Gospel Story Finder

A year later, Prince was ready to serve as a full-time missionary in the Kenya Nairobi mission.
“I can say missions change lives,” he says. During the time he served, there was a lot of persecution of the Church in Kenya, with anti-Church sentiments frequently being printed as newspaper headlines.
“As I walked the streets of Nairobi, I was many times accused of joining the Church for the sake of money”. A particularly difficult confrontation with a detractor became his turning point. That evening, he says, “I realized I had to pack my bag and go home or know for myself.”
Prince received his answer.
“For the first time, like the Prophet Joseph Smith, I could say I knew it, the Lord knew it and I could not deny that I was in the true Church.”

I remember when, as a young deacon, I would cover a portion of the ward on fast Sunday morning, giving the small envelope to each family, waiting while a contribution was placed in the envelope and then returning it to the bishop. On one such occasion, an elderly member, Brother Wright, who lived alone, welcomed me at the door and, with aged hands, fumbled at the tie of the envelope and placed within it a small sum. His eyes fairly glistened as he made his contribution. He invited me to sit down and then told me of a time many years before when his cupboard had been empty of food. In his hunger, he had prayed to Heavenly Father for food to eat. Not long thereafter, he gazed out his front window and beheld someone approaching his door, pulling behind her a red-colored wagon. It was Sister Balmforth, the Relief Society president, who had pulled that wagon almost half a mile over the railroad tracks and to his door. The wagon overflowed with food collected from the sisters of the ward Relief Society, with which Sister Balmforth filled the empty shelves in Brother Wright’s kitchen. He described her to me as “an angel sent from heaven.”

Sandy was a Primary child who showed that she could be a missionary too. When she was five years old, she invited her best friend, Craig, to go to church with her on Sunday. Craig wanted to go with Sandy and was excited to ask his mother. But Craig’s mother had other plans, and she said no. When Craig asked his mother the next week if he could go to church, she said no again. Because Sandy was a good missionary, she asked Craig a third time to go to church with her family. Craig got up early on Sunday morning and put on his best clothes. Then he woke up his mother and asked if he could go to church with Sandy. When she said no for the third time, Craig started to cry. Craig’s mother decided that if he wanted to go so badly, maybe she should go too. Craig and his mother went to church that day with Sandy and her family. That evening they began learning about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints from the full-time missionaries, and soon they were baptized.
More than 20 years later, when Craig tells this story, he likes to count all the people who are members of the Church because of five-year-old Sandy, who invited a friend to church. He can count more than 100 people. Craig says, “I don’t know how many others Sandy invited to church. … I do know that I owe her more than I can say” (Friend, Oct. 1998, 36–37).

I want to share with you a time when I felt that the difference between feeling the light and being surrounded by darkness. Growing up, I was not raised as a member of the Church. I was a convert, baptized by the missionaries at age 10. When I met and married my first husband, Scott, he was also a baptized member but had been in active in his youth. Scott and I lived in a great ward with many friends who invited us to baseball games and ward picnics. They encouraged us to come to church and to a Gospel Doctrine class. Next, they attended a Temple Preparation class with us and were there when we chose to attend the temple to be sealed for time and all eternity. At the time we were sealed, we were expecting our son Jake, and I felt like we were on top of the world. How little did I know that less than two years later my eternal companion would die in a tragic accident. My world went dark. The accident was nine days before my son’s second birthday, and I had only been active in the Church for two years. There were many nights that I would pour out my heart to my Heavenly Father with questions and grief. I felt so alone and empty and wondered how I could do this alone. Again, those faithful friends and ward members ministered to me faithfully. I was loved, looked after, and helped to find my new normal. I learned I was never truly alone, that my Savior had been with me during those dark hours. I learned the power of prayer, the power of priesthood blessings, the power of repentance, and the power of the Atonement. I had to grow my testimony on faith, endurance, and hope. My testimony of eternal families is my light; my use of the Atonement is my light; my covenants are my enduring light through my darkest times.

A few days ago we visited with an elder in the mission field. During the interview I inquired, “Is your father a member of the Church?”
He said, “No.”
“Is your mother a member of the Church?”
He responded with, “Just barely.”
“Did your father want you to go on a mission?”
He answered, “No.”
“Did your mother want you to go on a mission?”
“She really didn’t care whether I went or not.”
“Who influenced you most in your decision to go?”
“I did. I’ve always wanted to go, and I knew I could make a success of it.”
I looked that young man in the face and said, “From what I hear and what I feel of your spirit, you will succeed.” Here was a great individual who had the opportunity to knock and to murmur, “My dad doesn’t care. My mother doesn’t care. Why should I care?” He knows the importance of going forward and has the courage to continue.

A good example of someone experiencing an abundant life as a result of looking outside themselves and focusing on the needs of others are my parents. Their second child and my older brother Ken was born deaf. Years ago it was common for young deaf children to begin their formal education when they were around 4 years old. As a result my parents would drive Sunday evenings for 2 1/2 /hours from their home in Mackay, Idaho and drop their young son off for the week at the State School for the Deaf and Blind in Gooding, Idaho. They would then pick him up that Friday afternoon and drive back home to Mackay for the short weekend and then repeat the process weekly.

It did not take long for my parents to realize that in their minds this was not the best way to raise a family so they made the decision to move from their home in Mackay and the area they loved and moved to Gooding. They put aside their personal interests and focused on what was best for their family. Little did they know that a few years later another daughter and son would later join the family that were also deaf. I do not ever recall my parents ever saying "Why us?" All I remember was my parents being actively involved in the lives of each of their children. They raised us in a gospel centered home and were great examples to us of serving others. They made the most of a difficult situation and proceeded to live their own version of an abundant life. They did this by always putting the needs and interests of their family and others ahead of their own. For the last several years they have served faithfully in their church callings, served a mission together in Nauvoo, served countless hours in the temple, and provided countless hours of service to their children and grandchildren. The key component in my opinion that allowed my parents to experience their abundant life is the fact that they forgot about themselves and instead have always looked for ways to serve others.

All was not happiness for Don, however, for he longed to see his home, his family, and his friends. In spite of his high resolve, his vision clouded when he looked down at his crippled legs. Wonderful Church members tried to fill his hour of need, and Don said, “Through their kindness they put a smile on my face and laughter in my mouth.”
As time drew near for him to be released, he began to worry about his acceptance by friends and family upon his return.
The day finally came when his foster parents arrived. It was an ordeal for Don to muster up enough courage to direct the question that had filled his mind completely. “Do you want me to come back?” he asked apprehensively. They softly replied, “Of course, Don. We have a bed waiting for you.” The kind response was too much for him! This time his tears flowed freely and mixed with theirs in a demonstration of joy and love.

Following the earthquake there was a run on gasoline. The fuel trucks that could maneuver over broken roads traveled very slowly, resulting in three-hour waits for gasoline, if any was available at all. But the Lord provided for us in miraculous ways. For example, while evacuating sisters and elders to safety in Niigata on the other side of the island, we realized we had driven 18 hours on a single tank, with a gas gauge that always registered “full.” As we neared Niigata, the gas gauge immediately dropped to “empty.”

Fortunately, our loving Father continued to direct an orderly evacuation amid severe devastation. Long-distance travel was dangerous. There were continuing aftershocks. Public transportation was shut down. Water and electrical supplies were interrupted, and it was nearly impossible to buy gas or food. Sister Tateoka and I understood very well that we were the only ones able to reach two elders in a mountainous area and two other elders over the mountain on the other side of the island. Freeways were closed, so this last trip would require a five- or six-hour drive one-way north up the mountain on back roads, another two to three hours over the mountains and down to Tsuruoka, and four more hours back to safety.

We left early on the morning of March 16 and arrived at Elder Ohsugi’s and Elder Yuasa’s apartment around 5:00 p.m. To pick up the last two elders, we needed to travel back south, over a mountain summit, and down to the city of Tsuruoka. With less than half a tank of gas, we knew that we could not turn back. As we began traveling to pick up the last two elders, snow began to fall. Soon, we found ourselves in a blinding snowstorm, traveling at less than 15 miles (24 km) per hour. I could not see the lines on the highway.

At 7:30 p.m., as we finally reached the summit, we were stopped by the police. An officer informed me that an avalanche had blocked the road and closed the mountain pass. He told me that we could go no farther; we had to turn around and take an alternate route to the other side of the island around the avalanche. Without enough gas to go around the avalanche, it appeared we had no way to reach Elder Lay and Elder Ruefenacht in Tsuruoka.

Dejectedly, we turned back as directed by the police. I asked the elders in the van to call every member of the Yamagata Ward to see if we could find someone who could give us some gasoline. We stopped and prayed earnestly, drawing upon all of the power of heaven we could. We prayed for another miracle and again turned to the Lord.

The missionaries called every active member. But no one had gasoline. Gas stations had run out of supplies and were closed. Then the elders were impressed to call an less-active friend, Brother Tsuchihashi. Our Heavenly Father had once again directed our path. Brother Tsuchihashi could give us 20 liters (5 gallons) of gas. But to meet this good brother, we had to travel another hour north, the opposite direction of where we wanted to go. The quantity of gas would be helpful but not sufficient to allow us to travel around the avalanche.

Having faith, we traveled north, still not knowing how we would pick up the other two elders. We made it to Shinjo City, where we received the 20 liters of gas. Soon thereafter, I received a call from President Yoshida, my counselor, who by now was very worried that we had not yet returned. He asked where we were, and when I told him Shinjo, he was shocked that we were so far out of our way. It was beyond his ability to reach us and help us return.

Then he looked on his map, and in a broken voice stammered, “There is a little-known mountain pass that will take you from Shinjo to the elders in Tsuruoka.” The Lord had prepared a way for us to be precisely where we needed to be to drive around the avalanche. The gasoline we were given was exactly the amount necessary to make the trip safely around the avalanche to pick up the elders.

When I contacted each missionary after the earthquake and learned how they had all been directed to safe ground just prior to the earthquake and tsunami, I felt so grateful. Two missionaries, who had been protected from the tsunami by climbing to an evacuation center’s fourth floor, expressed their gratitude for being kept safe in a time of great peril.

They felt that the words of Helaman described their situation: “The Lord our God did visit us with assurances that he would deliver us; yea, insomuch that he did speak peace to our souls, and did grant unto us great faith, and did cause us that we should hope for our deliverance in him” (Alma 58:11).

Carly knew something was wrong when she saw her dad’s car in the parking lot.
“Dad’s home,” she said softly.
“Dad’s home?” her little brother, Robert, repeated excitedly. “Awesome!” He swung his backpack over his shoulder and hurried toward their apartment.
“Wait,” Carly said. “I think something is wrong.”
Robert stopped. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not sure,” Carly began, “but I heard Mom and Dad talking last night. Dad said that a lot of people at his work are getting laid off.”
Robert looked confused.
“That means Dad might lose his job,” Carly explained.
“What would happen then?” Robert asked.
“Well, if he doesn’t have a job, then he won’t make any money. And if we don’t have any money, then we can’t buy anything.”
Robert’s eyes widened. “We’ll be like those people downtown who live in the park.”
Carly shuddered as she thought about the people she had seen by the roadside holding signs that read, “Will work for food.” “I don’t think that will happen,” she said.
“We should call Brother Worthington,” Robert said. “He said we should call him if we have a problem. He said he would help.”
“You’re right,” Carly said. “Let’s tell Mom and Dad.”
As they opened the door, they saw their parents talking.
“Dad, did you lose your job?” Robert asked.
Mom and Dad looked at each other. “Yes, I did,” Dad said. “How did you know?”
“I heard you and Mom talking yesterday,” Carly said.
“Did you call Brother Worthington yet?” Robert asked.
“No, we haven’t told anyone,” Mom said. “We’re trying to figure out what we should do first.”
“We need to call Brother Worthington,” Carly said. “He always tells us to call him if we have a problem.”
“He is our home teacher,” Mom said. “Maybe we should call him.”
“I don’t want to bother him,” Dad said. “I just need to start looking for another job.”
“I’ll get a job too,” Robert said.
“That’s very sweet, but you and Carly are busy with school,” Mom said.
“How can we go to school if we’re living in the park?” Robert asked. He started to cry. “Please call Brother Worthington. He said he would help.”
Dad lifted Robert onto his lap. “We won’t have to live in the park,” he said as the phone started ringing. “I lost my job, but we haven’t lost everything.”
Carly went to answer the phone. Moments later she handed the receiver to Dad. “It’s for you,” she said with a big smile. “It’s Brother Worthington.”
As Dad talked on the phone, he grabbed a notebook and pen and wrote down names and phone numbers.
“What did he say?” Carly asked as Dad hung up.
“He heard about the layoffs on the news, so he called to see if I had been laid off. When I told him I had been, he gave me the name and number of the ward employment specialist, and names and numbers of other people he knows who might be able to help me find a job.”
“That’s great!” Robert said. “I knew he would help!”
“You were right,” Dad said. “He is the man Heavenly Father has asked to watch over our family when we need help. You children understood that better than I did. And now, thanks to Brother Worthington, I have some phone calls to make.”

This story happened in Australia.
“Bye, Saría! I know you’ll do great today,” Mom said.
Saría hopped out of the car. “Thanks!”
Today Saría wanted to invite her friends to her baptism. Mom had helped her practice inviting them on the way to school.
Saría skipped to the big double doors to her classroom. She went to a Christian school. That meant they all learned about Jesus Christ together even though not everyone went to the same church. Her teacher had put different names for Jesus on the classroom doors. They said things like “Miracle Worker” and “My God.” Today, Saría noticed the one that said “Promise Keeper.”
Saría grinned with excitement. When she got baptized, she would be a promise keeper too!
At lunchtime, Saría sat by Katy and Jenny on the stairs outside the classroom. As they ate, Saría thought now would be a good time to do what she had practiced.
Saría took a deep breath. “I’m going to be baptized soon. Would you like to come?”
“Why are you getting baptized now?” Katy asked.
Saría tried to remember the things she’d practiced with Mom. “Because I want to make a covenant. A covenant is a promise with God. After I am baptized, I will get the gift of the Holy Ghost.”
Katy reached for her sandwich. “I was baptized when I was a baby.”
“Me too,” Jenny said. “I thought everyone was baptized when they were babies.”
Saría felt confused. She didn’t know what to say.
After school, Saría told Mom what happened. “Why did Katy and Jenny get baptized when they were babies?”
Mom sat beside her. “Other churches do things differently. In some churches, babies are baptized by sprinkling water on them. But we believe that when we’re baptized, we make a sacred covenant. And we need to be old enough to understand the promises we make.”
Saría thought about the other differences she’d noticed at school. Her friends worshipped in many ways that were different from what she was used to.
Mom hugged her. “You did a good job today.”
Saría felt better. She hadn’t known how to answer her friend’s questions, but she had done her best. She still wanted to invite them to her baptism.
The next day, Saría and Katy walked to class together. Katy dropped something, and Saría picked it up for her. It was a necklace with a cross on it.
“Thank you!” Katy took the necklace. “I’d be really sad if I lost this. It reminds me of Jesus.”
Saría grinned and held up her CTR ring. “This reminds me of Jesus too! It stands for ‘choose the right.’ It reminds me to do the things that Jesus would do.”
“I like that,” Katy said.
Saría and Katy reached their classroom door. Katy pointed to the name for Jesus on the door that said “Way Maker.”
“That one is my favorite!” Katy said.
“I love it too.”
A happy feeling spread through Saría’s chest. Her teacher had told her that “Way Maker” meant Jesus made a way for things to happen. Jesus had made a way for Saría to make friends with kids from many different churches! They had differences, but one thing was the same. They all loved Jesus and wanted to follow Him. Saría knew that made Jesus happy.

When I was teaching sixth grade a number of years ago, a 14-year-old boy dressed in gang attire was marched into my classroom. He was two years older and four years larger than the other 30 students. Quickly I discovered Brian did not read, had not attended school with any regularity, and had lived with a variety of guardians in a number of cities.
Report card time was coming up, and I came to school on my day off to finish recording the children’s work and mark the report cards. As I entered the classroom to gather up the records, I could see Brian had the class in an upheaval. I suggested to my grateful co-teacher that I would take Brian with me. With some first-grade primers filled with pictures, we headed to the library, talking a little football on the way.
We settled ourselves at a table where I was marking report cards. I asked him if he had ever had a report card.
He shook his head and said, “No.” I asked if he would like a report card.
He looked directly at me. “Only if it said I was a good boy.”
I made out a special card for him, emphasizing his strengths. I wrote his full name on it and his ability to include everyone and make people laugh. I specifically mentioned his love of sports. It was not a traditional report card but seemed to please him. Not too long after that, Brian disappeared from our school, and the last I heard of him, he was living in another state. I hoped he had my report card saying that he was a good boy in his pocket, wherever he was.

We are all aware of Hurricane Mitch, which devastated Nicaragua and Honduras last October and November. With terrific force it flooded homes and caused mud slides. More than 10,000 people died and another two million were left homeless. This very strong hurricane destroyed homes and covered streets with mud that seemed as hard as cement.

Almost immediately the Church began sending life-sustaining food, clothing, medicine, and blankets to help both members of the Church and those of other faiths. Once the shipments arrived at their destination, Church members came by the hundreds to unload the trucks and assemble the supplies into boxes. The items in each box would sustain a family for a week.

Our dear President Gordon B. Hinckley, who is the chairman of the General Welfare Committee, felt troubled by the suffering in Central America. One sleepless night he felt a prompting to go and offer his love and support to those who had endured this great loss. The prophet’s visit lifted the spirits and gave hope to thousands. “As long as [the Church] has any resources,” he told them, “we will stand by you in times of trouble.” And I testify to you, brothers and sisters, that he truly is a prophet of God. And I sustain him with all my heart.

“Malachi came home from the hospital today,” Mom said. “Would you like to go see him?”
“Is he feeling better?” Cole asked.
“He’s doing well, but he’s not ready to play yet,” Mom replied. “Remember when you got your tonsils out?”
Cole nodded. He remembered how sore his throat felt and how difficult it was to swallow and talk. “Could we bring him something to help him feel better?”
“Great idea, Cole. Why don’t we get him a milk shake?”
They drove into town and bought a strawberry shake. Cole couldn’t wait to give it to his friend.
On the way to Malachi’s house, the cold treat made Cole’s fingers ache. He was glad when they pulled into Malachi’s sloped driveway.
Cole swung the car door open and jumped out. He didn’t realize how steep the driveway was, and his feet flew out from underneath him. His hands shot out to catch his fall. Splat! The shake sailed through the air and exploded all over the concrete.
Mom found him lying in a tangled heap, his shirt dripping with strawberry ice cream.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened,” Cole stammered. He picked up the empty cup and tried to scoop up some of the melting ice cream.
“It’s OK. It was an accident.” She helped him stand. “We’ll try again.”
They drove back to the ice-cream shop and ordered another shake. The drink was still cold in his hands, but Cole felt good bringing Malachi the treat.
When they got to Malachi’s, Cole carefully stepped out of the car. He slowly walked towards the house, skirting around the puddle of spilled milk shake. He was almost to the door when—Thud. The toe of his shoe caught on a crack in the sidewalk. Cole lurched forward, and the shake slipped from his hands and tumbled to the ground.
Cole squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t even want to see the second spilled shake.
“What happened?” Mom asked. “Are you all right?”
“I fell again,” Cole said. He felt his face get hot, and his hands curled into tight fists. “I’m so clumsy!” Tears stung his eyes, and his voice wavered. “I just want to go home.”
Mom knelt beside him. “Cole, never be discouraged from doing a good thing. What about Malachi?” Cole thought about his friend and how sore his throat must be. A milk shake would really cheer him up. “Want to try again?” Mom asked.
Cole nodded. They drove to the ice-cream shop, bought another shake, and returned to Malachi’s house.
Cole walked carefully up the driveway. He passed both milk shake puddles and breathed a sigh of relief when he reached Malachi’s door. Mom smiled as she knocked.
Malachi’s mom opened the door. “Cole! I’m glad you came. Malachi was just asking when he could see you.”
Cole followed Malachi’s mom to the couch where Malachi was resting. Malachi smiled but didn’t talk.
“How’re you feeling?” Cole asked.
Malachi just shrugged.
Cole held out the milk shake. “I brought this for you,” he said.
Malachi sipped the shake and swallowed slowly. “It’s really good,” he whispered. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” Cole said. His hands were cold, but his heart felt warm knowing he hadn’t given up.

A recent letter from some concerned parents is typical. It illustrates some of the problems facing LDS women:
Dear President Smith,
Sometime ago we received a phone call from our daughter. She is in the army. She was crying over the phone; in fact, she was almost hysterical. She felt she had not one friend on earth. Those she thought were her friends had deserted her and were, in fact, persecuting her unmercifully, for one reason because she is a “Mormon.” To say we were in despair is an understatement. …
A second letter was enclosed with this letter. It read in part:
I am your daughter’s Relief Society visiting teacher. My companion and I were at first unable to locate her. When we did make contact, we found a depressed and mixed-up young lady. I’m not connected with the military, and I soon had my eyes opened to the unfortunate circumstances in which girls in the military may find themselves. How very difficult it would be to keep gospel standards in mind when one is continually subject to the rowdy, cigarette-filled barracks, and the regimentation of a job for which one is neither suited nor trained.
Since that initial visit, and on following visits as she became aware of the Church here, a distinct change has come over her. As far as her work permits, she attends ward functions, and everyone is aware of her friendly presence. One could almost measure the light that came back into her lovely eyes. She began to smile as she realized that people cared. You’re going to be welcoming home a very special daughter. I shall miss her because she is my friend. I shall always be grateful to her for showing me the change that can come into a life when you firmly grasp the iron rod.

We have some close friends who had twins. One of the babies was born with a disease that threatened to take his life at a very young age. Through many surgeries and lots of prayer and faith, he survived; but was left blind and handicapped. Brian’s mom and dad had to work very hard and spend lots of time and effort to help him as he grew and developed. They had other children and other pressures in their lives, and taking care of Brian could have been a burden and trial for his family. But it wasn’t. It did take a lot of effort, but they recognized the Lord’s hand in their lives and looked to Him for help. They came to see their son as a great blessing in their lives. Last week I attended Brian’s funeral. He had lived almost 22 years. What a joyous day it was. They celebrated Brian’s life. He had been a blessing to his family and to all around him who served him.

A little more than a month later, Wilford Woodruff, an apostle and the president of the Church’s British mission, found a letter from Brigham Young waiting for him in his office in Liverpool, England. “We have had a good deal of sorrow and trouble here this fall,” Brigham told his friend. “It is therefore advisable for us to remove as the only condition of peace.”7
Wilford was alarmed but not surprised. He had read newspaper reports of mob attacks around Nauvoo. But he had not known how bad the situation was until now. “This is a strange age we live in,” Wilford thought after reading the letter. The United States government claimed to protect oppressed peoples and to shelter exiles, but Wilford could not remember a time when it had helped the Saints.
“The state of Illinois and the whole United States have filled up their cup of iniquity,” he wrote in his journal, “and well may the Saints go out of her midst.”8
Fortunately, most of Wilford’s family was out of harm’s way. His wife, Phebe, and their youngest children, Susan and Joseph, were with him in England. Their other daughter, Phebe Amelia, was staying with relatives in the eastern United States, more than a thousand miles away from the danger.
Their oldest son, Willy, however, was still in Nauvoo in the care of close friends. In his letter, Brigham mentioned that the boy was safe, yet Wilford still felt anxious to reunite his family.9
As quorum president, Brigham offered Wilford instructions for what to do next. “Send no more emigrants here,” he advised, “but let them wait in England till they can ship for the Pacific Ocean.” As for the American missionaries in England, he wanted those who had not received their temple ordinances to return immediately to Nauvoo to receive them.10
In the days that followed, Wilford sent letters to the American elders preaching in England, informing them of the persecution in Nauvoo. Though he and Phebe had already received their ordinances, they decided to return home as well.
“I have a portion of my family scattered some two thousand miles apart in the States,” Wilford explained in a farewell message to the British Saints. “It appears at the present time to be a duty resting upon me to return there and gather together my children that they may go out with the camp of the Saints.”
Wilford appointed Reuben Hedlock, the previous mission president, to preside again in Britain. Though Wilford did not have full confidence in Reuben, who had mismanaged Church funds in the past, no one else in England had more experience in mission leadership. And Wilford had little time to find a better replacement. After reuniting with the Quorum of the Twelve, he would recommend calling another man to take Reuben’s place.11

A true story from the USA.
William ripped open the package and held up his shiny new watch. It was finally here! He was so excited. He had worked hard to earn the money to buy it, and it was worth it.
He strapped the watch onto his wrist and started scrolling through its screen. There were so many cool games! He tapped on a dinosaur game and started to play.
The next day at recess, William showed his watch to his friend Liam. “Whoa, cool!” Liam said. He watched William play games on it for a while. Then he asked, “Want to play kickball now?”
“Maybe later,” said William. Liam ran off to play, and William sat under a tree to play the dinosaur game.
At recess the next day, William played with his watch again. Liam ran up to him. “Are you going to come play?”
William looked up from his watch. “No, I want to keep playing this game. Maybe later.”
Liam frowned. “But we always play kickball at recess!”
“I just want to finish this game,” William said.
Liam turned and walked away.
The same thing happened the next day. And the next day. On the bus ride home, Liam sat next to William. “Why didn’t you play with us today?”
“I was just playing a quick game on my watch,” William said. “I’m so close to passing the next level.”
Liam folded his arms. “You always play on your watch. You never play with us anymore!”
William felt his face get hot. “Recess is the only time at school that I can play my game,” he said. His voice was getting louder. “I can do whatever I want during recess!”
Liam looked upset. “Well, then we aren’t friends anymore!”
William didn’t say anything after that. He turned to the window so Liam couldn’t see his face. His eyes stung with tears.
When the bus got to William’s stop, he ran home as fast as he could. He plopped onto the couch and started to cry. He wished he’d never bought his watch.
“What’s wrong?” Mom asked.
William sniffed. “Liam said we can’t be friends because I always play on my watch.”
Mom sat next to him. “It sounds like he thinks you care more about your watch than you care about him.”
“That’s not true!”
“I know you care about Liam.” Mom gave him a hug. “But the way we spend our time can show what we think is most important.”
William thought for a moment. “People are more important. But can’t I play on my watch too?”
“Can you think of a way to do that?” Mom asked.
William nodded. “Maybe I can play kickball with Liam at recess, and only play with my watch for a little while when I get home from school.”
“That’s a great idea.”
The next day at school, William found Liam at recess. “I’m sorry I played too much on my watch,” he said. “Can I play kickball with you again?”
Liam grinned. “Sure!”
When it was his turn, William kicked the ball and ran as fast as he could. He could hear Liam cheering.
His watch could wait. It felt good to be with his friend.

I was baptized almost two years ago. At first the scriptures seemed boring to me, and I didn’t understand them. To remedy this situation, I did a number of things.
I organized and managed my time; I chose a certain time each day during which I would spend the entire time reading the scriptures. I set a goal to read the Book of Mormon within a certain time. I used my imagination to become a participant in the events recorded in the scriptures. I always asked my Heavenly Father for help in understanding what I was reading. Sometimes I would discuss a certain passage with my bishop or someone else to help with that understanding.
The scriptures have become my best friends, and I know that they are of God.
Yngrid M. Heining, 17San Lorenzo Ward, Fernando de la Mora StakeParaguay

I remember meeting with a man some time back. Seventeen years before, his wife had a problem. She embraced another man in a moment of weakness, and then this was kept a secret for 17 long years. And this good brother, her husband, who had kept the law, who had never violated the code, all of a sudden found out about this, and it almost totally destroyed him. He came to see me and he asked, “What do you think I should do?”

And I said, “You must forget and forgive. And when I say forget, it must be taken from your mind forever and ever.”

He said, “But I can’t. I can’t get it off my mind, seeing her in someone else’s arms.”

And I said, “Then you remember what it was like in the temple, and you view her in your mind every time kneeling across the altar from you. I am sure she has been punished enough and has suffered enough; she needs no more. She has repented, and you forgive her.”

Well, he took that advice and was kind enough to follow it.

In Mbuji-Mayi, Democratic Republic of the Congo, initially some were critical of the Church, not understanding our beliefs or knowing our members.
Some time ago, Kathy and I attended a very special Church service in Mbuji-Mayi. The children were dressed immaculately, with bright eyes and big smiles. I had hoped to speak to them about their education but learned that many were not attending school. Our leaders, with very nominal humanitarian funds, found a way to help. Now, more than 400 students—girls and boys, members as well as those not of our faith—are welcomed and taught by 16 teachers who are members of the Church of Jesus Christ.
Fourteen-year-old Kalanga Muya said, “[Having little money,] I spent four years without attending school. … I am so grateful for what the Church has done. … I can now read, write, and speak French.” Speaking of this initiative, the mayor of Mbuji-Mayi said, “I am inspired by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints because while [other] churches are being divided each one in his corner … [you are working] with [others] to help the community in need.”