Gospel Story Finder

When I think of what respect for others looks and feels like, I think of an experience from the life of President James E. Faust. On one occasion after he had been called as a General Authority, then Elder Faust, his wife, and two family members decided to attend a session at the Washington DC Temple. His son recalled that after they had arrived and entered the temple, his father
presented his recommend, which [was] a special one issued to the General Authorities and look[ed] somewhat different. The gentleman who was checking recommends did not know what it was and told my father he wouldn’t be able to enter the temple. Rather than embarrassing the man by telling him who he was, Dad politely excused himself and we all left. [Marcus G. Faust, quoted in James P. Bell, In the Strength of the Lord: The Life and Teachings of James E. Faust (Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 1999), 188]
I am moved by the deep respect that President Faust showed to the man at the recommend desk. President Faust acknowledged and respected him, letting him do his duty as he had been instructed. Because of that respect, President Faust would rather not go in the temple than cause the man embarrassment in front of others. So, as a fellow disciple, President Faust did the respectful thing: he thanked the man and left.

Yet I early learned that sharing is as much responsibility as it is opportunity. I was about six years old when I carelessly dropped my older brother’s steam engine and broke its cast iron base. Looking at the little brass boiler—bright from repeated polishing but now listing hopelessly—I suddenly remembered that this was his favorite toy. Later, as Bill pulled the ruins of his engine out from under the pile of toys I had “given” him as a desperate recompense, he didn’t cry—at almost ten he felt he was too old to cry—but my mother’s quiet “He’s your brother, Billy” not only knotted my guilty heart, it filled me with mighty resolve that I wouldn’t exploit him again. I never have.

A large red beetle scratched its way down the porch railing and disappeared into a hole in the old wooden porch. Jamon Knighton sat in Uncle Alban’s creaky, timeworn wicker chair, watching the beetle and listening to the early morning sounds that floated out of the valley. Every Saturday morning Jamon and Uncle Alban had watched things—things like the gold leaves that Uncle Alban said “fluttered across his yard like memories”—and had listened to sounds like that of Mr. Sadlier’s yellow dog’s barking in the distance. Jamon remembered how Uncle Alban had talked about the quiet, how he had said that it was a sound, too, and that it sounded like a secret prayer. “And if anything could look like a secret prayer,” he had added, “it would be that light in those thickets, pushing back the night.”

Speaking of prayer, Jamon thought, I need to offer one for Uncle Alban. He stood up, went down the porch steps, and paused in a patch of sunlight that beamed through the trees. It felt as warm and fine as his uncle’s arm around his shoulder as they had walked down the narrow dirt road toward Gooseberry Lake to go fishing.

Earlier this particular Saturday morning, however, when Jamon had left home with his fishing pole and had walked the half-mile down Thistle Road to his uncle’s place, he had been met on the porch by Aunt Eva, who had told him that Uncle Alban wouldn’t be able to take him fishing. “He had a heart attack about two hours ago,” she had faltered, “and a neighbor took him to the hospital in Monroe. I’ve just finished packing a few things, and your mother is going to drive me to Monroe so that I can be near Alban until he—” She’d pulled Jamon close to her, and he’d felt her body tremble as she’d tried to hold back the tears. “We must pray for him, Jamon,” she had finally said, then had hurried back inside.

Jamon left the patch of sunlight and headed toward a big willow that stood a short way down the dirt road. That will be a good place to pray, he decided. It was his and Uncle Alban’s secret place, and no one would see him there. Its thousand slender branches hung all the way to the ground like a leafy veil. Uncle Alban had told him many stories under the old tree, stories about Jesus and the Prophet Joseph Smith. It was there that Jamon had first seen the glow on his uncle’s countenance whenever he talked about such things.

Jamon paused a few feet from the old willow and gazed at the glitter of Gooseberry Lake beyond the trees. He recalled a Saturday morning not many months before when Uncle Alban had immersed him, along with the rest of his family, in the waters of baptism.

When Jamon emerged from the willow’s leafy seclusion, he saw the milk truck parked in front of his aunt and uncle’s house, and he realized that he had been praying for a long time. Brother Wilson never delivered milk before 9:00 A.M., and the pocket watch Uncle Alban had given him on his birthday last year had said 8:30 when he’d gone to the willow to pray. He’d been praying for half an hour!

Jamon stopped short when he saw his mother and the milkman on the front porch. They were comforting his aunt, who was sitting in the old wicker chair, sobbing uncontrollably.

Without having to be told, Jamon knew that Uncle Alban had died. He watched dumbly as Mother helped Aunt Eva into the house and the milkman came down from the porch and walked over to him.

“But I prayed for Uncle Alban, Brother Wilson. I prayed hard!” Jamon protested as he walked along the dirt road with the milkman. “I asked Heavenly Father to make him well again.”

The milkman stopped and pointed at the little circle of hills that surrounded them. “You know, Jamon,” he said, “when I was a small child, I thought that the mountains surrounding the town where I lived were the edge of the world because I couldn’t see beyond them. When I got older, I climbed over the mountains and discovered that the world went far beyond them.”

Jamon squinted up at the milkman. “What are you saying, Brother Wilson?”

“I’m saying, Jamon,” the milkman replied with a gentle smile, “that the Lord is a lot older and wiser than the rest of us. Don’t you think that perhaps He knows something that we don’t? Compared to the Lord, we are like little children. Often we can’t see beyond the little circle of mountains in our lives. But He can. He sees and knows what is difficult for us to understand—the reasons for things. And until we grow enough to climb over those mountains, we must have the faith to accept His good judgment. And remember,” Brother Wilson added, “that sometimes the answer to a prayer is no. And no is every bit as much an answer as yes.”

Jamon blinked back his tears. “Do you think that maybe God needs my uncle more than Aunt Eva and I do?”

Brother Wilson looked at the boy with admiration. Maybe, he considered, Jamon had already climbed some of those hills. Aloud, he said, “From what I hear, there are a lot of people on the other side who need teaching. There’s plenty of work to do, and judging from the way your uncle brought you and your family into the Church”—the milkman’s eyes misted—“as he did me just a year ago, I can’t think of a better person for the job.”

Jamon smiled through his tears. “Me either, Brother Wilson,” he said as they walked back to Uncle Alban’s house. “Me either.”

For Pele Mika Ah Lam of Samoa, there’s another important consideration about time that she lives by: “I make the most of it wherever I am.”
Pele grew up in a village where families—including her own—live off the land. Running water and electricity are never a given, and the homes are simple and beautiful. Education is not easy to pay for. “Our whole family helps support each other with education costs,” Pele says. “It’s the Samoan way.”
After working hard and getting top marks in school, Pele was accepted to attend the National University of Samoa. She chose to study accounting, mathematics, and computing. She also made room in her schedule for institute classes.
Along the way, Pele participated in another activity that would change her life in the near future, though she didn’t realize it at the time. For fun, every Friday evening she met with other Church members attending the university to discuss the gospel and learn new skills. These activities varied from week to week with one exception: on the last Friday of each month, they had a standing tradition of learning how to cook a different meal.
“I paid close attention,” Pele says. “I didn’t want to waste a chance to learn something new.”
That decision would yield big dividends in the future.
The cost of a university education can be a major obstacle to nearly anyone. For Pele, when her funding ran out, she had to leave school. She had worked hard, however, and learned all she could while there—including how to cook many different meals.
As a wife and as a mother of young children, she thought hard about how she might use what she had learned to help support her family. Throughout her life, Pele has been taught to believe in God and to work hard.
“I decided to start my own business,” she says. “I now run a barbecue and salad stand, cooking food that I learned how to make while going through school!”
Because of her business success, Pele makes enough money to take care of her immediate family, as well as help care for her parents and siblings.
“Our family believes that ‘faith without works is dead’ [James 2:20],” she says. “We have faith in God and believe that He will help us in every way. But we have to do our part.”
Pele still lives life on “island time.” She rises and retires with the sun and embraces the simple, peaceful Samoan lifestyle. And she understands and lives the following truth: “Time flies on wings of lightning; we cannot call it back.”1
Because Pele is trying to make the most of the time she has, God has prospered her and her family, and they have found joy even in the midst of challenges. She has a strong testimony, a successful business, and a bright future.
“We are very blessed,” she says.

Crunch, crunch, crunch. Andrew swallowed his popcorn and grabbed another handful.
His older brother, Caleb, plopped down on the couch beside him. “Hey, can I have some?”
Andrew didn’t look away from the TV. “No.”
“Aw, come on. You can share.”
Caleb reached for the bowl, but Andrew snatched it away.
“No! I already told you before. Don’t ask again!”
“Fine.” Caleb got up and left the room.
The next day, Andrew went into the kitchen. Caleb was making some sushi with rice, seaweed, and canned pork.
Andrew’s mouth watered. “Can I have some?”
“No,” Caleb said.
That made Andrew really mad. He ran downstairs to tell Dad.
“Why is Caleb being so selfish?” he asked.
Dad frowned. “I saw yesterday that you wouldn’t share your popcorn. Why should Caleb share with you after you didn’t share with him?”
“Because he’s my brother!” Andrew said.
“Then why didn’t you share with him?”
“He never shares with me either! Besides, I made it for myself, not him,” Andrew said. But he felt a little bad. Maybe it was mean of him not to share.
“Did you know that in Korea, sharing is really important?” Dad asked. Andrew’s family was from Korea. “Sharing is a way to show someone you care about them. So if you don’t share, it’s kind of like saying that you don’t care about them.”
“But I do care about Caleb.”
Andrew thought about what Jesus might do. He remembered how Jesus loved everyone—even those who were unkind to Him.
“I think I’m going to share with Caleb tomorrow and see how it turns out,” he told Dad.
Dad smiled. “I think that’s a good idea.”
When Andrew went to bed that night, he thought about other nice things he could do for Caleb. He was excited to start sharing!
The next morning, Andrew woke up to a surprise. Caleb had made breakfast just for him!
“Dad talked to me about sharing,” Caleb said. “I want to do better. So I made this for you.”
“Thanks!” Andrew said. “I want to do better too.”
Later that day, Andrew and Caleb watched a movie. Andrew let Caleb pick which one. Then he made some popcorn just for Caleb! He looked inside the bowl. It was like the popcorn was saying, “EAT ME!” But Andrew didn’t take any. He gave Caleb the bowl and said, “This is all yours. I’m sorry I didn’t share before.”
Andrew shared with Caleb all week. He let Caleb read his books. He let Caleb use his markers. He let Caleb play with his favorite toy. He even gave Caleb an extra turn when they were playing a game.
The more Andrew shared with Caleb, the more Caleb shared with him! Soon they were doing nice things for each other all the time. Andrew knew that Heavenly Father was helping him share with his brother. Andrew wasn’t perfect like Jesus, but he was trying to be more like Him every day.
This story took place in the USA.
Illustration by Adam Howling

There are several influences in my life that have instilled in me a desire to teach our children to work. The first are experiences I enjoyed as a child growing up in the home of wise and wonderful parents. Our first family work project began when I was around nine years old. One night dad came home with a shoe-shining kit that had an adaptable shoe tree that fastened to the wall. He encouraged my brother and me to be industrious and earn some money by charging fifteen cents for every pair of shoes we shined. Of course, my parents’ shoes were always well shined, but our big opportunities came when my parents entertained. I would mingle among the guests and ask if any would like to have their shoes shined. Many a person was seen in our home sitting or visiting in his stocking feet.
A few years passed, and dad came home one night with another idea. “Why don’t you boys sell Christmas wreaths?” he said. And thus we were off on another venture. We would go from door to door taking orders, and then we purchased the wreaths from a wholesaler for our customers. For the next several years mom and dad spent many hours helping us in this project.
During my college years I began to realize that there were more values to work than simply the money one earns. Three individuals made statements that have left indelible impressions upon my mind. The first statement came while I was attending the University of Utah. The director of the Institute of Religion, Lowell L. Bennion, shared with me a philosophy of raising children. He grew a large vegetable garden, and when asked what he was growing, his reply was not the usual tomatoes, corn, or carrots, but simply, “boys.”
The second statement came from a student at BYU when he offered an explanation as to why he alone among his high school friends had remained active in the Church. He said it was because of a cow. He went on to explain that while his friends had nothing to do after school and began to get into trouble, he had to go home every day to milk the cow. Although he resented it at the time, he since has been very grateful to wise parents and the cow.
The third statement was made by a returned mission president who commented that many missionaries do not know how to work when they arrive in the mission field. They lack experience in organizing their time and in being self-starters.
A philosophy of work gradually emerged in my mind. When I got married, I wanted to achieve three goals: use work as a means of “growing children”; see that they did not have too much free time; and prepare our children to effectively serve the Lord.
Following my marriage to a wonderful companion, our home was blessed with the arrival of children. In the space of a few years we found ourselves the parents of ten children—all girls but eight. We knew as our children grew older they would need to assist with family finances. This became evident when our four older children expressed a desire to learn to ski. One Christmas we bought four pairs of used wooden skis and some poles, and we acquired some used boots. On Christmas morning our children were delighted to receive their skis, and they accepted the responsibility for most of their future expenses.
Since my wife and I didn’t believe in the dole system in any form of finance, we kept wondering how our young family could begin to become self-sufficient. It wasn’t long until we were offered an opportunity to collate and distribute advertising materials to 5,000 homes. We worked at the project after school, in the evenings, and on Saturdays. Everyone was involved in collating several pieces of advertising materials. Mom or dad assisted by driving the children to different locations and offering encouragement. The project was repeated several times. Our children were beginning to earn money, and we learned that we could have fun together while working.
After a couple of years, we graduated from advertising packets to telephone directories. During several summers, we loaded up our station wagon with books and children. The days were hot, the hours were long, some streets were hard to find, some addresses couldn’t be found, the books were heavy, some driveways were long and went uphill, some dogs were mean; but we had fun. Sometimes two children would go to a home, one to play with the dog and the other to take the books.
One summer one of the boys broke his foot while on the job. Within a few days he realized that he didn’t want to be left out of the summer work; besides he loved to ski. Soon he was in the back of the station wagon unwrapping the books and giving directions to the children as to how many books were to go to each house.
At the end of a day’s work, there were stories to tell, experiences to laugh at, accomplishments to brag about—and no one had any trouble sleeping. Yes, we were having fun and experiencing a sense of accomplishment.
Our next project began when our oldest son started mowing lawns the year before his mission. We bought a 1962 truck that ran most of the time, and some lawn-care equipment. That first year he did most of the work himself and occasionally took a younger brother with him. The next year dad decided to get involved, since none of the younger boys had drivers’ licenses. We advertised, gave bids, received referrals, and increased the number of our customers. Then came the day when dad mowed his first lawn. First the edger didn’t start, so he traveled across town to find out what to do. When he returned, one mower had broken down so he went back across town again to find out what to do. After several hours on that job, the second oldest boy looked at his dad and asked, “And is this what we are going to do all summer?”
We stuck with it and are now completing our fourth year. We have learned to keep our sense of humor through broken sprinklers, a flooded basement, unexpected rain, a burned-out truck engine, broken equipment, dad pulling up someone’s prized miniature tree, and the front wheel coming loose off the truck in busy traffic. And then there are those days when every piece of equipment is working, the truck is running, the sun is shining, we are on schedule, and someone forgets to fasten the tailgate of the truck. One by one our equipment slides out as we travel to the next customer.
One might ask why we do all of these things. The obvious answers are: (1) all of our teenagers have sizeable missionary funds; (2) all of our children over eleven know they will have a job; (3) no Sunday work is involved; (4) the children have learned valuable skills; (5) they are learning to budget their resources and to distinguish between wants and needs; and (6) as their father, I have had many wonderful teaching moments with them as we have worked side by side.
But these are not all. There are values that are often hard to describe but are real. A couple of Sundays ago the boys sat down at the direction of their mother and wrote what they felt the values were of working together as a family.
An eighteen-year-old boy writes, “Since I can remember, I have been taught the value of hard work and honoring all of your responsibilities and your family name. As I look back to my experience in family projects, I can see how they have shaped my character and personality by letting me make many important decisions. I have gained confidence by meeting new people and am better able to express myself. But the most important thing about family work projects is that your family comes closer together in love and respect.”
A thirteen-year-old who has been mowing lawns for four years writes, “Family projects have really helped me to understand how to work. The harder you work, the better you feel. I am grateful for a closer relationship with my brothers and parents.”
A sixteen-year-old said, “Working on family projects has taught us the importance of being honest and dependable. It has taught us to make a lot of sacrifices in order to keep our name in good standing.”
And finally, our fifteen-year-old said, “The family work projects have helped me manage my money. When I buy my clothes and other things, I take care of them because I know how much they cost and how much work it takes to buy them. When my parents bought my things, I honestly thought there was an endless supply of money, so I wouldn’t take care of them. Also, work gives me a feeling of satisfaction—and a great tan.”
Their mother writes, “I watch other youth with too much free time and am grateful that our boys know there are people relying on them. They sometimes have to sacrifice personal wants for the sake of their work.”
May I add my own feelings. Our family work has become a big factor in bringing a higher degree of love, peace, and unity into our home. Many neighbors have commented on how much our children really enjoy each other. I am amazed as I witness our children stretching in their tender years toward self-reliance. Yes, work is a spiritual and essential principle. Our own beloved prophet has taught that “life is not wholly for fun and frolic.”
I bear testimony that family work, when combined with family prayer and family scripture study, will do much to secure the blessings of heaven for families on earth. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

“Come on, Sam,” Jeremy said as he played kick the can with his friends along the old dusty roadbed. “Nobody will know but us.”
Lagging behind, I thought about the conversation Jeremy and I had had that morning. He’d told me about his plan to steal watermelons from Brother Vargas. I knew stealing was wrong, but I figured if I did what he wanted me to, we would be friends. So when he had finished talking, I had swatted him on the back and told a lie. “I know all about stealing. It’s easy. I’ve done it before.”
“You have!” he’d exclaimed, looking surprised. “Wait until I tell the other guys.” After he told everyone in the group, they looked at me with renewed interest. I liked that, but now I was in a terrible situation. I didn’t want to steal anything, especially Brother Vargas’s prize watermelons.
Brother Vargas was as old as my grandpa, but he had been my only friend when we first moved to Fawn Creek. He knew I was lonely and needed a friend. And I knew that the money from his melon field made up a big part of the income he and Sister Vargas lived on for a whole year.
“Hurry up, Sam,” one of the kids in the group called over his shoulder. “Brother Vargas will be back soon to pick up another load of melons. If we don’t get to his field before he does, we’ll have to wait another day.”
Oh, well, I thought, walking faster, I need friends my own age. Jeremy’s in my Primary class and my Scout troop, and all the guys like him. If we become friends, I’ll have a lot of guys to hang around with. Besides, Mom thinks he’s a good friend. So did I—until now.
When I caught up to Jeremy, he began making plans. “Clint, you be the lookout. If anyone comes, whistle real loud. Brett, you take Sam and head for the nearest row of melons. Jeff and I will be right behind you. Remember, we won’t have much time, so don’t be too choosy. Just get the biggest ones you can carry.”
“Yeah,” Clint agreed licking his lips. “We already know how good they taste.”
“What if we get caught?” I asked.
“Getting nervous?” Brett questioned.
“Not me,” I lied for the second time in half an hour. “You’re right; we’d better hurry.”
The real reason I wanted to hurry had nothing to do with taking melons. The truth was, I didn’t want to see the way Brother Vargas would look at me if he caught me robbing him. We were friends, and true friends take care of each other. I was starting to feel awful.
“Don’t worry, Sam,” Jeremy said. “No one will find out.”
How did I get into this situation? I wondered. I needed someone to blame. So I blamed Mom. It’s her fault we moved after Dad died.
“Yeah, sure,” I muttered under my breath. “And look at what you’re doing.” I knew why Mom had sold the house. She didn’t want to go to work and leave me home alone. She’d loved that old house, and I knew she didn’t want to move away from her friends any more than I did.
“Sam, you’re dragging your feet again,” Jeremy said.
“Yeah, I know,” I said, as I sent a rock flying across the road with the side of my foot.
When we finally reached Brother Vargas’s melon field, I knew I had made the worst decision of my life. But I didn’t know how to get out of it. Then the words to a song we were learning in Primary popped into my head. I began to sing softly:
“‘Choose the right when a choice is placed before you. In the right the Holy Spirit guides; And its light is forever shining o’er you, When in the right your heart confides.’”
When I got to the chorus, all the boys began to sing with me. When we finished it, I knew I had to say something. “We can’t do this!” I declared looking first at the guys and then at the melon field. “This just isn’t right.”
“But you said you’ve stolen things before,” Jeremy said accusingly.
“That was a lie,” I admitted. “I’ve never stolen anything in my whole life, and I don’t want to start now.”
“Neither do I,” Clint said, walking over to stand next to me.
Surprised I turned to Clint. “I thought you had stolen before. You even said that you knew how good Brother Vargas’s melons were.”
“We lied, too,” Brett admitted. “Brother Vargas gives my family watermelons from his field every year.”
“Yeah, and boy are they good!” Jeff said, almost drooling. “He gives melons to anyone who wants them.”
“Then why were we going to steal them?” I asked, almost shouting.
“We thought it would be fun,” Clint said as he dug the point of his tennis shoe into the loose dirt.
“Yeah,” Jeremy agreed, as his voice became a whisper. “But it sure doesn’t seem like fun now.”
When Brother Vargas drove up, we were sitting in the shade of the big metal shed still talking about his watermelons.
“Hi, boys,” he called. “It’s good to see you. I could sure use your help putting another load of melons on the truck.”
Feeling a little guilty, we asked him how we should do it so we wouldn’t damage the melons. Two hours later, after the truck was loaded, he offered us jobs for the rest of the summer. Then he asked, “Will each of you take a watermelon home to your families?”
“Yes! My family is going to love this!” Brett said excitedly. “Just yesterday Dad said his mouth was watering for a taste of Brother Vargas’s melons.”
“Mine, too,” Clint said with a big grin.
After Jeff, Clint, and Brett headed for home, only Jeremy and I were left.
“I’m sorry, Sam. I guess I just got carried away.”
“I’m sorry, too, Jeremy. I’m glad we finally made the right decision.”
Jeremy’s whole face lit up. “So am I! Now we can eat watermelon without feeling bad—and we have jobs too! It doesn’t get much better than that!”

I share the story of the Laing family of Southern California. Sister Rebecca Laing writes:

“In the summer of 2011, life for our family was seemingly perfect. We were happily married with four children—ages 9, 7, 5, and 3. …

“My pregnancies and deliveries [had been] high risk … [and] we felt [very] blessed to have four children, [thinking] that our family was complete. In October while listening to general conference, I felt an unmistakable feeling that we were to have another baby. As LeGrand and I pondered and prayed, … we knew that God had a different plan for us than we had for ourselves.

“After another difficult pregnancy and delivery, we were blessed with a beautiful baby girl. We named her Brielle. She was a miracle. Moments after her birth, while still in [the delivery room], I heard the unmistakable voice of the Spirit: ‘There is one more.’

“Three years later, another miracle, Mia. Brielle and Mia are a tremendous joy for our family.” She concludes, “Being open to the Lord’s direction and following His plan for us will always bring greater happiness than … relying on our own understanding.”

Years ago, an elderly stake patriarch with two failing heart valves pleaded for then-Dr. Russell M. Nelson to intervene, although at that time there was not a surgical solution for the damaged second valve. Dr. Nelson finally agreed to do the surgery. Here are President Nelson’s words:
“After relieving the obstruction of the first valve, we exposed the second valve. We found it to be intact but so badly dilated that it could no longer function as it should. While examining this valve, a message was distinctly impressed upon my mind: Reduce the circumference of the ring. I announced that message to my assistant. ‘The valve tissue will be sufficient if we can effectively reduce the ring toward its normal size.’
“But how? … A picture came vividly to my mind, showing how stitches could be placed—to make a pleat here and a tuck there. … I still remember that mental image—complete with dotted lines where sutures should be placed. The repair was completed as diagrammed in my mind. We tested the valve and found the leak to be reduced remarkably. My assistant said, ‘It’s a miracle.’” The patriarch lived for many years.
Dr. Nelson had been directed. And he knew that God knew that he knew he had been directed.

Sophia and Allie were twins, and they were best friends. They liked different things, but that made it more fun! They loved to play together.
One day at school, Sophia checked out a book about dinosaurs from the library. She was excited to show it to Allie.
“You can’t read that,” said Timmy, a boy in her class.
“Why not?” Sophia asked.
“It’s a boy book,” he said. “Dinosaurs are for boys.”
Sophia frowned. Why couldn’t she like dinosaurs too? She put the book in her backpack. She was going to read it anyway.
All day, Sophia thought about what Timmy had said. She still felt upset when she got home from school.
“What’s wrong?” Mom asked.
“Timmy said I couldn’t read a book about dinosaurs,” Sophia said. “He said dinosaurs are just for boys. That’s not true, is it?”
“Of course it’s not,” Mom said.
Sophia looked down. “Then why did Timmy say that?”
“Maybe he doesn’t know any other girls who like dinosaurs,” Mom said. “But Heavenly Father didn’t make us all the same. And He wants us to be kind to each other.”
Mom gave Sophia a hug. “I’m sorry Timmy treated you like that. But Heavenly Father loves you. And so do I.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Sophia said. She felt a lot better now.
“I’m going to talk to your teacher about this, OK?” Mom said.
Sophia nodded. “OK.”
Sophia went to play with Allie. They made up a game called Super Princess Racer, where Allie’s dolls were race-car drivers. It was a close call, but Princess Lightning Cheetah was the winner! Sophia and Allie cheered.
“Want to see the dinosaur book I got today?” Sophia asked.
“Sure!” Allie said.
Sophia smiled. She was glad she always had fun with Allie.
The next day, Sophia’s teacher had an announcement. “Class,” she said, “there’s something I want to tell you. It’s OK to like different things. All of our books and toys are for everyone.”
Sophia was so excited! At reading time, she took the dinosaur book out of her backpack.
Timmy came her desk. “I’m sorry I said you couldn’t read that book,” he said. “I like dinosaurs too.”
“It’s OK,” Sophia said. “Do you want to read with me?”
“Sure!” Timmy sat down by her. “Thanks.”
Sophia opened the book. She and Timmy were different, but it was nice to share with a new friend.
This story took place in the USA.

Growing up in Ghana, my journey through high school was fraught with obstacles.
Most high schools at that time required tuition, and my family struggled financially. My uncle graciously offered to support my education, allowing me to move in with him and continue my studies. However, financial difficulties were common, and my uncle could not always cover my fees. Failing to pay led to me being sent home, which unfortunately became my reality multiple times, along with other punishments.
In the midst of my struggles, I often felt disheartened as I watched other children with better opportunities. Yet these challenges became the backdrop for a transformative experience in my life.
While living with my uncle and his family, they introduced me to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. They devoted time each week to home evening, scripture study, and daily prayer. After a year of attending church and seminary with them, at the age of 17, I made the sacred decision to be baptized.
Years later, while attending Sunday School, I learned about patriarchal blessings and felt an urgent need to receive one. The patriarch, Joseph William “Billy” Johnson, was a respected disciple in the Church community and was among Ghana’s first converts. I traveled two hours to request my blessing and returned a month later with an open heart to receive it.
During the blessing, I was overwhelmed as the patriarch spoke personal insights that resonated deeply within me, revealing a connection to my life that only God could know. I felt His love and assurance that I had a purpose. Each subsequent reading of my blessing emphasized God’s intimate knowledge of me and the divine work I was meant to accomplish.
I came to realize that God is deeply interested in our lives, that we are His children (see Romans 8:16) and have a divine purpose. This realization inspired me to keep my patriarchal blessing at the forefront of my mind, reminding me of the commandments and promises associated with it. My patriarchal blessing motivated my decision to serve a mission. This experience profoundly transformed my life, and I witnessed the blessings that the patriarch pronounced upon me materialize throughout my service.
Upon returning from my mission, I was determined to follow the path laid out in my patriarchal blessing. Every step I took was guided by my faith in the promises I had received and my desire to see them fulfilled. I knew if I obeyed God and tried to live the way He wanted me to, He would guide me. Despite difficulties during college, I felt Heavenly Father strengthening me and leading me along.
To those struggling with education or navigating hardships (particularly in Africa), I empathize with you. I have walked that path. I understand the weight of uncertainty, but I implore you: Do not give up. The Lord is ever present, ready to assist you despite the trials you may face. As the Savior taught, “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28).
Help may come from unexpected sources—be it family, friends, or Church leaders—and I testify that the Lord inspires others to support His children. It’s essential to maintain faith in yourself and the potential that lies within you. With hard work and determination, you can overcome your circumstances.
My patriarchal blessing, a personal Liahona for my life, continually reminded me to look forward to better days. In Alma 37, the Liahona is described in such a beautiful way: “It did work for [Lehi’s family] according to their faith in God” (verse 40). This shows how our patriarchal blessings can guide us if we maintain our faith in the Lord’s promises.
While not all blessings may be realized in this life, we can have hope that some will manifest, and our faithful pursuit of righteous desires will lead us toward joy and fulfillment.
Throughout my journey, I’ve learned that while life may not always be straightforward, trusting in Heavenly Father’s plan leads to personal miracles. When confronted with obstacles, I leaned into this truth and became fortified by faith. When we act in faith and make wise choices, the Lord prepares a path for us. Each time I felt overwhelmed or uncertain, I remembered this promise and was reminded that faith is key (see Matthew 17:20).
In moments of doubt, I often find myself reflecting on the encouragement found in reading my patriarchal blessing. It inspires me to press forward, knowing that every effort made in faith will not go unnoticed by the Lord.
When we keep our hearts open to inspiration, we will find that God is constantly providing opportunities for growth. As we conduct His work and build His kingdom, we are not alone.
As I continue to embrace the guidance found in my patriarchal blessing, I remain steadfast in my commitment to follow the Savior. As we move forward together, I encourage you to hold fast to your blessings and the hope they represent. Our patriarchal blessings serve as divine reminders of our worth and potential in the eyes of God.

Many years ago, while preparing an Old Testament Sunday school lesson for our Young Single Adults about Noah and the Ark, much studying, prayer and thought went into this lesson. A small sentence stood out to me, this phrase was, "Church leaders have counseled each of us to build a personal ark."21 Let’s look at part of Elder Ladd’s Conference talk that this lesson was based on.

“Build a Personal Ark” I thought about this phrase many times. During the week nothing came to me, but I knew that I like what I heard. I could not stop thinking about the phrase “Build a Personal Ark” and after much study, prayer and pondering of this, it was Sunday and my wife started the lesson and I did not have anything new to share and it was about 20 minutes into the lesson. Then it hit me. “Build a Personal Ark” I stood up and felt inspired to share the following to the class. We all need to build our personal ARK!”
A –is for Attitude. What we choose in this life will depend on our attitude. We all need to learn, to choose right by having a Christ-like attitude. Having a Christ-like attitude is charity, which is the pure love of Christ. In the book of Mormon, we learn that "Charity suffereth long, and is kind, and envieth not, and is not puffed up, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil, and rejoiceth not in iniquity but rejoiceth in the truth, beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things."22

These are the very things we should be working on to have a Christ-like attitude. Life is 10% of what happens to you and 90% of how you react to it. We need to remember that obtaining a better attitude will control our thoughts. It will also help us to control our emotions and actions. When we learn to control our attitude, disappointment and change will be easy to handle, having a positive attitude can help us develop a Christ-like love, which will help in our Relationship with God. Having a Christ-like attitude will help strengthen us with the next two principles.
R –is for Relationships. We all need to establish good strong relationships with God our families and those around us. If we are in tune with our Father in Heaven will, we can be inspired to mend and strengthen relationships with family members and others. As members, followers of Christ, we should always look to the Savior as our example to love as He has. Christ said to his followers "A new commandment I give unto you, that ye love one another; as I have loved you, that ye also love one another. By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another."23

What relationships are we building? Please think about this… do we have good or bad habits? Are you building a relationship with God or Satan. For in Luke 16:13 "No servant can serve two masters: for either he will hate the one, and love the other; or else he will hold to the one, and despise the other. Ye cannot serve God and mammon."24 By turning the heart of the fathers to the children, and the heart of the children to their fathers. Temple work is another way we strengthen our eternal relationships. In Mathew 16:19 we read, "And I will give unto thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth shall be bound in heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven."25

K – is for Knowledge. Aristotle All men by nature desire to know. We need to gain knowledge, both temporal and spiritual knowledge. We learn in the Doctrine and Covenants "Seek learning, even by study and also by faith."26 It also counsels us to learn the gospel and to gain an understanding "of things both in heaven and in the earth, . . that [we] may be prepared in all things."27

As you look to God and live, you will find a whole new way of learning. He has all the knowledge in the world. Being in tune with him will help you prepare for the future. ”Whatever principle of intelligence we attain unto in this life, it will rise with us in the resurrection. And if a person gains more knowledge and intelligence in this life through his diligence and obedience than another, he will have so much the advantage in the world to come.”28
ARK - Knowing that our actions during mortality influence our eternal destiny. Attitude, Relationship, and Knowledge, are the only 3 things we will take with us when we leave this earthly life. That is why it is important for us to build our spiritual ark upon each of these sound principles. Where we go we take our personal ARK with us. I believe, this is the standard that Elder Ladd was talking about. As he said; “We all need to build a personal ark, to fortify ourselves against this rising tide of evil, to protect ourselves and our families against the floodwaters of iniquity around us. We need to calmly continue to move ahead and to prepare for what will surely come. For if we are prepared our arks will float on a sea of faith if our works have been steadily and surely preparing for the future.”29

Sam Basnet, baptized in 2009, is also the only member in his family. Doing missionary work at the Oslo center helped him to share the gospel with his relatives when he returned to visit them in Nepal. He told them about the priesthood and the Book of Mormon, having already helped the missionaries teach other people the same principles in Oslo.
“My family wanted to feel the way that I was feeling,” said Brother Basnet. “They had seen the difference between ‘Sam-before’ and ‘Sam-after.’ Before, I had no hope. I was not positive. After my baptism, I used to come into the center and everything was higher than before.”

It takes hard work to bring about success. You are furthering your education and preparing for your life’s work. You are developing good habits that will have great power in your life. Nephi suggested that sowing seeds, reaping in abundance, and the raising of animals of every kind brought joy into his people’s lives. Our 11-year-old son Ala is learning this lesson well. In the spring, he was contacting people via Craigslist in hopes of starting his own chicken farm. He purchased a dozen Rhode Island Red chicks, built them a home and nesting boxes, and has diligently cared for them for many months. When they started laying eggs a few weeks ago, he was overjoyed with his contributions to the breakfast table. I’m hopeful that these lessons and responsibilities early in his life are paving the way for him to develop good work habits that will bless his life. I believe that developing these kinds of characteristics help us be better disciples of Jesus Christ.

During my first BYU London study abroad program as a student, my father came to visit. We took an excursion to France, where his uncle is buried in a World War I military cemetery. The young Lars Lester Larsen—big brother to my dad’s mother—was sent to France as a private in September 1918 and was last seen alive filling his canteen in a small creek before enemy artillery fire set in. He was killed just weeks before the armistice.

The blue star on the banner in the Larsens’ living room window, a national tradition that indicated a son was serving in the military, was changed to gold, the sign that the son had died in combat. His mother—my great-grandmother—was heartbroken and fell ill; her health never recovered. After the war the government organized a trip overseas for those “gold star mothers” of soldiers buried in Europe to visit the graves of their sons. My great-grandmother died the day the ship set sail from New York. So my father and I were the first two relatives ever to visit his uncle’s gravesite, to dedicate it for a glorious resurrection.

When we arrived at the grave marker for Private Larsen, in the midst of thousands and thousands of crosses, with nobody else around, the first thing my father did was put on a suit coat and tie.

He said, “Son, we are here to dedicate a grave, a priesthood ordinance, and when you perform the duties of the priesthood, you do so appropriately attired.”

After his dedicatory prayer he said, “Grandmother would be happy.”

Not only did I learn to be appropriately dressed to perform the duties of the priesthood but I also learned of the terrible price that was paid for our citizenship in a free country—much like the sacrifices of our spiritual forebearers and Jesus Christ Himself to allow us to be members of “the Lord’s country and kingdom.”

Perhaps this true account from two missionaries serving in the Seoul Korea Mission, while I was mission president there, will help to illustrate. Elder Craig Drew writes,

I recall walking in the vicinity of the Seoul train station one bitterly cold evening, as we made our way to an investigator's home, located in the middle of a dilapidated shanty town. It gave new meaning to "the other side of the tracks." For a young nineteen year old, raised in a comfortable middle class home, in the isolated reaches of northern Ontario, Canada, without much exposure to the world, it truly was a wake up call.
Elder Richard Rife, my first senior companion, had met a young married man, Mr. Chang, a few weeks prior and had begun to teach him, his wife, and their little boy, Do Young.
As we arrived at their home, I was overcome by the cramped quarters of their humble house. It consisted of a room, no larger than five feet by ten feet, where the family lived, ate and slept. The February temperatures were bitterly cold. Thin rice paper covered the walls as the family sat in traditional Korean style, and draped a large comforter over us in an attempt to keep us warm.
The Chang family had a special spirit about them, filled with humility, and were wonderful hosts, as we began to teach them the discussions.
On one of our visits, a short time later, Mrs. Chang, who was holding her agitated son in her arms, met us in the small lane leading to their home. It appeared she had been crying for some time. She told us that a day or so prior, little Do Young had slipped and fallen, and landed on a large, burning charcoal briquette, searing his bare bottom with a major third degree burn. I clearly recall the blistered and pus- filled wound that marred his tiny body. At that time, the Korean health care system had nothing for its poor. A doctor's visit was out of the question for the financially strapped family.
Instead of teaching one of the prescribed lessons that evening, Elder Rife felt impressed to teach the family about the power of the priesthood and the different ways it can be used, including the blessing of the sick and afflicted. The Chang's agreed to fast and pray with us the following day, and then we would return that evening to give their little son, Do Young, a special blessing.
Not one to be considered a shining example of fasting prior to my mission, a day of fasting, combined with a full day of missionary work with a dedicated companion/trainer, was a taxing experience. I had been raised in a part member family where the priesthood was not in our home. This was my first experience with exercising the priesthood and giving a blessing of this magnitude.
The next evening, we arrived at the Chang home and found father, mother, and child anxiously waiting. Sister Chang smiled as she told us how hungry she was, and what a challenge fasting had been for her, yet how good she felt inside. After a short visit and further teaching, I had the opportunity to anoint Do Young with oil. I had been working hard all day to memorize the anointing prayer in Korean. Elder Rife and I then joined together as he sealed the anointing. The spirit was strong as we finished. The Chang's both had tears of gratitude running down their cheeks as they felt the special spirit that visited their humble home that evening.
As we departed, Elder Rife once again expressed the importance of faith and told the couple their child would be healed through their faithfulness. The following evening we paid another visit and were overjoyed to find little Do Young's burn had formed a scab and the infection had subsided. Within a week, all that was left was a red scar that had once been a third degree burn. I learned, by first hand experience, that our Heavenly Father loves all his children, especially the meek and humble Chang family in Seoul, Korea, and that through the power of the priesthood great things can and do happen.[2]

Power. That’s what the seminary council at East High School in Salt Lake City wanted. Not the power that builds fortunes or lights buildings, but the power that builds testimonies and lights the fire of the Spirit.
The council members decided to draw on all their powers of creativity to create an opening assembly for the school year that would get everyone excited about following the Savior. They knew that music is an especially powerful tool (particularly hymns, like the ones you’ve read on these pages), and that when paired with visual images, it is even more effective. The scriptures have power, too. So they decided to find a scriptural theme for the whole seminary to live by for the year.
But they knew that to make a good decision, they would have to rely on another power—the power of prayer.
“When we got together to make the final selection for our scripture theme for the year, we knelt down and prayed,” says Meggan Felt. “After we voted, it seemed that everyone knew the right scripture.”
That scripture was 2 Timothy 1:7–8: “For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind. Be not thou therefore ashamed of the testimony of our Lord.” [2 Tim. 1:7–8] A scripture that talks, not only about power, but also about love. It was a perfect fit.
“This scripture is a reminder to me that the Savior is always there,” says council member Enos Beebe.
And, after seeing the assembly that the council had spent hours putting together, which featured a slideshow of artwork of the Savior paired with music about his life, other students echoed Enos’s thoughts about the scripture. And that made all the work worth it.
Even if it did take a “powerful” long time.

After World War II on a cold night in a train station in southern Japan, I heard a tap on the train window. There stood a boy wearing the same ragged shirt, a rag tied about a swollen jaw, his head covered with scabies. He held a rusty tin can and a spoon, the symbol of an orphan beggar. As I struggled to open the door to give him money, the train pulled out. I will never forget that hungry little boy standing in the cold, holding up his empty tin can.
Now in my 78th year, I understand what President Kimball was seeing; I know what he meant. That boy in Cuzco and the one in Japan and the other children about the world profoundly influence what I think and how I feel and what I pray for most earnestly. I constantly think of little children and their parents who struggle to raise them in ever more perilous times.

One Saturday my wife and I realized that we did not have enough money to take public transportation to church the next day, and there was no way to make a cash withdrawal. Our tithing was in a donation envelope ready to be given to the bishop. We began to talk about how we would travel to church. If we used the tithing money to pay for transportation, we felt that the Lord would understand; however, we decided that it was not right.
The other possibility was to not go to church, and again we thought that the Lord would understand since we had never missed before. However, if that happened, we would not be able to take our tithing to the bishop, so that possibility was also ruled out.
Trying to be faithful, we decided to leave earlier than usual and walk to church. We left on that beautiful Sabbath day for the chapel, which was about three miles (4.8 km) from our home. For our four children (the oldest was six), it was like a party, and they enjoyed running and playing along the way.
When we reached a certain point on a wide and dangerous street, I heard the Spirit tell me, “You should cross now.” I told my wife, and she responded that it was dangerous because that part of the street began to curve, blocking our view of oncoming cars. I responded that I felt we should cross there, so we quickly crossed, my wife and I each taking two children. Just as we stepped onto the sidewalk, a car stopped on that side, and the driver asked, “Are you going to church?”
The driver was a brother who did not belong to our ward, but I had met him before because I had visited his ward. We responded affirmatively, and he offered to drive us there. As we got in the car, the brother explained that he never took this route and he was only passing that way because his business partner had lost the keys to the office and he was taking his keys to his partner.
I thought to myself that this hadn’t happened by chance. The Lord knew we needed transportation to go to church. Our tithing was in my pocket, and it provided us the opportunity to teach our children about the blessings that come from paying tithing. We arrived at the chapel earlier than ever but happy and grateful. We participated in all the meetings and did not tell anybody about what had happened.
Summers in São Paulo are very hot, especially at midday, when our Church meetings ended. We were preparing to return when someone came up and asked us, “Do you have someone to take you back?” We responded that we didn’t, and he said to us, “Do you want me to take you?” We accepted his offer, and my wife and I looked at each other with emotional smiles.
More than once the Lord had given us a great blessing for our obedience.

Of course other prayers are also offered in such quiet places. In Hungary, in a grove of trees at the top of a mountain overlooking the city of Budapest, two sister missionaries are quietly seeking answers.
They open their scriptures and bring out a typewritten copy of the dedicatory prayer—newly translated into Hungarian—that Elder Russell M. Nelson of the Quorum of the Twelve pronounced on Hungary in 1987. It was here on Mt. Gellért that Elder Nelson originally gave this prayer, asking the Lord to pour out his blessings upon the nation and its people. For a few moments as they read, the sisters are enveloped with a feeling of warmth and peace.
Sisters. They love the sound of that word. There’s no family relationship between Sister Nagy Erika and Sister Pálinkás Bernadett. (Hungarian surnames are used first, followed by the given names.) And they met for the first time after becoming missionaries. But no sisters could feel more united in purpose and spirit.
Sister Pálinkás is from Dunaújváros, where there were no churches at all until just recently. “My parents are not believers in God,” she says. “But somehow I felt close to him and felt that he loved me.”
When she was almost 20, two American missionaries came into the store where she sold office supplies. “My co-workers and I could tell from the very first that these young men were different from others,” she remembers.
Bernadett and a co-worker arranged to hear the first discussion. Although her friend soon lost interest, Bernadett attended sacrament meeting the following Sunday and, after being taught by the missionaries and converted by the Spirit, was baptized a month later, on August 22, 1992.
Sister Pálinkás is grateful for letters from branch members—especially the youth—back home. And she has a lot of support around her in the mission. Her first zone leader was the missionary who had baptized her in Dunaújváros a year and a half earlier! “I felt very fortunate to be able to work at the same time with him,” she says.
In April 1992, Nagy Erika was 20 years old and was living with her family in the city of Nyiregyháza when a friend encouraged them to listen to the missionaries. Erika’s father, who is a devout Christian, had taught his family about God. “But when the two elders came in the door and greeted us—my parents and all eight of us children—we felt a surprising feeling of happiness because of the spirit that came from them.”
After the second discussion, the family suddenly lost contact with the missionaries. First, one of the elders was transferred. Then, unexpectedly, Erika’s family had to move to Budapest.
Two months after moving to Budapest, Erika had one of those days when everything seemed to go wrong. First, she missed her bus. Then she had to walk a long way in the rain. When she finally reached a subway station, she was feeling pretty discouraged. “Then, while waiting for the subway, I suddenly noticed two elders—and one of them was the one who had taught us in Nyiregyháza! I couldn’t believe it—in a city of more than two million people!”
The discussions immediately resumed with the family, and Erika was baptized on September 13, 1992, just five months after her first meeting with the missionaries.
A year after her baptism, Erika received her mission call to Hungary. “I was happy to be called to serve my own people in my own language. But I worried whether I was worthy to be the first Hungarian citizen to serve in Hungary and if I would be able to give the people what they needed. I prayed about it and felt many special feelings that night. I knew that God loved me and my family. I felt very close to God.”
As the two sisters reminisce about experiences they are having as missionaries, it is obvious that they are being richly blessed by the Lord in their efforts. “When I went to my first city as a new missionary,” says Sister Pálinkás, “my companion and I looked in our planners and there was nothing scheduled. But we went out and worked hard. I learned that when there’s an empty day in our planners we can say, ‘No problem; we’re going to teach three or four discussions.’ I’ve learned that if we ask with real faith and real intent, the Lord will help us with it, as long as it’s according to his will.”
As these sisters see it, the preaching of the gospel in Hungary is both a beginning and an end. “The gospel gives us Hungarians a new start,” says Sister Pálinkás. “Maybe this means an end to the feeling some people have had that they needed to be apart from everyone else, that they couldn’t love each other.”
“Big walls are falling down and gates are opening up because of the gospel,” says Sister Nagy. “Over the years, we’ve built walls to protect us from things that were going to happen in our lives, and love and brotherliness were missing. But the gospel helps us open the gates to love and service.”
With that love and service comes lots of prayer—a principle that Sister Nagy and Sister Pálinkás have put to the test. First, they prayed to gain their own testimonies of the gospel; now they pray to help others develop theirs. These missionaries don’t always climb to a grove of trees on a mountaintop to say their prayers, but they know they can rise to great heights wherever they are by listening to the answers they receive.