Gospel Story Finder

The first snow of the season squeaked under Billy’s feet as he hurried up the street. He had looked forward to seeing snow ever since he left his home in Arizona to come and live with the Todds and go to school.
Billy tried to walk faster, but he didn’t want to risk slipping and crushing the objects in the bag he carried. I shouldn’t have taken so long in choosing the gifts, he thought.
Billy had worked hard doing yardwork around the neighborhood and had earned enough money to buy Christmas presents for each member of his family back home on the reservation.
He could picture his family on Christmas morning opening the gifts he had sent them. Everyone would be sitting around the table in the small front room at home or perhaps in the hogan next door where Grandmother still chose to live.
Billy tried to imagine how it might be, everyone together—everyone but him.
He ducked his head to stop the tears that tried to come at the thought of being so far away. If only he might go home for a few days, even for a few hours. He wanted to see the red rock cliffs, his dog Rabbit, and hear again the bleating of the sheep and goats.
Billy swung the door open and was greeted by the delicious smell of food cooking.
“I hope I’m not late for dinner,” he apologized. “I took too long trying to choose my gifts.”
“No, Billy, you’re just in time. Scoot and wash your hands,” Mrs. Todd told him.
Billy scooted. He liked the sound of that word she used. Scoot. It brought to his mind swift-moving lizards among the rocks and grass at home.
Dinnertime was always a happy occasion at the Todds with talk and laughter. Even tiny Andrea, who was just learning to say words, entered into the conversations.
Billy glanced up when he heard his name. Mrs. Todd was saying, “Tonight we’ll help Billy get his package ready to mail to his family.”
“Thanks a lot,” Billy said.
After dinner he dumped out onto the table the contents of a large shopping bag. “For Grandmother,” he said, taking out a bright scarf. “It will warm her head when she rides the many miles to town in my father’s truck.”
“For my father,” Billy explained, placing a large key ring with a fob of bright squares and triangles held together in a rectangular shape. “Now he can easily find his key,” he added, smiling.
“For my mother I have chosen this,” Billy said, his eyes sparkling with pride as he opened a small box. He saw Mrs. Todd’s quick smile of approval when bright lights danced back from the shining stones in the form of a flying bird.
For his sister, Anna, there was a pretty doll with long black hair. For John Thomas he had chosen a tiny pickup truck, much like Father’s only shining with newness. And little Rebecca would surely like the bright wind-up turtle that walked across the table with an awkward gait.
Mrs. Todd brought colorful paper and ribbons. Billy hesitated only a moment before inviting the twins to help him wrap his gifts. So pleasant a task was made even better by sharing it with others.
When the last gift was wrapped, Billy’s heart raced as he looked at the pile of bright packages. Then Mrs. Todd placed a large box on the table. Billy said laughingly, “There’s almost enough room for me to go along in that big box.”
“We want to put a few things in the box, too, from our family to yours,” Mrs. Todd explained, leaving the room. She was back in a moment carrying a tray piled high with cookies. There were Christmas trees and bells, fat Santas, and snowmen, all decorated with icing and tiny candies. Billy was pleased when he saw that some of the cookies were decorated like Navajo boys and girls. A sudden feeling of homesickness swept over him, so sharp that he could hardly breathe. He lowered his head, but Mrs. Todd had seen.
“Billy, what is it?” She put an arm around him. “I thought you’d like the cookies.”
“Oh, I do! The little ones will enjoy them so much, but I’d like to keep one boy and one girl cookie.”
“Of course, you may. There are more in the kitchen,” she said with understanding. “You’re bound to miss your home and family especially at Christmastime.”
Billy nodded in agreement. “A moment ago,” he said, “I was wishing that I could see each one’s face again.”
Billy would have turned away, but the kindness in Mrs. Todd’s eyes held him. “For a few moments, I would let my eyes search the bright rock mesas in the north and the desert to the south. I would smell the sweetness of the sagebrush and juniper, warm in the sunshine. I would race like the wind with my dog beside me.”
Billy’s shoulders slumped. “But I know that it cannot be. The distance is too great.” Billy forced his shoulders straight. “I am grateful,” he said, “for many things. What you do for me and for my people. I shall find joy in sharing with you this time of Christmas.”
Mrs. Todd gave Billy a loving hug and after that he did find pleasure in the days ahead preparing for Christmas. He spent as many happy hours choosing gifts for each of the Todds as he had done for his natural family.
When he was alone in his room at night Billy thought of his family and home.
A letter from his father said that everyone was happy and well and that they missed him. Grandmother sent a small picture of a lamb she had drawn. Mother wrote that the package had arrived and that they could hardly wait for Christmas to open it.
Billy’s first thought on Christmas morning was of his family. Have they opened my package yet? he wondered. Do the little ones like the cookies? Has mother pinned the bird ornament to her blouse? Do her eyes really close a little when she smiles?
“Billy!” David called in a loud whisper, “Come and see what’s under the tree.”
Never had Billy seen a happier sight than the Todd family around the Christmas tree. To Billy it seemed as though there was a mountain of bright packages. He didn’t want to tear off such pretty paper from his packages, but David kept reminding him to hurry.
There were pajamas and two shirts, a pair of trousers the color of sagebrush. There was a book about the presidents of the United States and games to share with David and Debra.
“And here is one more package for you, Billy,” Mrs. Todd said as she placed a box in his hands. “Just take your time opening it while the rest of us clear away this clutter of papers.”
Billy carried the box to a chair and slowly removed the paper. Several envelopes lay at the top. He opened the first—and his heart seemed to stop for a few seconds.
His mother’s face smiled up at him. He had remembered right. A smile did close her eyes a little.
He couldn’t hide his excitement as he opened one envelope after another, showing the faces of Father, Grandmother, and one of the whole family together. There was even a picture of Rabbit watching over the sheep and goats on the hillside. Several pictures of the mesas and one of the desert brought back more memories of home.
Billy noticed other packages in the bottom of the box. He laughed when he opened a box containing sprigs of sage, pinon, and juniper. They tickled his nose with the smell of home. Another box held bits of red and yellow and brown and purple rocks that came from the mesa. There was even a bottle containing layers of colored sand.
Billy looked up at Mrs. Todd wonderingly. “How did you get these?”
She laughed. “Since you couldn’t go home, we decided to bring a bit of home to you,” she said. “A friend of ours has a son living in Arizona near the reservation. He took his camera to your parents’ home and they helped him gather the other things for you.”
“It is good,” Billy sighed, “this time of Christmas that brings such kindness. I’ll still miss being with my family, but I can be happy where there is love such as I feel here.”

Like Enos, I learned some of these same lessons through personal experience. My parents joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints when I was a young boy, and I was baptized when I was eight years old. I always had a good, warm feeling in my heart about my Heavenly Father and about Jesus Christ, His restored gospel, and His Church. But it wasn’t until I was almost 16 years old that I came to pray about the truth of these things.

My inspired bishop asked me to teach a youth Sunday School class. I was supposed to teach a lesson about how we can gain a testimony of the gospel through prayer. This assignment from my bishop caused me to think more deeply about my own testimony. I had taken the time to study the Book of Mormon and always felt that the Church was true. I had always believed in the Savior Jesus Christ, but I had never taken to heart Moroni’s promise found in Moroni 10:4–5. I had never prayed about the truthfulness of the gospel.

I remember feeling in my heart that if I was going to teach these youth how to gain a testimony through prayer, I should pray for a testimony myself. My soul hungered—perhaps in a different way from Enos, but I nonetheless felt a spiritual need.

As I prepared the lesson, I knelt and offered the desire of my heart to my Heavenly Father to confirm the truth I felt inside. I was not expecting any great manifestation. But when I asked the Lord if the gospel is true, there came to my heart a very sweet feeling—that still, small voice confirming to me that it was true and that I should continue doing what I was doing.

When I asked the Lord if the gospel is true, there came to my heart a very sweet feeling—that still, small voice.

The feeling was so strong that I could never disregard that answer and say I didn’t know. I spent that whole day feeling so happy. My mind was in the heavens contemplating the beautiful feeling in my heart.

The following Sunday, I stood in front of my three or four classmates, who were all younger than I was. I testified to them that Heavenly Father would answer their prayer if they had faith.

An answered prayer Elder Soares received as a young man has allowed him to testify—as a missionary (above), father and husband, and Apostle—that Heavenly Father answers prayers offered in faith.

From then on, this testimony has stayed with me. It has helped me to make decisions, especially in moments when I’ve faced challenges. That prayer on that day, along with additional witnesses I have received through the years, has allowed me to testify to people, with conviction, that they can get answers from Heavenly Father if they pray in faith. This has been true as I have testified as a missionary, as a Church leader, as a father and husband, and even today as an Apostle.

Some time ago my wife and I were talking about a lesson she had to give. We spoke about the fact that although the lesson had one subject and several different aims, the only way you could get at it was to teach the Atonement. Then we realized that if you are teaching anything that matters, you are teaching about the Atonement.

John, our then-18-year-old son, was sitting there. I was waxing eloquent by saying that really great teachers would always know they were teaching basically about the Atonement. John then taught me something about proving. He told us about a seminary teacher. He said: “You know, Dad, he knew something. He knew that you could bear testimony to young people. You could teach that the Atonement is something they need. You could teach them that they need to have faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, to repent, and to be baptized. They need to feel the Holy Ghost. You can do all that, and they will hear you. But they may not believe you. They need to experience it before they will believe they need it.”

Then John described a teacher who had persuaded some students to prove something. The teacher’s challenge was to not go to inappropriate movies and to see whether the students could feel the effect in their lives. According to John’s report, they did. They could feel the companionship of the Holy Ghost returning.

John felt that all the sermons in the world trying to prove there was a Fall would not be nearly so effective as the person trying to do the right thing and then feeling the power of the Holy Ghost in his or her life. There is a difference we can feel between our fallen natures and our being lifted above them by the power of faith in the Lord Jesus Christ and the effects of the Atonement.

One of the most precious gifts my parents have shared with me during my childhood, was their love for the temple. Their desire to worship in the house of the Lord was constant and never wavering, despite the long distance and high cost of traveling to the closest temple.
In the late ’80s, during the renovation of the Bern Switzerland Temple, our family traveled to Frankfurt, Germany. I still clearly remember the day we arrived at the temple. I was only nine years old and, even though my brother and I had accompanied our parents to the temple many times, this experience was different for me. As we stepped into the reception of the patron housing, I felt a sense of joy and belonging that I had never experienced before. I remember sitting there with a sensation that was new to me, overwhelmed with embracing love. I remember my mother explaining that those feelings were given by the Spirit of the Lord, who was testifying to me that I was in His holy house. Even though I did not fully understand it then, it was clear to me that what I was feeling was a personal gift from the Lord.
In the tenth century BC, after many generations, the people of Israel had finally built a temple to the Lord. The first book of Kings records the dedicatory prayer offered by King Salomon. The king had gathered the people to offer a dedicatory ceremony and a feast unto the Lord. After placing the ark of the covenant into the “most holy place”1, a cloud descended on the temple and “the glory of the Lord…filled the house of the Lord”2. Like for their fathers traveling in the desert, the Lord was offering to His people a clear manifestation of His own presence in the temple3. The Lord had made no distinction between a temporary tabernacle of fabric and a precious one made of stone; both were accepted by Him, as they represented the best sacrifice the people had to offer at that time.
As part of the dedicatory prayer, King Salomon pleaded several times to “hearken thou to the supplication of thy servant”4 and to hear His people whenever they will repent and turn towards His house. As Salomon prays, he knows that the temple not only blesses peoples and nations, but also especially individuals and families, and therefore adds “What prayer and supplication soever be made by any man…which shall know every man the plague of his own heart, and spread forth his hands toward this house:
“Then hear thou in heaven thy dwelling place, and forgive, and do, and give to every man according to his ways, whose heart thou knowest.”5
Over the years, the personal joy and love I felt that day in Frankfurt, have grown to become knowledge and greater understanding of our Father in Heaven, and have provided me with the blessing of experiencing His love and tailored counsel. In the temple, I have come to know that the Lord knows the plague of my own heart, and hears me when I turn to the temple with faith. Another thing I have learned is that building a personal relationship with and knowledge of Christ in the temple require sacrifice, faith and desire. In the words of Elder David A. Bednar: “There is a difference between church-attending, tithe-paying members who occasionally rush into the temple to go through a session and those members who faithfully and consistently worship in the temple.”6
President Russell M. Nelson also added “Building and maintaining temples may not change your life, but spending your time in the temple surely will”7. May we all discover the joy of worshiping in His holy house, where God knows “the plague of (our) own heart”8 and will hearken to our supplications.

He gave his final talk in the Dewsbury Ward, Huddersfield Stake. The chapel was packed with past and present service missionaries who came to hear him and celebrate his great success. One brother, who had not been to Church for some time, commented that he felt the Spirit very strongly in the meeting and would be coming back to Church. This Spirit was probably due to the many angels who I believe attended that meeting to offer their appreciation for his wonderful missionary service, as he helped in gathering Israel on the other side of the veil.

Years ago I read a Time magazine article that reported the discovery of a letter, supposedly written by Martin Harris, that conflicted with Joseph Smith’s account of finding the Book of Mormon plates.14
A few members left the Church because of the document.15
Sadly, they left too quickly. Months later experts discovered (and the forger confessed) that the letter was a complete deception.16 You may understandably question what you hear on the news, but you need never doubt the testimony of God’s prophets.

In 2016, one night while on my mission, after praying and falling asleep, I had a dream in which a tall man dressed in white, whom I couldn’t clearly see, appeared to me. As he drew nearer, I realized it was my father. His presence filled me with immense joy, and he imparted many teachings to me, instructing me to write them down. The next day, as I reviewed my journal, I found that much of what he had taught me was recorded therein. My joy was full of the truth that many of the things he shared lightened and eased my progress on the covenant path.

VROOM. VROOM. VROOM. Ashley looked out her window. She saw a blue truck. She saw big piles of dirt. The neighbors were building a new house.
“What makes dirt piles?” Ashley asked. “Who makes houses?”
“Trucks make dirt piles,” Mom said. “Builders make houses.”
“My teacher said Jesus made everything,” Ashley said.
“Yes,” Mom said. “Jesus made everything they build houses with.”
Ashley looked in her yard. “Like trees, and rocks, and dirt?” Ashley asked.
“Yes,” Mom said. “Jesus also made our bodies. Our bodies can build things.”
Ashley was happy. Jesus helped her neighbors to be able to build a house. She knew He could help her make things too.

It had been a long week. I walked into the fireside broadcast late, struggling to filter out thoughts of exams, assignments, work, and friends. I hoped that somehow the words of the prophet could pierce through all these concerns and sink into my heart.
Oh, how I hoped and silently prayed for help to focus on the words of the prophet. And my prayer was answered. I walked into the fireside with my view clouded and troubled. When I left, I had a refreshed outlook on life and some plain, simple truths—a recipe for happiness.
Be grateful, be smart, be clean, be true, be humble, and be prayerful. How simple these statements are. How great a difference they can make in my life!
I know this gospel contains truth that is lacking elsewhere. I know that the prophet loves me. I am grateful that our Heavenly Father and the Savior love us enough to give us specific, individual guidance in our lives through prayer and through the words of our prophet. These things are plain, simple, and true.
Lisa Ware, age 19,Rochedale Ward, Eight Mile Plains Australia Stake

When I was serving as an ordinance worker in the Houston Texas Temple, a group of motorcycle riders turned into our parking lot and asked if they could come into the temple. The temple president, Richard Sutton, explained to the group the purpose of the temple and the need for a temple recommend to enter the building. The lead rider and his companion were particularly attentive.
“I felt something when we passed by your building,” he said. “I can’t explain it, but it was such a distinctive impression that I wanted to find out what might have caused it.”
The couple wanted to know more, so President Sutton arranged for the missionaries to visit him.
More than a year and a half later, President Sutton had a knock on his office door in the temple. “You won’t recognize me, but a while back I came through here with some buddies on our motorcycles. Back then, I could only look from the outside.” Holding up a temple recommend, he continued, “Today I’m going to be looking from the inside.”

From Oyo, Nigeria. Likes to play football (soccer).
I knew a boy from church who was a bully before, but one day he suddenly changed. I decided to ask him, “Why did you change?” He told me that he prayed, read his scriptures, had faith, and worked hard to change his behavior. It helped me because now when I want to make a decision, academically or spiritually, I usually pray for God to guide me.
My friend might not be perfect, but his behavior touched my heart. Now I usually read the scriptures before I take any step in my life. My friend’s example has brought me closer to Christ because any time I sin, I can go back to the Lord in prayer and repentance. Going to the Lord has helped me set aside my burdens.

Some years ago I served on the Priesthood Home Teaching Committee and was assigned to attend stake conferences with the General Authorities to teach leadership principles relating to home teaching. During a Saturday night priesthood leadership meeting in the Raft River Stake in Idaho, Elder A. Theodore Tuttle of the First Quorum of the Seventy called on me to make my presentation. For about 15 minutes I talked about the subject of home teaching and presented what I thought was a very comprehensive outline of methods that might be used to improve the performance of the brethren of the stake. The audience was courteously attentive except for a few yawns on the back row. These I attempted to cure with some interesting stories and all the enthusiasm I could generate. When I ended the talk, I sat down feeling much like a football coach who had just given a rousing talk to his team before a big game.
Elder Tuttle had a very thoughtful look on his face as he arose to talk to the group. He began his presentation by saying something like this: “I tried to listen attentively to Brother Anderson’s presentation, but my mind kept wandering. I couldn’t help thinking about the home teaching families to which I am assigned at home. I have some real challenges in trying to reach and influence them, and they are a constant concern to me. Maybe I could just tell you a little about them, and you could help me with some suggestions.”
Elder Tuttle did not reveal any personal information that would betray a confidence, but he did proceed to illustrate some problems. Before long, hands were in the air; the priesthood members were offering suggestions and solutions, and everyone in the audience was involved in helping. Who were they helping? They were helping themselves learn how to solve home teaching problems.
And me? I was observing with awe the work of a great teacher who could really motivate people. He was busy leading, delegating, creating enthusiasm, and the receivers of the learning were hardly aware of their change in attitude. They were busily involved, they thought, in solving someone else’s problems.

For many children on soccer teams in the Mission Viejo California Stake, their teams’ picture day was on a Sunday. The children decided to keep the Sabbath day holy and not be included in the pictures. Instead, the soccer players had a photo taken together in their different uniforms on another day. Each child received a copy of the “team” photo as a reminder of standing up for the right in a difficult situation.

However, as a young teenager, I began to question whether I would be allowed to serve a mission. World War II had kept my father from serving as a missionary, which he badly wanted to do. In my case, the Vietnam War was raging; only two young men from each ward in the United States were given exemptions from military duty to serve missions. The rest had to rely on high lottery numbers to allow them to serve missions. Though my lottery was a few years away, I still worried about this, wondering if I would actually be able to fulfill my childhood dream.
About this time, I attended a stake conference in which Elder Thomas S. Monson was the visiting General Authority. After one session, my mother and I went to meet him. I shook his hand and we talked. I don’t remember any of the conversation except for one sentence. He looked right into my eyes and said, “You will be going on a mission.” I never worried after that; all my doubts were removed.

A year after Cyclone Gabrielle tried to erase it from existence, the primary school of a small New Zealand community continues to forge ahead, conducting classes in the Nuhaka meetinghouse of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
And now students have a playground, donated through the efforts of many others throughout the country, who have pitched in to help the school thrive.
On 11 February 2023, Cyclone Gabrielle raced through New Zealand’s Hawke’s Bay, and left in its wake destruction and suffering. The Nuhaka Primary School in the small Hawke’s Bay community of the same name suffered extensive damage and was finally declared uninhabitable.
But through a unique collaboration between The Church and the Ministry of Education, the school obtained a wonderful solution to this and moved into the Nuhaka meetinghouse to hold classes.
Nine months later, the school continued to thrive in the church meetinghouse-turned-school during the week and students have settled in, enjoying the benefits of meeting in a building that has been dedicated to the Saviour, Jesus Christ.
Principal Raelene McFarlane said the use of the Church’s meetinghouse has been an answer to many prayers in the small community. Nine months after the school moved into the building, the results couldn’t have been better.
There have been hiccups—an October 2023 rainstorm washed dirt and debris from farmland through a back door and into the building, necessitating the temporary removal of the school to the local M?ori marae (community building) while the mud was cleaned up and the carpets were replaced. But McFarlane says the kids have proven very resilient and were anxious to come back to this building.
“What are the odds of having to pack up twice?” McFarlane said with a laugh. “The marae welcomed us in, and Maui (Aben, the president of the Gisborne New Zealand Stake) arrived that afternoon with the facilities maintenance people, and we got everything in motion to take care of that issue really fast,” McFarlane said.
But five weeks later, when school began again, they were still missing a key component of all elementary schools—a playground area. While there was plenty of grass around the Nuhaka Ward meetinghouse, there were not many shady trees and nothing to climb.
Enter Pacific Assist Foundation. As detailed last September, Pacific Assist Director Callum Blair was able to obtain some stored equipment from Torbay School in Auckland.
After a few months tying down some loose ends, it was shipped to Nuhaka and installed, along with some overhead shade provided by the Church, with the assistance of local missionaries in February.
Elder Nathan Woods, of Garden City, Utah, USA, and Elder Jacob Hughes of Branson, Missouri, USA assisted in the installation of the playground, along with Blair and other members of his Pacific Assist Team. Elder Woods said he and Elder Hughes were delighted to be of assistance.
“As missionaries, we cherish opportunities to serve others,” Woods said. “When you help others, it helps you remember the times that people have helped you, and you remember how it feels and how much those people mean to you.”
Elder Hughes agreed, noting that the opportunity to serve is an opportunity to grow as a person and to appreciate others even more. “It’s amazing to know that when we serve those around us, God remembers that effort.”
He continued, “I think when I get to help someone in a way that brings them joy, it gives me a glimpse of the love He has for them. It was an awesome experience to see how excited everyone was who helped with this.
“They just knew how much joy it would bring to these children who had gone through so much.”
And the kids really appreciated the effort expended to make it possible for them. “They were so excited when it was finally ready for them,” McFarlane said. “We couldn’t keep them focused on their work, so we finally just told them to go try it out!”
Meanwhile, the old primary school is being removed and a new school is being planned for the same site. While McFarlane hopes the new school will be completed and ready to move into in 2025, she says she, her staff and students are so grateful for the gift of the use of the Nuhaka Ward meetinghouse they have now.
“Having to go to the marae last October really reminded us how fortunate we were to be able to hold school in this building,” she reflects. “Everything we need now is here, and we’re able to teach our students all the things they need to grow and thrive.
“It is such a blessing and I’m sure, after we eventually move out into our own new space, that we’ll all look back on our time here with tremendous fondness and gratitude,” McFarlane said. “These kids will remember and talk about this for the rest of their lives.”

“What are we going to do now?” asked Danny as Mom put a batch of cinnamon rolls into the oven.
Before Mom could answer, Elizabeth asked, “Mom, when will Christmas be here? I want to open my presents.”
Mom sighed as she shut the oven door and set the timer. “There’s a lot we can do, Danny, and, Elizabeth, there’s much, much more to Christmas than opening presents.” She sat down. “Let’s see—how about a game?”
The children nodded enthusiastically.
“Elizabeth, I want you to get Baby Jesus from the nativity set in the family room.”
Elizabeth ran into the family room. She quickly came back with Baby Jesus.
“Now, Danny, close your eyes while Elizabeth hides the Baby Jesus. She’ll tell you when you can open them. Then you look for Him. If you’re far away, she’ll say you’re cold or colder. But if you’re getting closer to the hiding place, she’ll say you’re warm or warmer. Do you understand?” When Danny nodded, Mom said, “All right, close your eyes, Danny.”
Danny put his hands over his eyes. Elizabeth quickly put the Baby Jesus on the music stand of the piano. She looked at Mom and silently mouthed, “Is that OK?”
Mom smiled and nodded.
Elizabeth moved back next to Mom. “You can open your eyes now, Danny.”
Danny uncovered his eyes and took several steps toward the couch.
“You’re cold,” said Elizabeth.
“Colder,” Danny heard as he looked under the end table. “Colder. Oh, Danny, you’re as cold as you can get over there by the fireplace!” declared Elizabeth.
Danny slumped his shoulders in frustration and said, “I don’t like this game.”
“Don’t give up,” urged Mom. “Now that you know where the Baby Jesus isn’t, you should have a better idea about where He is.”
Danny thought a minute, then did an about-face.
Elizabeth cheered, “Hooray! You’re getting warmer.”
Then, instead of looking down, Danny looked up at the piano. He smiled and stood tall as he walked toward the piano.
“Warm, warmer, warmest!” declared Elizabeth as he reached out his hand and picked up Baby Jesus.
“Danny wins the game!” announced Mom.
Danny had a great big grin on his face, and Elizabeth had one too. Mom gathered them both in her arms and explained. “You see, the real purpose of Christmas is like our little game. It’s to try to get closer to Jesus. When we do, we feel warm. If you get that good, warm feeling, the Spirit is telling you that you’re doing the kinds of things that Jesus would like.”
Bzzzz!
“The cinnamon rolls are done,” shouted Elizabeth and Danny.
“Why don’t you two put on your coats while I frost the rolls? Then you can deliver some to Mrs. Simms while they’re still hot.”
Elizabeth and Danny rushed into the house after delivering the rolls. “Mom! Mom! Mrs. Simms was so happy to get the rolls that she had tears in her eyes!” reported Danny.
“I think Jesus liked us giving her the rolls, because I feel warm inside,” said Elizabeth. “And if you’re warm, you’re getting closer.”

As a child living in the suburbs of Taipei, Taiwan, I never knew about the missionaries. So the first time I came in contact with them, I was curious about their message. It didn’t take long before I was eager to follow their teachings and put the gospel into practice in my life. I felt that this was a way for me to find out if there really is a God.
Within a month, I had been taught the gospel and the commandments that are taught before baptism. Peace came to me through prayer, I received personal revelation from studying the scriptures, and I never missed a Church meeting. I decided that I should be baptized.
The biggest challenge I faced at that time were problems that had emerged in my relationships with some of my friends because they opposed my involvement with the Church. I prayed a great deal about these problems, but our relationships seemed to only get worse.
I invited my friends to my baptism, but they completely disregarded my invitation. I really did not know what to do. Before my baptism, I sat alone on the sofa in the foyer of the chapel, praying that my friends would miraculously appear so I could tell them about the positive changes I had made in my life and prove to them that I was making the right decision by being baptized.
My friends never showed up, but while I poured my heart out to God, I felt an impression. At that point, I felt great love from my Heavenly Father. I knew that He was there and had truly listened to my prayer.
I originally wanted to be baptized simply because of all the wonderful things happening in my life, but at that moment, I came to understand the purpose of my baptism.
The impression I received was like the voice of the Lord speaking tenderly and directly to me, saying, “You don’t need to prove anything to anyone. You just need to prove to me that you are willing to come unto me and stay true to my gospel for the rest of your life.”

“They never told us any of this in the MTC,” was all I could think of as I followed my companion down a dismal Düsseldorf side street, shuffling my frozen feet through the dirty snow as I went.
Less than a week before, I had left the Missionary Training Center after two intense but glorious months filled with grammar and vocabulary, discussions and scriptures, and a growing recognition of the workings of the Spirit. Still ringing in my ears were countless stories from teachers and General Authorities of the immeasurable joy that awaited me in the mission field and of the way lives would change because of the message I carried.
As I tracted that day I felt betrayed. The only changed life I could see was my own: changed from the comfort of Arizona sunshine to the misery of a German winter and from the freedom of my pre-mission existence to a life-style of exhausting physical work and infinite restrictions.
I wondered where all the joy could be as we climbed endless staircases to talk to people who didn’t want to talk to us. I wondered too, how the truth could possibly make a difference in the lives of those who shut their doors before hearing a complete sentence. Most of all I wondered where the promised Spirit was: the Spirit that softened the hearts of men like Alma and Saul, that guided missionaries like Ammon and Aaron to proclaim the right words to the right people, and that gave messengers like Abinadi and Samuel the Lamanite the strength of conviction and love for the people to carry on despite all persecution and rejection.
I felt no love for the people, no joy in the work, and no Spirit to comfort or inspire me. All I felt was an ever-increasing, completely foreign bitterness, and an aloneness I never knew existed.
As I fought back steamy tears and silent, choking sobs, I turned my thoughts to home, hoping to ease my desperation for even a second. In that frustrated, confused moment, a single picture unfolded in my mind. I saw my parents kneeling at their bedside, heads bowed and brows furrowed in prayer. Their words were for me. “Dear Father, bless our daughter. Keep her from discouragement and lead her in thy paths.”
As that picture faded, a hundred others tumbled one after the other into its place—pictures of six brothers and a sister; of relatives, friends, and ward members all bowed in prayer for me. I glanced at my watch and realized that it was early morning at home and that those earnest prayers were being said right then. And I knew, with undeniable clarity, that they were being answered right then as a feeling of drenching love and warmth dissolved every negative emotion from my soul. I sensed a powerful, glowing triangle, linking home and heaven and me.
I knew then, with a witness that comes only from the Spirit I had sought, that I was a part of a work not my own, but that of an omniscient, loving Father who sent his Son to show me the way. “I am the vine, ye are the branches: He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit: for without me ye can do nothing” (John 15:5).
Snow still falls and doors still shut, but weekly letters bring a renewed assurance as I read “You are in our prayers,” for I know that each of those prayers ascends to the Source of all love and distills daily upon every servant in His vineyard.

My grandparents run an orphanage in Guatemala. My family was going to visit them, so I put a service project together for my birthday. We fixed up dolls to give to the children. I also bought them cars, bubbles, and lollipops with my birthday money. When we handed out the toys, I felt peace and happiness. I knew God was proud of me. I can’t wait to serve others again!
Katie S., age 11, Connecticut, USA

One particular experience left a lasting impression on him. While serving as an Area Seventy, Paul was hurrying into the temple when he noticed an older man slowly making his way out. His gaze lingered on the elderly patron, and at that moment, the Spirit whispered to him, “He is a holy man.” Paul had never met him before, and the man held no position of prominence. Yet he was identified by Deity as holy. Paul realized then that when we enter the Lord’s house, even a portion of His holiness distils upon us, and we take that with us when we return to our homes.