Gospel Story Finder

For Damien, serving others was a natural part of growing up. He enjoyed going with his dad to help others move. “Service is what I am meant to do,” Damien says. He has often looked for ways to serve others—for instance, landscaping or sharing his technical abilities. So when he was asked to help with the Just Serve Club at his high school, Damien was ready to make it happen.
Damien had been a member of the Just Serve Club before. But when the previous leaders graduated, he was mostly on his own. Damien began the process of rebuilding the club.
It took a lot of work to recruit new members. During the week at the beginning of the school year when students promote the school clubs, Damien worked every day inviting people.
One young woman, Abby R., was excited to join. “I always wanted to be in the Just Serve Club,” she says. Her older sister had been president of the club a few years before.
She loves doing simple acts of service like opening a door or bringing treats for a friend. But the Just Serve Club provided a way to serve in bigger ways. “I went to every service activity I could,” Abby says.
At club meetings, members work together to write encouraging notes in cards for people in the local hospital or gather supplies for boxes to go to disadvantaged children. “It felt good to serve and help others during their struggles,” Abby says. “And service is a great way to connect with your peers.”
Damien says, “Watching students come together talking and laughing while they make cards helps me feel the Spirit.”
Damien and Abby have both found that service gives you an opportunity to think more about others and not just yourself. “You can get caught up in yourself and what you need to do for school,” Abby says. “Taking time to think about others and what’s going on in their lives helps you think about the Savior. It brings you peace and makes you happy.”
Abby has found that service brings her closer to the Lord as she is doing what He would want her to do. Damien has discovered serving and giving back is a way he can follow the Savior’s example. “The pure love of Christ is charity,” Damien says. “I try to embody charity, and it has helped me to grow so close to Christ.”
“Anywhere there is a need, you can make a difference,” Damien says. “That’s what Christ’s work is all about.”

Michael G. (right), age 11, from Panama, loves his karate classes and studies hard in school. Once he got to be “principal for a day” at his school because of his good grades.
Michael is already a courageous missionary. When the Church had an information stand at the international fair near his home, Michael and his parents stood at the entrance of the fair, gave people pamphlets about the Church, and invited them to visit the Church’s stand. He also gave a pass-along card to a friend’s family, and the missionaries taught them about the Church. He is looking forward to being a full-time missionary.

“One of the Choice and Accountability experiences I completed is a good example of how Personal Progress has changed my life. To complete the project I needed to make a habit of personal prayer and scripture study. I had never been excited or willing to read the scriptures before because they confused me. I decided to try the experience anyway and planned to read a chapter in my scriptures every night.
“When I sat down to read the first night, I was hesitant. I decided to start in the New Testament because I wanted to read about the Savior. At first the scriptures didn’t make much sense. But after a while I opened up my heart and looked for understanding. Suddenly I understood the passages. Every night I kneel in prayer, and I read my scriptures. I know the scriptures are true, and I’m grateful for Personal Progress.”Kristi Hurd, 15Antioch Second Ward, Antioch California Stake

The girls who’ve had a positive missionary experience agree that activities are one of the best ways to introduce people to the Church. “I usually invite my friends to a dance first,” says Noelle Adams, 15. She and her sister Torrey, 16, have a large group of non-LDS friends who regularly attend the Fullerton dances. They like the clean, friendly atmosphere, and so do their parents.

“Our friends’ parents love our standards,” Torrey says. “They’ll let our friends be out with us later than they will when they’re with other friends. They encourage their kids to go out with us, because they like what we’re doing.”

Okay, so once they have their friends excited about the stake and regional dances, what’s next? “Well,” says Noelle, “I take them to another kind of activity after that. By then they know a lot of the kids, so they’re eager to come. Then I have them over to the house for dinner or something, and then I invite them to church on Sunday.”

Torrey and Noelle took advantage of their little sister’s baptism to invite many of their neighbors and friends to a spiritual meeting. “They were happy to come, because they know my little sister, and they know that we’re different, so they’re interested in what we do,” says Noelle.

Once your friends are familiar with the Church, then it’s time for the most significant thing you can do, according to the Adamses. “I sit them down and explain that there’s something important I’d like to share with them. Then I tell them how special the Church is to me,” says Noelle. “I let them know that the missionaries can explain more about it, if they’d like to meet them.”

“They don’t always accept my invitation, but they do think about it, and they usually appreciate your caring enough about them to tell them,” says Noelle.

A little girl taught me a profound lesson on this subject. Surely you are not above learning from little children. Much of what I know that really matters I have learned from being a father.

Some years ago I returned home to find our little children were waiting in the driveway. They had discovered some newly hatched chicks under the manger in the barn. When they reached for them, a protective hen rebuffed them. So they came for reinforcements.

I soon gathered a handful of little chicks for them to see and touch.

As our little girl held one of them, I said in a teasing way, “That will make a nice watchdog when it grows up, won’t it?” She looked at me quizzically, as if I didn’t know much.

So I changed my approach: “It won’t be a watchdog, will it?” She shook her head, “No, Daddy.” Then I added, “It will be a nice riding horse.”

She wrinkled up her nose and gave me that “Oh, Dad!” look. For even a four-year-old knows that a chick will not be a dog, nor a horse, nor even a turkey. It will be a chicken. It will follow the pattern of its parentage. She knew that without having had a course in genetics, without a lesson or a lecture.

No lesson is more manifest in nature than that all living things do as the Lord commanded in the Creation. They reproduce “after their own kind.” (See Moses 2:12, 24.) They follow the pattern of their parentage. Everyone knows that; every four-year-old knows that! A bird will not become an animal nor a fish. A mammal will not beget reptiles, nor “do men gather … figs of thistles.” (Matt. 7:16.)

In the countless billions of opportunities in the reproduction of living things, one kind does not beget another. If a species ever does cross, the offspring cannot reproduce. The pattern for all life is the pattern of the parentage.

This is demonstrated in so many obvious ways, even an ordinary mind should understand it. Surely no one with reverence for God could believe that His children evolved from slime or from reptiles. (Although one can easily imagine that those who accept the theory of evolution don’t show much enthusiasm for genealogical research!) The theory of evolution, and it is a theory, will have an entirely different dimension when the workings of God in creation are fully revealed.

Since every living thing follows the pattern of its parentage, are we to suppose that God had some other strange pattern in mind for His offspring? Surely we, His children, are not, in the language of science, a different species than He is?

What is in error, then, when we use the term Godhood to describe the ultimate destiny of mankind? We may now be young in our progression—juvenile, even infantile, compared with Him. Nevertheless, in the eternities to come, if we are worthy, we may be like unto Him, enter His presence, “see as [we] are seen, and know as [we] are known,” and receive a “fulness.” (D&C 76:94.)

Elder Mark Macklind watched his new companion jog ahead and shook his own head in awe. He pedaled his bike to parallel Elder Hilversum and asked, “Do you run like this every day?”
“Yup,” Elder Hilversum replied, puffing between words. “Every day, same time, same route. You can join me tomorrow if you’d like.”
“Yeah, you already said that.” Mark shifted gears to accommodate the slower pace. “But I’d rather hang by my toes overnight. Just give me a cookie, and I’ll wear the sofa out.”
“Oh, come on, elder,” the runner pleaded, jumping off the curb to cross the street. “You’ve got to admit that it’s good for you.”
“So is prune juice. I can hardly stand to watch you, let alone join you.” He pedaled ahead a few yards, scanning the road.
“Where are we going?” Mark asked flatly, uncomfortably perplexed. Transfers had just occurred that day, bringing the reluctant Elder Macklind to a new area with which he was wholly unfamiliar, and pairing his antiathletic body with jog-happy Elder Hilversum. Mark felt very unsettled, and yet Elder Hilversum didn’t seem to notice. He just serenely breezed through the day as if nothing was new, which Mark found somewhat depressing; it’s tough to be gloomy without company, and this cheerful Hilversum guy just wasn’t cooperating. Mark frowned at the ground. His mind was still in Cedar Court, on the Caufields.
Elder Hilversum wiped a stream of perspiration from going into his eye. “Why don’t you ride behind me, if you don’t know where you are?”
“Thanks for the advice, but I prefer being upwind. Maybe you haven’t noticed, but joggers carry a peculiar scent about them.” Elder Macklind rode a large figure eight.
“You’re just afraid to sweat,” the runner accused, smirking.
Mark grimaced. “Do not mistake fright for what is actually disgust, elder.” He allowed his companion to plod past him and followed around the corner. “I just have a strong aversion to shin splints.”
Elder Hilversum laughed. As he silently watched the hiking figure in front of his bike, Mark had to admit a grudging respect for his companion’s tenacity, though he also thought it was insane to willingly submit oneself to such inevitable pain. Mark wondered why there wasn’t an easier way to get fit. Why isn’t there ever an easier way?
His thoughts wandered again to yesterday’s area, to the Caufields. What didn’t they understand? Maybe he should have said something else, done something more. But what? It was so frustrating. Honestly, he thought he had done all that he could. It was someone else’s responsibility now. But still, it was an awfully hard thing to understand why their enthusiasm died.
“Oh, boy,” Elder Hilversum sighed, waking Mark from his abstraction and finishing the run by slowing to a walk. “That was a lot of fun.”
Mark made a face. “It looked like torture,” he hissed.
“Oh, but, Elder Macklind, it feels so great!” Elder Hilversum exclaimed, wiping his face with his shirt.
“Only when you stop,” Mark said, hopping off his bike and pushing it up the driveway. “Nothing could get me to do that to myself.”
But the next day the tire on his bike popped, and when the time for the daily exercise ritual rolled around, Mark found himself jogging beside his persistent companion. “Glad to have you with me,” Elder Hilversum puffed, grinning widely. Elder Macklind only growled in return. He wasn’t sure that he clearly understood how this had happened.
Mr. Caufield had grinned so widely, too, after accepting the baptismal challenge. His wife had cried and hugged Mark tightly as he left; he told her she would look so pretty in white. And she would have, too, if they had only tried harder. Mark winced at the memory. All the plans, filling the font, so much excitement, smiling all day, and then finding their note instead of them: “We just do not want to be baptized after all.” Mark shut his eyes tight.
“Hey, Elder Macklind! You’re beginning to sweat!” Elder Hilversum laughed, enjoying the sight. Mark could feel it too.
“Ssh!” he motioned. “Don’t broadcast it!” His hairline was beginning to glue to his skin, bringing a strange sensation over his body. How could he do this every day? Elder Hilversum hopped ahead a few steps. Mark trudged on.
Sometimes Mark wondered why he had come on a mission at all. Just like this stupid run, it often seemed like a lot of effort for no good purpose. He just got sore legs and an aching heart that beat too hard as if it were going to explode out of his chest. And he went back three times, but he never saw the Caufields again before the transfer. Maybe never again, period. Mark contorted his eyebrows into a knot, and tiny trickles of water fell down his face. He gritted his teeth. Why does he keep running?
The jog had become rudely taxing. Mark began to punctuate each plop of his heels with a gutterul groan, partly out of exhaustion and partly in an effort to complain: “Ugh!”—step—“Ugh!”—step—“Ugh!” His seeping energy was beginning to upset him. He could feel anger well up deep inside and churn up toward his head, as if his feet were pumping it farther with every plod. What’s the point in trying anyway? There was so much to be angry about. Mark wanted to give in to it.
They came to a crosswalk, and Elder Hilversum was jogging in place waiting for the light to change when Mark caught up to him. “Is anyone watching us?” Mark huffed to his companion, the pogo stick.
Elder Hilversum grinned again, glancing from side to side, “Nope.”
“Good!” Mark blurted, and promptly fell to the ground in a lifeless sprawl, moaning, “All over. All over. Any time now.”
Anxiously, Elder Hilversum reached for his land-grabbing companion. “Get up, Elder Macklind, get up! Are you all right?”
“Dying. Dying,” Mark lamented from among the grass blades and dirt.
“No, you’re not dying,” Elder Hilversum retorted impatiently, pulling at Mark’s arm. “But you’ll cramp up if you lie there much longer.”
Mark slowly stood again, leaning on Elder Hilversum with dedicated weariness. “Aren’t we done yet?” he wailed.
“Press forward, Elder Macklind,” Elder Hilversum advised, his patience returning with his place-running. “Have a perfect brightness of hope.”
“I’m beyond hope,” Mark murmured. “I’m well into despair.”
The pair jaunted on, Elder Hilversum slowing his pace to stay beside Elder Macklind. Mark wanted to cry. So hard. Thud, lift, thud, lift, thud.
Elder Hilversum began to gasp out a hymn, managing five words at a breath: “Let us all press on … in the work of the … Lord that when life is … o’er we may gain a …”
Mark couldn’t join in, because he wanted to scream. How could he act happy under these conditions? Another thud, lift, thud, lift, thud, lift … every day like this? And Elder Hilversum plowing ahead in breathy song with his permanent smile, like a marathon minstrel harboring a secret pleasure. Mark stared at him with aching eyes, torn between sincere anguish and raging rebellion.
“Elder Hilversum,” Mark called, turning the warbler’s sweaty head in mid-chorus, seeing the grin melt to concern, “how can you go like this every day, running on?”
Two hard plods. “This is silly,” Mark panted, unfinished. “I’m killing myself on this road; I really am. But you just keep going. Why, elder? Why?” And then, after a thud, “How?”
Elder Hilversum furrowed his wet, hot brow. “I don’t know, Elder Macklind,” he said, still tramping on. “I just keep reminding myself that the feeling of accomplishment will always be worth the temporary pain of effort.”
They stepped up to a curb, in lock-jog.
“You make it sound like spiritual persecution,” Mark muttered.
The senior companion grinned. “Do I?” he asked and laughed. Then he stretched the stride.
That grin was ingratiating. But the memory of the Caufields demanded his depression, and so Mark moaned. “I can’t imagine anything being worth this pain!”
“Don’t dwell on how much it hurts, Elder Macklind.”
“Everything hurts.”
“Just keep moving. Don’t worry about how fast you’re going, just keep going, and give it all you’ve got. I’ll run with you.”
Mark nodded, swallowing. “I know.”
“Elder Macklind, do your best. Push yourself, and don’t stop at less. You’ve been doing your best. Don’t quit now because it’s getting more difficult. Give it all you’ve got, and that’s all you need to give. Elder Macklind, all you can do is all you can do.”
Mark watched the sidewalk disappear under his feet. “Yeah, okay,” he said, but wanted to say something better. Elder Hilversum ran beside him, and so Mark pushed a little harder. Elder Hilversum grinned. He was always doing that. And the house wasn’t too far now, anyway.
Mark wiped his face with his hand and threw the sweat behind him. He was beginning to understand a little better, and the day didn’t look so bad now. Running on, he reflected, “All we can do is all we can do,” and smiled a little. That made sense, he decided, and brought his head up to see the sun, thinking, “Maybe I’ll run again tomorrow.”

When I was about your age, I learned the importance of a straight and narrow path and how difficult it was to be focused and stay on it. I grew up in a very small town in the foothills of the Canadian Rockies. My dad was a farmer, and I learned to work! Every summer I drove the tractor for him, mowing and raking hay, hauling hay bales, and plowing fields. I remember when I first started to learn to plow and cultivate a field. Dad explained the importance of plowing a straight furrow or a straight line. If you went crooked, there would be spots missed in the field and the weeds would take over. He said: “If you will keep your eye focused on the fence post across the field and let that be your goal, you will plow a straight furrow. Don’t let the bumpy terrain throw you off. It’s when you start looking at the end of the tractor that the holes and bumps take you off course and you begin to go crooked.” Then he left me to do the job.

I remembered about the fence post across the field for several rounds, then I started singing songs to make the time pass. I sang every song and hymn I knew, and those I didn’t know I made up. I was singing at the top of my lungs and having a good time when I noticed my dad walking through the field towards me. I stopped the tractor and he said, “Can you tell what has happened to the straight lines?”

I said, “What do you mean?”

He said: “Look at the line. Your first few rounds are straight, but evidently you quit paying attention to where you were plowing. You must have quit looking at the fence post across the field—your goal. Can you see that gradually each time you’ve gone around, you’ve just gone a little crooked until now there are big spots in the field?” He got on the tractor and drove a few rotations to straighten out the lines. As he got off to let me try again, he said, “Sharon, always pay attention to where you are going.”

Finally, let me tell you about Hannah Knight Libby Carter, who was so sick when she first met the missionaries that doctors had given up on her. After a blessing promising that she would be made whole, Hannah got up and asked for her clothes and said, “I must go to the water.” She then walked to a nearby river where she was baptized and confirmed that very day. Her final testimony to her family, before passing away at age 80, was that “the path she had pursued for the last 30 years was the only path by which they could enjoy her society in the world to come and be accepted of the Lord.”

Tim jogged up the sidewalk after school. He saw Mom sitting on the porch steps holding a camera. “What’s the camera for?” he asked.
Mom patted the step beside her. “I’d like to take your picture, but I need to talk with you about something first. Sit down for a second, please.”
Tim plopped his backpack on the porch and sat down. He got a funny feeling all of a sudden. Was something wrong?
“I got a call this afternoon,” Mom explained. “Your friend Shem is in the hospital.”
Tim took a quick breath. “What happened?” he asked. “Is Shem OK?”
Mom slipped an arm around Tim. “No, he’s not. He had to have an operation.”
“But Mom,” Tim protested, “Shem was here just two days ago. He was fine!”
“I know, honey,” Mom said. “But sometimes something goes wrong inside the body very suddenly. An important blood vessel in Shem’s brain stopped working. Doctors aren’t sure if he’ll be able to see or recognize anybody once he wakes up from the operation.”
Tim couldn’t think of anything to say. His eyes stung with tears, and his throat hurt. He hugged Mom and thought about Shem. They had so much fun last summer playing knights and dragons in Shem’s backyard. He was scared for his friend.
“Why do you want to take a picture of me?” he finally asked.
Mom smiled. “The doctors think it might help Shem if some of his favorite things are nearby when he wakes up. You can’t be in Shem’s hospital room, but we can send a picture. Would you like to do that?”
“Yes!” Tim jumped up. Anything to help Shem. Mom stepped back and took the photograph.
Tim folded his arms and thought. “Can we do anything else to help?”
“You can pray for him.”
Tim felt relieved. Of course! Prayer was the perfect idea. “I’ll go do that right now,” he said, running inside.
The next morning Mom offered Tim some eggs and cereal for breakfast. Everything looked so tasty, but Tim shook his head. “I don’t want any, thanks.”
“What’s wrong? Do you have a stomach ache?”
“No,” Tim answered. “I just think maybe I should fast today. For Shem.”
“Oh,” Mom said. She knelt down beside Tim. “I think that would be a very good idea,” she said quietly.
When Tim got to school, he gave his teacher a note Mom had written, explaining that he wouldn’t be eating lunch. Miss Thompson looked closely at him after she read the note. “Shem must be a very special friend,” she said. Tim nodded.
All day at school, whenever Tim’s stomach rumbled, he said a silent prayer that Heavenly Father would bless Shem. It wasn’t easy, but he felt good inside doing this for his friend. On Sunday he learned that other Primary kids had fasted and prayed for Shem too.
Several days later Tim walked in the house just as Mom was hanging up the phone.
“Great news!” Mom said. “Shem opened his eyes today. And the first thing he said was, ‘Where am I, and why is there a picture of Tim?’”
“He saw my picture?” Tim asked, excited. Shem could still see!
“Yes, he did, and he knew it was you,” Mom said. “That means his brain still works the way it should. The doctors are calling it a miracle.”
Tim let out a whoop of excitement. He leaped up and started running down the hall toward his bedroom.
“Hey! Where are you going?” Mom asked.
Tim paused for only a moment. “I’ve got to thank Heavenly Father!”

In the marvelous experience of Brigham Young in February of 1847, when the Prophet Joseph appeared to him in a dream or vision, Brigham pleaded to be reunited with the Prophet. Brigham Young asked the Prophet if he had a message for the Brethren. The Prophet said:
“Tell the people to be humble and faithful, and be sure to keep the spirit of the Lord and it will lead them right. Be careful and not turn away the small still voice; it will teach you what to do and where to go; it will yield the fruits of the kingdom. Tell the brethren to keep their hearts open to conviction, so that when the Holy Ghost comes to them, their hearts will be ready to receive it.”
The Prophet further directed Brigham Young as follows: “They can tell the Spirit of the Lord from all other spirits; it will whisper peace and joy to their souls; it will take malice, hatred, strife and all evil from their hearts; and their whole desire will be to do good, bring forth righteousness and build up the kingdom of God” (Manuscript History of Brigham Young, 1846–1847, compiled by Elden J. Watson, Salt Lake City, 1971, page 529).

Illustrations by Jim Madsen
One weekend I visited a seaside resort in the south of England. While there, I wanted to get to a place called Fairlight Glen farther up the coast. As I started to walk up the coast, I saw a sign saying, “Do not walk along this section of the beach.” No other information was given, and I didn’t know why the instruction was placed there. I ignored the sign and continued up the coast to Fairlight Glen.
As I walked I noticed that the tide was coming in. On one side of me were very steep, almost vertical cliffs, and on the other side the sea was closing in. I realized that I could be trapped by the incoming tide. I panicked and started to run! The pebbles on the beach made it very difficult to run, and as I put my weight down, my feet would sink in and cause me to feel as if I were getting nowhere. Realizing that I might not make it to Fairlight Glen in time, I looked at the cliff face and considered climbing at a point that didn’t look as steep as the rest. But as I held on to the cliff face, the soft chalk rock gave way and there was no grip or support to climb up. Continuing to panic, I ran along the beach until I eventually reached Fairlight Glen, where there was easy access up the cliff face.
I now appreciate the wisdom of that sign near the coast. Although it was a restriction, it was also a protection from being trapped by incoming tides. Had I followed its wise advice, I wouldn’t have put my life in danger that day. I know the same is true for us when we choose to keep the commandments, because they are there to bless and protect us and keep us safe.

Elder David O. McKay had many pets, including a boar named Caesar.
Son: Father, you must really love animals to care for an ugly creature like that!
One day as Elder McKay was leaving to catch a train, he noticed that Caesar had broken out of his pen and was wandering away.
David: No, you don’t! We’ll keep you in the chicken coop for now. I’ll have to repair the pen when I get back.
But Elder McKay forgot to tell the rest of the family where Caesar was, so no one could feed or water him.
At 2:00 a.m., the telephone rang at the McKay house.
Operator: There’s a telegram for Mr. Lawrence McKay.
Lawrence: This is Lawrence. Please read the telegram.
Son: At this hour it can mean only bad news! I hope Father is all right.
Elder McKay’s son Lawrence scribbled down the words as the operator read them: “Caesar in chicken coop! Water him!”
Lawrence thanked the operator and hung up. Relieved, everyone laughed.
Son: That’s all the telegram said? Father must really love that ugly old boar!

The girls both participate in research studies at Duke Medical Center in Durham, North Carolina. These studies are helping doctors find ways to help other people with their food allergies. When Hannah was five she chose to be a part of an egg allergy study. She told her mom, “I want to do this study to help others with food allergies even if it does not help me!” Ellen Joy started participating a month later in a milk allergy study.
The girls’ family has made sure that they all know how to use emergency medications for when an allergic reaction might occur. Even their younger sister, Mia, knows how!
Mia knows a lot about their allergies and is very careful to help her sisters. When Ellen Joy offers to get her little sister a drink, Mia will say, “Please don’t touch that, Ellen Joy! I have been eating cheese crackers, and cheese is on my cup.”
Their parents make sure they provide meals that are free of allergens. “For sacrament my mom brings rice cake, which I have instead of bread,” Hannah says.
Hannah and Ellen Joy trust that the Holy Ghost can guide them. Hannah said, “The Holy Ghost can help me anywhere! I have to wash my hands a lot and be careful and listen to the Holy Ghost to help me.”
When Ellen Joy was five, she wanted to eat her friend’s chicken nuggets. But she got a feeling that she shouldn’t, so she ate her own lunch. She found out later the chicken nuggets had milk in them and could have made her sick.
Ellen Joy and Hannah feel it is important to teach their friends how to be aware of allergies. Ellen Joy is currently working on a presentation to teach the girls at activity days more about food allergies. When Hannah’s friends want to hold her hands when playing, she first asks them if they have washed their hands. If they haven’t, they hurry to wash them before touching her.
When people ask Hannah and Ellen Joy for a list of things they can’t eat, the girls usually give them a list of things they can and do eat. Their list is long, healthy, and yummy!

I teach at the same school my daughters attend. Every day we have to hurry off together at 6:00 a.m. When we arrive, I go to my classroom and they go to their classrooms.
After school, we hurry home, eat, and rush off to other activities, such as Young Women and music lessons. My husband is the elders quorum president, so he’s also very busy.
I began to feel that our family was too busy. We didn’t have time for personal, intimate discussions about the gospel, except on Sundays.
I want my daughters to develop strong testimonies of the Savior Jesus Christ and His gospel—starting now, while they’re young. As their parents, my husband and I know that that responsibility belongs to us (see Doctrine and Covenants 68:25). I decided to pray about it.
“Besides holding family home evening and taking our daughters to church,” I asked Heavenly Father, “what more can we do?”
The answer I received was to read the scriptures in the morning and use music. So, on the way to school each morning in our van, I began playing hymns and other appropriate music. Then, for a few minutes after we arrived at school, we started reading the scriptures together, discussing the gospel, and praying before heading to class. Even my five-year-old wanted to participate.
It’s a beautiful thing to see my children read and testify of Jesus Christ and to see my older daughters, 9 and 12, willingly help the youngest one, 5, to read the scriptures.

I think I am safe in saying that all of us look to our living prophet as one who is fully committed to following the Savior. As we look at the life of President Hinckley, we see abundant evidence of him deciding at an early age that he would do all that was asked of him by the Lord. He tells the story about a time during his mission in England when three or four of the London papers carried some negative reviews of a reprint of an old book purporting to be a history of the Mormons.

His mission president said to then Elder Hinckley, “I want you to go down to the publisher and protest this.”

Elder Hinckley was about to say, “Surely not me,” but instead meekly said, “Yes, sir.”

President Hinckley talked about the fear that he felt, but he offered a prayer and then, with stomach churning, went down to meet with the president of the publishing company. He presented his card to the receptionist, who took it into the inner office and then returned to indicate that the president was too busy to meet with him. Elder Hinckley replied that he had come five thousand miles and would wait. Over the next hour the receptionist went into the office several times and then finally invited Elder Hinckley in. As he entered, he noticed that the president was smoking a long cigar and had a look that seemed to say, “Don’t bother me.”

President Hinckley doesn’t recall what he said, but another power seemed to speak through him. At first the company president was defensive and belligerent. Then he began to soften. By the end of their conversation he promised to do something, and he sent word out to every book dealer in England to return the books to the publisher. At great expense he printed in the front of each volume a statement to the effect that the book was not to be considered as history but only as fiction. President Hinckley concluded his telling of this story by saying, “I came to know that when we try in faith to walk in obedience to the requests of the priesthood, the Lord opens the way, even when there appears to be no way” (Gordon B. Hinckley, “If Ye Be Willing and Obedient,” Ensign, July 1995, 5).

One evening as I drove to a friend’s birthday party, I turned down a secluded, dark two-lane road. Suddenly, I had a terrible feeling. The thought came to me that I should turn around. I rationalized that I was just being nervous.
The prompting, however, came again two more times. “Heavenly Father,” I said out loud, “there is no place to turn around. If I need to do so, please show me where.”
Immediately, I saw a driveway I had never noticed before during my many times driving this road. I quickly turned around and went home.
My friends were disappointed when I told them I wouldn’t be coming to the party. Thinking I had turned around because I didn’t want to be alone, they suggested that my husband join me on a return drive. My husband agreed. He dropped me off at the party and left for home.
Later, my husband called me. He sounded alarmed. He said that as he drove home, police officers stopped him to ask if he had seen anything suspicious. They said a truck had been forced off the road by gang members who then beat and robbed the driver. The police suspected that the gang had targeted the truck because no other cars were nearby at the time.
I was stunned! Earlier, I had been the lone vehicle on that same road. I realized that my prompting had been from the Holy Ghost and that I had been protected by the powers of heaven. As I contemplated what had happened, other incidents in my life came to my mind. I realized that what I had thought were mere coincidences were actually promptings from the Holy Ghost.

As a young boy living in Mexico, I was given the job of watching our cattle in the field as they grazed. One day I became bored with this chore and went to play, leaving the cattle unattended. I played all day, returning to my chore only when it began to get late.
As I approached the field, I realized that the cattle were gone! I could picture my father’s face—how disappointed and angry he would be! I was his eldest son. He had taught me to be responsible, and he was proud of me. How would he feel about me now? Quickly I searched for the cattle from one end of the field to the other. I couldn’t find them anywhere!
As I wondered what to do, I remembered something my father had taught me—if I ever needed help, I could pray to my Father in Heaven, and he would help me. I needed help then! I knelt and asked Heavenly Father to help me find the cattle. Then, sure that I would find them, I searched again.
But the cattle were nowhere to be found! I became angry. I had prayed, as my father had taught me. Why hadn’t Heavenly Father answered my prayer?
I stormed home. I had almost forgotten about the cattle and how upset my father would be. I wanted to know why my prayer hadn’t been answered. My father listened patiently as I explained what had happened. In his wise way, he asked me what I would have done the next day if Heavenly Father had helped me find the cattle. “Would you leave the cows again, thinking that your Father in Heaven would find them for you?”
After some thought, I replied, “Yes, that is probably what I would do.”
My father told me to kneel again—this time to ask for forgiveness and to promise that I would never again leave the cattle to go and play. I did as he said. Then, humbly, I once more asked Heavenly Father to help me find the cows. With my father by my side, I returned to the field and found the cattle there.
I learned an important lesson that day. Heavenly Father does not give us what we want just because we want it. He answers our prayers when we have done our part. And he answers them in a way that will help us become better people.

Work on the temple did not progress very rapidly at first. There were several delays, such as the time United States President James Buchanan sent federal troops to Utah with a new governor to replace Brigham Young. The Saints, remembering the mob violence of the East, were not going to allow their new homes and lands to be plundered again. They stripped their homes of valuables and filled them with straw to be set afire if and when hostile troops came. Even the foundation of the temple was covered with dirt, making it appear to be only a plowed field. Fortunately, a peaceful settlement was reached before the troops arrived in Salt Lake.

As a young missionary, I was assigned to a group of seventeen small islands in the South Pacific. One day a member told us that if we would be at a certain harbor on a particular island when the sun set the next day, a family would meet us there and listen to the discussions.
What joy that news brought! It was like finding a piece of gold. I quickly found four other members who were experienced sailors who agreed to take me to this island the next day.
We made good progress for a few hours, but as the sun climbed higher and the boat got farther from land, the wind began to play out and soon quit altogether, leaving us bobbing aimlessly on a smooth ocean.
Time passed. The sun got higher, the sea calmer. Nothing moved. We soon realized that unless something changed, we would not arrive by sundown. I suggested that we pray and plead with the Lord to send some wind. I offered a prayer. When I finished, things seemed calmer than ever. We continued drifting.
I thought, “There is a family at the harbor that wants to hear the gospel. We are here in the middle of the ocean and want to teach them. The Lord controls the elements [weather]. All that stands between us and the family is a little wind. Why won’t He send it? It’s a righteous desire.”
As I was so wondering, I noticed [a] faithful older brother move to the rear of the boat. He unlashed the tiny lifeboat and carefully lowered it over the side.
He looked at me and softly said, “Get in. I am going to row you to shore, and we need to leave now to make it by sundown.”
I was dumbfounded [speechless]. It was miles to shore. The sun was hot, and this man was old.
The old man did not look up, rest, or talk, but hour after hour he rowed and rowed and rowed.
Just as the sun dipped into the ocean, the skiff [boat] touched the shore of the harbor. A family was waiting. The old man spoke for the first time in hours and said, “Go. Teach them the truth. I’ll wait here.”
I told the family, “When we exercise faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, we can do things we could not otherwise do. When our hearts are determined to do right, the Lord gives us the power to do so.”
The family believed and eventually was baptized.

CeLisa Wathen of the Virginia Branch, Minnesota Minneapolis Mission, was selected as SnoWeek Princess at her junior high school. This was special to CeLisa since she was nominated just two weeks after moving to Minnesota from American Fork, Utah.

For CeLisa it was interesting to move from a school that had predominately LDS students to one where she is one of two members of the Church in the student body. But after her selection as princess, most of the school knew of her beliefs.