Gospel Story Finder

When my Beehive leader told us that we were going to the Ogden Utah Temple to do baptisms for the dead in a few days, I was suddenly both very excited and very nervous.
It would be my first time doing baptisms for the dead, and I wasn’t sure what to expect. For one thing, I couldn’t remember the special way you were supposed to hold the arm of the person baptizing you. It had been over four years since my own baptism. What if I did it wrong? And what if I couldn’t find my recommend that day? There were so many worries going through my head that I couldn’t concentrate on the lesson.
That night at dinner I told my family the news. My brother, who is 14 and has done baptisms for the dead before, told me I would love it. “It’s really cool,” he said.
My brother was right, it was cool, very cool!
There were a lot of things that made it special. The thing that I will always remember about that first time in the temple was feeling the Spirit. I’ve heard that the temple is a sacred place, but now I better understand what that means, because I felt that sacredness through the Spirit.
I loved how friendly the temple workers were. They made me feel welcome and showed me exactly what to do while I was there. I don’t know why I was worried about doing something wrong. They helped me do everything the right way.
While we waited for our turn, we watched the group ahead of us through the windows overlooking the font. I had seen pictures of temple fonts, but seeing one in real life was a lot different. I was surprised how big the 12 oxen figures were.
I had never thought about how the people on the other side of the veil feel when their work is done. The person who spoke to us before we did the baptisms said that those people have been waiting a long time for this day. We were also told that we might get to meet them in the next life because they would appreciate our doing their temple work. That made me want to take each baptism seriously, even if I knew I couldn’t possibly remember the name of every person.
Another thing that was especially memorable that day was that the person performing the baptisms and confirmations for our group was a returned missionary from our ward. He hadn’t even been home a week, and he came to the temple with us. He even provided the names. He had brought them home from France, and he pronounced each name with a perfect French accent.
Later, when I got home and walked through the door, I yelled, “That was so totally awesome!”
I didn’t quite know what to expect when I went to the temple for the first time, but I definitely didn’t expect to be so eager to go back. I now realize that while I was in the temple, I left the world behind. That’s why I could feel the Spirit so strongly. That must be why our bishop was so happy to know we went to the temple. He wants everyone to feel that Spirit.
My brother was right. I loved the temple, and I can’t wait to return!

On Wednesday, Charlie was hurrying past the picture on the wall when he ran smack into Billie Jo and knocked her down. She began to cry. Charlie was about to say something like, “You big baby, watch where you’re going next time.” But his eyes looked right into the eyes in the picture, and he remembered Brother Park telling them about the people who had hurt Jesus. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, especially Billie Jo. He knelt down and put his arm around his little sister. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Billie Jo quit crying and smiled. “I’m OK,” she said and went off to play. Charlie was glad that he had taken the time to show love for Billie Jo.

Each week after the Twelve and First Presidency have met in the temple to take care of current business, we take turns reporting where we have been and what has been accomplished in the way of stake divisions or reorganizations, or missions visited, regional conferences attended, and so on. One week I remember among the Twelve we had been almost everywhere around the globe. President Kimball listened to all of us and then gave his report: “I spent Saturday and Sunday visiting the sick and the homebound.” The rest of us who thought we had had a busy and productive weekend realized that a man of God had again taught us a lesson.

Elder Ronald A. Rasband visited Oklahoma just after a huge tornado struck the area. He was especially touched by a fifth grader he met there named Tori. She had huddled in the restroom with her friends as the tornado roared through her school. Tori said a prayer that Heavenly Father would protect them. Suddenly the roof tore away! Tori kept praying. “All of a sudden it got quiet,” she said. “When I opened my eyes, I saw a stop sign right in front of my eyes!” Later Elder Rasband gave Tori a blessing. He told her that angels had protected her in the storm. (See “The Joyful Burden of Discipleship” from the Saturday morning session.)

Hi! My name is Blessy!
I live in India with my family. I got to plan a special Christmas activity for my school and share the gospel with my friends!
Young Missionaries
My Primary leaders teach that we should be missionaries. Sometimes I invite my friends to church. Most of the time, they say no. I thought that maybe I was too young to be a missionary.
A Family Challenge
Then, at family home evening, Dad challenged our family to invite one person to church every month. I wanted to do it, but it was tough! I asked Dad for help. He said I could pray. So I did.
The Idea
The next day at school, the principal asked for ideas for a school Christmas activity. I had a great idea! I told her that all the Primary-age kids could come visit my church. She called my parents, and they talked to the bishop to plan the activity. Our Primary leaders and the missionaries helped too.
An Exciting Day
Soon the day arrived. I felt nervous and excited at the same time. When Dad took me to school, I saw everyone was there and ready to go. Almost 500 students and teachers came!
Together at Church
At the church we watched a video about Jesus Christ’s birth. The young adults and missionaries sang Christmas songs. The bishop and my dad gave talks about how Jesus loves children and about loving one another. I gave a talk about Christmas. Everyone had a great time! My principal and my teacher even asked the missionaries questions.

More than 40 years ago as I contemplated the challenge of a mission, I felt very inadequate and unprepared. I remember praying, “Heavenly Father, how can I serve a mission when I know so little?” I believed in the Church, but I felt my spiritual knowledge was very limited. As I prayed, the feeling came: “You don’t know everything, but you know enough!” That reassurance gave me the courage to take the next step into the mission field.

During that same Saturday afternoon leadership meeting, I noticed some youth slip into the meeting and reverently and attentively listen to the teachings and discussion. I was surprised to see them, as those invited to the leadership meeting were adult district and branch council members, and typically youth are not anxious to sit through long additional Church meetings, especially when not directed at them. After the meeting, we went to meet these fine young people and to learn more about them. I was astonished to learn that they had just arrived on a public transportation bus from seven hours away. They had come straight to the meetinghouse with the desire to feel the Spirit during this weekend district conference. It was obvious that they were full of joy at being in the midst of fellow members of the Church far from their homes in the north of Namibia. Several were new converts, and several were actively preparing to serve missions despite living in a town where there was no organized unit of the Church. They were led by a wonderful returned missionary who radiates the joy of the gospel and is appropriately named Happy. Immediately following the Sunday session of the conference, this impressive group of young people would once again get on a bus for the seven-hour return journey so they could be home in time for school and work on Monday. I marveled at their willingness to journey from so far at great personal sacrifice to hear the word of the Lord and am delighted to know that now in their own town of Ongwediva, we have since organized a branch of the Church.

Blair: I grew up in the Church and have a testimony. However, there is a part of my life that few people know. At age seven I often saw a pornographic poster on a teenage neighbor’s wall. It left an impression in my mind that I could not forget. Unworthy thoughts led me to develop an unworthy habit I felt I couldn’t break.

Blair: My self-confidence dwindled in church, school, and everywhere. Many times I felt very alone, awkward, and unworthy. If a girl liked me, I would think, “She wouldn’t like me if she really knew me.” I would shy away from being social.

Blair: I prayed for strength to leave these temptations alone. I made a list of things such as prayer, scriptures, and clean thoughts that would help me draw close to God. But although I worked hard, it didn’t solve my problems.
The thought of confessing to the bishop made me cringe. I felt it would be better to tell the bishop about the problem when it was in the past. But I finally realized it wasn’t ever going to be in the past if I did not confess. If God already knew my struggles and I felt comfortable talking about them in prayer, why not talk face to face with God’s servant? Once I finally decided to confess, I felt a reassuring peace that it was the right thing to do.
If you are using pornography, you are not morally clean, even if you haven’t done anything else immoral. Rob talks about realizing he wasn’t worthy to go to the temple or on a mission.
Rob: I humbly bowed before the Lord in tears and pleaded for strength beyond my own. Night after night I prayed, and finally I knew I had to talk to my bishop about it. That was the hardest part—admitting to someone else that I had a problem. I kept thinking I could handle it myself and no one would ever have to know. I wanted it to be something just between God and me. But I finally matured to a point where I realized that was impossible. I approached my bishop and began a long and difficult repentance process.
Repentance may be difficult, but it is also comforting and filled with hope.
Speaking of those who struggle with pornography, one bishop says: “Help is available. The repentance process is just that—a process. It takes time to break negative patterns, and each small victory must be acknowledged, reinforced, and celebrated along the way. Sometimes those I have worked with still struggle, but at least they are not hiding anymore. They have begun to build a support system. They have realized they don’t have to face this challenge alone.”
A former bishop explains: “Besides my own family, I don’t think I loved anyone in my ward quite as much as I loved those who came to me with broken hearts, seeking forgiveness and peace. They cared more about what the Lord thought of them than what any person thought. I respected their courage and desire to make things right. I shed tears over them. I rejoiced when they were clean and whole again. And afterward I never looked at them as former sinners—only as beloved brothers and sisters.”
“Trust in the Lord,” counseled Elder Richard G. Scott of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. “He knows what He is doing. He already knows of your problems. And He is waiting for you to ask for help” (“Trust in the Lord,” Ensign, May 1989, 36).
I felt relief when I stopped pretending. Sharing the burden with my bishop and my family meant I no longer had to deal with this addiction alone. Now I hold on to this support system.
A problem that dominated my youth could not be overcome overnight. This road has been long and hard—and it continues. It isn’t enough anymore to look happy. I want to be happy. I am coming to know Christ and to understand the Atonement. The Savior gives me the strength I need so my self-confidence and self-respect grow each day.
I was honest with my bishop. And when my dad talked to me, I was honest with him too. We worked on the problem together. We decided not to have the Internet in our home for a while. That was a big help.
I’m turning 16 soon, and I’m glad I decided not to let pornography control my life. I feel better about myself, and I think about young women differently than I did before. With my bishop’s help, I’m preparing now for the temple, a mission, and a great marriage one day.
It took a lot of time and sincere effort to break bad habits. Eventually I was judged by my priesthood leader as worthy to serve a mission. The best feeling in the world was to go to the temple and know I am clean. The Spirit I wanted to feel during all those teenage years came flooding into my heart and life. I am so thankful for the Atonement of Jesus Christ.
The adversary still works on me, trying to get me to backslide. But I have learned to put on the armor of God every day. I know Jesus Christ loves me, and I love Him.
The best way to avoid a problem with pornography is to stay as far away from it as possible. But if you are struggling with pornography or any unworthy habit, please talk to your bishop or branch president. He loves you, he will be discreet, and he can help you put the power of the Atonement to work in your life. With the help of the Savior and His servants, you can gain the strength you need. You can become clean and confident and worthy in every respect.
It is both dangerous and wrong to deliberately view things that stimulate sexual thoughts. Our environment is full of such things. And because they are often legal and common, it is sometimes impossible to avoid seeing them.
But you don’t have to let them trap you. If you put on the full armor of God every day by praying, studying the scriptures, and doing your best to keep the commandments, you will develop the strength to withstand this and any temptation.
Here are some other ways you can stay far from the lethal spiritual crevice called pornography.
Know it when you see it. A simple definition is this: Pornography is any entertainment that uses immodest or indecent images to stimulate sexual feelings. So even a mainstream television program or advertisement can be pornographic. If images trigger sexual feelings in you, you should avoid them.
Break the emotional connection. There is a connection between any addictive behavior and emotions such as stress, anxiety, and depression. If you are feeling stressed or anxious, try to deal with those feelings directly—rather than using pornography or any other destructive means to cover them up. Prayer, scripture study, exercise, positive friends, and regular Church attendance can all help. A parent, a Church leader, or another trusted adult can be a lifeline if problems seem too big to resolve alone.
Surf smart. If you have access to the Internet at home, ask your parents to install an Internet filtering service. But don’t rely on the filter alone; it may fail you. The only real control is self-control. Keep your computer out of your bedroom; keep it where others will be around.
Be a modern-day Joseph. Remember what Joseph did when Potiphar’s wife tried to trap him in an immoral situation? Joseph “fled, and got him out” (Gen. 39:12). In other words, he ran. When you are exposed to pornography, leave immediately—whether by a mouse click, a channel change, or a quick exit from a friend’s house.
Get the most powerful help of all. Don’t let your spirit grow weak from lack of spiritual food. A steady diet of righteous influences—such as prayer, scripture study, Mutual, seminary, and a careful study of For the Strength of Youth—can give you the strength you need to navigate through a world that has spiritual crevices at every turn.
“I plead with you boys … to keep yourselves free from the stains of the world. You must not indulge in sleazy talk at school. You must not tell sultry jokes. You must not fool around with the Internet to find pornographic material. You must not dial a long-distance telephone number to listen to filth. You must not rent videos with pornography of any kind. This salacious stuff simply is not for you. Stay away from pornography as you would avoid a serious disease. It is as destructive. It can become habitual, and those who indulge in it get so they cannot leave it alone. It is addictive.

“It is a five-billion-dollar business for those who produce it. They make it as … attractive as they know how. It seduces and destroys its victims. It is everywhere. It is all about us. I plead with you young men not to get involved in its use. You simply cannot afford to.”—President Gordon B. Hinckley (“Living Worthy of the Girl You Will Someday Marry,” Ensign, May 1998, 49)
Pornography can be powerfully addicting. Scientific research—including new brain-scan technology—is beginning to show that pornography may cause physical and chemical changes in the brain similar to those caused by drugs. The only sure way to avoid the danger is to stay away from pornography in the first place.
If you have become addicted, you must seek help. The first person to see is your bishop or branch president. He can help you bring the Savior’s redeeming and healing power into your life. He can also help you obtain professional help as necessary. Please don’t try to go it alone.
Pornography isn’t just available, it is being pushed and marketed. Nobody—no adult, no returned missionary, no one—is so mature or so strong that he or she can risk deliberate exposure. Plan to be on guard your entire life. And that is even more true for those who have had a previous problem with pornography. It’s like being recovered from a drug or alcohol addiction. You must not return for even a taste because you can be overwhelmed in a moment.

About a hundred years ago, Sarah Young Vance qualified as a midwife. Before she began serving the women of Arizona, a priesthood leader blessed her that she would “always do only what was right and what was best for the welfare of her patients.” Over a period of forty-five years Sarah delivered approximately fifteen hundred babies without the loss of a single mother or child. “Whenever I came up against a difficult problem,” she recalled, “something always seemed to inspire me and somehow I would know what was the right thing to do” (L. J. Arrington and S. A. Madsen, Sunbonnet Sisters: True Stories of Mormon Women and Frontier Life, Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1984, p. 105).

We had some additional motivation not to cancel FSY. The year before at almost the same time, the conference had been planned for this same group, everything organized and ready to go. On the morning FSY was to begin it had to be cancelled because the Omicron variant of COVID-19 that originated in South Africa was spreading quickly. The youth had been unable to participate in any activities the years before due to the coronavirus, and now at the last minute in 2021 the light at the end of the tunnel had been ripped away from them. Would we have to repeat this again in 2022? We hoped not.

We inspected the bridge to see if it would be possible for the youth to cross it by foot. We observed that most of the bridge was out of the river, but if we were to use it, the youth would still have to cross a portion of the river in at least knee-deep water that was running swiftly for the last 30 meters. We asked the Konka staff to begin setting up ropes across the bridge, emphasizing that we would not take any risks with the youth, many of whom do not swim at all. If it was clear we could cross the river safely, we would go forward with this plan.
A few hours before the youth began to arrive, we held a meeting and a quick spiritual thought with the young single adults. As a Church, our pioneers have crossed rivers in times of extreme difficulty before. “Let me tell you about the Sweetwater River in Wyoming and the story of the Martin and Willie handcart companies,” I said.
I recounted the events of Nov. 4, 1856, when the members of the Martin handcart company could go no further and wept at the thought of crossing that river in the frigid cold to find shelter from the storm at Martin’s Cove.
I told them of three members of the rescue party from Salt Lake City, all young adults, who stepped forward and volunteered to carry the entire company across the frigid river at great personal cost. I then asked, “who is willing to carry on this tradition and carry our 530 youth across the river this morning so a different kind of rescue can continue today, right here?”
The young single adults leapt to their feet volunteering in excitement to be a rescuer for the 2022 FSY and carry our youth across the river. They ran to their dorm rooms and changed into suitable clothing, knowing they were about to get very wet and dirty in the river and mud.
At 10:45 am we walked down to the water. The youth had already begun to arrive. The Konka staff had fixed the ropes to hold while crossing the water and were ready for the assistance of the young single adults. Several leaders grabbed onto the ropes and walked across the river and foot bridge to greet the youth and their parents and leaders as they arrived, to give them confidence and assurance that everything was safe, and we were moving forward.
There was shock on the faces of the youth and leaders as we explained the situation and instructed the youth to remove their shoes and socks and pull up their pant legs as far as they could. An umbrella to protect them from the rain was all most had planned on. Now they were about to cross a river on foot. As they walked down to the footbridge, several slipped, a few even falling in the deep and slippery mud. “Hang on to the rope!” was the yell that echoed for the next three hours as group after group arrived.
The young adult leaders took every suitcase and all the bedding and carried it across the footbridge. Over 500 youth made it across the river, either on the backs of the young single adults or picking their own cautious paths across the river whilst holding onto the safety ropes. A few hours later, the rain began to lessen. We had made it, and the FSY experience could go forward.
Uniformly, the youth expressed thanks that FSY had not been cancelled and we had found a way forward. Several analogies to our river crossing followed during the week, all relating back to the theme trust in the Lord. The young single adults acting as counselors not only carried and guided the youth across a literal river, but then spent the week teaching and strengthening the youth in a way that has had a deep and meaningful impact—teaching them and sharing tools for navigating an increasingly difficult world. Lives have been forever changed.

Jesus Christ told the Prophet Joseph Smith many important things to help us. The Church set up a printing press to print Jesus’s words. That way people would be able to read them.
One day, a group of angry men came. They destroyed the printing press. They threw the pages of the scriptures out into the street.
Two sisters named Mary Elizabeth and Caroline Rollins saw what happened. They ran and gathered the pages in their arms.
The girls hid in a cornfield until the men left. They had saved the scriptures! Those scriptures later became part of the Doctrine and Covenants.

But on Sundays, Alba takes on a role unlike most other 14-year-olds. Stop by her Spanish-speaking branch in Ogden, Utah, and you may find her sitting in a side pew, whispering English words into a tiny microphone attached to headphones atop her head.

Even at 14 Alba isn’t a newcomer to the world of interpreting. In fact, Alba has been interpreting for everything from sacrament meeting to stake conference since she was just 11 years old. And long before that, Alba was interpreting for parents, teachers, and students at her elementary school.

Eventually Alba started translating for her Spanish branch. In the beginning, she would sit behind English-speaking visitors (such as the stake Young Women presidency), and whisper the translation to them. It wasn’t until a few years later that the branch started using headphones with microphones.

Learning Church words in English was like learning a whole new language for Alba. “It was totally new for me because as a child I had never read the scriptures in English. I had never done anything that had to do with the Church in English—only in Spanish,” she says. “So it was really weird for me to learn all these English words—like the different levels of the priesthood—all these words I had never heard before.”

For the first few years, Alba really struggled with some of the English terms. But now she is in an English seminary class and has read the Book of Mormon in English. She says this has really helped.

Even though she still makes mistakes once in a while, Alba has overcome a lot of the self-consciousness she used to feel. She says she still gets nervous for the big events, but mostly she thinks it’s fun and exciting that she can help out.

Alba loves helping other people feel the Spirit and better understand the messages in sacrament meeting. She also thinks that interpreting for her Spanish branch has helped her stay in tune with the Spirit.

“It has really helped me a lot, because in sacrament meeting, sometimes it’s easy for my thoughts to wander,” she says. “But now I pay attention more, I am more focused, and I understand what the speaker is trying to say.”

My doctor told me I have diabetes and that I would need to take shots of insulin before every meal. I was really sad because the disease would be with me the rest of my life. I asked my dad to give me a priesthood blessing. During the blessing he told me that I would have courage and be tough enough to take the injections. My mom and I went to the hospital to spend the night. I practiced using a needle to inject water into oranges because oranges are kind of like human skin. At dinnertime, the nurse asked me if I wanted to do my own injection. I said, “Yes, I will try.” I did it! The nurses were amazed that I was brave enough to do my own shot the first time. I have done all my own injections and blood sugar tests since the very first day. I know that my priesthood blessing helped me to be brave. I know that Heavenly Father will always be there to help me.Christopher Hall, age 10,Mountain Home, Idaho

I love everything about Christmas: the lights, carols, time with family—everything we do to celebrate the birth of Jesus. Oh, and I especially love getting presents. I start making my Christmas wish list in September.
One year my list was about as long as my arm. And I kept thinking of things to add to it. I was excited to show it to my dad. “Well, David, I see what you want to get for Christmas,” he said as he looked it over. “But what are you going to give?”
“I’m making gifts for you and Mom at school. On Friday Mom is taking me shopping for Shannon’s and Jon’s gifts. So I’ve got it all planned out.”
“Hmmm,” was all Dad said. For some reason he didn’t like my answer. I didn’t like the sound of “hmmm.”
The next family home evening, my parents discussed the idea of giving and getting and the true meaning of Christmas. I could see my wish list getting shorter by the minute. They asked us if we had any ideas to help us remember to be more giving. Shannon waved her hand excitedly. My older brother, Jon, and I groaned. With Shannon, ideas usually involved doing things for other people, like weeding our neighbors’ gardens.
“Let’s choose some people who are lonely or in need and anonymously leave presents on their doorsteps,” Shannon said with excitement.
“Not a bad idea,” Jon said. “It would be top secret.”
“This might actually be fun,” I thought.
We all agreed that it would be a great plan. We chose two families. One was the Swenson family in our ward. Since Brother Swenson had gone back to school, they never seemed to have enough money. They had lots of kids too, who would love getting Christmas surprises. The other family was Mr. and Mrs. Perez, an older couple who lived down the street. They always seemed a little lonely.
We all went shopping for the gifts. We agreed to buy them using some of the money we would have used for our own presents. That was fine with me. I was having way too much fun choosings toys for the younger Swenson boys. Somehow my stuff wasn’t that important anymore.
We decided to give one gift a night to each family starting 12 days before Christmas. When the first night came, I dressed in black from head to toe, and Jon drove me over to the Swensons’ house. I quietly put the first gift on the porch, rang the doorbell, and ran away as fast as I could. I jumped behind a fence just as one of the kids opened the door. I could hear their surprised voices as they discovered the present. I felt like I would explode with excitement and joy. My life as a Secret Giver had begun.
Things only got better—and harder. We had to go at different times every night and sometimes even in the morning because the Swenson kids started looking out the window to try to catch us. And every time I crept up to the Perez’s doorstep, I imagined Mrs. Perez waiting there, ready to fling the door open, give me a hug, and tell me how wonderful I was. I definitely had to avoid that. Keeping a secret was half the fun.
Well, that year was only the beginning. The Christmas after that, we chose a family whose daughter had been in the hospital 11 times that year and another family whose mom had cancer. Wow—I didn’t realize that some people had it so tough. Now that Christmas is here again, we’ve decided to help three families. The hardest part is choosing them. There seem to be so many people who could use a little Christmas cheer.
As for my own list? Each year it has gotten a little shorter. I’m so busy making my Secret Giver plans that I don’t have much time to think about myself. There are gifts to choose and strategies to plan.
One thing is certain—it’s great doing things for others. Nothing beats the feeling I get when I see the surprise and excitement on the faces of the people we help. Giving has become one of my favorite things about Christmas.

The fourth miracle was found in the power of prayer.
Ray wasn’t feeling well on the day Elder Gamble picked him up for his own endowment. His medication was making him dizzy and weak in the knees. They had to stop and rest several times between the hotel room and the car.
After a fervent prayer for Ray’s health and ability to proceed with his journey, Ray got out of the car and walked into the temple to receive his endowment. He had no further issues that day.
With additional support from senior missionary couples, the Felts and the Carrs, and President and Sister Kuhn from the mission presidency, Ray was able to perform proxy endowments for his ancestors. Elder Gamble described evidence of the Spirit in the celestial room later, where he saw tears rolling down Ray’s cheeks. “This is the first time I’ve felt a closeness to the Lord in such a profound way,” Ray explained. “I am in wonderment of His rich blessings.”
His ability to participate in all the planned sessions of his temple trip depended on how Ray felt, but on the days he didn’t attend, Sister Gamble says, everyone at the temple asked where Ray was. “It was like they were inquiring about a long-lost friend.”
Some days, Ray relied on the power of prayer to keep going. “On Saturday morning, [he] was feeling sick again,” Sister Gamble reports. “We said a prayer with Ray in the car and again he perked up almost immediately and was able to move forward with sealings.”
Referencing President Russell M. Nelson’s invitation to think celestial, the sealer said, “doing sealings is just about as close to thinking celestial as one can get in this life.”
Ray was sealed first to his parents, and then his mother was sealed to the grandparents who raised him. In total, 96 family ordinances were performed throughout the week. The group had many tender mercies and felt very close to the Spirit.
“I can’t even begin to tell you how idyllic it was for me to be introduced to the temple for the first time,” Ray said. “It was a joy unimaginable. I’m so looking forward to many more such visits… If only the same joy could be felt in absolutely every other location throughout the world and every single person could focus on the exquisite experience and peace of our Heavenly Father’s presence, there could not be any room for the hurt and devastating destruction that we learn about so constantly in our world.”

Daniel ran into his house. He was sad.
“What’s wrong, Daniel?” Mom asked.
“Jake was being mean to kids at recess. I told him to stop,” Daniel said. “He got mad. He called me a name. He said he does not want to be my friend.”
“I’m sorry,” Mom said. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”
Mom and Daniel walked to Mom and Dad’s room.
Mom took a jar of pennies from the shelf. She poured the pennies onto the bed.
Clank! Clank! Clank!
“Pick a penny, Daniel,” Mom said. “You can keep it.”
Daniel picked a very shiny penny.
“Why did you pick that penny?” Mom asked.
“I like that it is shiny,” Daniel said.
“Friends are like pennies,” Mom said. “We should choose friends who make us feel good.”
That night when Daniel went to bed, he prayed to find a friend who would help him choose the right so he could feel good.
Daniel remembered a boy who liked to play basketball at recess. Daniel liked to play basketball too! Maybe they could be friends.
Daniel was happy the next day when he got out of bed.
“How do you feel today?” Mom asked.
“Great!” Daniel said. “I’m going to make a shiny-penny friend!”
At school Daniel played basketball with the boy. He was nice. They had a fun time. Daniel was happy to have a shiny-penny friend.

On the scheduled, frosty Saturday morning, 16 carloads of LDS youths from the Brigham Young University 36th Branch met at 8:00 A.M. dressed in uniforms of bib overalls and work gloves. Their project?—six homes of senior citizens in surrounding towns that had yard cleanup and painting jobs to be done.

“We are hoeing, daily hoeing” and “Put your shoulder to the wheel, push along,” rang through the air as the service project got underway.

Window frames took on a new coat of paint, garden plots were cleared for spring planting, and apples and walnuts were gathered from trees while the homeowners smiled and offered encouragement and thanks.

A quarter-acre field of tall weeds looked a little awesome to another group, but three hours later, when bare soil could be seen, one proud worker pointed to the pile of weeds and exclaimed, “Isn’t it lovely? Our own personal haystack.”

One widow invited her young workers in for hot chocolate, popcorn, and homemade rolls when they finished their job. “This is what I miss,” she said. “We had a family of seven children.”

“This type of activity really unites us in the true spirit of helping each other,” commented a worker. “Working side by side with people helps you to get to know them a lot better than you could through a social activity.”

When the jobs were completed, the dusty work crews went picnicking in the canyon.

“These priesthood activities act as lab periods to teach individuals what they ought to do on their own,” explained the head of the planning committee. “They are even more meaningful when the participants go home and, on their own, quietly help their neighbors.”

A nearby explosion jolted me awake, and alarms started to blare. For a moment, I couldn’t figure out what was happening. The glowing white numbers of my alarm clock told me it was 06:00. I looked around the darkened room, wondering what was going on. Nothing seemed out of place.
But then a second and third blast began a barrage of incoming rocket-propelled grenades and bursts of gunfire outside. I was not sure from where the barrage was coming, but I knew we were under attack.
Feeling my adrenaline kick in, I rolled off my bed and began grabbing my gear. As I pulled on my tactical vest and helmet, I could hear the continued wail of alarms and the engines of the Quick Response Force vehicles rev as they rushed through the camp to meet the attack.
With my M9 pistol strapped to my side, I grabbed my rifle and headed into the hallway to await orders.
I was about nine months into my longest deployment to Afghanistan with the United States Air Force. My responsibilities working with the senior Afghan Air Force finance officer and officials from the Afghan Ministry of Finance often put me in harm’s way, and I had felt the Lord’s protecting hand. But this attack was a first for me. When our colonel asked for volunteers to follow him outside, I joined six others taking position around the building in case attackers overran the gate.
The colonel ordered me to take my post on the side of our base that faced the attack. Gunfire continued as people darted left and right, seeking shelter. Marines posted on the top of a nearby building ducked for cover as rocket after rocket flew into the camp to the north of my position. They rocked the ground and buildings when they exploded. Some hit a hangar. Many left craters.
I lay on the ground with my M4 assault rifle pointed toward my sector of fire. Deafening gunfire surrounded me, though it was directed toward the camp to the north of me. I had trained for such a scenario but had never faced a real threat. I was terrified, and I wasn’t even in the thick of the fight!
My stomach knotted. Sweat coated my skin. I braced myself, expecting at any moment that a rocket would explode where I lay. Thoughts of my family popped into my mind.
“Heavenly Father,” I prayed, “please protect us so we can all get home to our families.”
As I finished my prayer, a memory played in my mind that momentarily replaced the sights and sounds of battle. The memory was of seven-year-old Gabriel, one of the boys in the Primary class I taught back in the United States. Just a few weeks earlier, his father had emailed me a video of Gabriel praying at his bedside—praying for me and for my safety in Afghanistan.
I remembered teaching my Primary class about prayer. At the time, I had wondered if any of them understood the miraculous power of prayer. But when I saw that video, I was astounded by the faith of that little boy—something I witnessed with many of the children I taught.
Now the memory of that simple prayer inspired my faith in that terrifying moment. I felt God tell me that little Gabriel was praying for me. I knew He had heard Gabriel’s prayer, my prayer, and the prayers of countless others on my behalf. I felt peace replace worry. I felt in my heart that my fellow servicemen and I would be all right.
When the firefight finally ended six hours later, we assessed our casualties. To our surprise, nobody in our camp had been injured by the 47 rocket-propelled grenades and thousands of rounds fired into our camp.
I knew I wasn’t the first to pray on the battlefield. I also knew that not every battlefield prayer had been answered in the same way. But I was grateful for the assurance that God hears and answers our prayers, even those of a little child.

My dad’s older than all my friends’ dads. He’s too old to do anything.
At the pool last summer, Jimmy’s dad did a triple somersault off the high dive. Everyone cheered. I asked my dad if he would do one too.
He laughed. “Steven, I wouldn’t survive a fall like that. Let’s get in the pool, and I’ll teach you the backstroke.”
So I learned the backstroke, but no one was cheering.
In the fall, I went out for soccer. Megan’s dad was the coach. He ran up and down the field with us for hours, shouting out the plays and showing us how to kick. My dad watched from the bleachers.
“Dad, can’t you be assistant coach or something?” I asked.
“I don’t have the energy to keep going for that length of time, Steven. But I’ve thought of a few new plays I’d like to tell your coach.”
Megan’s dad used the plays, and we won most of our games. At the end of the season banquet, Megan’s dad got a trophy. My dad just watched and applauded.
During the winter, our class went on a ski trip. All the fathers came, and they all skied down the toughest slopes. All except my dad. He would only go on the bunny slope.
“I don’t need any broken bones at my age,” my dad said when I begged him to try a bigger hill. And instead of always skiing, my dad helped some of the beginners learn to stay up on their skis.
Then at the end of the school year, our class had a parent’s day program. Most of the parents took off work to come and talk about their jobs. Since my dad was retired, I figured he wouldn’t have anything to talk about.
I sat next to John. I didn’t see his father on the stage. “Where’s your dad?” I asked.
“He couldn’t come. He’s away on a business trip. He’s gone a lot.” John wasn’t too happy about that.
“My dad’s always around.”
“You’re lucky.”
One by one the parents got up and talked about their jobs. Some of them had really exciting jobs. One was a pilot and one was a paramedic. One father even taught skydiving. After the skydiver, it was my dad’s turn. What is he going to talk about? I wondered.
“My job is my son Steven,” he began. “I like to help him learn things and to participate in his activities. I hope I’m always there when he needs me. He doesn’t think I do anything exciting, but to me, being with him every day is the most exciting thing I could do.”
I was so surprised, I couldn’t move. Even when everyone else in the room stood up and applauded him, I still couldn’t move.
After the program I ran to find my dad. I told him that I understood and that I was glad he wasn’t too old to be my dad.

The story is told of a group of men who were talking about people who had influenced their lives and for whom they were grateful. One man thought of a high school teacher who had introduced him to Tennyson. He decided to write and thank her. In time, written in a feeble scrawl, came the teacher’s reply:
“My dear Willie:
“I can’t tell you how much your note meant to me. I am in my 80s, living alone in a small room, cooking my own meals, lonely and like the last leaf lingering behind. You will be interested to know that I taught school for 50 years, and yours is the first note of appreciation I have ever received. It came on a blue, cold morning, and it cheered me as nothing has for years.”