Gospel Story Finder

When I was a boy, I looked forward to passing the sacrament to the ward members. We deacons were trained as to our duties. One of the men in our ward, Louis, suffered from palsy. His head and hands shook so violently that he could not, by himself, partake of the sacrament. Each deacon knew that his duty in serving Louis was to hold the bread to his lips so that he might partake and to similarly place the cup of water to his mouth with one hand, while steadying his head with the other, the tray being held by another deacon while doing so. Always Louis would say, “Thank you.”

The gospel and the happiness it can bring are shared by President and Sister Yohanes Depalangga and their family in Bandung.

Brother Dapalangga was born into a Christian family. His father was a minister in a Protestant church. His grandfather had been the first native minister on their home island of Sumba. But his family’s religious beliefs did not fit “with my inner feelings, my conscience. Consequently, I was considered an unruly boy as I constantly challenged those beliefs. I attended a Christian university, and later a Muslim university, but I found no satisfaction when it came to religion.”

Many years later, as a married man living in Bandung, he saw two Latter-day Saint missionaries walking along the street.

“I was impressed with their appearance and especially with their name tags, which publicly declared they represented a Christian church. Most Christians I knew were reluctant to publicize their faith.”

After questioning the missionaries, he invited them to his home. Over the next few weeks, the missionaries taught Brother Dapalangga and his wife.

“Some of the things they taught were so new to us,” says Brother Dapalangga. “It was the first time we had heard of the Savior appearing on the American continent, the first time we had heard of the plan of salvation. For a time, I decided to avoid seeing the missionaries because I was afraid they were teaching false doctrine. But they persisted, even waiting hours for me to come home.

“Eventually, I decided that I should listen to all that the missionaries had to say and then make up my mind if it was the truth. They gave me a copy of the Book of Mormon, and I spent the best part of a week doing nothing but reading and pondering its contents.

“As I began to read, there seemed to be some kind of force telling me it was not true. But I fought against that feeling and prayed that I might be able to complete the book.

“Over a period of time, I prayed often that I might know if the Book of Mormon was true and if the missionaries were the Lord’s servants.

“One night, as I slept, I felt the Lord tell me to delay no longer. He told me the Book of Mormon was true and the missionaries were truly his servants. He told me I should take my wife and family to church, something we hadn’t done because we didn’t feel worthy to go.

“This was a special spiritual moment for me. Even now I want to cry as I remember feeling the love of God for me. I felt he cared for me, a man who had nothing, a man who had no great hope for the future. But I know now that the Lord has always taken care of me and my family. He has always watched over us, as he watches over all his children.

“I woke my wife and told her of my experience. She was impressed, as I was, that this was the answer to our prayers.”

From that moment on, the Dapalangga family absorbed the gospel teachings and attended church—but there was a six-month delay before their baptism in 1984. “We had lost our marriage certificate, and the missionaries would not baptize us without proof of our marriage in 1973. Finally we got a copy from a government office.”

President Dapalangga’s family in Sumba has welcomed his involvement in a Christian church. “My father came to visit me and asked me lots of questions. Finally, he told me that he believed the Church was true, but he could not bring himself to break away from his church or his congregation. He took home with him a Book of Mormon, and he uses it to teach the youth. He has sent a number of boys to stay with us so that we can teach them the gospel. Some of the boys have been baptized.”

From the time they accepted the gospel, the Dapalanggas have been active in the Bandung Branch. Within a year of his baptism, Brother Dapalangga was called to serve as second counselor in the branch presidency. He was called to be branch president in 1987. Sister Tini Dapalangga has been active in Relief Society as president and as a counselor in another presidency.

Through their various callings, President and Sister Dapalangga have had the opportunity to share in the challenges and problems that branch members have experienced. “But,” they agree, “even the most difficult problem can be overcome through prayer and a willingness to do the Lord’s work.”

President Dapalangga shares spiritual advice and scriptural knowledge not only with the branch members, but also with everyone who buys products from his sidewalk medicine stall. He tells his customers that the medicine may help them, but the Lord and his ways are the best “medicine” of all.

In addition to medicines, President Dapalangga also sells snakes—live ones. “I get the snakes from snake catchers or farmers in the central part of Java, where there are many cobras. People like to eat the meat and use the skins. They also like the snake oil as a salve for aches and pains.”

Even though they handle snakes, the Dapalanggas are wise enough to stay away from the poisonous fangs. In the same way, says President Dapalangga, “we strive to stay away from iniquity by living the gospel and building our spiritual strength.

“We should believe in the Lord with our whole heart and not depend upon our own understanding. If we accept the Lord and all his ways, he will lead us in the path we should go. I know from personal experience that this church is led by revelation, and we can have revelation in our own lives, too.”

My family moved to Salt Lake City, Utah, from Milwaukee, Wisconsin, when I was two years old. My parents were born in Germany and belonged to the Lutheran Church, but as I grew up, many of my friends were members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
My friends and I were playing together one afternoon when one of them said, “We’re going to Primary. Would you like to come?” Primary was held on a weekday then. I went. I was interested in the lessons and being with my friends. I knew my teacher cared about me, and the Primary songs touched my heart.
After a few weeks, the Primary teacher asked me if I would like to learn more about the Church. She invited my parents to learn too. The ward missionaries came to our home. My parents chose not to join the Church, but they could see my desire and said I could be baptized. After my baptism, I continued to go to Primary with my friends but only occasionally attended Sunday meetings.
When I was 12 years old, my bishop said I was the right age to become a deacon. The bishop explained that Heavenly Father shares His power with the Church through the priesthood. If I kept the commandments, I could act for Jesus Christ—passing the sacrament, teaching the gospel, and someday giving priesthood blessings to help people who were ill or sad. I wanted to have the priesthood and become that kind of boy. I said I would come to Sunday meetings, trying very hard not to miss.
Soon I was prepared to become a deacon, and my parents came to my ordination. I remember the next Sunday, when I passed the sacrament for the first time. I was assigned to take the bread up to the bishop and then to the others on the stand. As I was walking up the stairs, the sacrament tray came detached from the handle, and the tray and the bread fell onto the floor. I felt as if everyone in the whole universe was looking at me. The bishop came over, put his arm around me, and whispered, “Let’s just pick up this bread and put it in the tray. Then sit down here until they’re through passing the bread, and you can pass the water.” Luckily, I passed the water without any problems. The bishop’s kindness and warmth helped me not to feel embarrassed. I felt a great love for him and was glad that he was my bishop.
When I was a priest, our quorum adviser promised us that if we would stop doing homework on Sunday and start studying the scriptures, our grades would improve and we would gain a testimony of the Prophet Joseph Smith. I had a strong feeling that if I would accept my adviser’s challenge, I would be blessed all my life. My study of the gospel helped me learn that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God who restored the Church in the latter days.
Throughout my youth, my Church leaders watched out for me. Because my mother died when I was 15 years old and my father had a serious illness, I needed to work at night to earn money and go to high school during the day. I wanted to serve a full-time mission, but I didn’t know how I could save enough money for it. Then the elders quorum president of my ward told me that the quorum would help support me on my mission. I was happy and grateful that they would help me be a missionary. With their help, I served a mission in Brazil. Years later, my wife and children came with me to Brazil while I served as mission president.
I encourage you children of the Church to watch how your leaders live the gospel. In your wards and branches there are many Saints who believe in Jesus Christ and try to obey His teachings. By following their examples, you will grow to be righteous leaders yourselves. Cultivate your sense of right and wrong; pay attention to how you feel when you go to Primary. Invite your friends to church and to Primary activities. They too can learn of Jesus Christ and grow to love Him, as I did when I was a boy.

On one occasion, I received the assignment to visit a stake located in the beautiful mountains of the Peruvian highlands. This unit of the Church had not been visited by a General Authority for more than two years because of the dangers involved in traveling there. After obtaining proper authorization, and with the help of the mission president, we commenced the five-hour trip that took us to the beautiful Mantaro River valley.
When we arrived at the stake center, the president and his counselors were waiting for us. Upon seeing us, their faces lit up with happiness and we joined in a strong, brotherly embrace. Some three years previously, two of our beloved missionaries had been killed in this city. After embracing the president close to my heart, trying to communicate to him all my love, I asked, “Have you suffered greatly during this time in which we haven’t been able to come?” He answered with his eyes filled with tears, “Yes, we have suffered greatly, but we have kept the faith.” This simple phrase touched our hearts, and we could feel that the hand of the Lord had been with them.
As we met with them, we were able to distinguish at least five principles which aided them to overcome their difficulties.
First: They never stopped trusting in the Lord, and they placed all of their faith in him. This was the foundation for their assurance. They trusted in the fact that he would protect and guide them. The Lord has said, “If ye will have faith in me ye shall have power to do whatsoever thing is expedient in me” (Moro. 7:33).
Occasionally, in the midst of our desperation, we seek other ways, other guides. But those who counsel us are not always prepared to help, because they do not understand our spiritual needs. They are not prepared to give us the counsel and the revelation that we truly need.
We have the great example of the sons of Mosiah, who endured so much adversity and so many trials. Because of the trust they had in the Lord, “the Lord did visit them with his Spirit, and said unto them: Be comforted. And they were comforted. …
“Yet ye shall be patient in long-suffering and afflictions, that ye may show forth good examples unto them in me, and I will make an instrument of thee in my hands unto the salvation of many souls” (Alma 17:10–11).
Second: They remained faithful in prayer. Each member, whether adult, child, or adolescent, faithfully followed this holy practice each day, praying individually and as families with all of their faith. As we know, prayer is the means by which we communicate with our Heavenly Father. He listens to us because we are his children and he loves us, and he is anxious to bless us when we keep the commandments.
As the Savior instructed the Nephites, he taught them: “Therefore ye must always pray unto the Father in my name;
“And whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in my name, which is right, believing that ye shall receive, behold it shall be given unto you” (3 Ne. 18:19–20). No one could have given them greater assurance that they would be heard by the Father than his own Son.
Third: They never stopped studying the scriptures. In the scriptures they found faith to overcome fear, solutions to their problems, divine comfort from the Master, the loving counsel of the Father, and especially the assurance of being guided in righteousness towards eternal life. “Search the scriptures; for in them ye think ye have eternal life: and they are they which testify of me” (John 5:39). They lived this commandment even in the midst of all their difficulties. One of them said, “We have never been as close to the Lord as when we were reading the scriptures.”
Fourth: They implemented priesthood programs. Due to the fatal incident that had taken place there, it was necessary to remove full-time missionaries. In order to make up for the help that was lost, it became necessary to organize the returned missionaries so that they could teach the gospel to those who wanted to hear it. References came in from member families. Home teaching increased. Nobody was overlooked. Just as they said, they kept the faith.
Fifth: They humbled themselves before the Lord. They purified their lives, they repented, they tried to live together as Saints, sharing much of what they had, fasting when problems arose or when they were threatened. The Lord, speaking to Solomon said, “If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land” (2 Chr. 7:14).
These simple yet powerful principles enabled them to sustain themselves, to be preserved, to remain faithful and active as members of the Church in that area.
What wonderful teachings we are able to find in these distant and isolated villages, where frequently it is difficult to sustain a religion or to live the principles of the gospel. Only their confidence in God and their faith in Jesus Christ sustain them, move them, and purify them.
Keeping the faith must also be a challenge for those who are alone in the Church, for those whose families are not converted, for those who have lost loved ones. Great courage is needed in order to continue onward, but we always have comfort from on high.
The faithful pioneers in the early days of the restored Church set a marvelous example of moving forward in faith despite adversity. It is difficult to conceive of the great loneliness of the people of the Church during those first years when they were a small group, the only Church members on all the face of the earth. They were persecuted, humiliated, rejected, and some were killed. The faith which they developed in the Lord, in the face of so much adversity, made them strong and humble at the same time.
President Kimball said regarding this theme, “Suffering can make Saints of people as they learn patience, long suffering and self-mastery. The sufferings of our Savior were part of his education” (“Tragedy or Destiny,” Brigham Young University Speeches of the Year, Provo, Utah, 6 Dec. 1955, p. 5).
Perhaps isolation makes small and distant towns and villages stronger and more pure.
At the close of the conference in that stake, I assured the members that God loved them, that the First Presidency and the Twelve Apostles were mindful of them, and that we were there to give them our testimony of the fact that they were part of the Church, that we had not forgotten them, and that we prayed for them. There was gratitude in their hearts, and again they smiled as humble members who had been comforted by the Spirit of the Lord. As he gave the closing prayer, a man nearly 80 years of age reminded the congregation that President Spencer W. Kimball had visited here, that he had blessed Mantaro Valley.
It made me think how fortunate so many of us are to be so often in the presence of the prophets of God and to receive their loving influence. But due to the worldwide growth of the Church, a large number of our good members have never had the privilege to be near one of these wonderful leaders at any time during their lives. But I testify to you that they love the General Authorities, that they are following their teachings, and that they await humbly and patiently the day in which they can be at the feet of the prophets.
The conditions of peoples and of nations change due to progress in the world; nevertheless, in many such places, be it in the frosty mountain heights, in the warm valleys, at the rivers’ edges, or in desert places, wherever members of our church are found, there will always be those who live these basic principles, and by so doing they bless the rest of the people. Let us face our earthly challenges courageously in spite of where we live, or through whatever difficult circumstances we may be called to endure. Let us keep the faith.

That heritage lies in a somewhat complex story that stretches back about 20 years, to the city of Angoulême, France. There, full-time missionaries were guided to a man named Michel Menardin, who had come from Guadeloupe, an overseas department of France, to perform his military service. Michel accepted the gospel and was baptized and confirmed.
That same year in the same town, missionaries left a pamphlet in a mailbox. It triggered interest from a single mother, Claudine, who was raising a 19-year-old daughter, Delphine. They both gained testimonies and were also baptized and confirmed.
Michel and Claudine met at church, decided they were meant for each other, and married. (They are Coco’s grandparents.) When Michel’s mother, Marthé, came for the wedding, she stayed in Angoulême, became acquainted with the Church, and joined.
Later, Delphine was called on a mission to Seattle, Washington. While she was serving, her parents and grandmother moved back to Guadeloupe. After her mission, Delphine came to visit them, and while in Guadeloupe she met Claude Gamiette, who had recently returned from the Florida Jacksonville Mission. He was serving as a counselor to Delphine’s stepfather in the branch presidency. The two returned missionaries dated and were married a short time later. Claude and Delphine are Coco’s parents. Now, 14 years and five children later, Claude, whose own family goes back years in the Church, is president of the Basse-Terre Guadeloupe District.
So with all of that, Coco is a fourth-generation Latter-day Saint. “I’ve grown up in the Church,” she says. “I’ve heard about it my whole life, gone to Primary and now to Young Women, and heard my parents and their parents and their parents bear their testimonies. I’ve always known the gospel is true. When I read in Mosiah about the promises the believers made when Alma baptized them, that’s what I’ve seen and felt my whole life.”

One clue comes out of a conversation I had recently with Brenda, a woman I work with. A month or two prior to our conversation she had been called to serve as the young women’s secretary in her ward. And she had mentioned at that time that she wasn’t exactly thrilled with her new calling. So when I asked her recently if she liked her new calling any better, I was surprised to learn that she now loves it. What happened?

“I’ve always believed you shouldn’t refuse a call from the bishop,” Brenda responded, “so when our bishop came to our home that day and asked me to serve as the young women’s secretary, I couldn’t tell him no. But I couldn’t bring myself to tell him yes, either. I had worked with the young women several times before, and I’m ashamed to say I hated it. Well, the bishop took my silence to mean yes, and so I was sustained in sacrament meeting the following Sunday. I’m afraid I felt kind of like a martyr when I started my new calling.”

Naturally I asked Brenda how she had come to have such a change of heart. And her experience, combined with what I have learned from others and from my own experiences, leads me to this conclusion: we can enjoy our callings if we learn to apply certain principles and techniques.

Even though Brenda had not had pleasant experiences in working with the young women, she decided this time that she would find as much good in her new calling as she possibly could. “I fasted and prayed for a change of heart,” she told me. “I even asked my husband to give me a special blessing.” Rather than accepting distaste for her calling as a fact of life, Brenda set out to change her attitude about it.

Brenda says that this greater understanding has had much to do with her enjoyment of her calling. “Just filling in reports with numbers and marking X’s on rolls to show attendance meant very little to me. But then I realized that I was helping the class advisors and the young women’s presidency to be informed about the activity of each individual girl. I was also providing information that would help the bishop schedule those vital annual interviews with each girl. So instead of having an impersonal calling that dealt with statistics, I found that by performing my calling well, I was really helping people.”

Often as a young girl I would accompany my bishop father to the church and wait until his meetings or interviews were over. I would busy myself by exploring. I knew every nook and cranny of that building. One of my favorite rooms was the tower room. It was a large room at the top of some steep steps. Inside there was a picture of the Savior, which hung over a large fireplace. I was always drawn to that room. I would ascend the steps and reverently go inside. I would sit on a chair and look at the picture of the Savior and pray to Heavenly Father. These were simple prayers. But always when I prayed, a very special feeling seemed to engulf me, and I knew that He heard my childlike prayers. This is where I began to believe.

Sometimes we are unwise and even cruel in our unwillingness to accept change in others. I recently learned of a man who raised his family and pursued his professional life in a small country town. He was not without his problems but was a good man with a great heart who loved the Lord and the gospel. Mistakes, even small ones, are not soon forgotten in some neighborhoods, however; and he never seemed to be “allowed” to grow, blossom, develop, and change into what he could become.

As a missionary serving overseas, he had made a remarkable contribution. The mission president said he had done more to bridge the cultural gap between the two countries than any other adult American was able to do. Yet when his mission was over, he returned to the small town; and without malice or evil intent but with the insistent burden of memory, his neighbors did not invite him or let him be the man he had become, but rather seemed quite prepared to see him as the less attractive man of an earlier period.

Because of their expectations, he completed the last years of his life much less happy and much less involved and surely much less productive to the kingdom than he had been for that one glorious period where people in a new land and in a different time allowed him to change and to be what he really wanted to be and, in his heart, really was.

Marta worked the pump handle one final time. Then she carried the grapefruit soda bottle full of water into the two-room house, located on the outskirts of a small coastal town in Uruguay. “The water’s awfully bitter today, Alicia,” Marta said, handing the bottle to her younger sister. “You’d better squeeze a lemon into it to freshen it.”
Alicia selected one of the wrinkled lemons from a bowl on the shelf, cut it in half, and the tingly aroma filled the room as she trickled the juice into the bottle of water. “We didn’t get any fresh bread today,” Alicia complained. “Can’t we buy some for dinner?”
“No, Alicia,” said Mama, turning slightly on her bed to face the girls. “The bread from yesterday will do fine if Marta toasts it, won’t it, Marta?”
“Yes, Mama.” Marta moved the kerosene burner they used for a stove into the middle of the room. “It’s getting dark, Mama, should I turn on the light?”
“Not yet, querida (dear). Wait until your father gets home.”
Marta cleared off the plank table that stood in the middle of the small room and began preparing supper. She mixed eggs and flour and shredded chard together. Alicia huddled close to the burner, warming her hands and watching Marta’s skillful hands pat the chard cakes into shape and place them into the frying pan to be warmed and browned. “Don’t fret so, Alicia, tomorrow we’ll go to the panadería (bakery) and buy the fresh crusty loaves you love.”
Alicia smiled at the thought of the large golden brown rolls the panadería baked fresh every morning. She glanced dreamily out the window just as her father entered the front gate. “Papa’s home!” she shouted gleefully.
Papa came into the house and gathered the girls into his arms and gave them each a kiss on the cheek. “And how have you been today? Have you taken good care of your mother?”
“They have been angels, as always,” Mama said as she took Papa’s hand.
Papa reached up and pulled the dangling string that turned on their only light. “And how is dinner coming?” he asked. “I’m very hungry!”
“It will be just a minute, Papa,” Marta said as she set out the plates and cups. Papa and the girls sat on the narrow bench and ate, facing the bed where Mama lay.
“When do you go to the doctor again?” Papa asked as he handed Mama her dinner plate.
“On Friday,” she replied. “It won’t be long now until the baby is ready to come.”
“This baby is having such problems in getting here that it will be all the stronger for having made it. But you must stay in bed as the doctor said,” Papa warned.
Just then someone clapped outside. Marta rose to go and welcome the visitor. “Wait, Marta,” her father said, “I’ll go. It’s starting to rain and I don’t want you to get wet.” He grabbed his jacket and held it over his head as he ran out to the front gate. “Hello, Omar!” he called. “Come in out of the storm.”
“No thank you, Daniel. I just came to tell you that the station manager called our house and left a message for you. He wants you to go back to work as soon as you can. Someone drove a car right through a railroad crossing barrier, and they need you to direct the traffic.”
Papa grimaced a little. “One day, Omar, we will get our own telephone and then you won’t have to be the one to always bring me the news.” Omar grinned, then hurried off down the muddy road toward his own home.
“Who was it?” Mama asked when Papa reentered the house.
“Omar. I have to go back to work.” He put on his jacket that was already shedding streams of rainwater and then topped it with a light plastic cape. “I’ll probably be all night. Keep the windows shut tight, Marta, and make certain that you stuff rags in the window jamb over Mama’s bed if the rain starts coming in.”
“Yes, Papa,” Marta answered. Papa kissed each one goodbye, grabbed an ancient umbrella from the corner of the room, and was gone.
Marta began heating water to wash the dishes, and Alicia sat on the bed next to her mother. “Can I do anything for you, Mama?”
“I’m fine, Alicia, but you could get me my medicine.”
Startled, Marta dropped a fork. “Oh, Mama!” she cried. “I meant to pick up your medicine, but I forgot.”
Mama looked out the window at the billowing black clouds. “It will have to wait until tomorrow then.”
“No, Mama. I’ll go and get the medicine now,” she insisted.
“It is dark and raining much too hard, Marta. Besides, it’s Tuesday, so only the pharmacy on the Avenida de Los Treinty y Tres (Avenue of the Thirty-three) will be open late. That is much too far for you to go on such a stormy night.”
How could I have forgotten something so important as Mama’s medicine? Marta agonized.
“Come here, querida,” Mama motioned to Marta and then enfolded her in her arms. “Don’t worry. You have had much to do while I’ve been in bed. It has been a lot to ask of a daughter who is only eleven years old.”
Marta left her mother’s embrace and quietly finished the dishes. Afterward she checked the window above her mother’s bed and found some rainwater seeping in. She got some rags and stuffed them into the cracks. Just as she finished her task, the light went out.
“It’s just as well,” said Mama. “It’s time for my two children to go to bed anyway.”
The girls kissed Mama goodnight, then went into the second room of the house where they slept. “Don’t worry, Marta,” said Alicia. “We’ll get the medicine first thing in the morning. Mama will be all right.”
Marta only nodded and then crept into bed. What if Mama gets sick because I forgot the medicine? she worried. And maybe even dies. After sleeping fitfully for several hours, Marta suddenly awoke. Someone was calling her name. It was Mama! Marta struggled out of the entangling blankets and ran into the next room. “What is it?” she asked, staring at the drawn white face of her mother.
“The baby. I need help, Marta,” Mama gasped.
Without taking time to think, Marta headed for the front door. At the same moment Alicia shuffled into the room and collided with her.
“Where are you going, Marta?”
“To Omar’s. He can telephone and get an ambulance for Mama. You stay here with her.” And Marta rushed out the door. She did not take time to put on her sandals and the road was a muddy mire. Every few steps Marta slipped and often fell, covering herself with a fresh coat of mud. Stray dogs whined at the wind from behind the bushes at the side of the road, but only once did one brave the rain and come far enough into the street for Marta to see his bared teeth as he gave a long throaty growl. But even this did not slow Marta’s pace.
It seemed as though it took much longer to get to Omar’s house than it usually did. When Marta finally reached the gate she clapped her hands loudly but no one came. She pushed through the gate and began pounding furiously on the door. Awakened by the racket, Omar opened the door and stared sleepily at the small mud elf before him.
“Call an ambulance for Mama. Quick!” Marta cried, tugging at his sleeve.
Omar reached down and wiped some of the mud from Marta’s face. “Marta! Come in.” The worried girl waited inside until Omar had called the hospital, and then she quickly slipped back out into the night.
Marta arrived home a few minutes before the ambulance came and sat on the bed holding her mother’s hand. “I’m sorry about the medicine, Mama. Please be all right.”
“Everything will be fine, Marta, you’ll see.” But then Mama started to moan again and could say no more.
Omar arrived at the same time as the ambulance. “I will go with your mother to the hospital,” he said. “When I know that she is being taken care of, I will go tell your father. Can you both be very brave and stay here alone?” Marta nodded and grasped Alicia’s cold hand more firmly.
After the ambulance left, the two girls huddled together on top of Mama’s bed and waited. It didn’t take long for Alicia to fall asleep. After Marta had tucked a quilt around her sister, she gently cried as she wondered about Mama. Finally her quiet tears and the sound of the wind lulled her to sleep.
It was late in the morning when Alicia woke at the sound of the door opening. “Oh, Papa! I’m so glad you’re home. How’s Mama?”
Marta stirred and smiled at the comforting sight of her father. But then lowered her eyes to the floor. “Oh, Papa, I have been so terrible. I didn’t get Mama’s medicine and that is why she got so sick.”
Papa sat down on the bed between the two girls and held them tightly. “Your Mama’s fine. Her suffering had nothing to do with your forgetting the medicine. The baby just decided to come a little sooner than we had expected. I’m proud of my two daughters and the way they helped out. I know it wasn’t an easy time for you. And now I have one more thing I would like you to do.”
“What’s that, Papa?” asked Marta.
“I would like you to help teach your new brother to be just as good and helpful as both of you are.”

“Stop daydreaming, Abigail,” Mother scolded, “and get the table ready for supper. Your father will be along any minute, hungry and tired after working all day in the fields.”
Abigail hurried; she had been daydreaming about her old home. She knew Mother needed her help, but it was hard not to think about the friends and fun she had left in England before they had come to the New World.
On her way to the well for the milk and butter, Abigail stopped. Gazing at the cornfield and then at the shadow-laden hills beyond increased her loneliness.
Mother hadn’t let her go to see her friend Bess today because there had been too much to do. Bess had a doll and some doll dresses she had sewed, and Abigail had wanted to go and help make another costume for the doll. Abigail’s own doll had been left behind in England when they’d come to the colony.
Abigail drew the pail with milk and butter from the well, where it stayed cool between meals, and took it back up the path and into the cabin. Mother was putting hot bread on the table beside a steaming bowl of stew.
Father came in from the bench where he had just washed up, and they sat down to supper together. This was the best part of the day for Abigail. She liked it when Father was in the cabin. He usually sat by the fireplace and carved things after supper until he went to bed.
He had carved their spoons and Mother’s big stirring paddle. He said there were other things he wanted to carve as soon as the long winter evenings began. During the summer Father worked late in the fields and only had time to do a little carving after Mother and Abigail were in bed.
Tonight he seemed very tired, but he smiled when he called Abigail to him by the fireside. He held out some carved pieces for her to see.
“Why, Father!” Abigail cried. “I see feet and arms, and that must be a head and body!” She looked at her father, and his eyes were twinkling. To think that Father has been carving a doll for me after working so hard all day! she thought. Hugging her father as hard as she could, she said, “Oh, Father, I didn’t know you knew how much I missed my doll! But how will those pieces go together?”
“You’ll see,” he said as he got up and brought some cords from a peg in back of the door. He began to make knots and fasten the pieces to the body of the doll. Soon the doll’s arms and legs were attached and they could be moved!
“It seems like magic.” Abigail chuckled as she spoke. “Now I can make dresses for her and sing to her when I am lonely, just as I did in England.”
“You surely can,” Mother said, “when your work is done. Remember, you still need to knit stockings for us. We all need new ones for the cold weather that is coming soon.”
“I thought no one knew how lonely I was and how much I missed our old home,” Abigail said, walking over to hug her mother. “I will be good and help all I can. Father shall have the first new socks; they are almost finished. Yours will be next, Mother; you work so hard for all of us.”
“Your mother and I could never forget about you, Abby. It’s good to work hard together. Someday this will be a very dear home, as dear as the one we left in England. And you will like it all the better because you helped to make it so.”

“Over here!” Miss Karen, the cheerleading camp director, waved Cricket over. “Girls eight and under are in this group.”
“Not again,” Cricket whispered to her best friend, Lauren. She turned to Miss Karen and said, “Actually, I’m 10. I’m just small.”
“Oh,” Miss Karen said. “Well, we need you to cheer with the younger girls for the performance. You’re so much shorter and you wouldn’t blend in with the older girls. Besides, their uniforms would be too big on you.”
“But—” Cricket started to say.
“Of course you can do all the other camp activities with your friends.” Miss Karen patted Cricket’s shoulder. “I know you won’t mind.”
Cricket didn’t say anything. But back in their room, Cricket told Lauren, “But I do mind. I’m always the smallest one at camp.”
“It will be OK,” Lauren said. “We’ll have fun doing everything else together.”
And they did have fun. They learned to do flips and back walkovers on the bar in their gymnastics class. Miss Karen even complimented Cricket on her landings.
They watched every day as the high school cheerleaders practiced their pyramids. Cricket was already good at pyramids, and she couldn’t wait until she was old enough to join a cheer team too.
But none of it quite made up for having to cheer with the little kids. Cricket felt out of place practicing with them. They were so much younger! She wished she were taller so she could cheer with her friends.
“Why don’t you pretend to be sick on Saturday?” Lauren said. “Then you won’t have to be in the show.”
Cricket thought for a moment. “No, I can’t do that. It wouldn’t be honest. And besides, Miss Karen and the kids are counting on me. I’ll just tough it out.”
The next day, Cricket had just performed with her group and left the stage when Miss Karen came running up to her.
“We need you,” Miss Karen whispered. “The girl for the top of the high school team’s pyramid is sick. You’re small enough for the girls to lift easily, and your landing is perfect. Are you willing to try it?”
Cricket nodded slowly. They needed her help because she was small. “I’ll do my best,” she said.
When the high school girls finished their routine and started their pyramids, Miss Karen gave Cricket the signal to join them. Cricket said a silent prayer asking Heavenly Father to help her do her best.
She walked on stage. The girls lifted her up and she grinned, holding her hands high in the air. Cricket flipped down into the girls’ arms and landed perfectly. The crowd cheered.
The rest of the cheerleaders came down from the pyramid smoothly. Cricket couldn’t stop smiling as she listened to the crowd cheering.
At the end of the show, all the cheerleaders came onto the stage for one last bow. Miss Karen walked to the microphone.
If you don’t think faith and attitude are more important than size … just ask Goliath about David!
“Every year we give an award to the most inspirational camper,” she said. “This year we’ve chosen a girl who cared more about the group than about herself. The most inspirational camper award goes to a little girl with a big heart. Cricket Newton, please come forward!”
Cricket hugged the trophy tight. She smiled as she stood on her tiptoes to say “thank you” into the microphone.

I started skiing when I was five years old, and I have always loved the sport. For many years I thought, Wouldn’t it be wonderful to ski for the United States Olympic team! Finally, when I was old enough to go on a mission, I was given the chance to be an alternate for the United States team.
The Olympics! It was something I had worked for and dreamed about for years. Fortunately, I had a very wise bishop, who happened to be my father. When I asked him, “Would the family be just as proud of me if I skied for the United States Olympics team instead of serving a mission?” his answer was, “That’s not for the family to decide; it’s your choice.” He urged me to fast and pray about it. I took his advice, and then I knew which choice was right: I should serve a mission.
I was called to the Western Canadian Mission. For as long as I can remember, I have known that the Church is true, but my mission helped strengthen my testimony even more and helped me appreciate what a testimony really is. My mission changed my life, and I have never regretted making the decision to serve. This experience taught me the importance of always choosing the right, just as you children are taught in Primary today.

Peter Hagen sat at the kitchen table in their small cabin and watched his mother remove four loaves of bread from the oven. Usually the smell of freshly baked bread made him feel happy, but today he was worried.
“Will we have a Christmas this year?” Peter asked his mother.
“Of course we will,” Mother replied. “We’re not in Ohio anymore, but I think our Christmas will be just as good as if we were. You’ll see.”
Already Peter missed the gaily decorated Christmas tree, wrapped presents, delicious cookies, and the friends with whom he’d spent so many happy hours.
It was just ten months ago that ten-year-old Peter, his five-year-old sister, Ruthie, and their parents had journeyed west from Ohio by covered wagon to settle on the plains of the Dakota Territory. Peter couldn’t understand how his father could think that living on a farm in such a lonely area was worth leaving their comfortable home in Ohio.
“How can Christmas be the same?” Peter asked his mother. “There aren’t any stores where we can buy presents, or any friends to enjoy shopping with even if there were stores.”
“Well, Peter, there are many kinds of gifts we can give besides the ones we buy in a store,” answered Mother.
That evening at supper Peter was still worried about celebrating Christmas in their new home. “Dad, will we at least have a Christmas tree this year?” he asked.
“We’ll have a tree,” Father said as he smiled at Peter and Ruthie. “We couldn’t bring our tinsel and glass ornaments with us, so we’ll have to depend on you to make the decorations for our tree.”
“That might be fun,” said Peter. He noticed Ruthie was smiling too.
“I’d like a doll for Christmas,” Ruthie said suddenly. “A big doll with a pretty dress.”
“Maybe, Ruthie,” Mother answered finally. “But don’t count too much on it.”
Oh, I hope she can have a doll, Peter thought. I still wish we were back in our old home where there were stores so we could buy things.
“What would you like for Christmas, Dad?” Peter asked.
Father thought a moment and answered, “I suppose a new saddle for our horse.”
“And what do you want, Mom?” Ruthie asked.
“I would like a piano just like the one we left behind,” Mother replied. “I do miss my music.”
Peter couldn’t help but join in with a wish for himself. “I’d like some ice skates. It’s not easy to skate on the pond in my boots.”
After supper Peter and Ruthie started making Christmas decorations. Mother showed them how to carve stars out of yellow lye soap. They tied bows out of different colored ribbons and cut yarn into short strips.
“The yarn can be our tinsel,” Peter told Ruthie. “I can hardly wait to see our tree!”
The new ornaments were stored on a shelf until Christmas Eve, when it was the family tradition to decorate the Christmas tree.
As Christmas drew near, Ruthie continued to talk about a new doll and Mother hummed some of the songs she used to play on her piano. It made Peter feel sad to think that each one couldn’t have the gift he or she wanted most.
Peter went to his room and pulled out a wooden box from under his bed where he kept his most prized possessions. He opened the box and took out a pocketknife given to him by his best friend back in Ohio, some stones he found in a stream along the way to Dakota, two drawing pencils, a pair of scissors, a spelling award he won last year in the fifth grade, and an old catalog.
As Peter slowly turned the pages of the catalog, he noticed a page full of pictures of saddles. An idea flashed into his mind. They’ll have to use their imaginations, Peter thought, but I can make sure everyone will have a special Christmas present this year!
On Christmas Eve Peter and his father brought in a small evergreen tree and placed it in the center of the kitchen on a wooden stand. Ruthie hung the soap stars and bows on the tree while Peter draped the yarn tinsel over the branches. Then Peter hung some oddly shaped paper ornaments on the tree. One had a dark brown picture on it.
“What have we here?” asked Father as he turned the picture over so he could look at it. “Why, it’s a saddle!” he declared.
“It’s your Christmas saddle, Dad. Now all you need is a paper horse,” Peter said with a big smile.
Peter handed Ruthie a picture he had neatly cut out of the catalog. “Here’s your doll, Ruthie. It’s only a paper picture, but she’ll be part of our wishing game. Maybe next year you’ll have a real doll.”
Ruthie held the picture gently in her hands and said, “She’s pretty. If we put her on top of the tree, she can be our angel.”
Father picked Ruthie up, and she hung the doll on the top of the tree.
Mother could see a picture of a piano dangling near the saddle ornament. “And I have my piano,” she said as she hugged Peter.
“I wanted us to have what we each wanted most for Christmas,” Peter said. He held up a picture of a pair of skates and hung it on the tree. “And here are my ice skates.”
“Well, Peter, I think we’re having a nice Christmas. After all, Christmas is in our hearts, and as long as we’re together, we’ll always have the same good Christmas we used to have back in our old home,” his mother said.
“Next year we’ll probably have some of those gifts sitting under the tree instead of hanging on the tree,” Father laughed, but Peter thought that Father seemed to have a sudden hoarseness when he spoke.
“Are you all ready for popcorn?” Mother asked.
“Popcorn!” cried Peter and Ruthie. That was a real Christmas treat!
Ruthie and Mother seemed happy as they roasted the popcorn. And Father was getting ready to read the story of the first Christmas from the Bible.
Peter smiled and looked around. The tree was gaily decorated, and there were presents—even if they were only paper ones.
It is a nice Christmas, he thought. Suddenly he knew just what his mother meant when she said, “After all, Christmas is in our hearts!”

When I was diagnosed with breast cancer, I was serving as Relief Society president and running for reelection to our city council. My husband had lost his job, and we were hit with many other serious trials during this time. My counselors took to heart “bearing one another’s burdens” and helped spread the load I was carrying. My bishop took on some of my responsibilities. My husband took over many duties of cooking and homemaking. It was truly humbling to see that my burdens were not taken away but instead were shared by many, many people who exercised the healer’s art.

Being called to be an interfaith specialist (previously known as a public affairs specialist) in my area in New Zealand required me to build relationships between community and political leaders and the Church.
I felt inadequate. I felt pressure to not make mistakes in this calling, because the decision of these community and political leaders to align themselves with the Church often depends on the quality of your communication skills and answers to their questions.
Thankfully, I didn’t have to bear the responsibility of this calling alone. I knew I could ask for help from Heavenly Father. And I had the support of other specialists who would offer to help me take on a challenge or even take my place when things were daunting. This type of calling reminded me that as brothers and sisters in the gospel, we can share the load of callings. Even Jesus Christ chose to call Twelve Apostles to assist Him in His ministry, which indicates the way in which He intends His gospel to operate at any level—working together.
I’ve served in many callings that were instantly made so much more enjoyable simply because of fantastic members who were willing to help me. For example, the other interfaith specialists and I participated in an event where we hosted guests who were not of our faith. During small breaks in the event, we filled the free time with laughter, shared meals, and conversations about one another’s welfare. Just as in many times before, as we worked together, our taxing callings ended up feeling more like a privilege than a duty.
When we focus on serving our brothers and sisters, the drive to help one another succeed in our callings comes naturally. Countless experiences like these have shown me that we can all be instruments in helping one another magnify our responsibilities and furthering Heavenly Father’s work in establishing Zion.
Bronson B., Auckland, New Zealand

As I grew older, I learned about the blessings of doing things that at the time you don’t realize are important and good for you. When I was very little, I came down with a lung disease, but no one knew it at the time. When I grew older, I joined the air force. The doctors saw spots on my lungs. Because of the hard work of pedaling that heavy load, somehow my body had healed itself. I had built up endurance. I had built up strength. The doctors said that the disease took care of itself and that I passed my physical. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to become a pilot.

During a family vacation, the Bart and LeAnne Dahneke family of the Grandview Fifth Ward, Provo Utah Grandview Stake, shared an unusual experience.
“My husband and I decided to take our children for a walk along the beach in search of shells,” says Sister Dahneke. “While walking we met a nice couple. Bart struck up a conversation with them, and we became quick friends.
“The next day we had dinner together and discovered that this couple was soon going to be married by a local minister. They had no family with them, so they invited us to serve as witnesses. We agreed.
“The wedding was held on a beautiful beach as the sun was setting over a calm, clear ocean. The bride and groom were radiant as they held hands and made the promise to love, honor, and respect each other. My children were happy for our new friends, but they had a lot of questions about the wedding ceremony. So our next family home evening was on eternal marriage.
“We talked about the importance of eternal marriage as found in D&C 132:15, 19. We taught our children about the importance of living their lives so they are worthy to go to the temple to be sealed for eternity. We felt the inspiration of the Holy Ghost as we talked about the beauty of a temple marriage and its eternal sealing power, compared to an earthly wedding and its ‘until death do us part’ promise.
“Drawing upon this shared experience provided a powerful foundation to teach the gospel principles surrounding eternal marriage. Our children were receptive because they had experienced firsthand the wedding on the beach. We were motivated because we know firsthand the joys of temple marriage. The result was a powerful family home evening.”

When our son Eli was in fourth grade, his class set up a mock government where he was elected by his peers to serve as class judge. One day a sitting judge from the Utah 2nd District Court visited, put his official robes on Eli, and then administered an oath of office for their class. This ignited in Eli’s young, impressionable soul a passion for studying law and the Lawgiver Himself, Jesus Christ.
After years of diligent effort, Eli received an invitation for an interview with one of his top choices for law school. He pronounced, “… The final question was, ‘Where do you derive your moral compass?’ … I stated if all of humanity abided by the teachings of Jesus Christ in the Sermon on the Mount, the world would be a better, more peaceful place.” Then the interview ended, and he thought to himself, “There go my childhood dreams. No one in secular academia wants to hear about Jesus Christ.”
Two weeks later, Eli was admitted with a scholarship. Before committing, we visited the campus. … Remarkably, as we walked through the magnificent library and stately corridors, we found on banners and carved in stone attributes from the Sermon on the Mount.
The Sermon on the Mount is decisively the most noteworthy discourse ever delivered, pioneering in its teachings. No other sermon can help us better understand the character of Jesus Christ, His divine attributes, and our ultimate purpose to become like Him. …
We need to infuse the Light of Jesus Christ into every corner of our lives. …

Cathy has also spent many hours helping at rest homes. “I guess because I was so close to my grandparents and my mother is a nurse, it was easy for me to volunteer my time,” said Cathy. “My Aunt Mamie worked as a recreation specialist at a rest home when I was 11, so she’d ask me and my cousin to go over there and help. We’d spend the whole day. We’d play bingo with the people. I’d help roll them in their wheelchairs out into the middle of the halls for supper, deliver the mail, read to them if they needed it, and just talk.”

I was getting to know my new bishop when he said, “You said everything is fine, but something seems wrong.”
I explained that I was constantly behind in my coursework. I was depressed, lonely, and struggling with social anxiety.
“You are too hard on yourself,” he said. He taught me about the Atonement of Jesus Christ and the Savior’s patience and mercy. He also suggested that I talk to my parents and consider the possibility of therapy.
I started seeing a therapist. It didn’t solve everything at once. But because of my loving bishop, I got the help I needed.
Brenna H., Utah, USA