Gospel Story Finder

Ben and his baby sister Ellie were all ready for church. Ellie sat on the floor with some toys. Ben looked at a book. Mommy was in Grace’s bedroom helping her get ready.
Then Ellie started to cry.
“Ben, can you help Ellie?” Mommy called.
“I’ll try,” Ben called back.
Ben looked at Ellie crying. How could he help her feel better?
“Look, Ellie. It’s your favorite teddy bear.” Ben gave the teddy bear to Ellie. But she kept crying.
“Ellie, here’s your ball.” He gave her a little red ball. But she pushed it away. Now she was crying even louder. She did not want her toys. What could Ben do?
“Look at me, Ellie!” Ben put his thumbs in his ears and wiggled his fingers.
Ellie looked at Ben making a funny face. She stopped crying!
“Watch this, Ellie!” Ben stuck out his tongue and wiggled his head. Ellie smiled. She started to giggle.
Ben made another silly face. Ellie was laughing!
“Thank you so much for helping,” Mommy said when everyone was ready for church. She gave Ben a big hug.
“I like it when Ellie is happy,” Ben said with a smile.

As I look back over my life I can see the guiding hand of the Lord in many things. Let me relate just one such instance. Sister Cullimore and I have lived most of our married life in the missions of the Church. At one time, when we lived in Oklahoma City, we were concerned that our teenage children were not able to have proper association with other children of their age who were members of the Church. Their association was almost entirely with nonmembers, and although they were wonderful young people we worried about them being able to marry in the temple without proper association with members of the Church. Our concern was so great we were considering leaving my employment and moving to an area where they would have this association.
About this time Elder Joseph F. Merrill of the Council of the Twelve was traveling through the mission with the mission president, and he stayed overnight with us. Sister Cullimore poured her heart out to Brother Merrill about our concern over the children. Elder Merrill said, “Don’t be concerned about it; this is where the Lord wants you. I promise you that if you teach your children the gospel, see to it that they attend their meetings in the Church, set a proper example for them in your home, and then when they are ready, see that they attend a Church school, they will marry in the temple.”
I had already made some rather serious commitments in reference to a change in employment that would have necessitated a move from the area. The next morning, after the conversation with Elder Merrill, I coincidently met a real estate dealer who told me of a building available that would be suitable for a furniture business. (I had previously asked him to watch for such a building for me.) In three days I had signed the lease on the building and given notice to my employer that I was leaving. Within thirty days our business was opened.
The Lord blessed us abundantly in the business. We saw the Church grow in the area. Our children have each married in the temple and are all active and involved in the Church.

Meagan Hansen (15) remembered the first time her family took him walking at the track. “There is a chain that prevents people from driving cars onto the track. My Dad asked Fernando, ‘How do you get over that?’ ‘I jump,’ he answered. Dad gave him a look, and Fernando said, ‘Seriously.’ So we wheeled him up to the chain and waited to see what he would do. He just lifted the chain up and rolled under it.”

Conner Hansen (8) said, “Sometimes I think my problems are really bad, but when I look at Fernando’s problems, I don’t complain.”

The Hansens add, “No matter what comes up, we don’t miss walking with Fernando. He’s amazing! He helps us keep an eternal perspective. It’s the best thing we do each month.”

Fernando works hard every single day to improve. “I always believed I would get better. I just take it one day at a time.”

“In time he will get better,” Talmage Hansen (11) declared. “He believes it, and so do I.”

Having so many friends in the ward who love and help him, and knowing that he is an invaluable influence in their lives, has helped Fernando continue trying. His strong spirit and testimony have spiritually strengthened those who have helped him strengthen his physical body.

Fernando may have to wait to serve a full-time mission, but he is touching the lives of the Primary children in his ward right now by his example of faith, patience, and trust in the Lord. And they are touching his with their patience, love, and service. “I hope that the children know that they really can help others,” he said.

We weren’t quite sure what to expect when the bishop of our ward in northern Utah, USA, encouraged the youth to attend the largest family history conference in the world—RootsTech, held in Salt Lake City. We followed his counsel, and a group of 30 people from our ward spent the day attending this amazing experience.
We listened to President Russell M. Nelson’s admonition to “do something to actually experience the joy [of family history and temple work] for ourselves.”1 We realized that the dates assigned to our ward by the Brigham City Temple for our youth baptism night and the ward temple night were only two days apart and we decided to follow President Nelson’s counsel.
One month later we held a name-gathering night, a combined Mutual activity for all of the youth and anyone else in the ward who wanted to participate. Everyone brought smart phones, tablets, or computers, and we hooked up to a printer so that we could print out temple-ready names right on the spot.
With the motivation of helping our ancestors (along with a pizza party), we helped each other until we found at least one family name in need of a temple ordinance. “I gained a testimony from the night I looked for names,” said Bryton W., 16. “I was struggling to find even one, but a leader kept pushing me, and I finally succeeded. It made me feel better knowing that I helped someone.”
We learned, worked, acted, taught, and shared. Finding family names to take to the temple touched us and bonded us together.
The following week, we took these names to the temple for our ward’s temple week. The youth did the needed baptisms and confirmations on Wednesday night, and the adults in our ward took it from there, culminating in sealings on Saturday. “It was my first time going to the temple,” said Tili W., 12. “I felt good knowing I was doing temple work for my ancestors. I want to continue doing this work, because I get a good feeling, almost like when I was baptized.”
Because of this experience, our ward has a new standard for participating in family history and temple work, and we are excited to continue finding names and taking them to the temple together.

The young couple’s courtship was interrupted when Elder Benson was called to the British Isles Mission. When he returned, he lost no time in proposing.
But Flora had a timetable of her own, and “Not yet” was her answer. She felt this young man needed a good education to be prepared for the great future ahead of him. Besides, she had received her own call to the Hawaiian Mission. She served twenty months, part of the time teaching in the Church schools; for the last eight months, her mother was her missionary companion.
One of young Sister Amussen’s mission duties was working part-time in the Hawaiian Temple. One night, as she was getting ready to leave, she discovered everyone else was gone. Her walk to the mission home was through a dense forest and by a camp where some dangerous incidents had occurred. She feared for her safety.
Before leaving the temple, Flora prayed for the Lord’s protection. As she stepped outside, a circle of light appeared and surrounded her. That radiance shone around and ahead of her as she walked through the forest, past the camp, and to the steps of the mission home, disappearing as she slipped safely inside. She has since felt encircled with security and guidance many times as she has trusted in the Lord, though never as literally as that night in a land far from home.
Returning from her mission, Flora prepared to marry Ezra Taft Benson, who by then had graduated from Brigham Young University. On 10 September 1926, Flora Amussen left a handsome monthly allowance to begin married life on a meager subsistence with her beloved T.
“I had inherited from my father quite a portion of worldly goods in stocks and dividends,” Sister Benson explains. “I turned all of this over to my widowed mother at the time of my marriage. I chose to marry a man who was rich spiritually, not materially. I preferred that whatever positions of honor or material things would come to us we would achieve together, starting at the bottom.”
Hours after the ceremony, the newlyweds left Salt Lake City to take a seventy-dollar-a-month postgraduate scholarship at Iowa State College at Ames, Iowa. They traveled east in a used Ford Model T pickup truck that contained all their earthly possessions, camping along the way in a leaky tent.
While her husband worked on his Master of Science degree, Sister Benson took courses in home economics. The couple learned new ways to make their money stretch through the month, always taking out seven dollars first to pay the Lord his tenth. “The lessons I learned were priceless,” Sister Benson recalls. “Money could not buy them. We lived on the Lord’s help and the love that bound us together.”
A few weeks after their marriage, “T” felt they needed some recreation and suggested a tennis game. “I tell you, I never was beaten so badly in my life at anything,” President Benson laughs. “I said, ‘Where did you learn to play like that?’ Flora replied, ‘Oh, I won the women’s singles championship at Utah State Agricultural College.’ I hadn’t known that.”
After Brother Benson’s graduation, the Bensons moved to a farm in Whitney, Idaho. “We had a heavy debt on the farm,” President Benson remembers. “It took hard work, budgeting, and planning to meet our obligations. Sometimes we would just get a cow paid for, and then we would have to sell it to pay the doctor for the arrival of a precious baby.”
But the Lord did not leave the young family on the farm for long. Brother Benson’s interests soon took him to Preston, then Boise, Idaho; then to California, for additional schooling; and eventually to Washington, D.C. It was his call to the Council of the Twelve in 1943 that brought them back to Salt Lake City.
Just two years later, at the close of World War II, Elder Benson was called by President George Albert Smith to go to Europe to reorganize the Church there and to distribute badly needed food, clothing, and medical supplies. President Smith lived near the Benson family and promised to watch over Sister Benson and the children while Elder Benson was away.
Although her health was severely tested during the ten months he was gone, Sister Benson’s steadfastness never wavered. Three months after Elder Benson left, their nineteen-month-old daughter, Beth, became seriously ill with pneumonia. Sister Benson’s constant faith and tireless nursing, accompanied by priesthood blessings, restored Beth to health.
Another chapter in the Bensons’ life began a few years later when Elder Benson, with the encouragement of President David O. McKay, accepted an appointment as United States Secretary of Agriculture under President Eisenhower. Sister Benson cheerfully moved her family to the nation’s capital, focusing her time and energies on her family and shunning much of the Washington social scene.
But on one occasion, as a missionary effort, Sister Benson decided to give a luncheon for Mrs. Eisenhower and the other wives of the president’s advisers. As was common practice in the Benson household, no outside help was hired for the affair. She and her four daughters spent weeks carefully planning a menu, cleaning their home, preparing entertainment, and reviewing etiquette and protocol.
If Sister Benson worried that her guests would miss the coffee, cigarettes, and card playing which normally were part of such affairs, she needn’t have. The cocktails made from ginger ale and home-bottled apricot juice were a great success, as was the entertainment—a choir from Brigham Young University that was touring the east coast.
“The most exciting part was the beautiful letters we received afterward from the women, telling us what a thrill it was to experience a touch of ‘Mormonism’ and what wonderful youth the singers were,” Sister Benson remembers.
Those Washington years, fraught with controversy and criticism over agricultural policy made Secretary Benson the target for more organized and sustained criticism than anyone else in high government office. Yet he was known for his peaceful manner and ability to stay cool under pressure.
What was his secret? American Magazine identified it as his home and family life, and more specifically Sister Benson. “[Secretary Benson] has gathered from both his religion and his close family life a strength and serenity that’s … unique in public life. … Flora is considered to be the pivot on which the family moves. Friends of the family agree that she acts as a leavening influence on her husband.” (American Magazine, June 1954, pp. 109–10.)
Her husband, children, and Church have been the principal focal points of Sister Benson’s life. Her husband has been absent from home at least half of their married life, leaving much of the family responsibility on her willing shoulders. She often declined invitations, even one from the President of the United States, when she felt she was needed at home.
“I would be willing to live in a log cabin if I could have my family and the gospel,” Sister Benson claims, then adds with a semi-serious wink, “Well, if the cabin is clean and I can have curtains at the windows.”
The Bensons’ family includes son Reed, his wife, May, and their nine children of Provo, Utah; son Mark, his wife, Lela, and their six children of Salt Lake City; daughter Barbara, her husband, Robert Walker, and their five children of Calgary, Alberta, Canada; daughter Beverly, her husband, James Parker, and their four children of Burke, Virginia; daughter Bonnie her husband, Lowell Madsen, and their six children of Littleton, Colorado; and daughter Beth, her husband, David Burton, and their four children of Salt Lake City. In addition, they have twenty great-grandchildren.
“I wanted a dozen children, but had to settle for a choice half dozen,” Sister Benson, says, adding, “If we just would have had twins every time, we would have made it.”
In her patriarchal blessing, given when Flora was only eighteen months old, she was promised that men would not be able to deceive her. That promise has been fulfilled in her discernment and unerring judgment. On meeting a person for the first time, she often relates her impressions to her husband, only to have those feelings shown to be correct at a later time.
“Mother has the ability to hear the whisperings of the Spirit,” agrees Reed. “Whenever she says, ‘I feel you should do such and such,’ I listen to her, because so many times she has been right. I have often walked into a room to find her on her knees, praying. I know that when she prays for you, you have a direct line of help.”
The Bensons enjoy one another’s company now more than ever, still going on frequent drives in the mountains, eating ice cream at a favorite spot, and singing and dancing together. Each day Sister Benson reads the Book of Mormon aloud to her husband, after which they discuss what they have read.
Both agree that one of the greatest strengths of their marriage is the absolute love and trust each has in the other. “I have never, never had any question about Flora’s loyalty,” President Benson stresses. Each is still happiest when they are together.
After singing “There’s a Long, Long Trail Winding” and “Let Me Call You Sweetheart” at a recent family gathering, President Benson smiled at his wife of sixty years, declaring, “You’d think we were still in love … and we are.”

Another young woman, Katie, was at camp. She felt angry and abandoned because of overwhelming family problems. Her testimony teetered, in serious jeopardy. But a concerned leader, in an effort to live up to his holy calling, wrote Katie a note saying, “I love you. I believe in you. You have a testimony, because I have heard you bear it in these ways.” Then he listed those ways. The note arrived at the right time; Katie was strengthened to live her covenants because someone else strived to live his.

My husband, Alvaro, entered his first marathon while he was in high school in Colombia. Much to his surprise, he won!
After that, he decided to start running more seriously. But he needed a pair of running shoes, and they were expensive. His parents were struggling to support their family of eight, and he hesitated to ask them if they would buy the shoes. However, when they realized how determined he was to run, they bought the shoes.
Alvaro joined the high school track team and trained daily. But as his first competition approached, the shoes began to wear out. Two weeks before the race, the soles tore away from the tops of the shoes. Alvaro didn’t want to ask his parents for another pair of shoes, so he found some thread and sewed them back together.
On the day of the race, Alvaro started off strongly and stayed comfortably with the group of runners as they circled the track. With only a few laps to go, he pulled away from the other runners to take the lead. At that same moment, the wire worked loose from the sole of his shoe and began to dig into his foot. Despite the pain he felt as the wire pierced his skin, he thought to himself, “I can’t give up.”
He didn’t. Running with determination, he crossed the finish line in first place—but with his foot cut and bleeding in several places.

The sun was shining and the birds were singing as Johnny skipped alongside his family on the way home from church one Sunday afternoon.
“Isn’t it a beautiful day?” Mom asked, taking a deep breath.
“The blossoms on the trees smell wonderful,” Dad said as he ruffled the top of Johnny’s short brown hair. “What did you learn in Primary today, pal?”
Johnny thought for a minute. “I learned that if I don’t know the right thing to do, I should ask myself the magic question.”
“What’s the magic question?” Mom asked.
Johnny grinned at Mom and Dad. “What would Jesus do?”
“That is a magic question,” Dad agreed. “Did you hear that girls?” he called to Katie and Kristen, who were a bit ahead of them.
“What, Dad?” Katie asked as she and Kristen waited for them.
“Johnny learned a magic question in Primary today. He learned that if we are having a hard time trying to decide what’s right and what’s wrong, we should ask ourselves the magic question. Tell them what it is, Johnny.”
“What would Jesus do?”
“I think that’s a very good idea,” Mom added. “I think we should all try it. Then we can talk about our experiences in family home evening tomorrow night.”
The next day after school, Johnny’s friend invited him to go to the store. Johnny went in to ask his mother for permission.
“Do you have any money?”
“I have two quarters that Grandpa Green gave me.”
“OK, have fun. Remember to be careful and watch for cars!” she called as he ran for the door.
“I can go!” he yelled to Jason, who was waiting on the front lawn.
On the way, they tried to decide whether to get a sack of penny candy or a candy bar or a Popsicle. When they got to Mr. Johnson’s store and looked at all the candy, they still couldn’t make up their minds.
Then Johnny noticed that the candy bars were fifty-five cents. He only had fifty cents, so he knew that he would have to buy either penny candy or a Popsicle. When he started toward the case of frozen treats, he saw Jason sticking a candy bar in his pocket. “What are you doing?” Johnny whispered in a scared voice.
“I only have thirty-two cents,” Jason whispered back. “I want a candy bar and some penny candy, so I’m going to sneak out the candy bar and pay for my penny candy with my money. What kind of candy bar do you want? I’ll stick it in my other pocket.”
Johnny remembered the magic question he’d learned in Primary the day before. He knew that Jesus would never steal. “No,” Johnny told Jason firmly. “It isn’t what Jesus would want me to do.”
“Oh come on, you big baby—no one will ever know.”
“But I’ll know, and so will Jesus.” A happy thought came to him. “I know—let’s put our money together. Then we can buy a candy bar and some penny candy, and we won’t have to steal anything!”
Jason thought about it for a minute. “OK,” he said. “We won’t have as much that way, but I feel better about doing it your way.”
The boys picked out their candy and paid Mr. Johnson for it. He smiled at them and said, “Thanks for coming in, boys.”
That night in family home evening when they talked about the magic question, Johnny told them what had happened at the store. They were all very proud of him. He felt good inside because he knew that Heavenly Father and Jesus were proud of him too.

Sue was extremely quiet as the family drove home from fast and testimony meeting. So quiet, in fact, that her father sought an opportunity within the hour to talk with her alone. To make a long story short, Sue was laboring under the illusion that she really didn’t have a testimony of the gospel. Two or three members that day had expressed “sure knowledge” that the gospel was true, and in tears Sue said, “Daddy, I can’t say that I know it’s true, and that troubles me.”
Sue’s dad was patient and understanding, for his mind was remembering clearly his teenage years of developing testimony.
“Sue,” he asked, “why do you pay tithing?”
“Because I know it’s a commandment from the Lord,” she replied promptly.
Sue’s dad then led her mind through a quick rerun of some basic principles, including the Word of Wisdom, the law of the fast, partaking of the sacrament, high moral standards, and prayer. To each of these Sue was able to relate positively and promptly. Soon she smiled at her father and said, “Gee, Daddy, I guess I do have a testimony of sorts about everything you mentioned. I suppose I could bear my testimony about the things I understand.”
And that’s the way it is with all of us. Sue had certainly felt a lack of security in this Church, which she loved, but not after her father had proven to her that she was on schedule with a developing testimony about many truths. Real security comes with a developing testimony. Hopefully, we’ll be spending much of our time here in mortality developing our testimony, improving our testimony, and sensing the wonderful security that comes with each new truth riveted securely in its place. We all have an urgent need for security.

Stacy was thrilled to be with her family at the Nauvoo Illinois Temple open house. “I must remember everything I see,” she reminded herself. Grandma had not been able to come with them, but she had asked Stacy to pay close attention and tell her all about it later.
Stacy studied the beautiful paintings of Jesus Christ on the walls and the carved wooden handrails on the stairs. Even though many people were visiting the temple, she felt a deep peace, as if she were all alone. “I’ll tell Grandma about the peaceful feeling,” she thought.
After visiting the temple, Stacy and her family walked around Nauvoo, admiring some of the other buildings.
Suddenly Stacy realized that she was not with her family anymore. She searched all through a tall brick building, but they weren’t there. She felt a lump growing in her throat. She walked down the street as two fat tears rolled down her cheeks.
Then she remembered that Daddy had parked their car near the temple. “If I go to the temple, my family can find me,” she realized. She looked right and left but could not find the temple. Then she heard a voice in her mind. “Look up.” She obeyed the voice and saw the tall white temple spire with the angel Moroni on top. When she reached the temple, she found her family looking for her.
As she happily hugged her mother, Stacy said, “I’ll tell Grandma about the pictures of Jesus and the peaceful feeling. But first I’ll tell her that if you get lost, you should look up so you can find your way to the temple.”

I participated in our stake goal to index 50,000 names. At first it was hard. On several occasions the batch I downloaded had difficult handwriting, and sometimes I wanted to return it and download a different one. But then I realized that if everyone thought like that, those batches would be left to the end. I could imagine many lines of people waiting in the spirit world, and I decided to continue trying to read those names and transcribe them without making a mistake.
I learned to have love for those people. I understood that they truly did need help, and we also needed help from them. I came to better understand that Heavenly Father’s perfect plan takes everyone into consideration. When we follow the inspiration and instructions of His chosen leaders, we will witness His mercy and infinite love.
Indexing has been a lovely experience for me. I learned to value and love many things about family history. I also obtained gifts of great value from our Lord by obeying something as simple as participating in indexing.

Just three years ago, at this same time of year, I had this great principle demonstrated to me at the hands of the Lord in a very special way. The Portland Oregon East Stake has been developing a dairy farm over the past half dozen years or more. It is located on an island in the Columbia River and is one of the largest single-stake projects in the Church. This fact, coupled with the need to develop the project almost from scratch, has placed a heavy burden upon our people, both in time and in money.

With a new project, we had run in the red each year, but 1977 was to be our turnabout year. The final result depended upon harvesting about seventy-five acres of corn, which was to be made into silage for feed. Unseasonably, it had rained almost every day during the month of September, and by the first day of October, our scheduled harvest date, I knew the crop was in trouble. We have a very high water table on the island, and when the ground gets saturated with too much water we get so much mud our harvest equipment cannot get into the fields without sinking. Once the land is saturated, it takes about a month of dry weather to make the fields passable to vehicles. During the winter months and right up until June, the corn ground is entirely under water.

I visit the farm about once a week, so I keep a pair of rubber boots in my car. I drove to the farm that October day and decided to pull on my boots and walk down into the corn fields. I immediately found even the road turned to mud and puddles. In places the mud came near the top of my eighteen-inch-high boots, and I don’t really know why I continued walking. It was a dark gray, overcast day, and drops of rain were splashing in the open puddles everywhere. The farm crew told me they had taken a corn chopper down into the fields a few days earlier but had it down to the axles in mud somewhere in the long corn rows.

As I walked I noticed that the corn itself was a fine crop, with row after row ten to fourteen feet high. Now, I rarely get depressed, but I was feeling really low that day. I knew how hard everyone had worked and what it meant to lose that fine crop. I eventually came to the spot where the chopper had gone in, and looking way down the rows I saw it sunk deep into the mud. For some reason I decided to walk to the chopper, and as I entered the rows and splashed on through the mud and water, I was startled to hear a voice. I am sure that the voice came to me only in my mind, but I could hear the voice and admonition of President Kimball. He said softly, "Is any thing too hard for the Lord?" (Gen. 18:14.) Now, like you, I have heard him say that many times, but I did not fully focus upon it before this time. I smiled to myself as I walked and said, "Yes, President, I believe this mess may be too hard even for the Lord."

As I neared the chopper, I was impressed to climb up on it and upon doing so found my head was about two feet above seventy-five acres of that tall, splendid corn. As I looked about in discouragement, the voice seemed to come to me again, but this time in a more serious tone, "President, is there anything too hard for the Lord?" At once I felt ashamed of my attitude of depression, and soon I was no longer looking down but up into the sky. Before I realized it, I was talking, yes, pleading aloud with the Lord in faith. When I had finished, I had committed that crop and the harvesting of it into the hands of the Lord and had done so by the power of the priesthood of God. I recall that as I climbed down from the chopper, tears were still streaming from my eyes. I grew concerned as I slowly walked away considering what it was that I had just done. Yet I knew that I had done it in total faith, that there was a proper need, and that it was a righteous request of the Lord.

Because of the spiritual nature of my experience, I think I had decided not to tell anyone of it. But the very next Sunday I was sitting on the stand during one of our ward sacrament meetings. I was not scheduled to speak, but the bishop got up with about ten minutes remaining and said, "I feel President DeHaan has had a spiritual experience that he needs to share with us." I got up reluctantly, knowing what it was I had to relate. I did so and asked the congregation to join me with their faith. Now, we have Saints with great testimonies in our stake, and my experience spread rapidly throughout the wards. I learned several weeks later that members were even telling their nonmember friends to go ahead and plan picnics and outdoor activities, because even in Oregon it was not going to rain throughout October. On the day following my experience in the corn fields, the sun came out for the first time in nearly thirty days. Then the next day we had sun, and the day following that. Before long the temperature was back into the high seventies. Every day for the next three weeks the weather forecast called for rain, but each day no rain fell.

I recall that about two weeks later I flew to Seattle, about two hundred miles to the north, on business. It rained very hard there all day, and as I made the return trip to Portland it rained all the way until we reached the Columbia River, which surrounds our farm. Miraculously, the clouds parted and the rain ceased. That day I cut a little weather map from the newspaper showing the rain ending at the river and put it on our refrigerator as a reminder to keep my faith. Three weeks after my original experience in the fields, I drove to the farm once again. I put on my boots and went back into the corn. This time the ground was soft but firming. That was on a Friday, and our fine farm crew was already making plans to begin the harvest on the following Monday.

That same day an acquaintance of mine from a local television station called. He said, "I understand the Mormons are developing a fine dairy farm on Sauvies Island." I answered in the affirmative, and he inquired, "Is there a story there?" I told him there was, but I knew he could never capture the real story. That very Monday, as we began our harvest, we had a camera crew on the farm for several hours, and we did get some fine publicity for the Church.

With the loyal assistance of many of the members, we worked day and night for the next five days. By the following Saturday, all of the freshly chopped corn was safely in our silage pits, and we finished covering it over with plastic. At last we had the feed needed to get us through the winter. Within an hour after having covered the crop, the heavens just seemed to open and commenced one of the heaviest and longest downpours I can remember. The fields from which the corn had just been removed were flooded and remained under water from that day until the following June. As I stood in the rain with feelings of gratitude that I’ll never be able to adequately describe, it seemed to me that the Lord had just saved it up until our spiritual understanding had been fulfilled.

Recently I sat in a Relief Society lesson where a sister read a quotation regarding the effects of physical and sexual abuse on children. My first thought was, “How sad.” Then I was filled with the Spirit, who bore witness to me of the miracle of the Savior’s Atonement. I had been a victim of sexual abuse at a young age. During that Relief Society lesson, I realized that I no longer felt pain and fear attached to something that had consumed and frightened me for years. It was a miracle. In my heart I thanked the Savior for healing me.

Illustrations by Scott Peck
So much homework … But tomorrow I get to play with my friends.
Mom? Nobody wants to go to the school carnival with me tomorrow.
I just don’t have any real friends.
I’m so sorry, sweetie.
I wish I could help … What would Jesus do?
I know!
I can go with you to the carnival, if you want. I bet we’d have lots of fun together!
But aren’t you playing with your friends tomorrow?
Well, you are one of my friends!
Best carnival ever!
Kindness is one of the best gifts you can ever give.
See family manual, page 79.

Illustrations by Ingrid Ochoa
I used to work at a camp where I helped campers rappel (or abseil) down a 100-foot cliff, a difficult and terrifying task for some. Most of them struggle with it for one reason: they lack trust. When rappelling, you need to trust your partners, the gear, the rope, the belay, and the carabineer. But most importantly, you need to trust yourself—or nothing can be accomplished.
Many people who approach the cliff come with wide eyes and shaking hands. But before they can scramble away in fear, I look at them and say, “Everything will be OK. I know you can do this. And I’m holding you up the whole way.” And when they make it to the ground, everyone cheers and hugs them, celebrating that they were able to conquer their fears.
During my time there, I realized something powerful: in order to overcome our fears, we need to place our trust in the Lord. Sometimes I get scared or lose trust in myself, but then I remember the rappelling wall at camp. I see myself turn away from the cliff’s edge, but it’s like I can hear the Savior calling to me, saying, “Trust me! I will guide you and encourage you the whole way down. I know you can do this.” Putting my trust in the Lord, I can make it through any trial or fear. It may be hard and scary, but I know the Lord is there, helping me along the way.

My name is Mili, and I’m eleven years old. My sister, Eli, is ten. We have always lived with our abuelita (beloved grandmother). Our city is surrounded by green hills, and its streets are straight and clean. In the city are many beautiful churches, such as Santo Domingo, where we rest in the quiet coolness after our shopping on Saturdays.
Abuelita doesn’t go to church or anywhere else because of the pain of her arthritis and because she is almost deaf.
Maybe the deafness is the reason she couldn’t listen to the two missionary sisters who came to the gate of our courtyard one day last summer. Abuelita has told us not to open the gate for strangers, but she unlocked it and let them in. Abuelita is always kind, and they looked very hot and tired—and sweet and harmless.
Eli and I stood back quietly when they came in and sat down in our cool sala (living room). We brought them cold lemonade and pan dulce (pastry), as Abuelita has taught us to do for guests in our house. When we sat down and listened to them, they told us wonderful things about Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ appearing to a boy named Joseph Smith in the woods, and about the gold plates and the Book of Mormon. And they gave us the book!
Eli and I read to each other every night that week. We liked the stories and the way we felt when we read them. Abuelita doesn’t read.
When the missionaries came back, we were happy to see Abuelita quietly unlock the gate for them. Later they took us with them on the bus to their church. Eli and I liked the way we felt in that church, even though it was a very plain chapel and not so beautiful as Santo Domingo with its colored windows and gold statues. When we asked Abuelita if we could be baptized, she kissed us, said yes, and told us that we were good girls and that she knew that we would follow a good path.
So Eli and I became Latter-day Saints. We went to church every Sunday, and the missionaries didn’t have to come for us, because we knew how to go to the zócalo (town square) and take the bus to the church. We learned to pray to Heavenly Father morning and night and to pay our tithing on the few pesos Abuelita gives us each week for our school supplies and lunches. And we don’t let her put coffee in our milk anymore.
We also learned that we should fast on the first Sunday of the month and give the money to el obispo (the bishop) so he can give it to the poor.
We have many poor people in our city, and Eli and I wouldn’t have minded missing our breakfast and lunch on that one day. But Abuelita doesn’t understand about fasting. She says that we must eat before leaving for church, and she won’t give us money instead of food.
We talked to el obispo about it. He is a very nice man and is very wise. He read to us in the Book of Mormon where Nephi said that if God gives a commandment, He will provide a way to obey it. We had read that before, but when we went home that day, we underlined it in our Book of Mormon. El obispo said that we would find a way to keep the commandment.
One Sunday morning as we walked to the zócalo to catch the bus, we saw a man sitting underneath a big tule tree. He was old and very thin and raggedy. When he held up a dish for money, we saw that the joints of his hands were swollen and knobby like Abuelita’s. He looked sad and tired.
He probably had been there many times when we passed, but this time we really saw him. I told Eli how thankful I was that Abuelita didn’t have to sit on the street and beg, that she had her warm bed and good food. We didn’t have any money to give him, so we walked on, but Eli and I couldn’t stop thinking about him. We talked about him, and when we said our prayers, we prayed for him.
The next Sunday was fast Sunday. Eli and I said our morning prayers and began to get ready for church. Then I had an idea. I told Eli, and she liked it.
Abuelita had our breakfast ready for us, but instead of sitting down to eat, we began to put the tangerines, bananas, a beautiful mango, our empanadas, and our boiled eggs into a small bag. When Abuelita asked us what we were doing, we smiled and asked, “Please, may we take our food with us?” and she let us.
As always, before unlocking the gate of the courtyard to let us out, she kissed us both on each cheek. It’s one way she shows her love for us.
We hurried to the zócalo and looked for the sad beggar. He was there under the tule tree. When we handed him the bag of food, he looked puzzled but opened the bag. Then he saw the beautiful food, and his eyes lit up with happiness. “Gracias, muchachitas, gracias” (“Thank you, young ladies, thank you”), he said. We smiled back, then ran for the bus.
Someday we’ll pay our fast offering to el obispo as others do. Someday Abuelita will truly understand the gospel. God provides a way.

On the way to priesthood meeting on Sunday mornings, Dad would make several stops. He would leave the car, disappear to the rear of the home, and then, in a minute or two, reappear. I inquired about why we were making the stops. “Oh, just a little missionary work” was his usual response. It wasn’t until I was a priest that I realized the missionary work being done was the quorum president knocking on bedroom windows reminding his sleepy quorum members of the need to attend their meetings. As the president of the Aaronic Priesthood, the bishop has the responsibility to see that all youth receive instruction concerning the doctrines of the kingdom as well as in the principles of honesty and charity. When the bishop encourages your attendance at meetings, he is not attempting to plan your life or adjust your schedules. He is attempting to show interest and concern because he knows the importance of partaking of the sacrament and the strength we gain by associating with each other.

Just before he started third grade, Jeff W. moved from South Korea to Columbia, Missouri, with his parents and his younger sister, Sarah. He didn’t speak English very well, so it was hard to make friends at first.
But that was before he met Will H., a boy in his class. Will noticed Jeff reading a book about a cartoon character that Will really liked too. Will asked if he could look at Jeff’s book, and that’s where their friendship began.
When Will invited Jeff over to play, Jeff’s dad brought a whole box of goodies from a bakery. He said it was the first time anyone had invited Jeff over to play in the United States.
Jeff and Will weren’t in the same class in fourth grade, but they still got together to play. Then Will started inviting Jeff to Primary activities. When the ward Christmas party rolled around, Will asked his mom if he could invite Jeff. Will’s mom said, “Let’s invite the whole family!”
When Jeff’s family came to the party, they felt a special feeling. Next they came to the Christmas program in sacrament meeting. They made friends in the ward and started learning more about the Church. At the end of fourth grade, Jeff and his whole family were baptized into the Church.

Bye, Molly! We love you!
Be a good helper for Grandma!
I miss Mom and Dad. When will they get home from the hospital?
After your sister is born. Then you’ll get to meet her!
I don’t know if I really want a sister.
Hey, I need your help with a special surprise.
Let’s make a treat for your parents. What should we make?
Brownies are Mom’s favorite!
Wow, you are a good assistant chef! You know something else your family needs help with?
Eating brownies?
Probably! But you can also help by being a kind big sister.
Really?
Yes! I can tell you know how to help your family.
I have an idea for another surprise.
I can’t wait until Mom and Dad AND the baby come home!

I am a 77-year-old returned missionary and graduate of BYU—also a fan of the New Era. I enjoyed “Time Out for a Mission” in the June New Era. I would like to bear testimony to the fact that going on my mission before finishing college was one of the best things I ever did. My eight brothers and sisters and I were born in the shadows of BYU in Provo, and our parents were educators, so we were expected to become college graduates. In many ways I was a “shrinking violet” personality until after I filled my mission. Reentering BYU after returning from my mission, I would head for the front seat in all of my classes. I wasn’t afraid to raise my hand and answer questions. I had become an outgoing, friendly person and received high grades in my classes. I attribute my success to what I gained by being a missionary before I finished college.
Rita D. Williams