Gospel Story Finder

Emily loved snack time at school. It was the only time that she and her friends could chat in the classroom. Emily had three best friends: Lucy, Meredith, and Krista. They always had fun together, and Krista was their leader.
“I have something to show you,” Krista said to Emily, Lucy, and Meredith. She reached in her pocket. Then she pulled out a pink sparkly sticker with a pony on it.
“I’m going to give this to James,” Krista whispered. She giggled.
Emily looked over at James. He was sitting by himself at the table next to them. James always ate his snack alone.
Emily laughed when she thought about what would happen when Krista gave James the sticker. A pink sparkly sticker for a boy. It would be so funny!
Emily held her breath when Krista reached over and handed the sticker to James. What would he say? He would probably hate it.
James looked at the sticker in his hand. Then he smiled. “Thanks, Krista! I’ll give it to my sister. We both really like horses!”
Krista, Meredith, and Lucy burst out laughing. Emily laughed too. James’s smile fell into a frown.
Krista leaned over to Emily and whispered, “Your turn! Give him something else.”
Emily felt a little queasy. She glanced over her shoulder. James had pulled his jacket hood up around his face and was tearing the sticker in half. It had been so easy to laugh at James. But now that it was Emily’s turn to tease him, it didn’t seem funny anymore.
“No,” said Emily. “I don’t want to.”
Krista shrugged and whispered to Meredith instead. Emily couldn’t finish her snack now. Her stomach hurt. The more she thought about James and the sticker, the worse she felt.
Before bed that night, Mom read Emily a scripture about baptism. “Do you remember when you were baptized, how clean and pure you felt?” Mom asked.
Emily thought about James and the sticker. She thought about the way he’d hidden his face. She remembered how she’d laughed. “Mom,” she said, “I did something really bad.” She started to cry.
Emily told Mom what had happened and how bad she felt.
Mom pulled her close. “Oh, Emily! Everyone messes up. Only Jesus is perfect.” Then Mom smiled. “Do you know what repentance is?”
Emily nodded with a sniff. “It’s when you say you’re sorry.”
“That’s how it starts. But it’s more than that. You ask Heavenly Father to forgive you for what you’ve done wrong, and you promise not to do that bad thing again. He’ll help you. And you need to make things right with the person you hurt. Do you think you can do that?”
Emily wiped the tears from her cheeks and nodded. “I won’t make fun of James again. And I’ll tell him I’m sorry.”
Mom hugged Emily. “I promise you’ll feel better when you do. That’s how repentance works.” Mom and Emily knelt to pray. Emily asked Heavenly Father to forgive her and to help her say sorry to James.
After she prayed, she felt better. She would try to be like Jesus. And now she knew she could repent when she messed up. Tomorrow she would talk to James. Maybe she could bring him a new sticker.

On the morning of 4 February 1976, in the central Guatemal highlands, one of the most devastating natural disasters ever to hit Central America occurred: a killer earthquake, responsible for more than 24,000 deaths.
After it was over, my companion and I were assigned to secure information concerning the welfare of our elders and Church members in the central highlands in order to make a preliminary report to Salt Lake City. We stopped in several small towns, and finally encountered Elder Choc and his companion making their way to Daniel’s home. They had worked all morning helping the wounded and taking care of the dead, and then, having done all they could in their assigned area of labor, they started for Patzicia. My companion and I went with them.
When we came upon what used to be Daniel’s home, we saw his father, looking lost, uncertain, and afraid, stumbling through the rubble. Daniel rushed over and embraced him. After a moment of silence, they both broke into tears as Daniel’s father whispered that his wife, then carrying their unborn eighth child, and two young sons had been crushed to death by the heavy adobe walls of their home when the quake began.
President Choc was deeply hurt, and the stress was almost more than he could bear. But after a long time of weeping, Daniel composed himself, looked into his father’s eyes, and said: “Can you remember the sacrifices we made for almost twenty years to go to the temple of God, and how special it was to know that we had been sealed for time and all eternity? We will all be together again. I know it! Father, the Lord has blessed you. You are his servant in this part of his vineyard. Take this bruised and broken people by the hand and comfort them. Organize them and lead them in prayer, will you?”
And then, as Nephi of old had turned to Lehi in the desert to encourage him as a leader, Elder Choc said, “Help us, Father, to exercise our faith.”
President Choc did organize the members of his branch and began the massive task of salvaging and rebuilding. He was a pillar of strength from that day on to all those associated with him.

Someday Torrance, California, will boast a 12-acre park with landscaped picnic areas, sports fields, and a playground for children; and the 10,000 residents who live within a square mile will be able to thank some active LDS youths for helping to bring it about.
The huge stacks of tumbleweeds and trash collected by the young people of the Torrance California South Stake helped the city move closer to beginning work on the park. For the youths, the cleanup campaign followed President Kimball’s advice that Americans devote 24 service hours to their communities this year. The project was also part of a three-day Bicentennial youth conference.
Choosing the theme, “Join the Freedom Train—Share Your Gospel Heritage,” the young people began the conference with a flag ceremony and color guard presentation. Then the 400 members and nonmembers were treated to a banquet served by their adult advisers. Of course, the decorations were all patriotic red, white, and blue. Song, dance, comedy, and a touch of dramatics were provided by the “Sounds of Zion,” a 50-member, touring Utah State University performing group. The college students reviewed the early days of movies, radio, television, and popular music. Also included were Church hymns and patriotic songs.
The next day the young people went to work at Torrance’s del Thorne Park. There are currently no park facilities available for nearby residents. The area will welcome the park when completed, and the young people will enjoy its features, knowing they contributed to its success.
The cleanup project was followed by the Rio Hondo Institute’s three-act musical-drama, Moroni’s Promise. The play centers on a young man’s uncertainty about accepting a mission call until he prays for guidance. After the play the Torrance young people danced to the music of “Pacifica,” though no one could believe they were still able to stand on their feet after the day’s work.
On Sunday evening the youth gathered for a sacrament and testimony meeting conducted by Stake President Eldon H. Morgan. President Morgan spoke on liberty, the true meaning of freedom, and why we should live within the law. Many youths bore their testimonies and expressed deep feelings for their families, Church, and country.
When the conference came to an end, the young people recognized that they had helped serve their community, made new friends, shared testimonies, and strengthened their commitment to do the Lord’s work. These were goals they had determined themselves. They knew that if they made up their minds to get something done, they probably would.

As a young man, I served in the U.S. Air Force as a jet-fighter pilot. We spent hours in a training device that simulated real flight. There an instructor taught us about emergencies that could occur when flying at the speed of sound and about what we must do to avoid disaster.
One young man in my flight-training unit refused to listen to those with more knowledge and experience. When it was time for him to go to the trainer and learn emergency procedures, he went to the swimming pool, pistol range, or golf course, instead.
A few months later, my friend’s plane caught fire on a night flight. If he had trained seriously, his response would have been automatic. He would have ejected, as his copilot did. But he tried to land the plane and crashed. He died because he had not learned to leave danger immediately.

Just 12 years after Elder Jorge Fernando Zeballos was born on July 19, 1955, the first Latter-day Saint missionaries came to his hometown of Ovalle, Chile, in 1967.
The four North Americans walking around town piqued his curiosity, as did a favorable interview with them in the local newspaper. When the missionaries began playing in a local basketball league, Jorge, who loved basketball, followed their games with interest. Once he managed to slip behind the officials’ table to catch a glimpse of their team roster. Surprisingly, all were named “Elder.”
When a classmate told young Jorge that he and his family had joined the missionaries’ church, Jorge asked if he could come too. He attended meetings faithfully for seven months before the missionaries discovered that Jorge had not been taught or baptized. With the permission of his parents, Alberto Zeballos and Ines Zeballos, that was soon remedied.
Later, while at Santa Maria University in Valparaiso, Jorge met Carmen Gloria Valenzuela. “When I saw her for the first time, I knew I was going to marry her,” he recalls. “It was very strange, because I already had my mission call, and she was not a member.” Within a few weeks she was taking the missionary discussions, and he baptized her before leaving to serve in the Chile Concepción Mission.
Jorge and Carmen corresponded during his mission, began a courtship afterward, and were married on June 26, 1982, in the São Paulo Brazil Temple. They are the parents of five children.
Elder Zeballos has a degree in civil engineering from Santa Maria University and a master of business administration degree from Brigham Young University. Prior to his call as president of the Chile Concepción South Mission in 2005, he was a manager of corporate affairs for a mining company in Chile. Elder Zeballos, newly called to the First Quorum of the Seventy, has also served as a bishop, stake president, regional representative, and Area Seventy.

Late in 1928 the family moved to Cardston, where Eldon again worked as school principal. To supplement their meager depression income, he sold insurance and custom-made suits, milked cows, raised chickens and a vegetable garden, and served on the town council. He also served in the Church as Scoutmaster, bishop’s counselor, and bishop of the Cardston First Ward.
While serving there as a second counselor he became a hero among the local youth with a piece of innovative leadership. It seems that few of the deacons were attending priesthood meeting. Concerned, Eldon went to each of them and found that they had only overalls to wear and were ashamed to come to meetings. He told them that if they would come to their priesthood meetings, he would attend in overalls too. They agreed, and deacons quorum attendance rose to almost 100 percent.

I’ll never forget the first time I saw a meal made of sea biscuit broken into milk. I had called at Uncle Brigham’s tent—I had always addressed him by that title—where he was just taking some for dinner, and he invited me to have a bowl; but I declined, with thanks, and a feeling of wonder how he could relish it. When it came to sitting down daily to milk and water porridge and crackers in it, it became so nauseous that hunger could not tempt me to eat it. —from the writings of Helen Mar Whitney

Could any day have been more beautiful?” Emma asked her sister, Martha, as she wiggled her toes in the warm, white sand. The girls were supposed to follow their family’s five cows as they roamed the green hills during the day, making sure they didn’t wander off and get lost or hurt. But this afternoon the cows were grazing in their favorite pasture and showing no signs of moving. Emma and Martha became bored and gave in to the temptation of the nearby beach.
Now the sun was close to setting, and its bright rays made the blue ripples of water on the lake sparkle like jewels. The girls’ family had been among the first to settle on the shores of Bear Lake in northern Utah, and Emma thought that there probably wasn’t any prettier place in the world. Dark green hills surrounding the lake were overgrown with wild raspberry bushes. Emma sighed with happiness.
But six-year-old Martha was thinking of something other than the beauty of the scenery. “I’m starving!” she burst out. “Let’s go home for dinner.”
“All right,” Emma agreed. “I’m hungry, too. Besides, it’s going to get dark soon, and we’d better get the cows home.”
They ran up the hill toward the pasture where they had left the cows. There they were, still happily munching on the grass, just as the girls had left them. Emma shook her head and smiled. She couldn’t imagine any animal more dull than a cow. Martha broke a switch off a nearby tree and headed toward the cows. Emma was getting herself a branch, when she heard Martha shriek.
“Emma! Emma! One’s gone! There are only four! One’s gone!”
Sure enough, only four cows were visible: Belle, Katie, Brown Eyes, and Matilda. Where was Old Spot? The cow was about to calf—that must be why she had left the rest of the herd.
“Martha, Old Spot wandered off somewhere to have her calf!” Emma reasoned. “We have to find her—soon! If something goes wrong, both she and the calf might die. You look in that bunch of trees over there, and I’ll go up that hill.”
The girls ran in separate directions, each shouting Old Spot’s name as they looked in every cluster of bushes and behind every rock and tree. After a few minutes, they met back in the pasture. Evening was not far off.
Emma made a quick decision. “Martha, you take the other cows home. When you get there, ask the boys to come back and help me. I’m going to stay and look for Old Spot.”
Martha’s eyes widened. “All by yourself? But it’ll be dark soon!”
“I know, I know! But it’s my fault Old Spot’s lost. I just have to keep looking!” She shooed her little sister toward the remaining cows. “Now, get going!”
Emma had a sinking feeling in her stomach as she watched her little sister leave. She would never admit it to Martha, but she was afraid, very afraid. Not just for the cow, but because she had always been afraid of the dark. In fact, her earliest memory was of being told to go out to the ditch after dark and fill a pail of water. After only a few nervous steps into the night, the wind rustled some leaves at her feet and an animal cried from the woods, and she had run screaming back to the safety of the house. Fear of the dark had haunted her ever since.
She began looking for Old Spot again, telling herself that finding the cow was too important—this was no time to let her fear get the better of her. But as the light faded from the sky and even the shadows faded into the night, her heart beat faster and she began to feel a little sick. The slightest noise made her jump, and chills ran up and down her spine.
It seemed like she had been searching for hours. Where were the boys? She sat on a boulder and hugged her knees close to her chest, fighting back tears. Her small body began to tremble. Then Emma remembered. Her parents had taught her what to do if she was in trouble. Immediately she got down on her knees.
“Father in Heaven,” she prayed, “I’m sorry we left the cows all alone. I know it is my fault Old Spot’s lost, but I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. If it be Thy will, please help me to find Old Spot. Bless her that she will be all right. And please help me to be brave. Help us both get home safely. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Emma rose from her knees, feeling a little better. She took a big gulp, climbed down off the boulder and began looking for Old Spot once more. To her surprise, she felt a song hovering in the back of her mind, a hymn that she had learned recently in church. She hummed the melody while the words ran through her mind:
The Lord is my light; then why should I fear?
By day and by night his presence is near.*
Before she knew it, she was singing the words out loud. The longer she sang, the better she felt. Soon she no longer felt afraid at all. She knew that with the Lord’s help, she would find the cow and that they both would return home safely.
A few minutes later, Emma saw a long, deep ravine. She was frightened but knew that that was where she must look. She followed the winding gorge for what seemed like a very long time. Just as she was about to turn back, she heard a gentle lowing ahead of her. As she got closer, she could see Old Spot—and the cow was not alone! A newborn calf was wobbling about on shaky legs.
It was slow work driving the mother and baby out of the ravine. Old Spot was tired, and the calf was still very weak. Every once in a while, a coyote’s howl filled the air, seeming very close. Emma was tired and hungry, her bare feet cold and sore. The three of them still had a long walk ahead to reach home. Please, Heavenly Father, she prayed in her heart, just a little bit longer. Help me have the strength to get us home!
Finally the trio came out of the trees and onto the open hillside. Not far below them Emma saw a light. Her brothers had come to their rescue! She flew down the hill and threw herself into her big brother’s arms. “George, I found her! I found Old Spot and her baby!”
George looked down in surprise. “You did? All by yourself?”
“I was so scared, George. But I wasn’t alone. Heavenly Father helped me.”
George grinned. “Well, I’d rather be looking for twenty cows at midnight than face the scolding Ma’s going to give you for losing Old Spot in the first place!”
Emma smiled but didn’t answer. All she could think about was that Heavenly Father had answered her prayer. She and Old Spot and the calf were safe and headed home. And Emma knew that she never had to be alone.

An area in which he has put the Lord first is in Sunday matches. Though football tournaments are often scheduled on Sunday, David decided at age 11 that he wouldn’t play on the Sabbath. His coach and manager respected him for this decision and worked around it with him. David relates how the Lord blessed him for his obedience: “In England, matches are often postponed because of bad weather. At the end of one season, all the Sunday matches that had been deferred were played midweek instead. I was able to play in all six games—and I scored 32 goals.” As a result, David earned the title of top scorer for the season and a reputation as “the boy who never plays on a Sunday.”

I experienced every missionary’s dilemma: I missed my family and wanted to see them as soon as I went home, but I enjoyed serving so much I didn’t want to leave my mission... My family was glad to see me, but pretty soon the temporal concerns we faced began to overwhelm me.
I needed to pay for my education and help with the needs of our family, and soon I became the breadwinner. I worked in a fastfood restaurant, was in construction, took odd jobs, and accepted any offer that would help put food on the table. I began to miss Church, and my RM friends would visit and remind me of my covenants.
I realized how hard life was when I didn’t put the Lord first, so I talked to my bishop, and he helped me with my repentance process. I began to truly understand the power of the Atonement of Jesus Christ.
All the emotional and spiritual pain went away, and I was blessed because when I came back to Church my two younger siblings also joined the Church. Feeling stronger spiritually, my desire to marry my girlfriend in the temple also grew.

My seven-year-old son was pedaling furiously and going nowhere. The chain had fallen off his bike. I went over to help him out of his predicament, flipping the bike over so I could access the chain. As I worked, he said, “Dad? When I die, will I be all covered in blood?”
Somewhat shocked, I looked up at him. He was in tears.
“What? No!” I said. “You’re not going to die.” I sat on the curb, and he sat on my lap. He cried and cried. Where had this come from?
“Will my insides fall out?” he asked.
Had my little boy been watching horror movies or something? “No!” I said. Again I told him he wasn’t going to die.
“No, Dad. Everybody is going to die, right?”
I took a deep breath. This was not a conversation I expected to have with such a young child.
When I became a father, I promised myself I would never withhold the truth from my kids, but the thought of telling any of them that they would someday die was a nightmare. I tried to dodge his question. “You don’t need to worry about that right now,” I said. “You just be a happy boy and have fun and don’t worry. You’re going to be alive for a long, long time.”
“I don’t want to die,” he said.
“What do I do here?” I asked myself. Thoughts of saying the wrong thing and forever traumatizing him whirled around in my head. “What do I do?” I offered a silent prayer for help.
I began to tell him about the plan of salvation. I told him that we are all visitors to this world. I told him how each of us is a being made of two parts: a body and a spirit. I told him that when people die—and, yes, we all will someday have to die—it’s just our physical bodies that stop working. Our spirits are eternal and will never die (see Alma 40:11).
I told him that Jesus Christ is our Savior because He made it possible for us to all be together, even though we sometimes have to be apart for a while. I taught him that the Savior died for us and was resurrected and that because He lives, our spirits will someday return to our bodies, and we will never face death again (see Alma 11:43–45).
He asked if I had ever seen a dead person. I told him that I had been able to say good-bye to my grandparents at their funerals. I told him that even though their bodies have died, their spirits are still alive, and we can sometimes feel their presence near.
My son’s fears subsided, and sobs turned into his typical giggles. The idea of relatives visiting even though we couldn’t see them made him smile.
We walked together back to the house, pulling the repaired bike into the garage. I thought about what I had said. I thought about my desire to tell the truth to my children and the answers I had given my son.
In that moment I felt enormously grateful for my testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Because I already knew that the plan of salvation is real, I was able to speak to my son confidently and honestly and give him the strength to overcome his fears.
My preparation for this moment began long before my son was born. When I was preparing for a mission, I had a goal to gain a testimony of every aspect of the gospel that I might be required to teach. The part I had struggled with the most was the Resurrection of the dead.
I studied, pondered, and prayed. I fasted and asked for a testimony. After a while, the Holy Ghost witnessed to me that the Resurrection is real, that there truly is life after death, and that the promises of the plan of salvation are real. (See 1 Nephi 10:19.)
That testimony became important on my mission, but it became one of my most treasured gifts when my son needed to find peace.
I’m so grateful for that witness, and I testify that the plan of salvation is real. I testify of the importance of strengthening our testimonies so that when we or our loved ones feel fear, we can find peace in our testimonies and understanding of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

July 1
Dear Sarah,
So much has happened that I don’t know where to start. The home teachers came and helped Dad give Lindsay a blessing. After that, she wasn’t so scared. But she looked so little standing there with her bag in one hand and that big stuffed penguin under her other arm. I guess Mom and Dad told you in their letter that the surgery went fine. They let me go see Lindsay the second day. She still looked pretty sick.
After Lindsay came home, Mom had to spend a lot of time caring for her, and I helped a lot around the house, I didn’t have much time for the garden. I didn’t go all week, and when I finally got over there on Saturday, Mr. Trujillo was really sad. About half of our tomato plants were gone. Gophers got them. They just burrow underneath and pull the plants down—one day you see them, and the next day you don’t. He said he didn’t know how to get rid of the gophers. He was afraid to put out poison because pets might get into it. And he didn’t want to flush the gophers out and bash them over the head the way some people do. He’s really a nice man.
I told him I’d pray about it, and he kind of smiled and patted my head. On Sunday I fasted and prayed for Lindsay to get all well and for a solution to the gopher problem.
Monday morning I thought of Billy Swenson who lives down by the river. Remember him? He’s the kid who has live traps and catches squirrels and stuff up in the canyon. I went to see him, and we made a deal. He said that he’d come and trap the gophers and turn them loose down by the river if I would give him some tomatoes, three pumpkins, and two watermelons when they’re ready.
Mr. Trujillo was pretty surprised and happy. He looked at me in that puzzled way he does sometimes.
It took Billy four days to get all the gophers, but they’re gone. Yesterday we set out more tomato plants.
Love,Angela the Problem Solver
July 15
Dear Sarah,
How great to hear that the Gonzales family was baptized!
Guess what we had for dinner—zucchini squash that I grew myself! Mrs. Trujillo gave me a recipe, and Mom cooked it. Even Lindsay ate some of it. Mr. Trujillo says we’ll have beans in two more weeks.
I thought raking and planting were bad, but this week we’ve been hoeing weeds, and I have blisters again (not as bad as before because my hands are tougher) and a backache. But Mrs. Trujillo made lemonade and cookies, and we sat under the peach tree and ate them. They told me some stories about Mexico, and they asked about you. I told them about the Gonzales family. So it was kind of nice, even though I had aches and pains.
Love,Angela the Contented Gardener
August 10
Dear Sarah,
Nothing has been worse so far than picking beans. Mr. Trujillo can’t bend over now, so I picked all the beans, my rows and his. Your back aches, and the leaves make your skin itch, and the sun is beating down on you. Mrs. Trujillo gave me an old straw hat to wear. We got three bushels! Mr. Trujillo smiled and said, “There’ll be this many again in about ten days.” I could have cried. But by then it was cooler, and Mrs. Trujillo brought out ice cream with fresh peaches sliced on it. Then you’ll never guess what happened—Mr, and Mrs. Trujillo took me into their garage and gave me one of their kids’ old bicycles. It was all clean and shiny, with new paint and new tires and the chain all oiled. I gave them both a hug.
I took a big, juicy peach home to Lindsay, and she ate it all!
Have you found any new people to teach?
Love,Angela the Cyclist
August 20
Dear Sarah,
Mr. Trujillo and I took the beans to the Farmer’s Market and sold them. I got $8.00! After tithing, that’s $7.20 I have ready to send you, but I’ll wait till I get some more.
Yesterday I picked beans again. It was easier this time.
Do you remember the Claybourne family? The ones with all those kids? Well, he lost his job, and they’re having a hard time. Mom said they’re trying to get by on their food storage, so she wondered if I would mind giving them the beans from this picking to freeze for the winter. Mom said she’d like to freeze some, too, and that would help us have more money for bills and for you.
So I told Mr. Trujillo why I wouldn’t be selling my beans this time, and he looked at me sort of funny again, then gave me a bushel from his rows too. We gave the Claybournes zucchini also.
I hope you won’t mind about the bean money.
Love,Angela the Delivery Girl
September 2
Dearest Sarah,
We sold some tomatoes this week, and I got $13.00. They’re easier to pick than beans, and I like the way the vines smell. I also like to stop every now and then and eat one—all juicy and warm from the sun. I wish I could send you one in the mail.
I hope that you’ll understand this part. I was in a store last week, looking for notebooks and pencils for school, when I saw this little sweatshirt just Lindsay’s size with a penguin on it. She needs school clothes. I knew it would remind her of you; she still adores the penguin you sent her. It was $9.99, and so I bought it for her. Lindsay was thrilled. She put it on and wouldn’t take it off, even for bed. But after tithing and the notebooks … well, I hope you understand.
School starts Monday.
Love,Angela the Spendthrift
P.S. I promised the Claybourne kids some pumpkins for Halloween and a watermelon.
September 15
Dearest Sarah,
Thanks for not minding about the sweatshirt. Enclosed is a money order for $7.20.
Mom says having the vegetables is helping. The bills for the operation are getting paid gradually, and Lindsay’s eating fine now, and Mom and Dad always seem to find the money to send you.
Now for my surprise! The Trujillos are having the missionaries come and teach them! They came over last night, and the elders taught them the first missionary lesson. Mr. (Brother) Trujillo gave the prayer and thanked Heavenly Father for “the flower”—he meant me!—“that bloomed in his garden and showed him a more beautiful way of life.” Wasn’t that beautiful? And they’re coming back next week for another lesson.
We served watermelon from the garden!
Love,Angela the Missionary

Other happy memories for Jared and his mom took place in April and October 1990 when they attended general conference in Salt Lake City. Since only one family member could sit in the special section of the Tabernacle with Sister Anderson, Jared was chosen. Sister Anderson sat in her wheelchair near the railing and Jared was assigned a place on the front row. He attended her every need, including wrapping her legs and shoulders in shawls for warmth and quietly massaging her feet as they went into spasms.
In the last session of conference in October, Sister Anderson began having a seizure. Jared sensed her distress and immediately put the medicine in her mouth, averting a problem. One of the hosts in the Tabernacle said, “I’ve played a lot of football in my day, but I’ve never seen a bigger man than you were in the way you showed compassion to your mother today.”

Vivian loved to write notes on colored paper. She left them around the house for her family.
One day Mommy had a surprise. “Grammie is coming to visit,” she said.
Vivian was very happy. Grammie was her grandma. She lived far away. She couldn’t visit very often.
“I can’t wait!” Vivian said. “When will she come?”
“Tonight after your bedtime,” Mommy said. “You will see her tomorrow.”
That night Vivian was very excited. It was hard for her to fall asleep.
The next morning when Vivian woke up, Grammie was there. She would be staying for five whole days!
Vivian and Grammie did lots of things together. They made cookies. They read books. And they played lots of games.
One afternoon Vivian saw Grammie putting her clothes in her suitcase.
“Are you going home?” Vivian asked.
“Yes,” Grammie said. “I am going home tomorrow. Your grandpa misses me.”
Vivian didn’t want Grammie to go. Then she had an idea. She went to find her paper and her markers.
The next morning Grammie said, “I’ll be gone when you get home from kindergarten.”
“I’ll miss you!” Vivian said. She gave Grammie a big hug.
“I’ll miss you too,” Grammie said. She looked sad.
Vivian was sad too, but she had a happy secret.
The next day, the phone rang. Mommy answered it. Then she handed it to Vivian. “It’s Grammie,” Mommy said.
“Hi, Vivian,” Grammie said. “When I got home, I found a surprise in my suitcase. Can you guess what it was?”
“A note!” Vivian said. “I put it there when you weren’t looking.”
“Your surprise made me feel so happy,” Grammie said. “It said that you love me. And I love you too.”

I’m under pressure, like most British students—especially during exams. Since I’m LDS (East Grinstead Ward, Crawley England Stake), I’m supposed to take time for scripture study, too. It can seem like one thing too many. But this summer, as I was sitting A-levels (taking finals), I discovered how much scriptures mean to me. We had been building up to these exams the last five years, and studying specifically for them for the last two years. It was like life stopped almost. I spent all my time revising (studying), working really hard.
Art is my favorite subject, and I had lots and lots of assignments to submit by a certain date. I had 20 hours before they had to be handed in, and I still had a lot of work to do. I’d been ill for a week, so I was way behind. I was staying up all night, and at two o’clock in the morning, the work I was doing was deteriorating to the point that it was really bad. I had put a lot of work into the whole exam, and if I didn’t hand it in the next day, I would fail automatically.
Over the last week, I’d been reading the Book of Mormon every night. I’d never, of my own initiative, started reading the scriptures like that. For some reason I just thought it was about time I did. I’d reached the point where I really enjoyed them. They became easy to understand.
By now it was three in the morning. I was tired and couldn’t work anymore. I prayed that I would be able to finish the next morning, that I would have the strength and that my work would be to my best potential. I read my scriptures before I went to bed.
The next morning, after early-morning seminary, I spent the whole time painting. I should have been tired, but I wasn’t. I was amazed because the work I was doing was just so much higher than my normal standard.
I have a solid testimony now that if you make time for the spiritual things in life, it will help in all areas. I set a goal that throughout the exams, I’d read the scriptures as regularly as possible. Because of the work you have to do, you may be inclined to forget seminary, forget Mutual, forget everything because you have to study. I think keeping up with all your Church goals really helps more than you realize. I felt I had the Spirit with me constantly. It was a good experience for me.

After I finished high school, I worked at a meat market to support myself and help support my family. The Korean War was going on, and each ward could send only a certain number of young men on missions. One day while I was working at the market, I sat down to rest for a few minutes. I was alone, and the Spirit came over me and told me that it was time for me to commit to serve a mission. The next Sunday I told my bishop that I wanted to do so. He said that the quota for missionaries from our ward had just been increased by one. I was that one. Because I listened to the Holy Ghost, I was able to serve a mission, and my mission was the turning point that has led to everything else good in my life.

Thirty years ago a true story unfolded in the most remote part of New Zealand. The windswept Chatham Islands are located in the South Pacific Ocean about 500 miles east of Christchurch. A hardy and resourceful 650 people lived there, isolated in the lonely, harsh environment of those days; and a young, inexperienced, and newly qualified doctor was responsible for their medical care.

An eight-year-old boy, Shane, had sustained a serious head injury 40 miles away on the far side of the island. He was being rushed in across the swamps and along the beaches on the backseat of an old, rusty car to the four-bed cottage hospital. He was unconscious.

The young doctor was unprepared to handle such a case, with little experience and having only the most basic of surgical instruments. Shane was in a critical condition. There was obvious bleeding inside his fractured skull—and blood clotting could fatally compress his brain. The doctor had never even seen a brain operation, but he knew he had to perform the delicate surgery immediately—or watch a little boy die.

There were blood donors to be called in, blood to be cross matched, an anesthetic to be prepared. The antique X-ray machine had broken down, so no helpful X-rays could be taken.

There was the first of many phone calls to Wellington, where a neurosurgeon tried to imagine the scene and guide the nervous young doctor through the process of a very delicate surgical procedure.

Shane’s mother prayed. The doctor prayed; the nurses prayed; the doctor’s wife prayed.

Responsibilities had to be delegated in this busy scene. The policeman administered the anesthetic, a nurse became the surgical assistant, and the work began under an Anglepoise light as darkness fell.

The first surgical incision, nervously performed, did not reveal any bleeding, so other incisions needed to be performed through Shane’s small skull to find the source of the bleeding. More calls to the neurosurgeon for direction and reassurance were made, and his advice was followed in every exact detail. After six hours of anxiety and pressure, the surgery was completed, the hemorrhage of blood into the brain cavity ceased, and a successful outcome was achieved. Serenity replaced chaos. It was around midnight.

The doctor was a young father. He thought about his family and the blessings they enjoyed. He was grateful for the many tender mercies of the Lord in his life and especially for the presence of the Comforter during the last 12 hours. He was grateful for the presence of an unseen expert who imparted of His far-greater knowledge freely in his time of need.

At the critical time in a desperate situation, the Lord provided the guidance and the ability for a young, inexperienced doctor to perform a miracle and preserve the life of a small boy, who was precious before the Lord.

Neil Hutchison was the young doctor who prayed for help and had the faith to rely on the Lord and the neurosurgeon, enabling him to perform a miracle under the most difficult of conditions. He now serves as the bishop in the East Coast Bays Ward in Auckland, New Zealand.

Bishop Hutchison advised me, "I had the privilege of meeting Shane and his father a couple of years ago in Christchurch for the first time since that day in 1976. He is an electrician with his own business and is aware of no defects from his long operation. He is such a nice chap, and I can’t help pondering on how thin the veil is between this life and the next."

In the fall of 1847, Oliver Cowdery was living with his wife, Elizabeth Ann, and their daughter Maria Louise in a small town in Wisconsin Territory, nearly five hundred miles from Winter Quarters. He was forty-one years old and practicing law with his older brother. Almost two decades had passed since Oliver had served as Joseph Smith’s scribe for the translation of the Book of Mormon. He still believed in the restored gospel, yet for the last nine years he had been living apart from the Saints.1
Phineas Young, Brigham Young’s older brother, was married to Oliver’s younger sister Lucy, and the two men were close friends and often exchanged letters. Phineas frequently let Oliver know he still had a place in the Church.2
Other old friends reached out to Oliver as well. Sam Brannan, Oliver’s former apprentice in the Kirtland printing office, had invited him to sail with the Saints on the Brooklyn. William Phelps, who had once briefly left the Church himself after falling out with Joseph Smith, likewise invited Oliver to go west. “If you believe that we are Israel,” William wrote, “come on and go with us, and we will do you good.”3
But Oliver’s resentment ran deep. He believed that Thomas Marsh, Sidney Rigdon, and other Church leaders had turned Joseph and the high council against him in Missouri. And he feared that his disaffection from the Church had hurt his reputation among the Saints. He wanted them to remember the good things he had done, especially his part in the translation of the Book of Mormon and the restoration of the priesthood.4
“I have been sensitive on this subject,” he once wrote to Phineas. “You would be, under the circumstances, had you stood in the presence of John with our departed brother Joseph, to receive the lesser priesthood, and in the presence of Peter, to receive the greater.”5
Oliver also was unsure if the Quorum of the Twelve had authority to preside over the Church. He respected Brigham Young and the other apostles he knew, but he did not have a witness that they were called of God to lead the Saints. For now, he believed the Church was in a dormant state, awaiting a leader.
In July, around the time the advance company entered the Salt Lake Valley, former apostle William McLellin had visited Oliver. William wanted to start a new church in Missouri based on the restored gospel, and he hoped that Oliver would join him. The visit prompted Oliver to write his wife’s brother David Whitmer, a fellow witness of the Book of Mormon. Oliver knew William was planning to visit David as well, and he wanted to know what David thought about William and his work.6
David wrote back six weeks later, noting that William had indeed visited him. “We have established, or commenced to establish, the church of Christ again,” David announced, “and it is the will of God that you be one of my counselors in the presidency of the church.”7
Oliver considered the offer. Forming a new church presidency with David and William in Missouri would give him another chance to preach the restored gospel. But was it the same gospel he had embraced in 1829? And did David and William have authority from God to establish a new church?8

A modern example of the “coin in the fish” happened while Brigham Young and Heber C. Kimball travelled by stagecoach through Indiana and Ohio on their way to missions in England. They began their journey with $13.50 and did not expect to be able to travel far with the stagecoach, but at every stopping place, when Brigham Young went to his trunk, he miraculously found the money needed to pay their fare to the next stopping place.4 On arrival, they had paid out over $87. As recorded in a First Presidency journal of 1860: “[Brigham Young] had gone to his trunk, and to his great surprise had found some [money] there, and to this day he did [not] know [how] it came there except by some unseen agent from the Heavenly world to forward the Promulgation of the Gospel.”5

The two towns that these five youth live in are more than 100 watery miles apart, which is the equivalent of running around a high school track 400 times—a little too far to travel each Sunday. But endless miles can’t keep the youth from sticking together. They recently had the chance to meet each other for the first time face-to-face. The youth, along with their parents, flew to Anchorage to perform baptisms for the dead in the Anchorage Alaska Temple. They had never been to the temple before, so it was a great experience for them. “It was fun to introduce ourselves and see who it was we’ve been talking to over the phone,” says 14-year-old Harrison.
As they drove into the parking lot of the temple, each felt the Spirit strongly and knew that the temple was the Lord’s house. “I can’t believe I’m actually here,” says Jaenell as she recalls her experience. “I felt a subtle, peaceful feeling of absolute contentment and happiness.”
The best part of the weekend trip was performing baptisms and confirmations for the dead in the temple. “We helped those people who couldn’t help themselves,” Zach says. He enjoyed looking at the names and dates of each person for whom he was baptized.
“I could feel the Spirit, and it felt very peaceful,” Jennifer says.
“When we were in the waiting room, I read an article by President Monson in the Ensign about the bridges Christ has built,” says Jaenell. “It really made me appreciate the things that the Savior has done, because we can’t build the bridges by ourselves.”
The trip strengthened each person’s testimony of Jesus Christ, a testimony that helps them in their everyday lives. Although they’re miles apart from each other, they’re only a phone call away.