Gospel Story Finder

Every evening after the last verses are sung loud and long about kookaburra birds sitting in old gum trees and Eddie Cootchie, Catchie Camma, and all the rest of his names, the girls at camp from Green Bay, Wisconsin, gather into a circle.
To get everyone into one large circle, the group has to spread out against the walls of the lodge. There is some last-minute shuffling and shifting. Someone scoots over to let another girl into the formation. The circle includes everyone at camp that night, girls and leaders and parents, arms around each other, and they begin to sing softly. The song they choose to sing every night before they go to bed is a tradition at this stake girls’ camp. At first, the words seem strange to the nine nonmembers who have come with their friends. But after a few days they too can sing the song as well as anyone. “I am a child of God. …”
The Young Women of the Green Bay Wisconsin Stake drove up into the “thumb” of Wisconsin in Door County near Lake Michigan. The camp was hidden in a broadleaf and pine forest in rolling hills among picture perfect farms and herds of grazing milk cows. What the leaders and the girls hoped would happen at their girls’ camp didn’t have a whole lot to do with learning a new way to build a fire or lashing a three-legged wash stand, although they did learn those things. They wanted to learn to love each other and to grow closer to their Savior. And it happened.
Jenny Rowley, a junior counselor, was able to talk about the spiritual feelings she had at camp. “Learning to listen to the promptings that the Lord gives you is so important. We’ve had a chance to hear those promptings this week.”
And the girls heard that their friends and leaders love them. One girl yelled down the trail to her leader. “I love you, Kim.” Kim in turn yelled back, “I love you, too.” Besides the loving feeling at camp, the girls just plain had a lot of fun. Each evening there were game competitions. In the improvised basketball game, with human basketball standards at each end of the field, the teams remained intact but the ball got the stuffing beat out of it. The “ball” for this evening’s game was a round stuffed animal.
It may sound impossible to have a ski slalom competition with no snow and no hill, but these girls did. The custom-made cardboard skis, affixed to feet with regulation bindings of strapping tape, were all that was needed. The ski gates, spaced across an open grassy field, were held by volunteers, and the only rule was that the skis could not leave the ground. Each team chose an entrant and two raced side by side through matching sets of gates. The winner shuffled through several heats to victory.
One of the great joys of camp in Wisconsin is swimming in Lake Michigan. Every day, the girls escaped the heat of camp by taking a dip in the lake. With a sand beach and breakers that resemble the ocean, the fresh-water lake offered a cool break.
Sue Hennig, the camp director, even found ways to make the most despised chores bearable. Instead of dragging out the cleaning of the latrines over protests and complaints, the crews were well armed with brushes and disinfectant. Then they competed against the clock. What could have been a job that dragged on for hours was over in seven minutes or under with everyone working together.
As in most girls’ camps, the highlight of the week was the testimony meeting. When questioned about their favorite experiences at camp, the girl who spoke first was non-LDS and had attended camp for several years. “The testimonies are my favorite part,” she said.
Her LDS friend turned and said, only half teasing, “You ought to be a Mormon.” The girl answered without hesitation, “I know.”
Missionary work was also the emphasis in camp. Chris Johnson had been instrumental in introducing the gospel to her best friend and her friend’s family. Chris had yearned for her friend to grow in the gospel until she could bear her testimony to a group. In a small testimony meeting with the Adventurers, Chris said, “I do have a strong testimony. I love the Book of Mormon with all my heart. Missionary work strengthens you so much. “Then Chris heard her friend bear her testimony for the first time. “She told me that she loved me, and she trusted me. She said she knew she is a child of God. I’ve waited so long to hear that.”
When testimony night for the whole camp came, the girls had some loving things to say, not only to their real sisters but to their sisters in the gospel. Dione DeFerrari, with complete sincerity, said, “Sisters are the most important friends you have in life, except brothers.”
Dione’s sister, Paige, had to work and couldn’t come to camp for the whole week. She made a special effort to come join the Adventurers for the last two days. Paige said, “This is the only place I know that when you walk down the path you can hug anyone you meet, and they won’t think you are weird.”
Ann Peregoi expressed the feeling many of the girls in camp had. “I never knew I had so many best friends who showed me they loved me.”
On the last night of camp, after all the tears had been shed in testimony meeting, the girls gathered in their circle one last time for that year’s camp. And it was a circle that drew everyone in.

Every year, sometimes around our birthdays, my dad would take us downstairs and measure our height against the furnace room wall. This was an important ritual, especially for my brothers and me. I remember straightening my back, tilting my head to its highest angle, and even holding my breath so I could achieve the greatest height possible. When I felt my dad lift the pencil off the wall, I would turn around to evaluate this primitive, but significant history of my life.
Some years I was disappointed to see how close the mark was to the previous year’s height and how far away it still was from my older siblings’ markings. And then there were other years when I walked away feeling so tall that I just knew a professional basketball scout would be waiting for me upstairs. But the feeling I remember most clearly was the steadiness, even the predictability, of my dad’s response. Whether I measured tall or short or just plain old average, my dad smiled at me the same, put his arm around my shoulders, and said, “I’m proud of you, son.”
At the time I wondered why he wasn’t more exultant when I passed my own and others’ marks, or more disappointed when I was still so close to previous years’ markings. But now I realize that my father knew something of the ebb and flow of life and of the equilibrium that comes—not from external measurements like height—but from an internal compass that can lead each of us to an awareness of our unchanging worth.
Whether I was taller or shorter in comparison to other markings did not matter to him. He loved me just because I was his son, and he was my father. I sometimes wonder if my dad didn’t take us for our annual pilgrimage to the furnace room wall just to let us know that—however we measured up—he was equally proud of our growth.
I think for him the furnace room wall was not an exercise in comparison but rather a way of getting us to reflect about where we stood—not just physically but also spiritually in relation to our Heavenly Father. Standing tall meant so much more to him than physical measurement. Gospel living had somehow schooled my father in the dangers of comparison thinking. He knew that when we compare our personal growth with others, we come against the double-edged sword of either thinking that we are better than someone else or that we’re inferior because on a given day we come up short. Both attitudes are equally wrong, and my father taught me that when we take time to reflect, to ponder, and to pray, we see ourselves more as Heavenly Father sees us.
Just as my annual trip to the furnace room wall helped me to realize my father’s love for me, taking a moment to evaluate our growth, or as the Proverbs say, to “ponder the path of [our] feet” (Prov. 4:26), will help us to feel of God’s perfect love for us.

On a cold winter’s night in 1951 there was a knock at my door, and a German brother from Ogden, Utah, announced himself and said, “Are you Bishop Monson?” I answered in the affirmative. He began to weep and said, “My brother and his wife and family are coming here from Germany. They are going to live in your ward. Will you come with us to see the apartment we have rented for them?” On the way to the apartment, he told me he had not seen his brother for many years. Yet all through the holocaust of World War II, his brother had been faithful to the Church, serving as a branch president before the war took him to the Russian front.
I looked at the apartment. It was cold and dreary. The paint was peeling, the wallpaper soiled, the cupboards empty. A forty-watt bulb hanging from the living room ceiling revealed a linoleum floor covering with a large hole in the center. I was heartsick. I thought, “What a dismal welcome for a family which has endured so much.”
My thoughts were interrupted by the brother’s statement, “It isn’t much, but it’s better than they have in Germany.” With that, the key was left with me, along with the information that the family would arrive in Salt Lake City in three weeks—just two days before Christmas.
Sleep was slow in coming to me that night. The next morning was Sunday. In our ward welfare committee meeting, one of my counselors said, “Bishop, you look worried. Is something wrong?” I recounted to those present my experience of the night before, the details of the uninviting apartment. There were a few moments of silence. Then the group leader of the high priests said, “Bishop, did you say that apartment was inadequately lighted and that the kitchen appliances were in need of replacement?” I answered in the affirmative. He continued, “I am an electrical contractor. Would you permit the high priests of this ward to rewire that apartment? I would also like to invite my suppliers to contribute a new stove and a new refrigerator. Do I have your permission?” I answered with a glad “Certainly.”
Then the seventies president responded: “Bishop, as you know I’m in the carpet business. I would like to invite my suppliers to contribute some carpet, and the seventies can easily lay it and eliminate that worn linoleum.”
Then the president of the elders quorum spoke up. He was a painting contractor. He said, “I’ll furnish the paint. May the elders paint and wallpaper that apartment?”
The Relief Society president was next to speak: “We in the Relief Society cannot stand the thought of empty cupboards. May we fill them?”
The next three weeks are ever to be remembered. It seemed that the entire ward joined in the project. The days passed, and at the appointed time the family arrived from Germany. Again at my door stood the brother from Ogden. With an emotion-filled voice, he introduced to me his brother, wife, and their family. Then he asked, “Could we go visit the apartment?” As we walked up the staircase to the apartment, he repeated, “It isn’t much, but it’s more than they have had in Germany.” Little did he know what a transformation had taken place, that many who participated were inside waiting for our arrival.
The door opened to reveal a literal newness of life. We were greeted by the aroma of freshly painted woodwork and newly papered walls. Gone was the forty-watt bulb, along with the worn linoleum it had illuminated. We stepped on carpet deep and beautiful. A walk to the kitchen presented to our view a new stove and refrigerator. The cupboard doors were still open; however, they now revealed that every shelf was filled with food. The Relief Society as usual had done its work.
In the living room we began to sing Christmas hymns. We sang “Silent night! Holy night! All is calm; all is bright.” (Hymns, no. 160.) We sang in English; they sang in German. At the conclusion, the father, realizing that all of this was his, took me by the hand to express his thanks. His emotion was too great. He buried his head in my shoulder and repeated the words, “Mein Bruder, mein Bruder, mein Bruder.”
As we walked down the stairs and out into the night air, it was snowing. Not a word was spoken. Then a young girl asked, “Bishop, I feel better inside than I have ever felt before. Can you tell me why?”
I responded with the words of the Master: “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me” (Matt. 25:40). Suddenly there came to mind the words from “O Little Town of Bethlehem”:
How silently, how silently,
The wondrous gift is given!
So God imparts to human hearts
The blessings of his heaven.
No ear may hear his coming;
But in this world of sin,
Where meek souls will receive him, still
The dear Christ enters in.
(Hymns, no. 165.)

Heather and Jodi wanted to see what rock formations they could find in the valley, but it was almost dark. They needed a light to help them find their way. Willie, DuShan, and Tommy brought a lantern, and soon they all discovered rocks that looked like the faces of people and animals. One rock even seemed to be wearing a hat!
The next day the five friends returned to see what Goblin Valley looked like in the sunshine. The strange rock creatures were still there! DuShan found a formation that reminded her of a man with a big nose. On the edge of the valley, the children saw how soft dirt and rock wear away to leave harder sandstone behind. That’s how Goblin Valley was formed.
These rock formations are in desert country where it is very hot. The heat didn’t stop Tommy from exploring right away, but DuShan needed a rest and found a carved rock that cradled her just right.
The rest of the afternoon was spent jumping, climbing, and hiking. Jodi discovered a rock that may soon lose its head! Another rock looked like an animal. Can you guess which animal? At the entrance of this valley is a group of rocks some people call the Three Wise Men. Other people call it the Three Ugly Sisters.
Many other rock creatures guard Goblin Valley, and the formations are constantly, though only gradually, changing.
Jodi, Willie, Heather, Tommy, and DuShan wanted to stay longer, but the sun was going down. Remembering how scary Goblin Valley had been the night before, they said good-bye to their ghostly buddies.

When Elder Abrea was president of the Argentina Rosario Mission, his daughters noted that he regularly interviewed all the missionaries under his direction. They asked him for the same one-on-one opportunity. Through these interviews, he has often provided exactly the counsel his daughters needed to handle problems. His technique is not to tell them just what to do; instead, they talk about the problems and arrive at a solution together. “Things that seem really difficult for me seem easy for him,” Claudia comments.

When I was 16 years old, I had been attending church regularly for almost a year, but I was not a member of the Church yet. I really enjoyed going with my friends. However, my parents did not have kind feelings toward the Church or my attendance. This fear that I would join the Church led my family to decide that moving across the country from Arizona to North Carolina would be best. I was really upset, and I did not want to leave, but I had little choice in the matter.
On my last Sunday in Arizona the leaders knew that I was leaving and decided to have a testimony meeting just for us boys. It was amazing for me to hear the testimonies of my closest friends and others in this meeting. I could feel the Spirit so strongly I could almost touch it. As the boys took their turns bearing their testimony, I could not stop myself from standing.
I bore a simple but heartfelt testimony that I knew the Church was true and that Jesus is my Savior. I had never borne my testimony before, but as the words came out of my mouth, I realized how much I knew they were true. As 16-year-old youth, it was hard for any of us to show our feelings, but I know that I was not the only one a little choked up. I felt so good, and it was a feeling of eternal joy. I was home. It was at that meeting that I knew that I would join myself with The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. My whole conversion process can point to this one moment as the turning point.
I am so glad I had this lesson, because despite all my prayers, my family and I moved to North Carolina. I had hope, for I knew that just because I was moving away from my friends, I was not moving away from the Lord. The simple testimony I had gained carried me through my time in North Carolina, even though I was no longer allowed to attend church during our time there. When my family moved back, my parents’ hearts were softened a little, and I was allowed to attend Church meetings again. On my 18th birthday, I was baptized, thanks in part to a lesson on testimony.

As LuAnn Spidel greeted friend after friend during the opening moments of the Gettysburg Pennsylvania Stake youth conference, she felt warm and happy. “How very lucky we are to have been born now, in this dispensation,” she thought to herself. She and the 400 other youths and counselors who had gathered at Gettysburg College were eagerly anticipating the weekend ahead—three days planned around the theme “Ye Chosen Generation.”
The youth conference was filled with variety from start to finish—beginning with a giant-banana-split-making contest. Four groups of ten each were given three gallons of vanilla ice cream, bananas, nuts, cherries, chocolate syrup, and a set of instructions. Within about three minutes the winning team had completed its construction! Pictures were then taken, after which the yummy banana and ice cream concoctions were devoured by their creators—truly a contest where no one could lose!
Sixty-seven seminars and workshops on a wide range of topics—the millennium, leadership, quilting, dancing, exercising, and communication skills (to name a few)—followed the opening social. Ping-Pong and chess tournaments, volleyball and basketball games, and a swim meet offered some diversion during the afternoon. That afternoon a casual dance was held in the ballroom, with juggler-ventriloquist Barry Jones of York Ward entertaining during intermission.
Friday’s activities included a bowling tournament, track meet, tour of the Gettysburg Battlefield, a special event patterned after the Truth or Consequences game show, and a formal dance.
Seminars on gospel-related subjects were presented Saturday morning, setting a spiritual tone for the testimony meeting and the tearful good-byes that followed. As the young men and women piled into buses and headed for home, they felt happy and fulfilled, realizing that although the conference had come to its close, the memories they had made would last forever.

The Gestewitz family has a great love for missionary work. In early 1987 the missionaries knocked on the door. Daniel’s mother, Tracy, answered it and was very curious about the young men and their message. She had seen the young men walking up and down the street in front of her home and had often wondered who they were and just why they were out on foot in the middle of the winter. So she invited them to come back when her husband, Kenneth, would be home. At the end of April Daniel’s parents were baptized and became members of the Lancaster Pennsylvania First Ward. A year later, when he was four years old, Daniel’s family was sealed in the temple.

One day Julie’s younger sister, Maddie, was feeling very sad. She was not having a good day. Julie wondered how she could help Maddie feel better. Then she had an idea!
Julie sat down next to her sister and asked Maddie to play a game with her. They would take turns telling something they were grateful for—something they could see, touch, hear, taste, or smell. At first it took Maddie a while to think of something. But after a few turns, it was easier, and she began to look happier. Soon Maddie forgot all about her worries, and Julie felt more cheerful too.

In the early 1930s, Margaret Kisilevich and her sister Nellie gave a Christmas gift to their neighbors, the Kozicki family, which was remembered by them all their lives and which has become an inspiration to their families.
Home to Margaret back then was Two Hills, Alberta, Canada—a farming community populated largely by Ukrainian and Polish immigrants who generally had large families and were very poor. It was the time of the Great Depression.
Margaret’s family consisted of her mother and father and their 15 children. Margaret’s mother was industrious and her father was enterprising—and with all those children, they had a built-in labor force. Consequently, their home was always warm, and despite their humble circumstances, they were never hungry. In the summer they grew an enormous garden, made sauerkraut, cottage cheese, sour cream, and dill pickles for barter. They also raised chickens, pigs, and beef cattle. They had very little cash, but these goods could be exchanged for other commodities they could not produce themselves.
Margaret’s mother had friends with whom she had emigrated from the old country. These friends owned a general store, and the store became a depot for folks in the area to donate or trade surplus hand-me-down clothing, shoes, etc. Many of these used items were passed along to Margaret’s family.
Alberta winters were cold, long, and hard, and one particularly cold and difficult winter, Margaret and her sister Nellie noticed the poverty of their neighbors, the Kozicki family, whose farm was a few miles away. When the Kozicki father would take his children to school on his homemade sleigh, he would always go into the school to warm himself by the potbelly stove before returning home. The family’s footwear consisted of rags and gunny sacks cut into strips and wrapped about the legs and feet, stuffed with straw, and bound with twine.
Margaret and Nellie decided to invite the Kozicki family, by way of the children, for Christmas dinner. They also decided not to tell anyone in their family of the invitation.
Christmas morning dawned, and everyone in Margaret’s family was busy with the preparations for the midday feast. The huge pork roast had been put in the oven the night before. The cabbage rolls, doughnuts, prune buns, and special burnt sugar punch had been prepared earlier. The menu would be rounded out with sauerkraut, dill pickles, and vegetables. Margaret and Nellie were in charge of getting the fresh vegetables ready, and their mother kept asking them why they were peeling so many potatoes, carrots, and beets. But they just kept peeling.
Their father was the first to notice a team of horses and a sleigh packed with 13 people coming down their lane. He, being a horse lover, could recognize a team from a long distance. He asked his wife, “Why are the Kozickis coming here?” Her response to him was, “I don’t know.”
They arrived, and Margaret’s father helped Mr. Kozicki stable the horses. Mrs. Kozicki embraced Margaret’s mother and thanked her for inviting them for Christmas. Then they all piled into the house, and the festivities began.
The adults ate first, and then the plates and cutlery were washed, and the children ate in shifts. It was a glorious feast, made better by the sharing of it. After everyone had eaten, they sang Christmas carols together, and then the adults settled down for another chat.
Margaret and Nellie took the children into the bedroom and pulled from under the beds several boxes filled with hand-me-downs they had been given by their mother’s merchant friends. It was heavenly chaos, with an instant fashion show and everyone picking whatever clothes and footwear they wanted. They made such a racket that Margaret’s father came in to see what all the noise was about. When he saw their happiness and the joy of the Kozicki children with their “new” clothes, he smiled and said, “Carry on.”
Early in the afternoon, before it got too cold and dark with the setting sun, Margaret’s family bid farewell to their friends, who left well fed, well clothed, and well shod.
Margaret and Nellie never told anyone about their invitation to the Kozickis, and the secret remained until Margaret Kisilevich Wright’s 77th Christmas, in 1998, when she shared it with her family for the first time. She said it was her very best Christmas ever.

Some of my best reading has been done on Sunday, not to mention the piles of studies that I did because I played on Saturday. During my last year at college, I decided, to my own amazement, to abolish Sunday study. And I did—to the last degree. I still played on Saturday, but when Sunday arrived, I could not study, so I didn’t worry about tests and papers. I did just as well in school, and my mind was renewed and refreshed, a vital part of the Sabbath.

Illustration by David Habben
I go to a school run by one of the churches in my country. Some time back I was chosen by my classmates to be our class counselor. One day as I was planning what to teach, I came across a Church booklet about the law of chastity. I decided to teach my classmates about chastity and asked the full-time missionaries for booklets, which I gave out during the lesson.
After my lesson, many students wanted to know more about the Church, so I taught them and gave them more Church materials, including the Book of Mormon. I did not know that this was not approved by the head teacher.
One day she called me to her office and asked me which church I went to. When I told her, she asked why I was giving out the Church’s “Bible” to the students. I told her that I gave them only to those who asked for them.
After a long talk about the Church, in which she made it clear that she believed it was not the Church of God, she told me, “I know that you have no parents, but I am very sorry—you will have to leave my school because you will convert many of my good students to that church of yours.” She told me to choose between the Church and my education.
She called an assembly and told the school that I was not allowed in school anymore because I belonged to the Mormon Church and that any other students following me would have to leave.
After the assembly, she asked what I had decided: my church or my education. I felt the Spirit telling me to stand for what I know: that the Lord has restored His true Church. I shared my testimony with her as I was leaving. She told me to return the following week to pick up a letter showing that I no longer went to the school.
When I came the following week, she had changed her mind! She wasn’t making me leave the school anymore. I was very happy, mostly because I had stood for what I knew to be true.
This experience taught me to always stand for what we know to be true. The Lord will always be there for us. If I had denied the Church, the students would have said that what I was teaching them was not true, but now they know that I know the truth.

Tavita started learning patience when he was a young boy. He needed a direction in his life, and when he was thirteen years old, a good friend got him into weight lifting. By the age of fourteen, Tavita could lift almost twice his own weight.
“People thought that I was twenty years old when I was only fourteen because of the way I acted and the way I looked. I had the body of an adult. Even so, I still loved to play and watch cartoons on television.”
In the following years Tavita continued to grow in both strength and size. He entered and won weight lifting competitions around the country. At the age of fifteen Tavita traveled to Little Rock, Arkansas, where he was recognized as the strongest 14–17 year-old in the United States. For five years he won national titles. By the time he was eighteen years old, he could squat-lift 412 kilos.
In high school Tavita excelled at weight lifting and football. In his first season playing football, he was selected for high school teams at both the state and then the national level. His list of awards goes on and on. “I excelled in football and weight lifting because they are the two sports I love the most,” he says.
But Tavita excelled not only because of his love for the sports, but because he taught himself strict discipline. That discipline helped him learn Cantonese while still preparing to enter the Hong Kong Mission. “When I got my call to Hong Kong, my next thought was, ‘What is a 120-kilo Samoan going to do there?” But I knew that was where Heavenly Father wanted me to serve.”
At the beginning, Tavita had difficulty learning the language. It was frustrating to not be able to communicate his strong feelings about the gospel. “Through patience and prayer I learned to endure. The relationship between my Heavenly Father and me grew closer, more than I ever thought it could. My knees literally had calluses on them.”
Patience and long-suffering helped him succeed on his mission. These attributes have continued to help him succeed in his college studies and football career. During high school, he thought he had to prove something. But now all he feels he needs to prove is his worthiness to his Heavenly Father.
Tavita continues to work out six days a week. “I take a lot of pride in building the body Heavenly Father gave to me. I want to keep it clean and to keep it physically as well as spiritually fit.”
Tavita also strives to be a good example to all his friends, both members and nonmembers. He wants to have a positive influence on those around him.
But first and foremost is his relationship with the Lord. “The relationship I have with my Heavenly Father is a little like the one I have with my own dad and mom. I try to serve Him to the best of my ability and to do what He wants me to do.”
Tavita’s father recently died, and his mother is living in California. But every opportunity they have, the family gets together to have fun. Tavita especially enjoys working on cars with his brothers and cousins. ‘I love to fix cars. I love anything to do with hands and tools. I have a strong talent for being able to fix and repair things. In fact, my father was a mechanic, and my brothers are also mechanics.”
Tavita has enthusiastic advice for the young people of the Church. “Serve a mission. Especially the young men when they turn nineteen years old. Go now. It might not be the easiest, but it will be the best two years of your life.”
He also advises youth to learn the importance of the gospel in their lives.
“Stay close to the Church,” Tavita adds. “Have a close relationship with your Heavenly Father. It has helped me.”
And that’s the kind of attitude which, whether he’s standing or kneeling, makes Tavita Sagapolu a true spiritual giant.

President Otay, who was Brother Yefi’s branch president at that time, challenged him to pay tithing and prepare himself to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood. A few months after the interview, on a rainy, wet day, Brother Yefi appeared and asked to speak with the president about paying his first tithing donation. President Otay invited him to come in, but Brother Yefi said that he had his tithing outside—three sacks of potatoes.
Imagine this brother’s faithfulness in keeping the Lord’s commandments! He had transported three sacks of potatoes by horseback, boat, bus, and then wagon to the church.
Listening to Brother Yefi testify of the law of tithing is a special experience. “Before leaving home to bring our tithing to the bishop,” he said, “I pray to Heavenly Father to bless me that I might be honest. I would not like to have the feeling that I have stolen what really belongs to Him.”
Brother Yefi testified that the Lord has greatly blessed his family for obeying the law of tithing. At the time he was baptized, he said, he had only the minimum of necessities to sustain his family—a team of oxen which he used to plow the earth, a horse, and a few goats and sheep. But, he said with great reverence, since learning the gospel and paying his tithing, “We have been greatly blessed. I have horses, goats, sheep, and nine milking cows that give us enough milk to feed our children and to make cheese to sell. And we sow and harvest our own wheat. We are very blessed!”

I also have been greatly influenced in my study and use of the scriptures by President Harold B. Lee (1899–1973). During my initial missionary training in Salt Lake City in 1971, approximately 300 elders and sisters were blessed to receive instruction from President Lee in the assembly room of the Salt Lake Temple. To be taught by one of the Lord’s special witnesses and a member of the First Presidency in such a sacred setting was a most memorable experience for me.
The format for the instruction was quite simple: President Lee invited us to ask questions about any and all gospel topics. I will never forget what I felt as I watched President Lee answer every single question from the scriptures! I knew I would never have the command of the scriptures that he did, but then and there in the Salt Lake Temple I resolved to study and use the scriptures in my teaching and follow the example of President Lee. And that commitment as a new and inexperienced 19-year-old missionary has blessed my life in ways that cannot be counted or adequately described.

Our family’s best Christmas ever didn’t happen on Christmas Day. It happened on Easter.
One Christmas had been overshadowed by worry for our son Tanner, who was struggling in the hospital with a life-threatening illness. He was in a medically-induced coma for 10 weeks. He literally slept through Christmas.
Gloriously, Tanner slowly regained his strength and was able to come home in the spring. As Easter approached, we talked about Tanner’s missed Christmas. His sisters and brother decided that he deserved a make-up. We thought about how fun it would be to turn Easter into a double holiday.
To get ready for our springtime Christmas celebration, we pulled out a box of Christmas lights, fashioned a little Christmas tree, and bought and wrapped small Christmas presents for each other.
The night before Easter, our “Christmas Eve,” we dressed up in old bathrobes and makeshift costumes for a family Nativity pageant. We read from the scriptures about the angel appearing to Mary and Joseph, their journey to Bethlehem, and their search for a place to stay but finding no room at the inn.
We also read about the shepherds tending their flocks at night, the angel of the Lord appearing to them, and a choir of the heavenly host singing, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men” (Luke 2:14). In our pageant, shepherds visited the stable where our children were dressed as farm animals (that year, our Nativity stable also included a giraffe!).
Our family Christmas pageant didn’t end there. Because it was Easter, we continued reading about how baby Jesus grew in stature, visited and taught scholars in the temple, performed miracles, ministered to His people, and met with His Apostles in an upper room in Jerusalem, where He introduced the sacrament.
We reverently read the account of Jesus entering the Garden of Gethsemane to begin His mighty atoning work—to suffer, bleed, and die for us. Then we read how He was risen on the third day. He overcame death—His own death and ours. We were reminded that because of Him, everything is possible.
On Easter morning, we got up extra early. We delighted in the glow of bright, colorful Christmas lights against the pre-dawn darkness. We excitedly opened our gifts and ate our customary Christmas breakfast of pull-apart bread. As the rising sun brightened the world outside, we hunted for Easter eggs and celebrated the wonder of the Resurrection. At church, we partook of the sacrament, which brought the reality of the Savior’s Atonement forward into the here and now.
For each of us, that “Christmas-y Easter” caused us to see more clearly that Christmas and Easter are best understood together. Christmas because it is filled with promise, and Easter because it is bursting with promises kept.
We look back happily on this experience because we would only have Tanner with us for one more Christmas before his mortal mission closed. Today, we look ahead with confidence that our separation from Tanner is just for a while because we rejoice at Christmas that “a child is born” (Isaiah 9:6), and we remember at Easter—and will remember always—that “He is risen” (see Matthew 28:6).

Some years later in Cusco, a city high in the Andes of Peru, Elder A. Theodore Tuttle and I held a sacrament meeting in a long, narrow room that opened onto the street. It was night, and while Elder Tuttle spoke, a little boy, perhaps six years old, appeared in the doorway. He wore only a ragged shirt that went about to his knees.
On our left was a small table with a plate of bread for the sacrament. This starving street orphan saw the bread and inched slowly along the wall toward it. He was almost to the table when a woman on the aisle saw him. With a stern toss of her head, she banished him out into the night. I groaned within myself.
Later the little boy returned. He slid along the wall, glancing from the bread to me. When he was near the point where the woman would see him again, I held out my arms, and he came running to me. I held him on my lap.
Then, as something symbolic, I set him on Elder Tuttle’s chair. After the closing prayer, the hungry little boy darted out into the night.
When I returned home, I told President Spencer W. Kimball about my experience. He was deeply moved and told me, “You were holding a nation on your lap.” He said to me more than once, “That experience has far greater meaning than you have yet come to know.”
As I have visited Latin American countries nearly 100 times, I have looked for that little boy in the faces of the people. Now I do know what President Kimball meant.

All of us at some point will face heartache because of death and disease. Joseph and Emma Smith were no different. Their first child died shortly after birth, and Emma’s next pregnancy (with twins) also ended in the babies’ deaths. Joseph and Emma then adopted newborn twins whose mother, Julia Clapp Murdock, had died in childbirth. Eleven months later, in March 1832, young Joseph—one of the twins—died after a mob attack on the Prophet Joseph exposed the baby, who was suffering from measles, to the cold night air.2
The deaths of his children gave Joseph empathy for others who experienced the loss of loved ones. Just a few days after his son’s death, the Prophet traveled to Missouri to fulfill a commandment the Lord had given him to counsel with the Saints there. On his way back from the trip, Joseph was delayed after Newel K. Whitney, his traveling companion, suffered a broken leg in an accident. The two had to stay in the small town of Greenville, Indiana, for a few weeks until Newel was well enough to travel.3
As Joseph languished in Greenville, he heard that his niece Mary—the two-year-old daughter of Hyrum Smith—had just died. The death was devastating to Hyrum and his wife Jerusha.4
When Joseph heard the news, he wrote a letter to Emma—who was still mourning the loss of the baby Joseph. “I was grieved to hear that Hyrum had lost his little child,” Joseph wrote. “I think we can in some degree sympathize with him.” Of course Joseph and Emma could sympathize, having lost four of their own children. Joseph then continued, “But we all must be reconciled to our lots and say the will of the Lord be done.”5 To make sense of the death, Joseph put his trust in the Lord.

1. Kourtney’s parents told her that their family was going to a temple open house. She was so excited. She liked to sing “I Love to See the Temple,” and she couldn’t wait for the chance to go inside someday.
2. When the day for the open house arrived, Kourtney and her sisters combed their hair neatly and put on Sunday dresses.
3. As they drove, Kourtney and her family talked about how families are sealed together forever in temples. When the temple came into view, Kourtney couldn’t wait to go inside.
4. When Kourtney walked into the temple, she felt a warm, peaceful feeling.
5. Kourtney walked reverently by the temple baptismal font, the sealing rooms, and other beautiful rooms of the temple.
6. Finally, she walked into the celestial room. Everything was clean and beautiful. She felt calm.
7. When Kourtney and her family finished walking through the temple, she felt so happy. She loved the temple more than ever.
8. As her family began to drive away from the temple, Kourtney turned around and pointed. “Look, Daddy! I went there someday!”

Aioo Suisala just turned 19. He works to earn money for his mission. On Saturdays and during school vacations he works with Letane and Sosaia at nearby plantations with many of the other people from the village. They get to the fields either by walking or riding horses. At the plantations they weed the taro plants, fumigate, pick bananas, and check how the pineapples are ripening.
On Sundays Aioo, who is assistant ward clerk, Sosaia, and Letane attend Church meetings and take care of their responsibilities in the ward. Their chapel is less than ten years old, and the local Saints helped to build it. Aioo and Sosaia both remember working on it.
Aioo stands in stake conference in Pesega as he is sustained to be ordained to the Melchizedek Priesthood. He has been looking forward to and preparing for this day for a long time because it means that he is almost ready to go on his mission.