be doing through His servants. I knew that what made it possible for them to succor those children of Heavenly Father was fast offerings, given freely by the Lord’s disciples who were far away from them but close to the Lord.
So I didn’t wait for Sunday. I took a fast offering to my bishop that morning. I know that my offering may be used by the bishop and Relief Society president to help someone in my neighborhood. My small offering may not be needed near where my family and I live, but the local surplus could reach even as far as Vanuatu.

Just about every day, you can find Stella and her family visiting the landlady in their apartment building. They aren’t related to her, but Stella and her brother call her “Grandma Cecilia.”
Stella says, “She is 83 years old, and she doesn’t have any children of her own.” Stella and her family noticed she needed help and decided to “adopt” her.
Stella always lends a helping hand by sweeping and mopping Grandma Cecilia’s floor. Having a clean home is an important way to stay healthy. So Stella is doing something that really helps Grandma Cecilia. “Jesus Christ served others,” says Stella, “so that inspired me to serve her. I know that Jesus Christ and His Father are happy when I serve.”
Stella followed Jesus by helping her neighbor. Turn the page to read a story about how Jesus helped others.

For their leadership meeting, the youth of the Tulsa Oklahoma Stake gathered Saturday morning at the stake house. From there they went to Woodward Park, with its 12,000 rose plants and other exotic flowers. They stopped at the fairgrounds and said a personal hello to the Golden Driller. They toured the Gilcrease Museum and sampled its displays of 58 paintings and bronzes by Frederic Remington; 88 paintings by Charles Russell; major works by Winslow Homer and John James Audubon; rare documents and books, including the original certified copy of the Declaration of Independence; and 41,000 Indian artifacts. After the tour, the presidents of quorums and classes, their counselors, secretaries, and leaders swarmed a local hamburger stand and ordered a lot of lunches, which were not eaten slowly.

And then they returned to the stake center, where they got down to work.

A leadership session in Tulsa is no mere meeting. It’s the culmination of weeks and months of planning. It’s the presentation of practical workshops and question-and-answer sessions where leaders and youth speak frankly. Listen in on some of the presentations:

“You will never be a greater leader than you are an individual,” said Marilyn Higbee, 17, youth representative to the stake YW–YM committee. In the opening session of the conference she recounted the story of Enos, who prayed to overcome his own sins, then prayed for his people and for his enemies (see Enos 1:4–5, 9, 11–13). “Try to improve someone else by being a good example, and you’ll improve two people,” she added.

“You don’t get anything for nothing,” said Matt Johnstun, 17, also a youth representative to the stake committee. “The reason we’re blessed as leaders is because we get the opportunity to do a lot of work. We need to show those around us that there is time in a busy schedule for the Church.”

In one of three workshops held for young women, Krista Thompson, first counselor in the Young Women presidency of the Bartlesville First Ward, spoke about the Personal Progress program. She compared those who don’t set goals to a ship without a rudder. “To progress, you need direction,” she said.

Vicki Southward and Miriam Steurer, advisers to the Beehives and Mia Maids of the Cleveland Branch, showed examples of “quiet books” girls in their classes made for investigators with young children; of surprises made for “12 Days of Christmas” projects; of “love buckets,” filled with treats, passed as a thank-you to family members, missionaries, or elderly members of the branch. They also told how their girls cleaned up and repaired the nursery as a service project.

In another room, Bishop Lynn McKell of the Tulsa First Ward talked about the bishopric youth committee. “You’re there to represent your class, not just yourself,” he reminded. “Make sure you bring their comments with you, and make sure you take notes so you can report back to them.”

After each workshop ended, the Beehives, Mia Maids, and Laurels rotated rooms, so that by the end of the evening, everyone had heard all three presentations.

The Young Men met in a single priesthood session, where they heard from Weston Dale Larsen, second counselor in the Tulsa Oklahoma Stake presidency, from Bishop Gary S. Fuqua of the Sapulpa Ward, and from Doug Cross of the stake Young Men presidency.

They talked about positive and negative peer pressure, about how to reactivate less active friends, about planning with a priesthood purpose in mind, and about how a mission prepares you for the rest of your life. One of the adults also suggested that learning to run a quorum in the Aaronic Priesthood prepares you to do the same in the Melchizedek Priesthood.

Bishop Fuqua told of a missionary who wrote to his friend about baptizing someone, “That little piece of paper may have changed his friend’s life,” the bishop said. “It helped him discover that he wanted to share the gospel too.”

Of course, once the spiritual feasting was over, there was feasting of another sort. The cultural hall turned miraculously into a gourmet restaurant where baked potatoes were mounded with toppings like ham, bacon bits, cheese, and sour cream. Conversation was friendly and earnest, even among people who had just met. Table centerpieces carried a gospel theme, reminding diners of the importance of temple marriage.

It was a perfect time to hear comments from the youth themselves—to discover, from those who know firsthand, what it means to be young Church members in Oklahoma, and to hear the advice they would give to others like them throughout the world.

“There aren’t any Latter-day Saints in my school except for me,” said Shelinda Robinson, 13, first counselor in her Beehive class in the Cleveland Branch. “Sometimes, when it gets real bad—the language or jokes or kids talking about doing bad things—I just leave.”

“But you’re never a stranger to other members of the Church,” said Kerri Wade, 14, Mia Maid first counselor in the Sapulpa Ward. “That’s one of the neat things about being a member. You can instantly share some common feelings.”

She told about being the only Latter-day Saint in a private school run by another church.

“Some of the kids were talking about football, and they mentioned Brigham Young University. Then one of them turned to me and said, ‘Those Mormons are all so weird.’ I asked him if he had ever met one. He said no. And I said, ‘You’ve met one now!’ I think it shocked him.

“Another guy kept staring at me the whole year long, like I should look funny or act funny. We got to be pretty good friends after a while. Finally, the last day of class, he said, ‘Know what? Ya’ll are just ordinary people.’ That was really nice.

“My bishop said that I’m an example 24 hours a day. If I do something wrong, others may judge the Church by me. I have to be careful, which is good, because I should be careful anyway.”

Greg Laster, 15, first counselor in the teachers quorum of the Sapulpa Ward, said, “Other people are watching you. They want to see the standards you set. They think the whole Church is like you.”

His friend from the ward, Steve Henry, 17, an assistant to the president of the priests quorum, agreed. “You have to hold up your standards so those around you see that you’ve got something special, that your church is not the same as all those other churches.”

“Most of my friends know the church I go to,” Greg said, “but they don’t know the authority I hold. There are people saying they can heal and stuff, but I have more authority than they do.”

“Holding the priesthood makes you feel like you’re a part of things,” said John Ashby, 13, of the Third Ward. “You’re not just a bystander; you’re important.”

“Our quorum is small,” said Mark Choate, 13, first counselor in the deacons presidency of the Cleveland Branch. “In fact, there are only three of us. But we’re pretty good friends. Right now we’re working on a quorum project, making a sign for the property where our new chapel is going to be built. We’re digging holes for the posts, setting up the sign, painting it and everything.”

“Doing things together as a quorum is important,” said Gary Player, 15, first counselor in the Third Ward teachers quorum. “You have to stick together. You can’t just take the Church for granted. It seems like here you’re either fully active or you stray away. But even though it’s hard to be worthy, it’s worth it. One of the things that I like the best about the Church is that it’s kept me clean. If there’s ever any problem, I can think back to the Church teachings and it makes it easier to handle, to have the strength to say no.”

Tommy Cross, 14, of the First Ward, talked about a temple trip to Dallas, Texas. “At first we all thought we’d remember going to Six Flags and that the baptisms for the dead were something we’d do just to keep the leaders happy. But when we got back and talked about it, we’d forgotten about the amusement park. Everybody remembered the temple and what went on inside the temple. It was more important. You felt better there.”

Invariably, the young leaders described Tulsa as a friendly place. “It’s big enough to have everything you need,” Steve said. “But it seems like a small town. Everybody smiles and says hi.”

“And everyone is extremely religious,” Gary said. “Even though they may not understand what the Church means to you, they usually respect you for believing.”

But there’s a special bond, one that goes beyond mere friendship, among those that do have the gospel in common.

“There’s a real close relationship among the youth of our ward,” said Annette Richins, 16, Laurel president of the Third Ward. “And we need that. We all have each other to depend on. I look at my friends who aren’t members, and I’m so grateful for the Church.”

“I especially like getting together with our advisers, when it’s just us and them and we can be ourselves with people who understand what we’re trying to be,” said Mandee Moon, 13, the Beehive president of the Sapulpa Ward.

“I just moved to Tulsa seven months ago,” said Kim Luke, 13, Beehive president of the First Ward. “I got to know my way around because of Church people. I feel at home here, like I know people better. I don’t mind being the only Mormon in my school, or one of the few, not when I know how many of us there really are.”

“You look around the room here,” Kerri said, pointing out people at different tables. “I didn’t know her until today. I didn’t know them, either. But it doesn’t matter; we’re friends anyway. The gospel brings us together.”

When the leadership meeting let out that night, it was dark. Most of the young people hurried home. A few lingered at the chapel, retrieving dishes that had been used for the dinner. Some stopped at Braum’s, the local emporium for ice cream.

But few if any of them took time to stop and study the Tulsa skyline, now alive with lights like a Christmas tree. Those driving or riding farther, out into suburbs like Sand Springs or Bristow, may have looked back at the town, may have even thought it looked beautiful.

But it’s unlikely that they were thinking of themselves as lights. Lights to a city, examples to their friends. Unaware of their own significance, the young Latter-day Saints were back in their homes, back in their communities. They were ready to stand firm and proud, to raise their standards and mark their place, if you will, in the spiritual skyline of their city.

“If something’s tall here, you can see it from a long way off.”

No kidding.

I had been dating a young man whom I was madly in love with for about a year. I truly thought I was going to marry him! But I never thought that dating him would bring me face to face with a problem I had once struggled to overcome with all my strength.

When I found out this man I was planning on marrying was using pornography, I was eager to help him and support him in overcoming it. I had been through the repentance process and the effort of overcoming pornography before, and I knew what the Lord could do for Him. But it seemed like every time I tried to guide him to the help he needed to overcome his problem, things always went wrong. He didn’t seem to want help. After a while, I realized we didn’t have the same ideas about pornography. Yes, we were both members of the Church, but the teachings of the gospel didn’t seem to mean the same thing to both of us.

I was frustrated. I loved him, and I believed that with help, he could beat this problem. I was also feeling vulnerable because I was having to face the same problem I had worked so hard to overcome in the past. I decided to pray one night and ask for wisdom from my Father in Heaven on how to move forward because I needed the power to resist temptation, and I also wanted to know how to support the person I was planning to share my life with.

When the answer finally came, I felt peace and knew I had to talk to the man I was dating with a purpose in mind. I wanted to let him know what I expected from dating someone, which was getting married in the temple and having children. I needed to know if our futures aligned and if he was moving toward the Savior. I needed to know if we should continue our relationship. I had high hopes for it and believed that after we talked, everything would work out.

It was a sunny afternoon when I shared with him my dreams and goals about my future family and raising my children in the gospel. To my surprise, after listening to me, he got irritated with me. I realized we had very different ideas about the future. I was devastated, but surprisingly I felt at peace, and I knew my answer was to end the relationship. He wasn’t in a place where he was willing to try to overcome his problems with pornography or turn to the Savior for help, and I couldn’t help him if he didn’t want the help.

For a while, I wondered why even after doing the right thing and doing everything I could to help him, my heart still ended up being broken into a million pieces. But eventually, I shed my last tears for him and I focused on that peace I had felt when I ended the relationship. I knew that answer had come from heaven.

It has been a few years since my relationship with that man ended. And I still see him as the good person he always was. But I know that he needs to be the one who goes to the Savior for help—I can’t force him to. He has his agency and I have mine. Since this experience, I have tried to follow the voice of the Holy Spirit without hesitation. I know that Heavenly Father has a plan for all of us and that we can trust that as we make decisions based on the Spirit’s promptings, He will never let us be led astray. He is always preparing us for good things to come.

At another baptism, a young girl of 14, with tears in her eyes, hugs the sister missionary who has taught her the gospel. Even though this missionary had to leave her home thousands of miles away to serve a mission, she feels it has been worth it.
Two missionary stories with the same emotion and the same sacrifice. It may be surprising to learn they took place 150 years and an ocean apart. The first missionary was Elder Addison Pratt, who in 1844 baptized the first members of the Church in the Pacific not far from Tahiti. The second missionary was Sister Barbara Nauta, a native Tahitian who left her island home to serve a mission in Canada in 1993.
For as long as the Church has been organized, missionaries have sacrificed to take the gospel to places like Tahiti. In Tahiti, missionary work now has come full circle. Today, young islanders are leaving their homes and serving missions on other islands as well as around the world.
A little more than 150 years ago, the first missionaries ever called to serve in an organized non-English-speaking mission started their missions in what is now French Polynesia, the most well-known island of which is Tahiti. Their mission calls came from the Prophet Joseph Smith himself.
Getting to Tahiti and the surrounding islands was no easy matter. It took almost a year of traveling. Those first missionaries—Addison Pratt, Benjamin F. Grouard, Noah Rogers, and Knowlton F. Hanks—literally had to sail around the world to get there. They traveled on land from Nauvoo, Illinois, to the East Coast of the United States to find a whaling ship going to the Pacific. They then sailed across the Atlantic, where Elder Hanks, suffering from ill health, died and was buried at sea. They rounded the Cape of Good Hope, crossed the Indian Ocean, passed the islands of Southeast Asia, and landed first at the island of Tubuai, just south of Tahiti, nearly a year after they had left Nauvoo. They found the islanders eager to welcome them. Elder Pratt was immediately popular because, years earlier, as a sailor, he had visited Hawaii and learned a little of the Hawaiian language. The people of Tubuai could understand him.
Within a few years, there were hundreds of members of the Church on several islands, including Tahiti.
Eight years later, the government asked the missionaries to leave. For 40 or so years, the mission was closed, but a core of Church members stayed faithful. Then, when the mission was reopened, the Church in the islands began a hundred years of growth. It started slowly but picked up speed. Today, with four stakes, Tahiti and its neighboring islands have a temple, dozens of chapels, and scores of young people serving missions and many more preparing to serve as soon as they are old enough.
Just like those missionaries 150 years ago, young Tahitians look to the Lord to guide them as they serve. For example, Sister Barbara Nauta, who grew up in Tahiti, served in the Canada Toronto Mission. She said investigators in Canada were amazed that she had left her warm Pacific island to learn another language (Barbara, who speaks French and Tahitian, had to learn English) and endure cold and snow. They asked her why. “I told them the Lord sent me here,” she says.

The mother of the Prophet Joseph, Lucy Mack Smith, is a great example of unwavering faith and commitment. On one occasion, she was traveling from New York to Kirtland, Ohio. Her account of an incident in Buffalo, New York, illustrates her faith in the prophets of the Lord and the restored gospel:
“[In Buffalo] we found the brethren from Colesville, who informed us that they had been detained one week at this place, waiting for the navigation to open [the waterway that had been blocked by ice]. Also, [we learned] that Mr. Smith and Hyrum had gone through to Kirtland by land, in order to be there by the first of April.
“I asked [the Colesville brethren] if they had confessed to the people that they were ‘Mormons.’ ‘No, indeed,’ they replied, ‘neither must you mention a word about your religion, for if you do you will never be able to get a house, or a boat either.’
“I told them I should tell the people precisely who I was; ‘and,’ continued I, ‘if you are ashamed of Christ, you must not expect to be prospered; and I shall wonder if we do not get to Kirtland before you’” (Lucy Mack Smith, History of Joseph Smith, edited by Preston Nibley [1958], 199).
Lucy Mack Smith then searched for and found a Captain Blake, who was willing to take her group on his boat: “On arriving there [on the boat], Captain Blake requested the passengers to remain on board, as he wished, from that time, to be ready to start at a moment’s warning; at the same time he sent out a man to measure the depth of the ice, who, when he returned, reported that it was piled up to the height of twenty feet [six meters], and that it was his opinion that we would remain in the harbor at least two weeks longer” (History of Joseph Smith, 202).
Most of the Saints traveling on the boat with Lucy Mack Smith assumed that they would be there for a long stay, and many of them murmured and grumbled. Hearing and seeing their reaction, the Prophet’s mother responded: “‘Where is your faith? Where is your confidence in God? Can you not realize that all things were made by him, and that he rules over the works of his own hands? And suppose that all the Saints here should lift their hearts in prayer to God, that the way might be opened before us, how easy it would be for him to cause the ice to break away, so that in a moment we could be on our journey! …
“‘Now, brethren and sisters, if you will all of you raise your desires to heaven, that the ice may be broken up, and we be set at liberty, as sure as the Lord lives, it will be done.’ At that instant a noise was heard, like bursting thunder. The captain cried, ‘Every man to his post.’ The ice parted, leaving barely a passage for the boat. … The noise of the ice, and the cries and confusion of the spectators, presented a scene truly terrible. We had barely passed through the avenue when the ice closed together again, and the Colesville brethren were left in Buffalo, unable to follow us.
“As we were leaving the harbor, one of the bystanders exclaimed, ‘There goes the “Mormon” company! That boat is sunk in the water nine inches [23 centimeters] deeper than ever it was before, and, mark it, she will sink—there is nothing surer.’ In fact, they were so sure of it that they went straight to the office and had it published that we were sunk, so that when we arrived at Fairport we read in the papers the news of our own death.
“After our miraculous escape from the wharf at Buffalo, we called our company together and had a prayer meeting in which we offered up our thanks to God for his mercy” (History of Joseph Smith, 203–5).

Those who follow the game of rugby know that the New Zealand All Blacks, a name given because of the color of their uniform, is the most celebrated rugby team ever. To be selected for the All Blacks in New Zealand would be comparable to playing for a football Super Bowl team or a World Cup soccer team.
In 1961, at age 18 and holding the Aaronic Priesthood, Sidney Going was becoming a star in New Zealand rugby. Because of his remarkable abilities, many thought he would be chosen the very next year for the national All Blacks rugby team.
At age 19, in this critical moment of his ascending rugby career, Sid declared that he would forgo rugby to serve a mission. Some called him crazy. Others called him foolish. They protested that his opportunity in rugby might never come again.
For Sid it was not what he was leaving behind—it was the opportunity and responsibility ahead. He had a priesthood duty to offer two years of his life to declare the reality of the Lord Jesus Christ and His restored gospel. Nothing—not even a chance to play on the national team, with all the acclaim it would bring—would deter him from that duty.
He was called by a prophet of God to serve in the Western Canadian Mission. Forty-eight years ago this month, 19-year-old Elder Sidney Going left New Zealand to serve as a missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
A mission instead of a place on the New Zealand All Blacks team? Sid responded, “The blessing of [bringing others] into the gospel far outweighs anything [you] will ever sacrifice.”

I want to tell you about my little brother, Hans. When he was born, he didn’t seem to like being here on earth. He would wake up in the night, and when he saw that he was still here, he would start crying. He would only stop when Mom fed him. After he got older, he seemed to feel better about being here.
We slept in the same room, and at bedtime we always played games. He would never just go to sleep. After Mom kissed us goodnight and shut the door, Hans would jump up, hold onto the rail of his crib, and begin to bounce. He would wave and yell at me until we both were laughing hard. I really liked sharing a bedroom with him, even if he was a baby.
Some people think that babies are a bother, but Hans wasn’t. He was good. He would watch us, then try to do everything we did. He used to go around the house picking up little pieces of rubbish that no one else saw. Then he would run to the wastebasket and throw them in. He always tried to help everybody. He was smart about it too. One day he decided to help Mom. He climbed up onto the stove when he was alone in the kitchen. Later we found him sitting beside the burners stirring a pot full of cold water. When we came in, he clapped his hands and said, “Oh, see!”
Hans was very adventurous. He wasn’t afraid of anything. His best trick was to climb up our big bookcase. He could get nearly to the ceiling. Mom always lifted him down, but I thought that he was better than a mountain climber.
Once I did something terrible to him without meaning to. He was coming up the stairs, steadying himself with his hand on the wall. When he got to the door at the top, his hand poked through where the door hinge is. I didn’t see him, and I slammed the door on his finger. He screamed and screamed. Mom and Dad rushed him to the hospital because the end of his finger was badly cut and he needed stitches. I felt awful. But when he came back home, he gave me a hug, so I knew that he still loved me. He was really brave and hardly ever cried about his finger, and he wasn’t even two years old! I felt awfully proud of him.
When the weather was nice, we used to go for walks together down the street. He really liked to play in the vacant field, running on his little legs along the paths. He liked the flowers and bugs and birds too.
I guess that we had the most fun one day when Mom went visiting teaching. She left Daddy to take care of us. He was busy in his study, so we looked for something fun to do until Mom got home. Hans opened a cupboard and took out a big can of flour. He took off the lid and showed it to me. It looked like something fun to play with, so we took it into the living room, where he poured it all onto the carpet. Then we rubbed it in big circles. If felt soft and nice. Hans rubbed a white circle around one of his eyes. He looked so funny! Mom came home right after that, and she couldn’t get mad when she saw how funny he looked. She just got her camera and took a picture of us.
Now I’m really glad that she took the picture. It helps me to look at it. It helps me to tell you about Hans too. You see, he got really sick last month—Mom said it was meningitis. Even though the doctor and the bishop came to help, he died, and I don’t ever want to forget him.
We all cried when Hans died. Mom and Dad hugged each other and cried. They hugged me too. Our neighbors and friends came over, and they cried. I’m glad that our friends were there. Mom and Dad had to be gone sometimes, getting things ready to bury Hans. It helped to talk to my friends. It helped to just sit on the porch with them beside me.
Mom decided to make a little white suit for Hans to wear for his funeral. She got the pants made, but when she had trouble with the jacket, one of her friends took it and finished sewing it. She and Dad went to the mortuary to put the suit on Hans.
After Mom and Dad came back, we all dressed in our Sunday clothes. My grandmas and grandpas were there too. We went together to the mortuary to see Hans. The stake president, who is also the mortician, was there, and he put his arm around me. That helped me feel better.
I never saw anyone dead before. I knew that Hans would be different, that he wouldn’t be able to talk to me. I wondered how I would feel when I saw him.
Mom held my hand, and we went into a beautiful room with lots of flowers. There was quiet music playing. The room was just for our family so that we could be alone with Hans.
Hans was lying in a casket. It looked like a little white bed. His eyes were closed. He looked different, but he looked nice.
Hans’s funeral was in the morning. All my cousins and aunts and uncles came. Our friends and neighbors were there, too, and we sang “I Know My Father Lives.” Mom and Dad played a song for Hans on the piano and then talked a lot about Jesus.
Hans is buried near a little pine tree. I like that tree. Dad says that we can watch it grow. It will remind us that Hans is really alive, too, only with Jesus.
I know that Hans will always be my brother because Mom and Dad were married in the temple. I didn’t know how important that was until Hans died. Now I do.
Sometimes we go to the cemetery to put flowers on Hans’s grave. I told Mom that it’s kind of like the park where we had our family reunion. She hugged me tightly and told me that when Resurrection Day comes, the good people who have been buried will meet with everybody that they love, and it will be the biggest family reunion that you ever saw. I can hardly wait to hug Hans when he is resurrected. I miss him a lot, but I know that he is happy because he lives with Heavenly Father and Jesus.
When I die, I won’t be afraid, because I will see Jesus, and I will be with Hans again. I am going to try to be as good as Hans was so that we can live together some day.
When I take the sacrament, I think about how Jesus was resurrected so that we can be too. I love Jesus for doing that. Even though Hans is dead, because of Jesus I can feel happy.

I grew up in the city of Minas, Uruguay. When I was six years old, my mother and older sisters were baptized into the Church. My father never joined the Church, but he was always happy that we went to church. He even kept the Word of Wisdom and paid tithing.
Our branch was very small, and we did not have a church building. We met in a rented house. The house had a small swimming pool outside that we used for baptisms.
As my eighth birthday got closer, I was excited about being baptized. But on the day of the baptism, it was raining and very cold. My mom said that maybe I shouldn’t be baptized that day because of the cold weather. But it was my birthday, and I wanted to be baptized on that day.
I remember putting on my white clothes and getting into the pool to be baptized. I knew that the water would be cold, but I did not feel cold. I knew that I was doing the right thing, and I had a warm feeling.
A short time later a chapel was built for our branch. At that time Church members could help build the meetinghouses. My job was to pick up nails and screws that had fallen on the ground so they could be used again. It was a simple job, but it was very important to me. It taught me how to serve, and it helped prepare me for future Church service. Remember that even though you are young, the things you do now matter.

Meet Esther (left) from the Calabar Nigeria South Stake. After taking the gathering place baking class, she has become self-employed. She opened her own home-based business where she makes her own products and distributes them to various outlets. She wraps each of her items for individual sale and supplies over 10 establishments. Her business is growing every day under the name “Esther, Snacks and Chops.”

I remember, when very young, helping my mother and dad in our movie theater in Raymond, Alberta, Canada. I enjoyed it because we were together—selling popcorn or tickets. When it came time to clean the big theater, I had the privilege of doing it with my dad. We each had our own jobs to do and yet we did them together. I noted later in life that I had retained the desire to keep things neat and orderly.

The article “No Spoonful of Sugar” in the May 1988 New Era really disappointed me. It seemed to me that you accentuated the negative and eliminated the positive.
I am a nanny of eight months, and I am having a wonderful time. My testimony has grown along with my sense of responsibility. I know that there are some hard situations, but not all are bad.
My employees have treated me very well, and they help to work out any problems I might have. They even gave me a plane ticket home for Christmas.
I would not have missed this experience for anything. I really wish you had printed a few more positive examples.
I really enjoy reading the New Era articles and thought you would like to know how my nanny friends and I felt about the article.
Louann BishopNingham, Maryland

Looking back on his life, a man recently shared this tender story with me: “When I was growing up, my father was less active in the Church. He struggled with alcohol—and in his darkest moods could become harsh and accusing. He normally didn’t object to Mom serving in the ward. She worked in Primary for 38 years, and during much of that time she also served in Young Women. She carried a heavy load. Her marriage was difficult, and I now know that she was discouraged at times, but I didn’t know it then.
“I didn’t realize until later that the sisters in our ward were her strength. She didn’t work in the Relief Society leadership, but she always attended the meetings, and she loved her friends there. I never thought of them as the ladies of Relief Society; they were simply Mom’s sisters. They cared about her and loved her. She had all brothers and all sons. She found the sisters she wanted and needed in our ward. I know she shared her feelings with them—feelings she couldn’t express anywhere else. None of that seemed ‘Relief Society’ to me then, but I understand now that it was.”

Then something wonderful happened. Don Rubén Orlando Vallejos, the father of Matías and Elías, was finally baptized. Brother Vallejos is a butcher by profession, and his work schedule made it difficult for him to attend church. But watching his sons progress and serve others had inspired him. There was a great celebration on his baptism day, with asado (grilled beef) to top it off! Even more impressive, however, were the spiritual feelings of those who attended.
Matías and Elías asked their friend Esteban what he thought about the baptism. “I answered that I had felt something special and I liked it very much,” Esteban recalls. They asked if he would like to listen to the discussions. “I said that I would. ‘In fact,’ I said, ‘I’d like to be baptized.’” A few weeks later, having been taught the gospel, Esteban was baptized. And soon he was ordained a deacon.

Peter really missed Grandpa. Mom and Dad had said that Grandpa wouldn’t be home until summer was over. Grandpa was in Kansas, helping people learn about the Church, and he was happy. Peter wanted Grandpa to be happy, but he also wanted to show Grandpa how much he’d grown and how he could ride his bike without the training wheels and how many new birds and little animals he’d found in the woods where he and Grandpa always walked together.
One afternoon a thick envelope addressed to Peter came in the mail. It was from Grandpa, and inside was a small packet and a short letter. Inside the packet were five large black-and-white striped seeds. Mom read the letter to Peter:
“Dear Peter,
Here is a mission surprise for you. Find a nice sunny place by the fence to plant the seeds. If you water them a little every day, you will grow something that we can share with our special friends.
Love,Grandpa”
Mom gave Peter a big, old spoon, and Peter dug five little holes in the soft, warm soil by the fence. He put one seed in each hole, then covered it with soil and patted it down with his hand.
Peter found a watering can in the shed and watered the ground every day, just as Grandpa had told him. But nothing happened. Peter told Mom, “I don’t think Grandpa’s seeds are going to grow.”
Mom smiled at him. “You have to be patient,” she said. “It will probably take at least another week before they push up out of the ground.”
“How many days are in a week?” Peter asked. “I want to see what the mission surprise is. Besides, the sooner the seeds grow, the sooner Grandpa will be home.”
“There are seven days in a week,” Mom told Peter. “Look. Every morning when you get up, cross off one day on this calendar. When you get to this one with the circle around it, you will know that a week has passed.”
So Peter watered the seeds and marked the calendar every day. And sure enough, on the day that was circled, five little green bumps were coming out of the ground!
Soon the bumps were little plants, and then they were big plants! Peter was astonished each time he watered them at how much they grew every day. Soon they were taller than he was, and he still didn’t know what they were or whom he and Grandpa were going to share them with.
One flower grew at the top of each tall plant. Peter had never seen such big flowers. They were even bigger than Mom’s dinner plates, and they followed the sun all day.
Before long summer was nearly over, and Peter was worried. The flowers had gotten so fat that they drooped over and no longer followed the sun. Would they die before Grandpa came home? How could he and Grandpa share dead flowers with their friends? And Peter still didn’t know who the special friends were.
Then one bright sunny afternoon, Grandpa came home. “I see you took good care of the sunflowers, Peter,” he said. “Let’s go cut them down and dry out the seeds. They’ll be a wonderful treat for our special friends this winter.”
Sunflower seeds! Now Peter understood—and he could guess who the special friends were too. All the little animals and the birds would be very happy to share Grandpa’s mission surprise.

My husband, Cyrus, and I were married in the temple on May 23, 2006. Before we were married, his work in a laboratory required Cyrus to work on Sundays. He had a shifting schedule, but he usually worked from midnight to 8:00 a.m. After work he would go home to change from his uniform to Sunday dress and then go straight to church, which started at 9:00 a.m. He continued this schedule after we were married.
Sometimes I went to church alone because he was delayed at work. We always wished he didn’t have to work on the Sabbath. On the first Sunday of June 2006, we had our first fast as a married couple. We prayed in faith that Cyrus would be blessed with a job that would not require him to work on Sundays.
A few days later at about 10:00 a.m., I wondered where Cyrus was because he usually came home between 8:00 and 9:00 a.m. Suddenly a thought came to me: “He might be promoted.” Cyrus finally arrived around 11:00 a.m. As he entered our home, he said he had good news and bad news.
I told him to tell me the bad news first. He said we would soon leave Iligan, Philippines, and move to Panay, Philippines. I did not like the news at first because we loved the people in our stake. They were kind to us and treated us as their own, knowing that Cyrus and I had no family nearby.
When I asked him why we needed to move to Panay, he said it was because of the good news. His boss had interviewed him for another job located in Panay. I immediately asked him not about his salary but whether the job would require him to work on Sundays. When he answered, “No!” I was very happy. I hugged him and told him that his new job was the answer to our prayers and fasting. Two months later, Cyrus started his work in Panay.
Heavenly Father is mindful of us, and He blesses us when we exercise faith and obey His commandments. I am grateful for the principles of prayer and fasting. My husband’s job is a blessing to us. Now he has time to magnify his calling in our ward, and the only work he does on Sunday is the Lord’s work.

That evening as we were finishing dinner, Mom announced, “A letter came from Grandma today.”
“What did she say?” I asked, excited.
“How’s her garden?” Bryce wanted to know.
Mom smiled. “I think your prayers have been answered.”
“How?” I questioned.
“An LDS family down the street from her knew that she needed help, so they decided to make that a family project. At least once a week they go there and lend her a hand.”
Bryce looked across the table at me and grinned. “Maybe we prayed that family over to Grandma’s garden.”

Eagle Scout Allen E. Wyatt, president of the teachers quorum in his Ohio ward, brought honor to the youth of the Church when he won the Dan Beard Council speech contest and then went on to win the area contest held in Columbus, Ohio. Next came the east-central region run-off where he placed fourth and received an all-expense paid trip to Washington, D.C. In Washington Allen attended a congressional breakfast with congressmen and senators and observed the national finals of the contest at the national Scout office.
Allen is active in the Church and since his conversion four years ago has been instrumental in bringing his family into the Church. Among other honors, Allen was a winner in the Optimists Speech Contest and the PTA poster contest in Hamilton, Ohio.

I was shy and a bit of a bookworm. I’d pick reading and arithmetic over recess and soccer any day. I always did well in school, and I earned good grades. But my mother knew that I needed more than straight A’s in school. She always encouraged me to do active things and to get involved in other activities. Most of the time I would have stayed home, but her influence helped me gain other leadership abilities, and I developed a willingness to meet challenges and try new things. By the time I left high school, I was “into” varsity basketball and many outside clubs and other activities.