Gospel Story Finder

It was Easter morning, and Peter was grumbling.
He had looked everywhere, but he couldn’t find his favorite black church socks. Instead, he put on the only socks he could find—white ones with holes in the toes—and walked into the kitchen.
“Mom, can you pour me some cereal?” Peter asked as he plopped into his chair.
His mother and his stepfather, Jack, were dressing his two baby brothers, who were screaming so loudly it hurt Peter’s ears.
“Peter, can you do it yourself, please?” his mom answered. “I’m really busy.”
Peter understood that he needed to do his part to help at home. He knew Mom couldn’t do as much for him as she did before the babies were born. Sometimes it seemed to Peter as if nobody noticed what he was doing, but he tried to choose the right anyway.
As Peter poured the milk, he spilled some on his shirt and pants. He grumbled as he grabbed a towel and tried to wipe himself off.
Peter hadn’t always been grumbly. His grumbling started around the time his parents divorced and Dad moved to another state. After Mom married Jack, Peter got twin baby brothers who seemed to take up all of Mom’s time. It seemed Mom and Jack were always feeding the babies, dressing them, or getting them ready for bed.
Sometimes Peter felt sad and alone. Even though he was eight years old, he still wished someone would help him do things like thread his belt through all the loops of his pants or comb his hair the right way. Sometimes at night, when he heard Mom singing a lullaby to his little brothers, he wished she would sing to him too. Peter wished things could go back to the way they used to be. This is why he grumbled.
As his family walked to church, Peter kicked at the rocks on the sidewalk. He followed Mom and Jack, who were carrying the babies. In sacrament meeting, Peter didn’t feel like listening to the talks. He drew pictures in his notebook instead.
Later, Peter was talking to his friend Thomas in Primary class when his teacher said something that made him stop.
“Jesus knows and loves all of us,” Sister Jones said.
Peter didn’t believe her. “He doesn’t know me!” he said.
Sister Jones turned to Peter. She said softly, “Peter, Jesus knows everything about you. He knows you have two baby brothers that you help take care of. He knows you are having a hard time and feeling lonely. And He knows that you help your mom and dad because you want to do what’s right.”
Peter hadn’t thought anybody knew all those things about him, especially the part about being lonely but still trying to choose the right. But as he listened to Sister Jones’s words and saw her kind smile, a warm feeling pushed out the lonely, grumbling feelings inside him.
“Peter, if you are feeling happy, then you are feeling the Holy Ghost,” Sister Jones said. “He is telling you that what you are hearing is true—Jesus does know and love you.”
Peter knew he was feeling the Holy Ghost. It made him feel happy to know that Jesus really did know him and love him.
After Primary, Peter walked home from church with his family like he always did. Mom and Jack carried the babies while Peter walked behind. But now he understood that he never really walked alone—Jesus knew everything about him and loved him.

Another example of the power of selfless love is the experience of my friends Thales and Charone Smith, recently returned from a humanitarian mission in Albania. He a pediatrician and she a nurse, they were the Church’s first missionaries there. They went about this work as they had through forty-six years as partners in marriage. Each found ample opportunity to use their individual attributes. Thales worked as a clinical instructor in a pediatric hospital that served a wide range of services for children. Charone was assigned to a dystrophy hospital, where eighty children from infancy to two or three years of age were treated for nutritional deficiencies and other severe problems. Because the hospital served a wide radius, mothers and fathers could seldom visit. Some children were abandoned there because of the poverty and desperate circumstances of their parents. When Charone arrived, the tiny patients were apathetic and unresponsive. Most were swaddled so that they lay in their beds listlessly. She observed that the doctors and nurses were professional and did well to keep the children fed and clean, but that was all done on a strict schedule. Demonstrativeness and individual caring were completely lacking. Charone was assigned to the care of ten children. She began singing and talking to them as she worked. At first they didn’t even look at her. She held them during their feedings instead of propping their bottles, and she commented to them about each other. Within two weeks, they were looking at her and following her gestures with their eyes. After six weeks, the changes could be seen by anyone. The children had begun to smile, they gained weight, and their personalities began to emerge. Charone exercised their limbs and gave them practice sitting up. Her charges progressed so well that the doctors modified her schedule so that she and others could nurture all eighty children. Although the little patients still faced difficulties, by the time Charone left, all were thriving as individuals. Love is not just good, it is essential to life.

Summers in San Antonio, Texas, can get hot, very hot. But this particular Saturday in July, the temperature was record breaking, well over 100 degrees Fahrenheit. And best of all—yes, best of all—most of the teens in the San Antonio Texas Stake were lost.
They had forgotten themselves, their own aches and pains, their own problems and worries, and even the heat. They were lost in service to a group of children they would never meet face to face. They were refurbishing the play areas, grounds, and buildings of Providence House, a day-care facility devoted to children with life-threatening illnesses. Because of the children’s illnesses, the group would not be allowed to meet those who would benefit directly from their work.
For these teens, their youth conference was devoted to service, the true kind of service that is given with no thought of reward, even the reward that comes from seeing the smiling faces of children. They had chosen to dress modestly, even though temperatures had virtually never been higher. They chose to work outside or inside until every job was finished. And they chose to work with an attitude that they hoped would please their Heavenly Father.
The adult leaders took every precaution. They made sure teens had plenty to drink and were taking rest breaks in the shade or inside in the air conditioning. They even broke out a shaved-ice machine to serve plenty of cooling, flavored ice. They had also worked carefully with the director of Providence House in identifying exactly what needed to be done so the correct materials and tools were on hand.
Carol Bova-Rice, the executive director of Providence Home and Family Services, said, “I cannot find the words to express our appreciation. Other groups have offered to help, but they didn’t want to do big things. With this group, we planned what really needed to be done in advance, no matter how big. It’s wonderful.”
Taking their theme from the scriptures, the stake youth council agreed on the title “Mission Possible.” They liked the idea that individually they could not accomplish much but “with God all things are possible” (Matt. 19:26). They were particularly excited about combining the usual youth conference dances and barbecues with an outstanding service project. They wanted something substantial so the teens could really pull together to accomplish something big, something that would be memorable, and something that would teach a great lesson of Christlike service.
Hannah Clark, one of the teen co-chairs of the youth conference, explained, “There are some people that need our help. That’s where we need to come in and be like Christ. We need to serve. That is the pure love of Christ. It’s charity. That is the way to do it, by serving, even if we can’t see them and even if we don’t even know who they are. We are becoming more the way that we should be when we do those things.”
“We’ll have to visualize the children coming in,” said Chris Weirich, another youth co-chair, “and seeing the new things in a room, the new murals, all the new materials, the repainted play equipment, the new grow boxes; you just have to visualize it. You won’t see them, but you can still feel their excitement.”
On youth conference Saturday, Providence House was bustling. Everyone was assigned a group, and each group was assigned a job. Because of the red T-shirts issued for youth conference, the scene was literally a sea of moving, shifting colors. Everyone had a cleaning rag, a paintbrush, a broom, a vacuum, a hammer, or a rake in hand. Every spot that needed cleaning was cleaned. Everything that needed a new coat of paint was painted. Every weed was pulled. Every toy was sterilized. Every shelf in the storage closets was stacked with donated food or supplies. The San Antonio Stake youth had indeed taken on the big things.
Even as hot and tired as they were, by early afternoon nearly everything had been finished. The group returned to the stake center for a testimony meeting. One after another, they spoke about the things close to their hearts, about giving service without complaint, about how positive they were about the truthfulness of the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Sandra Clark summed up how she felt, saying, “I’ve never been so sore and so happy with everything that’s going on around me. So many things were done with the right spirit this weekend.”

Many years ago I worked in the head office of one of our railroads. One day I received a telephone call from my counterpart in Newark, New Jersey, who said that a passenger train had arrived without its baggage car. The patrons were angry.
We discovered that the train had been properly made up in Oakland, California, and properly delivered to St. Louis, from which station it was to be carried to its destination on the east coast. But in the St. Louis yards, a thoughtless switchman had moved a piece of steel just three inches.
That piece of steel was a switch point, and the car that should have been in Newark, New Jersey, was in New Orleans, Louisiana, thirteen hundred miles away.

For several months I didn’t attend seminary. It was hard for me to get up early, and I thought it was all right not to go because it didn’t help me much in school.
One day my friend told me that the teacher had taken my name off the attendance roll. I thought about the valuable things I had missed in seminary. So the next day at 5:45 a.m., I made myself get up to go to seminary.
For the next couple of mornings it was hard for me to get up, but I put the effort into making it there. After that, I noticed I felt rested and alert, had a better attention span, and was able to absorb more information at school and actually remember it when it counted.
Seminary has been a good experience for me because it has made my days at school go more smoothly. Seminary has also given me a better understanding of the gospel and the Church, which will help me when I serve a mission.

After investigating for years, Grandpa joined the Church. He faithfully served and was stalwart and filled with integrity. Before we had stakes in Norway, he served as a counselor in the Young Men presidency for all of Norway. He was serving as a counselor in the Stockholm Sweden Temple presidency when he passed away in 1986.
In his talks, Grandpa shared his thoughts and feelings and the struggles he faced investigating the Church. He had to humble himself to pray about joining the Church. He received an answer and acted on it.

Wong Yun Tai has no problem remembering the warm September evening in 1984. Two missionaries were tracting in the Wu Yuet House, a government housing project in the Tuen Mun area of Hong Kong’s New Territories where the Wong family lived. On the 21st floor, 15-year-old Wong Yun Tai, who goes by the English name of Belle, was eating dinner when a knock came at her door. Two strangers wearing ties, white shirts, and curious black name tags were talking to her through the metal gate that remained locked even though the door was open.
Belle was busy eating, so she told her two visitors to come back in an hour. “I was interested in religion, and I really wanted to know what was true. I just didn’t know which church was true. It was just like Joseph Smith. I really wanted to know which church was God’s true church,” recalls Belle.
When the missionaries returned, she listened politely to their message. Afterward, they gave her a Book of Mormon to read, closed with prayer, and then left. It was a simple meeting with powerful results. “When I prayed, I had a very unique, good feeling in my heart,” she says.
A month later, Belle was baptized. Then the real work began. Belle, the second oldest child of Wong Hong Tsuen and Wong Leung Nan Ho, wanted her parents and brothers and sisters to experience the same gospel joy that had become such an important part of her life. Belle began sharing what she had learned. And now, 11 years later, she’s still sharing.
Since those humble beginnings, seven of the eight Wong children have joined the Church, and Mom and Dad were baptized two years ago. Belle served a mission in Hong Kong, and two younger sisters, Angela and May, are currently missionaries in their native country, a British crown colony located near the southern tip of China.
The example Belle, who is now 26, set for her family is not lost on the two remaining teenagers in the Wong home—Belle’s younger sister, Wong Cho Ho, 19, who goes by the English name of Rambo, and 16-year-old Wong Wah Kan (Simon).
“Before I was a member, I’d always notice Belle. She wasn’t lazy. Every Sunday she’d get up and go to church,” says Simon, who was baptized in 1992. “When Belle was a missionary, she was a good example to my family and she helped us.”
Rambo, who adopted her unique English name several years ago, also credits her sister’s influence in her own conversion. “Belle has been a great example to me in my life,” she explains.
Because Rambo is the youngest Wong daughter, her parents were hesitant at first to allow her to join the Church. “When I was younger, I began going to church each Sunday even though I hadn’t been baptized,” she recalls. “At first, my parents didn’t want me to join the Church. So I would go with Belle every Sunday, but I wouldn’t take the sacrament.”
This is where the story takes on an ironic twist.
“A lot of members of the ward would look at me and think I was a member,” she continues. “They would ask me to be a fellowshipper for the missionaries’ investigators even though I was still an investigator myself. As I got older, my testimony began to develop and I learned more about the Church.”
When Rambo was finally baptized in 1990, she joined Belle in teaching gospel principles to older sisters Mandy, May, Angela, and Agnes, as well as to Simon. She also continued “officially” fellowshipping other investigators at church each Sunday. “When I was a kid, I liked to play and have fun. But when I got older, I received a testimony—a true testimony—and I wanted to share it,” Rambo says.
One of the first people Rambo thought of was Agnes. “When I would go to church, at first I was pretty bored. I liked to talk to the missionaries, but I didn’t like to talk about the Church,” says Agnes, who is two years older than Rambo. “Rambo would talk to me and try to help me understand more about the gospel. Finally I decided to investigate the Church because Belle was so serious and made so many sacrifices for the Church, and I could see what the Church was beginning to mean to Rambo.”
Rambo also talked about the gospel with Simon and helped him with his decision to be baptized. Simon’s now a priest in the Tuen Mun Second Ward.
So this is how it works. Two missionaries talk to Belle, Belle joins the Church and begins fellowshipping Rambo. Rambo is baptized and begins talking about the gospel with Agnes and Simon. Agnes and Simon are baptized, as are Mandy, the Wongs’ oldest daughter, and May and Angela. This wasn’t trickle-down fellowshipping. This was a waterfall.
Simon likes to think back to the time when he began seriously investigating the gospel. He remembers praying for the first time. “I really didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to pray or what I should say,” he remembers. “But I always felt good when I prayed.”
Before Simon joined the Church, Sundays were reserved for rest and relaxation. He would generally sleep in, then get up and play soccer with his friends. These days, his friends don’t even bother asking him to play games on the Sabbath. “They know now that I won’t play on Sunday. I’ve already told them I don’t do that, and they understand why I don’t and what I do instead,” he says. Sundays for Simon generally consist of church meetings and scripture reading. “I love studying in the Book of Mormon—especially about Lehi and the faith he had. My own faith isn’t great so it’s good for me to read about someone who was so strong.”
Belle loves to talk about the impact the gospel has had in the lives of her family members, but deflects any credit aimed at her. Instead she acknowledges the role of the Spirit in helping her family grow in the gospel. “I don’t know how much help I’ve been to my family, but I do know Heavenly Father has helped my family a lot.”
Simon disagrees with his big sister’s assessment of her role. “When Belle was a missionary, it brought my family many blessings. I think she was a great missionary, and I know she helped a lot of investigators receive baptism,” he says.
Simon should know. Once upon a time, he was one of those investigators. Now, each night as they sit down to dinner, Mandy, Agnes, Rambo, Simon, and Brother and Sister Wong can look at one another and see living proof of Belle’s gospel-sharing legacy.

During the days of Joseph Smith, there were some who were pretenders to apostolic authority. One such was an elder who was sent by Joseph Smith to preach the gospel. It was not long until he proclaimed himself a high priest and that he had been ordained by an angel from heaven. He deceived some Church members. He was called back to Ohio by the Prophet Joseph Smith and questioned about his claims. He soon confessed that he had lied and begged forgiveness. Orson Hyde, one of the Twelve Apostles, recorded the principle that the Prophet then taught all those who were assembled in the School of the Prophets:
“No true angel from God will ever come to ordain any man, because they have once been sent to establish the priesthood by ordaining me thereunto; … the priesthood being once established on earth, with power to ordain others, no heavenly messenger will ever come to interfere with that power by ordaining any more. … You may therefore know, from this time forward, that if any man comes to you professing to be ordained by an angel, he is either a liar or has been imposed upon in consequence of transgression by an angel of the devil, for this priesthood shall never be taken away from this church” (“Although Dead, Yet He Speaketh,” Millennial Star, 20 Nov. 1846, p. 139).

At home in a hidden-away corner, I have a small black walking stick with an imitation silver handle. It once belonged to a distant relative. Why do I keep it for a period now spanning more than 70 years? There is a special reason. As a small boy I participated in a Christmas pageant in our ward. I was privileged to be one of the three Wise Men. With a bandanna about my head, Mother’s piano bench cover draped over my shoulder, and the black cane in my hand, I spoke my assigned lines: “Where is he that is born King of the Jews? for we have seen his star in the east, and are come to worship him.” I vividly remember the feelings of my heart as the three of us “Wise Men” looked upward and saw a star, journeyed across the stage, found Mary with the young child Jesus, then fell down and worshipped Him and opened our treasures and presented gifts: gold, frankincense, and myrrh.

I especially liked the fact that we did not return to the evil Herod to betray the baby Jesus but obeyed God and departed another way.

The years have flown by, but the Christmas cane continues to occupy a special place in my home; and in my heart is a commitment to Christ.

Illustrations by Mark Robison
1 “I found the apples, Mom!” Jennifer called.
“Thank you, Jennifer,” Mom said as she put the bag of apples in the shopping cart. Jennifer felt good inside. Helping Mom shop was fun.
“Do we need anything else?” Jennifer asked.
“Nope, I think that’s it,” Mom said.
2 Jennifer followed Mom to the front of the store. She helped Mom stack the groceries on the moving checkout counter, being careful that heavy things, like apples, didn’t smash delicate items, like bread and eggs. The clerk at the cash register scanned each item under a red light with a loud “Beep!”
3 While she waited for Mom to pay for the groceries, Jennifer looked at the fun things at the check stand—toys, magazines, and shiny packages of candy. Then something caught her eye: a magazine-sized book with pictures and stickers from one of her favorite movies.
“Mom, can I have this?” Jennifer asked, holding up the book.
4 Jennifer’s mom looked at the book. “No, Jennifer. I am not going to buy that for you.”
“Why not?” Jennifer asked.
“Please put it away for now. We’ll talk about it at home,” Mom said.
In the car, Jennifer wondered why Mom had said no about the sticker book. After they got home and put the groceries away, Mom sat by Jennifer on the couch.
“I know you wanted me to buy that book for you,” Mom said. “I know that it’s your favorite movie and I can tell that the sticker book is something you really want. And that’s why I said no.”
Jennifer looked confused.
5 “I think it is something that you should earn for yourself,” Mom said.
“What do you mean?” Jennifer asked.
“Do you know how much the sticker book costs?”
Jennifer shook her head.
“Well, that’s the first thing you need to find out,” Mom said.
“The first thing before what?” Jennifer asked.
“Before you start earning the money to buy the sticker book for yourself.”
Next time they were at the grocery store, Jennifer found the price tag on the sticker book. Back at home, Mom gave Jennifer a notebook to keep track of her money and wrote the price of the sticker book next to the word “GOAL.”
Then Jennifer went to work. She washed windows and took out the garbage. She pulled weeds in the backyard and scrubbed spots on the carpet. When Mom paid her for the extra chores, Jennifer kept track of her earnings in the notebook. She put 10 percent of what she earned in a gray tithing envelope to give to the bishop. Then she put the rest of her money in a white envelope for the sticker book.
6 After several weeks, Jennifer looked inside her white envelope. She finally had enough money! She felt very grown up at the store as she carefully counted out the exact amount in bills and coins to pay for the sticker book.
When she got home, Jennifer placed the sticker book in her special drawer. She had worked long and hard to buy it, and she wanted to take good care of it. It made Jennifer feel good to know that she had earned something for herself.

A few years ago, I learned to index during a large indexing activity organized at the Les Abymes meetinghouse, led in part by Sabrina Bastien. It didn’t particularly captivate me as I found the documents difficult to read. Another time, I participated in an indexing activity on a Sunday with young people who had been called to serve as temple and family history consultants. I then began trying to do it alone at home, calling Sister Bastien for help when problems arose, and reading explanations on FamilySearch. I started indexing every Sunday afternoon. It became a way for me to help my family with their genealogy, as we are all part of our Heavenly Father’s family. If I find it easy to locate my close family, it’s because others have done work for me.
So, it’s my turn to return the favor. I noticed that by asking for help from our Heavenly Father, I could read certain writing more easily. This allowed me to have patience. During the first major COVID-19 lockdown, I indexed every day. And then every Sunday. I am happy to be able to help, through indexing, in bringing families together on both sides of the veil.
I used to index, but I stopped. This challenge encouraged me to resume service. [I found that] as soon as I engage in indexing, the Lord helps me stay calm, and patient, and I see difficult-to-decipher names light up. I feel joy in doing this service and want to do it over and over again. Thank you for the encouragement. Some of you (consultants) have the gift of motivating others to go further and contribute to this work. I am blessed and grateful to have you as brothers and sisters in Christ.
I started indexing when I became a Church member (10 years ago) And since then, I have participated in this work, thinking that I am serving others. I dedicate myself to it on Sundays in general, depending on my motivation level. My participation in the challenge this month helped me develop more patience and compassion for the people listed in the documents. And as Nathalie said, I developed the gift of indexing. I can add this gift to my list that I thought was empty.
During this indexing campaign, I learned that the Lord would allow me, with the help of other members, to better understand His work. I learned that with members who love each other, this work becomes a joy and a source of fulfillment. My relationships with my brothers and sisters have strengthened, thanks to this indexing month, and I love them even more intensely. I have developed, with other members, the gift of indexing.
Indexing did not interest me until now. The challenge allowed me to see indexing truly as a service rendered that will benefit everyone, the whole human family. The indexing group allowed me to get involved and be part of the game.
Indexing brings me even closer to Jesus Christ; it brings me a lot of joy when I do it. I feel a satisfaction that makes me want to continue. Thank you for your example.
This month of indexing has been revealing for me and has given me more momentum on the idea of indexing, and I am grateful to all of you. It also allowed me to become aware of several other things, among others: patience, perseverance, unity, and that whatever happens, the work of our Heavenly Father will move forward with or without us. So, I prefer to be part of it because I know more than ever that it is His work, and I am confident in the continuation of this mission because God cannot lie, and the spirit of Elijah is what will help us resist the difficulties to come in the last days.
I had already had the opportunity to index, but I admit it was not my favorite part of the work of family history. So, it was done a little here and a little there, especially during challenges. However, this year, because of all of you and the Lord, I felt a strength, and a motivation that allowed me to index beyond what I thought I could. I felt close to these people; I was participating in something marvelous. The spirit of Elijah was present. I sometimes saw the correct names materialize before my eyes. Indexing has taken on a spiritual dimension for me. I will continue to do it. The work must be done on both sides of the veil. So, yes, thank you, thank you to the Lord and to each of you for your encouragement, your help, and your love.

Not everyone agreed with him about the valley. Despite its streams and grassy fields, the new settlement was drier and more desolate than any place the Saints had ever gathered. From the moment he arrived, Sam Brannan had pleaded with Brigham to continue on to the green fields and fertile soil of the California coast.16
“I am going to stop right here,” Brigham had told Sam. “I am going to build a city here. I am going to build a temple here.” He knew the Lord wanted the Saints to settle in the Salt Lake Valley, far from other western U.S. settlements, where he was sure other emigrants would soon take up residence. Brigham appointed Sam to serve as president over the Church in California, however, and sent him back to San Francisco Bay with a letter for the Saints.17
“If you choose to tarry where you are, you are at liberty to do so,” Brigham noted in his letter. Yet he invited them to join the Saints in the mountains. “We wish to make this a stronghold, a rallying point, a more immediate gathering place than any other,” he told them. California, on the other hand, was to be a way station for Saints headed to the valley.18

The importance of what a good reputation means was emphasized to me when I entered into business many years ago with a great business leader. Our plans were to start a new wholesale business. He was to furnish the capital, and I was to furnish the management. After we reached an understanding he wrote me a check for a very large amount of money, and then he said, “If the business is a success, you will get all the credit; and if the business fails, you will likewise get all the credit.” He then went on to say, “Should the business fail, you will lose more than I will. I’ll only lose money, and I have more of that; but you will lose your reputation, which is much more valuable than money.”

I will never forget the value this highly successful businessman placed on reputation. Fortunately for both of us, the business was successful.

“Cassie,” her father called, “will you please see if the morning newspaper is here yet?”
Cassie got slowly off the couch and dragged her feet to the front door. She stopped a moment, closed her eyes, and whispered, “Please, please let there be a story about a circus or a baseball game on the front page.”
She opened the door and glanced at the paper resting on the doormat. “War Escalates” shouted the big, black headline. She quickly rolled up the paper with the headline on the inside and ran to give it to Dad.
That morning was current events day at school. Jason brought the front-page story about the war. Miranda brought an article about a hurricane in the Caribbean. Cassie’s clipping was about a dog who could water ski. Her teacher reminded her that a story about a dog was not important news, but she didn’t care. The entire current events bulletin board was covered with stories about wars, disasters, and crime. She pinned her cute picture of the dog where she could easily see it.
Cassie was glad to get home after school. She did her homework and helped Mom with the dinner dishes. Dad invited her to come sit beside him in the family room and tell about her day while he watched the news. She had just started talking about the funny article she had taken for current events, when the news showed pictures of children who had been hurt when a bomb exploded.
Cassie ran to her room and closed the door. She threw herself on the bed and covered her head with pillows. Her throat was tight, and her stomach felt like it did on the roller coaster at the fair. Tears rolled down her cheeks and onto her comforter.
After a long time, Cassie heard a soft knock on the door, “May I come in, Cassie?” her mother asked quietly.
“I guess so.” Cassie’s voice was muffled by her pillows.
“Honey, what’s wrong? Did you have a bad day at school?”
“Not exactly,” Cassie mumbled through the pillows.
“Would you like to talk about whatever is bothering you? I can come back later if you want to be alone for now.” Mom sat down on the edge of the bed.
Cassie rolled over onto her back, and the pillows slid onto the floor. She lay staring at the ceiling for a moment, then finally said, “Mom, does Heavenly Father love everyone the same?”
“Yes, He does.”
“Then why are there wars where people get hurt and die? Why are so many people in the world unhappy? If Heavenly Father loves us, why doesn’t He stop the fighting?”
Mom thought for a moment. “Those are good questions. Let’s see if we can find some answers. Do you remember a few months ago in family home evening when we talked about our life before we came to earth? We learned about an important meeting at which Heavenly Father presented His plan for us.”
“I remember. Satan wanted to make everyone choose the right way so we would all return to Heavenly Father.”
“That’s right,” Mom replied. “Why wasn’t his idea a good one?”
“Because we would lose the right to choose for ourselves.”
“That’s right—Heavenly Father knew that it was better to let us choose to follow His commandments, even though He knew that some of us would choose to disobey and that many would not be able to return to live with Him.
“He also knew that some people would choose to hurt other people, even good people and children. He knew that Satan would work very hard to get us to hurt each other, because Satan doesn’t want us to live with Heavenly Father again. He wants us to be unhappy, like he is.”
Cassie rolled onto her side and looked at her mother. She had an important question to ask, but she was afraid to hear the answer. “What if a war starts here? I’m afraid someone in our family will be hurt or killed.”
Mom gathered Cassie into her arms and rocked her gently. “Oh, honey, I wish I could promise you that nothing bad will ever happen to any of us. There may never be a war here in our town, but as the world turns more and more to wickedness, there will be more dangers and more trials that we will have to deal with as best we can.”
Cassie began to cry again. “I just can’t stand it, Mom. Everywhere I look there is sadness and pain. I wish I had been born some other time.”
“There has always been suffering in the world, Cassie, but I think I know how you feel—sometimes it’s a little bit overwhelming. But did you know that Heavenly Father saved you to come to earth now? You were strong in the premortal existence, and you had just the qualities that Heavenly Father knew you would need to be able to handle temptations and hardship.”
“Really?” Cassie thought for a moment. “Then why am I so afraid?”
“Because the world is a scary place for an eleven-year-old. I have several ideas that I think will help you, though. First, when you say your prayers every day, ask for peace to come to your heart. The Holy Ghost is a comforter, and He can make you feel better. He can’t take away the wars and fighting, but He can make it easier for you to deal with such problems. Second, I think you should ask Dad for a father’s blessing.”
Cassie remembered how she had felt better after her father’s blessing just before school started. “That’s a good idea. I always feel good after Dad blesses me.”
“Me, too,” said Mom. “Another thing that I think will help is to try to look for good things. Heavenly Father wants us to be happy. Even though we live in a wicked time when many things are happening that cause us pain, we can still find joy. You can enjoy a beautiful sunset, or playing with your brother and sister. Let Dad and me do some of your worrying for you, at least until you’re older.”
“OK,” Cassie sighed happily. “It’s a deal.”
“I know one other thing that I hope will help you, but it’s a surprise.”
“When will I find out what it is?” Cassie loved surprises.
“Give me a few days,” Mom answered, smiling mysteriously.
All that week Cassie tried hard to do as her mother had suggested. She did feel better after her father’s beautiful blessing, and she tried hard to enjoy every day. A few days later, she walked into her room after school, and there on her wall, hung where she would see it first thing every morning, was a beautiful cross-stitch picture in a large golden hoop. There were birds and flowers and butterflies on it, and right in the middle was the scripture in John 14:27—“Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.”

When Ron was about 17 and I was about 12, his teacher told him that he needed to gain a testimony of his own. He said to me, “I intend to find out for myself if the Church is true. I’m going to pay any price to know for myself.”
Over the next few weeks, I watched him. I’d find him on his knees praying. I’d see him reading the Book of Mormon. I was amazed at how diligent he was.
One morning a few weeks later, I found Ron lying on his bed with his knees tucked up on his chest. He had great pain in his lower right abdomen.
My mom called for an ambulance. As we stood there over my brother, Ron said to my dad through gritted teeth, “Please, I need a priesthood blessing.” I didn’t know if my dad knew how to give a priesthood blessing. I’d never seen him do it. But he laid his hands on my brother’s head and pronounced a blessing of healing. About the time my dad said, “Amen,” Ron jumped off the bed and said the pain was totally gone. He was absolutely thrilled that the Lord had answered his prayer through that blessing.
My parents still took my brother to the hospital to be checked. All the doctors could say was that Ron’s symptoms sounded like he had had a ruptured appendix, but now they could find no trace of a problem.
Later that day, Ron told me, “Gene, I now know that the gift of healing is real. When Dad put his hands on my head, I felt the Spirit of the Lord go through my whole body. I know the priesthood is real.”
Then he said, “I also now know for myself that the Church is true. Not because of the healing, but because of what has been happening to me in reading the Book of Mormon. I’ve got my testimony by reading and praying over every page. I know all that we’ve been taught in the Church is correct, and I am going on a mission.” I’d never heard Ron say that before. It was evident to me, even as a young boy, that he had really been impacted by something.

After 11 exciting years of working at that job, I was in a meeting one night with those developing an essential part of the nuclear power plant. My secretary came in and said, “There’s a man on the phone who says if I tell you his name you’ll come to the phone.”
I said, “What’s his name?”
She said, “Harold B. Lee.”
I said, “He’s right.” I took the phone call. Elder Lee, who later became President of the Church, asked if he could see me that very night. He was in New York City, and I was in Washington, D.C. I flew up to meet him, and we had an interview that led to my call to be a mission president.
The head of the program I was working for was Admiral Hyman Rickover, a hard-working, demanding individual. I knew him well enough that I felt I needed to tell him as soon as possible that I was being called. As I explained the mission call to him and that it would mean I would have to quit my job, he became rather upset. He said some unrepeatable things, broke the paper tray on his desk, and in the comments that followed clearly established two points:
“Scott, what you are doing in this defense program is so vital that it will take a year to replace you, so you can’t go. Second, if you do go, you are a traitor to your country.”
I said, “I can train my replacement in the two remaining months, and there won’t be any risk to the country.”
There was more conversation, and he finally said, “I never will talk to you again. I don’t want to see you again. You are finished, not only here, but don’t ever plan to work in the nuclear field again.”
I responded, “Admiral, you can bar me from the office, but unless you prevent me, I am going to turn this assignment over to another individual.”
True to his word, the admiral ceased to speak to me. When critical decisions had to be made, he would send a messenger, or I would communicate through a third party. He assigned an individual to take my responsibility, and I trained him.
It wasn’t going to be hard for me to leave; I knew I had been called as a mission president by the Lord. But I knew that my decision would affect others. In the Idaho Falls, Idaho, area were many members of the Church whose jobs depended upon working in the nuclear program. I didn’t want to cause them harm. I didn’t know what to do. My heart kept saying, “Is this going to turn out all right, or will somebody be innocently hurt who depends on our program for livelihood?”
As I prayed and pondered about it, I had a feeling about the hymn “Do What Is Right.” A line from the hymn would come to mind: “Do what is right; let the consequence follow.” Other words from the hymn were reinforcing such as “God will protect you; then do what is right!” (Hymns, no. 237).
My last day in the office I asked for an appointment with the admiral. His secretary gasped. I went with a copy of the Book of Mormon in my hand. He looked at me and said, “Sit down, Scott, what do you have? I have tried every way I can to force you to change. What is it you have?” There followed a very interesting, quiet conversation. There was more listening this time.
He said he would read the Book of Mormon. Then something happened I never thought would occur. He added, “When you come back from the mission, I want you to call me. There will be a job for you.”

My real acquaintance with and love for the book developed between 1929 and 1941, the years during which I practiced law.

After I had worked my way through law school, had passed the bar examination, and had been admitted to practice, I became concerned over the question of whether or not I could live the standards of the gospel of Jesus Christ and practice law at the same time. My father’s worrying about it added to my concern. I don’t know that he had heard the story, but I was told that some wag, walking through a cemetery, saw on a headstone the inscription, “Here lies John Brown, a lawyer, and an honest man.” Whereupon he added to the inscription: “I wonder why they buried all three of them in the same grave?”

Remembering the Prophet Joseph’s appraisal of the book, I decided upon and carried out the following procedure:

I went regularly to my law office half an hour earlier than my associates, locked the door, and spent 30 minutes each morning praying and reading the scriptures. During the 12 years I practiced law, I read the Book of Mormon through nine times.

Can you ever understand how a blind person, a deaf person, or a crippled person feels? Lana Brown, director of the Learning Resource Center for the BYU College of Nursing contracted episodic multiple sclerosis in 1966. For the next two years she was confined to a wheelchair for periods of time. This experience taught her that there are things about the handicapped that can never be fully appreciated from books—things that nurses need to understand.
She instituted “Assignment Wheels” as a requirement of the BYU College of Nursing program to give the nurses a chance to learn firsthand about the handicapped. The program demands that each nursing student spend some time in a wheelchair as part of her learning experience.
The girls are given a list of procedures that must be accomplished on wheels, including all the activities of daily living. They must spend half a day in a wheelchair with a classmate nearby to help in case of accident or danger.
Regardless of how difficult or awkward, they must open doors, attend classes, get lunch in the cafeteria, move around in the small space of rest rooms, negotiate the ramps into buildings, and use the elevators.
The coeds then submit a report on their experience, relating the emotions they encountered as well as sharing insights into the practical aspects of wheelchair manipulation.
“Most girls hate it,” Miss Brown emphasized, “but it’s valuable for them and they know this. They discover the many feelings involved as they observe others’ reactions to the physically handicapped. They find themselves watching the ground or their feet to avoid people’s stares. More importantly they become more comfortable working with the disabled. They also gain confidence when asked to demonstrate the handling of a wheelchair to patients who will be confined over short or long periods of time.”

Emma Swenson Hansen, another woman of great strength and endurance, regularly helped her husband in the fields when her “condition” would permit it and had the reputation for loading hay better than anyone in the community. Once the hay she was stacking slipped, and her husband saw her slide and fall to the ground. “What are you doing down there?” he asked. “I came down for more hay,” she gamely replied. Her history shows that she kept bees, milked cows, fed the calves, cared for the chickens, cut alfalfa with a scythe to give to her pigs, cured their pork, half-soled the family shoes, and made all the family’s clothing.3

One way to recognize our self-worth is to recognize the self-worth of those around us. Focusing on others helps us feel good about ourselves because we are building others up. It’s a win-win! When I struggled with self-confidence, I decided I would serve someone around me who needed help. Every day for a month I gave a compliment to a friend who was struggling. Focusing on others helped me feel worthy and needed. When we strive to love others for who they are, it becomes easier to see how much God loves us. Helping others feel worthy of love will help us feel worthy of love ourselves.
Jayme W., age 15, Minnesota, USA