Gospel Story Finder

For a first-grade class project we were asked to dress up a paper bear to look like someone we want to be when we get older. I decided to dress my bear as a missionary. My mom helped me cut out a white shirt, vest, and pants. I glued them onto the bear. My dad made me a missionary nametag. I wrote a few sentences about how education would help me become what I had dressed my bear as. I wrote that education would help me learn to read, write, and even learn a new language. We had a teddy bear parade for all the first-grade children and their parents. I do plan to be a missionary.

Sunshine was coming through the windows at Jonnie’s house, and everyone was still sleeping, except Jonnie.
Mother opened her eyes as Jonnie bounced into the bedroom.
“Hi, Mom,” he said happily. “I bet you can’t guess what I am.”
“Hi, Jonnie,” Mom answered as she rubbed her eyes.
Jonnie climbed over Mom and put his face in front of Dad’s.
“Hi, Dad,” he grinned.
“Hi, Jonnie,” Dad mumbled. Then he rolled his sleepy face to the other side.
Jonnie climbed over Dad’s back. “I bet you can’t guess what I am,” he said as he bounced up and down on his hands and knees.
Dad decided to give up trying to sleep. He opened his eyes. “You must be a tickle, tickle, tiddlemouse,” he said as he tried to tickle Jonnie.
Jonnie wiggled away and climbed back on the other side of the bed by Mom.
“Can you guess what I am?” he asked. Mom grabbed him and tried to kiss his cheek. Jonnie wiggled away from Mom too.
“Now I know what you are. You’re a wiggle, wiggle, wiggle worm,” Mom guessed.
“No, I’m not a wiggle, wiggle, wiggle worm,” declared Jonnie, bouncing some more.
Daddy rolled his head back toward them and said, “You must be a jump, jump kangaroo.”
“No, I’m not a jump, jump kangaroo,” said Jonnie and he laughed because no one could guess.
Mom leaned her head way over by Dad’s. “I think he’s a bouncing bunny rabbit,” she whispered.
“I heard you! I heard you,” Jonnie shouted as he jumped up and down. “I’m not a bouncing bunny rabbit.”
“I give up,” said Dad. “I can’t guess what you are.”
“I give up too,” added Mom. “What are you?”
Jonnie stood up tall on their bed. “I’m a big cowboy,” he said in a deep voice. “And I’m riding my horse.” Then he galloped away to the other room.

I remember an experience when I was a young missionary. We met a gentleman during the blessing of a child in church. After the meeting, we exchanged contact information to go to his house and give him the missionary lessons. After teaching him the first lesson, the Spirit was very strong, and the gentleman was very moved by what he had learned. That’s when he asked for our address.

Surprised by that question, my companion and I asked him the reason for such a question. He told us that this message was so important that it would be better for him to come and take the lessons with us. Knowing that the gospel message is based on families, we kindly insisted that we keep going to his house to have the opportunity to teach the other members of his family as well.

Thanks to such an experience, this family is now baptized, sealed in the temple, and live the gospel in great joy. This story teaches and confirms to me that the field is white already to harvest. It also teaches me that if we are worthy, the Holy Ghost will guide us to people that are prepared and will also guide them to us to help them find the path to eternal life.

May I share with you a personal experience to illustrate how humbling this can be? I was employed by a major corporation for almost twenty-five years. During those years I developed a personal friendship with a fine business associate from Texas. Our careers paralleled each other very closely. A few years ago, he presented me with a most unusual gift, which I shall always cherish. It was a large, molded bronze, personalized coat of arms. He said, “I have been observing you for many years and have created an original coat of arms using symbols which I believe represent the four most important values to which you have committed your life, namely, your church, your family, your profession, and your quest for personal development.”

Naturally, I was surprised, deeply impressed, and flattered. As the significance of this gift settled upon my mind, the thought of someone quietly taking mental notes of my actions, attitudes, and values fired my imagination. I realized the weighty responsibility each of us has to demonstrate accurately the principles and priorities to which we are committed. It was like a mini-foretaste of Judgment Day!

I thought of the scripture in Revelation in which John saw the books opened, “and the dead were judged out of those things which were written in the books, according to their works.” (Rev. 20:12.) It was a most sobering experience.

When I was a little boy, one of the favorite games played in our neighborhood was “Kick the Can.” Usually it was played at dusk with all of the children in the neighborhood gathered in one of the yards or orchards where there were many hiding places. The game began with the one who was “it” standing over the tin can with his eyes tightly closed, counting, while all the other youngsters fled to hiding places. He concluded his counting, “ninety-six, ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred! “And then he would shout in a loud voice, “Here I come. Ready or not, you will be caught.” And so the game began.
I have thought when observing a teacher struggling with a disinterested class, or watching a parent trying to give an untimely lesson to a youngster, that teaching is something of a game in which we announce through our actions, “Here I come. Ready or not, you will be taught.”
If teaching is to be effective, it must capitalize on the readiness of the students to learn. A number of years ago when I was teaching seminary, a student was killed in an automobile accident on the way to school. There was a pall of gloom and shock over the whole school that day. The students came to class more serious and ready to learn than I had ever seen them before. I was teaching Church history, and we were bringing the pioneers West. But that was not the time for a lesson on pioneering. That day they were ready for a lesson on the atonement of Christ, the resurrection, life after death.
A good teacher will be alert and will seize upon the opportunity to teach when the youngster is ready. Many lessons that we have been anxious to teach our own children have had to wait until they were ready.
One of the major difficulties, and one of the monumental dangers, of sex education courses in public schools is that they disregard this significant principle of teaching. They tell all before the youngster is ready, and in so doing, they often wreak havoc with the spiritual, emotional, and moral stability of the students. They open them to great jeopardy. Things should be done in the season thereof, and there is a time for all things. A wise teacher and a wise parent will be alert to that fact.
Likewise, in programming Church activities we should use great wisdom in considering the maturity and readiness of our members to be taught the basic principles of morality. If we teach the basic principles too soon, they may be meaningless to the youngsters. The matter of teaching morality may be necessary, but the framework in which it is set should recognize the degree of maturity and readiness.
For instance, when the youngster is too young to have been subjected to the urging of physical desires, he must be taught about the subject in an entirely different way than will be appropriate when he is older. There will come a time for some more mature discussion later, but this must always be with reverence.
Information presented to a student must be palatable to him and of such a nature that his learning constitution can digest it. Unfortunately, there is no series of charts or graphs or measures or tests available that will enable the parent or the teacher to gain an accurate profile of maturation of each student and thereby tailor his teachings accordingly. This means that we must be careful and must be quiet observers of each youngster in order to be able to understand when he is ready. This is true of many subjects.
The principle of readiness is important when teaching our own children. Parents are with their children almost constantly and can observe when they are ready to be instructed. From questions or behavior or because of experiences in their own lives, they can sense that it is time to teach. Parents must know when the time for the lesson is now, right now, for their children are ready for it.
My wife and I have made it a practice as parents never to put off a question from one of our youngsters. Regardless of how unimportant the question seems or how busily we are involved, we have always been willing to interrupt anything to respond to the question of a youngster. That is because the question is an indication that he is ready; he wants to know—now.
We have learned something about feeding that intangible, invisible appetite within by comparing it with physical hunger. While our children have been growing up we have made it a practice to feed them when they are hungry. Now that may seem like a very strange and reckless thing to do, but it has been very successful.
Soon after our children come home from school, a hot dinner is waiting for them. About four-thirty or five o’clock they eat. They have been in school all day; their blood sugar is low; they are restless and tired; and when they come home they are hungry.
There are two courses that could be followed. Their mother could serve them cookies and milk or bread and jam in order to tide them over until dinner time, in which case their appetite is usually dulled and they don’t eat as well as they should at dinner. The other course is to feed them the dinner when they are most hungry. They eat heartily, and then the snack comes a little before bedtime.
It is interesting to see them, after they have had a good meal, go about their chores or settle into studying or peacefully play or take care of any other activities.
The question is immediately raised: Well, doesn’t father eat with the children, then? Father has his dinner when he comes home. Often the children sit around and visit. And with a snack served later, it is like family home evening virtually every night.
This has contributed much to the peace and tranquillity of our home because the children are fed when they are ready.
There is, of course, a comparison to teaching in this. Sometimes we give students little off-hand answers, little tidbits that really spoil their appetite for learning, and they come away without being given the nourishment spiritually and intellectually that they need.
The cry from the childhood game, “Ready or not, you will be taught,” is poor advice for any teacher or parent.

For most of my life I felt an emptiness and longed for something solid to cling to. I suspected that what I was looking for might be found in a church, so from the time I was very young, I investigated a number of religions and philosophies. Many of them were good and filled with good people. Some of them were strange and offered nothing like what I was seeking.
After many years of searching, I became bored and discouraged, so I gave up. I determined to build a relationship with God on my own and stay away from organized religion.
Sometime after I had come to this decision, I was watching a television program that focused on spirituality. The program’s host was interviewing a Latter-day Saint family. As I listened to this family, I felt the love and solid faith that I had long been looking for. I was also impressed to learn that Latter-day Saints highly emphasize the family. Maybe I would investigate just one more church.
On the bottom of the television screen was a phone number for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in the Milan area. I called it and spoke with some members at the stake center, who arranged for the missionaries to call me.
This was a particularly busy time for me, so when the missionaries called to set up an appointment, I asked if I could call them back in a few weeks after things had settled down. They agreed and gave me the phone number of the local Relief Society president, who called and invited me to attend church on Sunday. I went, and I loved everything there: the lessons, the people, and the spirit. I left feeling very happy.
I went to church every Sunday for the next two months. Then, in October 2008, I was baptized. My search had not just ended; it had been completed. I no longer felt the thirst and the longing I once did.
I am immensely grateful to have found the truth, but in some ways I am sad that it took me so long to find the gospel of Jesus Christ. Nevertheless, I am grateful for the experiences I had during my search. Because I looked in so many other places, I feel extra content knowing that I’ve found the right place—the place where I belong.

I hope I can convey to you the humility with which I approach this calling. I’ve just recently been released as a second counselor. What does one say, when one day you are the second counselor of the Bountiful Thirteenth Ward bishopric, and the next day you’re the Second Counselor in the Presiding Bishopric. In the Regional Representatives’ seminar Friday morning, Elder Russell M. Nelson reminisced that last year he was sitting in the Regional Representatives’ seminar—sitting very inconspicuously in the back, and very comfortably. Later that day he received an interview which turned his life upside down.
Last Friday I was in the Regional Representatives’ seminar, but my ticket wasn’t stamped “Regional Representative”; it was stamped “Invited Guest.” By four o’clock that afternoon, I had received a letter signed by President Hinckley telling me I was to speak for thirteen minutes in the Sunday afternoon session of conference.
My first question to President Hinckley wasn’t “What should I say?” It was “How do I get in?”
As late as last Wednesday night, I was rehearsing for a ward play. (By the way, Sister Lalli, wherever you are, I’m sorry I wasn’t to play practice yesterday morning.) I was released from the bishopric in January after serving for four years. How I loved that calling, and the brethren with whom I served—Bishop Lee J. Lalli, and his able and dedicated first counselor, D. Ray Alexander—Lee J. and Ray, as I affectionately called them.
Since my release I’ve been traveling extensively, and therefore have been without a calling for two months. At that play practice Wednesday, I sent a signal to the new bishop, Russ Herscher, that I was ready to reenter the “job market.” I hope you won’t feel that I’m an aspiring person, but I told the Primary president, Susan Mabey, I wanted to teach Primary—ideally my seven-year-old daughter’s class. I know sanctification comes not with any particular calling, but with genuine acts of service, often for which there is no specific calling.
Now, despite the humility with which I approach this call, I have full confidence in my ability to perform. This, however, is not self-confidence, but confidence in the fact that the Lord makes every man and woman equal to the assignment that he or she is given. Therefore, I state clearly but humbly, “I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them.” (1 Ne. 3:7.)
Brothers and sisters, I have never been a bishop. Since Friday afternoon I have felt puzzled, almost bewildered and overwhelmed, at how a man could be called to be a member of the Presiding Bishopric without having had the experience of being a bishop. I agonized for twenty-four hours until yesterday afternoon, when President Hinckley laid his hands upon my head and ordained me a bishop. I heard the voice of the Lord say in my heart, “No, Glenn, you have never been a bishop, but now you are a bishop, and always will be.”
Several years ago, I made a covenant with the Lord. I promised to give him anything he should require of me, and prayed this gesture might warrant forgiveness of my transgressions. Yesterday I gave the only thing I had left. It was something I cherished. I held on to it until the very last moment. I never thought of it as a selfish possession. That of which I speak flew out the window of my home when I turned on the television to watch the news and saw my picture on the television screen. I speak of my prized remaining possession—anonymity.
How I love not to be noticed! I don’t want to sit with the General Authorities in the “fishbowl” at the BYU football games in my dark blue suit! I want to sit in the stands with my father, wearing an obnoxious T-shirt which reads: “BYU #1. Enough said!” I have license and credentials to be obnoxious! I was born and raised in Provo, Utah. I attended school at Provo High School. I received my bachelor’s and master’s degrees from BYU. I’m a member of the Church, and I even work for the Church. My credentials are impeccable. I want to go berserk in the upper tier of the San Diego Stadium as I have the last four years at the Holiday Bowl—with the exception of Ohio State [which soundly beat BYU’s team in the bowl game], when I went into deep depression. I still have one faint hope—perhaps the Brethren will let me sit with Elder Perry at the ball games. Nevertheless, I give up my prized anonymity, just as I will give up my life if it is required of me.
I love the Lord Jesus Christ. I love the transformation his atonement has wrought in me. Earlier speakers have spoken of him with such eloquence. How I wish I had command of the language which would enable me to express my feelings on this Easter afternoon. May I add my simple testimony to those who have spoken articulately. I once was in darkness, and now see light. I once lost all of my confidence, and now know all things are possible in the Lord. I once felt shame and now am “filled with his love, even unto the consuming of my flesh.” (2 Ne. 4:21.) “I am encircled about eternally in the arms of his love.” (2 Ne. 1:15.)
I express my deepest loyalty to Bishop Hales and his First Counselor, Bishop Eyring. I will not betray their trust. I express my love and loyalty to the First Presidency, the Council of the Twelve Apostles, the First Quorum of the Seventy, and those I love most—the rank-and-file members of the Church. I express my love to my wife; without her love and understanding, I literally would not be standing at this pulpit today. I love my children, who must also give up their anonymity, as well as some time with their father. How I wish I could embrace my oldest son, who is serving a mission in the Cook Islands!
I thank God I was born of goodly parents. I begged my mother not to stand and take my picture as I came to the stand for the first time yesterday morning! But what would I have done if, during my formative years, she had not demonstrated that same pride and enthusiasm for everything I accomplished, however small. My father, Bishop Kenneth L. Pace, was the bishop of the Bonneville Ward in the East Provo Stake during my teens. He remains uppermost in my mind as exemplifying the pure love of Christ throughout his life.
Finally, I share the prayer of my heart with you at this time. May I display in my service the courage of my convictions in a manner like unto that displayed by Bishop Victor L. Brown. May I acquire the inspired, objective judgment of Bishop H. Burke Peterson. And may I acquire the open, warm, Christlike personality of Bishop J. Richard Clarke. May I exhibit the love and loyalty to Bishop Hales taught to us so beautifully by Joseph’s beloved brother, Hyrum. And lastly, may we as a Bishopric acquire the same love, respect, and unity I felt in the bishopric of the Bountiful Thirteenth Ward with Bishop Lee J. Lalli and D. Ray Alexander, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Elder Henry B. Eyring has told a story about his father, Dr. Henry Eyring, a renowned chemist and university professor who in his late seventies contracted bone cancer, which made movement difficult. As the senior high councilor in his stake, he was responsible for the welfare farm. Dr. Eyring and his group worked a long, full day to complete the job of weeding a field of onions.

The man weeding the row next to Dr. Eyring watched as this great university chemist pulled himself along on his stomach with his elbows, wrenching up the unruly weeds as he went. It was an awkward process and obviously painful; the cancer in his hips made it impossible for him to kneel. Yet as he dragged himself he smiled, laughed, and talked happily with his fellow members as they worked in that row of onions.

Near the end of the day, after all the onions were weeded, someone exclaimed, “Henry, good heavens! You didn’t pull those weeds, did you? Those weeds were sprayed two days ago, and they were going to die anyway.” Dr. Eyring laughed at the error that would have brought fury to many people’s lips.

When Dr. Eyring told his son the story, Elder Eyring looked at his aging father and asked, “How could you take it so pleasantly?”

At that point Dr. Eyring said something that his apostle son will never forget. He said, “I wasn’t there for the weeds.” (See Henry B. Eyring, “Waiting upon the Lord,” BYU 1990–91 Devotional and Fireside Speeches [Provo: Brigham Young University, 1991], pp. 21–22.)

Sometimes it will be hard to see where you are going or you may find yourself in the wrong row of the onions, but remember this: You didn’t come for the weeds. They’re merely what you are doing while you learn true patience.

Kathy Hart, fifteen-year-old Latter-day Saint from Albuquerque, New Mexico, has a fabulous goal for the future, and she could very well reach it. Kathy wants to represent the United States in the 1976 Olympics—her skill, track and field. Kathy first began to excel in track and field in the sixth grade. She now takes part in many meets each year, participating in relays, hurdles, the 220 yard dash, the high jump and long jump, and the pentathlon. Kathy has a long list of accomplishments to her credit by now, including the third best long jump-high jump combination in women’s track and field history in 1971 and ninth over all in the national high jump finals where she equaled the winning jump of five feet, four inches.
In 1972 Kathy participated in the Girl’s National and Women’s National track meets in Canton, Ohio, jumping five feet, five inches in both meets. This qualified her to compete in the Olympic trials in the women’s high jump in Frederick, Maryland. At the trials she once again jumped five feet, five inches and placed seventh among the women high jumpers. Kathy was the youngest woman high jumper at the Olympic trials and one of three fifteen-year-old girls participating in the whole women’s division of the trials. Since that time Kathy has jumped five feet, six inches in a regional track meet held in El Paso, Texas. She has jumped higher than any other woman in track and field from the state of New Mexico and has held the thirteen-, fourteen-, and fifteen-year-old state high jump records.

Joy is a BYU student from China. Not a member of our faith, Joy is attending law school. She is bright and gifted and is here because she was impressed with the moral standards exhibited by BYU groups that toured China. When she arrived here, she spoke only limited English, so the first year of law school was very difficult.

An accreditation team visited the law school to investigate the possibility of a one-year course in international law. They felt that the law school was weak in tutoring international students, so they were invited to interview several students from other countries, Joy among them.

When the team queried her about available tutorial help, she said, “I have so much tutoring help I can’t use it all. I know that I could ask anyone of twenty students for help, depending on what I needed.”

The team members asked her about the structure of the tutoring time. She replied, “Students tutor on their own time. I can go to them whenever I need help.”

Thank you, you twenty law students who offered your help to Joy. And thank you, Joy, for adding new dimensions to the lives of those twenty.

Several years after I was married, I was called to teach a Sunday School class of fifteen-year-olds. It was a large class of enthusiastic and energetic students. I had to prepare well each week in order to stay ahead of them.
One Sunday after class a young man waited for the room to clear and then asked if we could talk privately for a moment. He poured out his heart to me about a moral transgression that he was involved in. He cried, and I could see that his heart was filled with great remorse.
I encouraged him to go see the bishop, who was his uncle, and eventually I went with him to his appointment and waited outside. Of course, I was not part of what the young man did from that time on, but almost immediately I saw the dark clouds of gloom and grief lift from this young man’s face. In time he was back to being the normal and fine young man that I had known him to be for some years previous. Repentance cleansed his soul and it cleansed his heart, mind, and even his face. His eyes were brighter, his smile broader, and his walk and the way he carried himself suggested happiness.

After BYU, Jean attended Stanford University in Palo Alto, California, USA, where she met Walter A. Gong. “He was already a Christian and quickly understood what the restored gospel offers,” Jean says. He joined the Church, and a year later they were married in the Salt Lake Temple. Both became professional educators and collectively spent more than 70 years teaching.

“Dad also became a patriarch,” Elder Gong says, “and because patriarchal blessings were given in our home, our home was filled with a deep reverence for God’s love for each of His children.”

When I turned 18, I wanted to serve a full-time mission and help in the Lord’s work. I eagerly told my parents about my plan and how I wanted to invite people to come unto Jesus Christ by helping them receive and live the principles and ordinances of the gospel. Their response surprised me. They said it broke their hearts to think of me leaving on a mission, and I had to choose: my family or my mission.
I was shocked when I heard those words. Immediately I went to the Church building near our home and entered one of its rooms to kneel and ask Heavenly Father, “What will I do? What will I choose: my family or my mission? Both are important to me.”
While on my knees, the words of the missionaries came to mind: “Whatever God commands, do it.”
I love my family and want to be with them forever. I respect their feelings. Yet the scripture says, “To obey is better than sacrifice” (1 Samuel 15:22). The Spirit of the Lord filled me, and I was strengthened. I decided to serve because I knew Heavenly Father would help my family understand.
I went home only to be sent away by my father’s angry words and told to never return. Not knowing where to go, I packed my things. I was not a bit scared, because I knew the Lord was with me, that He has a plan for every family, and that someday my family would understand this beautiful plan.
I was only a few steps away from home when my mother caught me. She embraced me and said how much she loved me. As I left, I could see her crying with all the love and pain of a mother seeing her child go.
For over a year, I stayed in the house of a returned missionary I had met when I was an investigator. The Lord was true to His promise in 1 Nephi 3:7—He provided the way so I could obey His commandments. He sent this selfless and generous man to provide for me and to create a spiritual environment where I could prepare for my mission. I felt the hand of God sustaining me through my challenges. I felt the love of our Savior Jesus Christ through His atoning sacrifice. This love carried me through my trials until I was set apart as a full-time missionary in the Philippines Cauayan Mission.
A few months later, I received a letter from my family telling me they were waiting for my return. I never lost faith and hope that my whole family would become members of the Church, be sealed in the temple for all eternity, and be with our Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, someday.

We just received here in Brazil the great September issue. The article on unusual dates reminded me of a real fun date I had once. It started when three friends and myself were crawling around a local mine near my hometown. We knew it was safe, and many people had visited it. The idea struck me as to how we could share all the fun we were having there. We finally came on the idea of having a restaurant in the mine for our dates. So one Saturday we arranged the event. Two of the fellows would be waiters one week, and the other two would bring dates. Then we’d reverse our roles. We spent the morning hauling up tables, chairs, silverware, china, radio, and other assorted equipment. This is easier said than done—the hike was two miles from the nearest road. All the equipment was put on pack boards on our backs. Then about 4 P.M., the dates came up (for what seemed to the girls to be a regular cave exploring trip). We spent the next several hours crawling around the mine, marveling at anything from small nuggets of gold to blind crickets. We all had a good time, and all precautions were taken—hard hats, ropes, three varieties of lights.
Then, on the way out of the mine, we were suddenly met by two waiters dressed in French-style clothes. We were led to a table complete with crystal and linen, candlelight and soft music. The menu was given—five different choices that were all the same but were written in five different languages. Appetizers, soup, salad, steaks, baked potatoes, dessert, and punch. The whole thing was cooked over an open fire outside the mine. The girls couldn’t believe it, and the rest of the hike down in the moonlight was a touch of fantasy also. The girls raved about it for weeks. The whole meal cost only $5 per couple.
Elder Gary E. LewisRio de Janeiro, Brazil

Juli sat with her friend Sarah in the lunchroom at school.
“I’m worried about going home and seeing my tía,” Juli said.
“Your tía?” Sarah asked.
“Yeah, my aunt. Tía Jenny,” Juli said. “She’s visiting for a while. And I don’t think she likes me very much. She’s really strict, and she never smiles. Even when I smile at her. I just don’t want to upset her.”
“At least you smile,” Sarah said. “Being nice always helps.”
All day Juli kept thinking about what Sarah said.
I guess I could be nicer to Tía Jenny, she thought. That’s what Jesus would do. But Tía Jenny only spoke Spanish. Juli could understand some Spanish, but she couldn’t speak it very well. How could Juli be kind to her aunt when she could barely talk with her?
Mom always said to be patient with people you don’t understand. Juli prayed silently. Heavenly Father, please help me be patient with Tía Jenny. And help me have courage to speak Spanish with her.
When Juli got home from school, she saw a card on the table. She picked it up. It was for Mom and Dad. Oh no! she thought. Today is their anniversary. I totally forgot!
Juli wanted to do something nice for Mom and Dad. But she didn’t know what to do.
She saw Tía Jenny looking around the kitchen.
“Uh … todo bien?” Juli asked. “Is everything OK?”
“Yes,” Tía Jenny said. Then she spoke quickly in Spanish. Juli heard her ask if she was ocupada—busy.
“No, yo no … ocupada. I’m not busy,” Juli said. She felt embarrassed using her broken Spanish. But Tía Jenny smiled. She spoke more slowly so Juli could understand. She said she wanted to make a cake for Mom and Dad’s anniversary, but she needed help.
“I’ll help you!” Juli said. “Vamos! Let’s go.” This was her chance to make something for Mom and Dad! And to get to know her aunt.
Tía Jenny and Juli went to the kitchen. They used hand gestures and simple Spanish to talk. Tía Jenny showed Juli how to make a checkered chocolate-vanilla cake. Juli helped measure the flour and sugar. She also cut the strawberries to go on top. Soon the cake was in the oven. It smelled delicious!
That was pretty fun, Juli thought. But then, as she was cleaning up, she knocked three eggs off the counter. They smashed on the floor and made a gloppy yellow mess.
Juli looked at Tía Jenny nervously. Would she be angry?
But Tía Jenny just laughed. “Qué desorden!” she said. (“What a mess!”)
Juli had never seen Tía Jenny laugh. It made her laugh too. Together they cleaned up the mess.
When Mom and Dad got home, the cake was ready. “Happy anniversary!” Juli said.
“Thank you! This looks delicious. Did you make it all by yourself?” Mom asked.
“No, Tía Jenny and I made it together,” Juli said. She smiled at Tía Jenny. And this time, Tía Jenny smiled back!
A warm feeling spread in Juli’s heart. She was glad Heavenly Father had answered her prayer.

On a day I felt like my life was falling apart, my parents found out about my trials and guided me toward the Savior and His Atonement. It was a turning point in my life. I met with my bishop, and he and my dad gave me a blessing. It was the first time in six years I had felt the Spirit. It felt tangible.
It’s taken time and effort, but because of my Savior, Jesus Christ, I’ve been able to repent and grow stronger as a person. I’ve seen beautiful miracles in my life that are a direct result of the saving power of Christ’s Atonement.
I now spend my time as a public speaker, traveling the country and speaking to youth groups, schools, and communities about the harmful effects of social media and pornography. I teach about the importance of mental health and the need for suicide prevention. I’ve built a platform on social media that I can use for good. I just graduated high school. I’ve built two businesses and strong relationships with those I love. Most importantly, I’ve found God again. I have a sure testimony of God the Father, His Son, Jesus Christ, and Their power and influence.
None of this has happened because I have extra special talents or unusual abilities. Through the Atonement of Jesus Christ, I’ve been able to repent, overcome challenges, and find peace and healing. If you think you’re too far gone, my answer to you is that you’re wrong. I was willing to surrender to the redeeming power of Jesus Christ. You can too.

Sister Quashigah remembers hearing for the first time the Primary song, “I Know My Father Lives”. She felt empowered by the words “He sent me here to earth, by faith to live his plan. The Spirit whispers this to me and tells me that I can.”1
When she is faced with a difficult task, she has learned that the Savior will give her the power and strength that she needs, and the Spirit will guide her steps. Upon receiving her first Come Follow Me book, Sister Quashigah was devastated that she could not read it, but through the gospel literacy program, she has learned to read and can now explain the doctrines and principles of the gospel to her family and friends.

Clink! Clink! The coins jingled as eight-year-old Angela dropped them into her strawberry-colored tin box. “Three-eighty, three-ninety, four dollars, four dollars and ten cents,” she counted softly to herself, pinching the last dime between her thumb and finger and dropping it thoughtfully into the container. “Just one more week,” she added, replacing the lid of the tin. “With next week’s allowance, I’ll have enough.”
She glanced wistfully at the white dresser top—clean, dusted, and waiting. Since her neighbor Jeff had shown her his goldfish, she couldn’t wait to have her own. She needed just two more dollars—the amount of her allowance—for a glass bowl, a nice fat fish, and a supply of food.
Three times she’d visited the pet store on Market Avenue, pedaling her bicycle home faster each time out of sheer excitement. Mr. Henry, the shop owner, now knew her by name. “Hello, Angela,” he had called from behind the puppy cages the last time she went in. “We have a new shipment of fish this morning. Take a look.”
All week, Angela faithfully sped through her chores. The bathroom sink had never gleamed so brightly. Doc, the family’s lively puppy, awoke each day to a clean dish with a small heap of dog food and fresh water. Angela’s daisy-spotted comforter was pulled neatly into place without a wrinkle every morning. The whole family marveled at how quickly and well she cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher. By the end of the week, there was no question that Angela deserved her two dollars.
Clutching the crinkled bills in one hand, she raced to her room, grabbed the red tin from her closet shelf, and dumped the money into a mound in the middle of her bed. She added the allowance money to the pile and counted quickly. Six dollars and ten cents—barely enough, but enough! She could go straight to the pet store!
“Oh-oh! Wait a minute,” Angela whispered, picking up the last two dollars. She flung herself backward onto the soft yellow covers, moaning, “I forgot about tithing!”
She sat up again and studied the empty dresser top. Maybe I should use my tithing money and get the fish, anyway, she thought. I could pay it back next week.
The idea appealed to her. As she dropped the money into the empty tin and started to get up, she noticed a small gray envelope lying unsealed on the nightstand. She’d planned to add this week’s tithing to the envelope and turn it in on Sunday. With the tithing envelope in one hand and the bright tin box in the other, she pondered her choices. Her ponytail swayed back and forth as she studied first one, then the other. Finally she whispered, “Tithing shouldn’t wait.”
With a tug, Angela opened the money tin again, picked out two dimes, and tucked them into the envelope. Sighing with both relief and disappointment, she finished filling out the tithing slip, slid it under the money in the envelope, licked the flap, and sealed it.
On Sunday, she gave the gray envelope to her bishop.
Although she was still sad on Monday morning, her chores seemed easier somehow and took less time than usual. The week passed swiftly. When she received her allowance, there was no need to count the money in the tin box after taking out her tithing. There was more than enough.
Saturday morning, Angela stood outside the door of the pet shop at 9:55 A.M. while her mother waited in the car. When Mr. Henry turned the “closed” sign around and peered out the window, he waved at her and hurried to the front door. She wriggled with excitement as she heard his keys jingling.
“Well, Angela,” he greeted her, “I thought you’d be here last week.”
Angela smiled. “I had to wait.”
“You’ll be happy that you did,” Mr. Henry said. “We’re running a special on goldfish this week. Two for the price of one.”
With a jubilant smile, Angela followed him into the store.
Riding home, Angela clutched her glass bowl, the plastic bag holding two fish, and the box of fish food. She still had almost two dollars in her pocket. “You know what, Mom?” she said. “Bowls can wait and fish can wait, but tithing should never wait.”

I have watched my senior Brethren move around the circle and then graduate to the other side of the veil—so many great ones. President Harold B. Lee told me that I should associate with the older Brethren and learn from their experiences. I followed that counsel.

From Henry Wadsworth Longfellow:
Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time; Footprints, that perhaps another, Sailing o’er life’s solemn main, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, Seeing, shall take heart again.1
These “footprints on the sands of time” will always remain visible to help guide you.

When I was a young member of the Quorum of the Twelve, we walked from our weekly temple meetings back to our offices. I would linger behind and walk with Elder LeGrand Richards. He had been somewhat crippled in an accident in his youth and walked slower than the others.

The other Brethren would say, “You are so kind to take care of Elder Richards,” and I would answer, “You don’t know why I do it!”

As we walked, I listened. He could remember President Wilford Woodruff. He was twelve the last time he heard President Woodruff speak. Elder Richards was a link to that generation. I absorbed every word he spoke.

As the only member of the Church in her school, Angela has plenty of opportunities to be a missionary there. At a birthday party she attended, the girls began watching an inappropriate movie. Angela soon realized that it was not a movie she should be watching. “I told them, ‘I can’t watch this because I’m a member of the Church.’” She left the room, and another friend who was not a member soon followed. Together they watched a more appropriate movie until the other girls were finished. “When I left, I saw that I was wearing my CTR ring,” she said. She is glad that she was able to choose the right and set an example for her friends.