Gospel Story Finder

During the early months of the COVID-19 pandemic, Brother Wisan from Thailand felt prompted to share his feelings and impressions of what he was learning in his study of the Book of Mormon on his social media account. In one of his particularly personal posts, he shared a story of two Book of Mormon missionaries, Alma and Amulek.

His brother, Winai, although set in his religious beliefs, was touched by the post and responded, unexpectedly asking, “Can I get that book in Thai?”

Wisan wisely arranged for a copy of the Book of Mormon to be delivered by two sister missionaries, who began teaching his brother.

Wisan joined in virtual lessons, during which he shared his feelings about the Book of Mormon. Winai learned to pray and study with a truth-seeking spirit, to accept and embrace the truth. Within months, Winai was baptized!

Wisan later said, “We have a responsibility to be an instrument in the hands of God, and we must be always ready for Him to do His work in His way through us.” Their family miracle came because Wisan simply shared the gospel in a normal and natural way.

Until I joined the Church, I had never seriously disappointed my family. When I joined, I knew they felt betrayed, and I felt horrible for hurting them so much. I continued in the Church because I knew in my heart that it was what the Lord wanted for me—and for them.
I was not living close to home at the time. Whenever I visited, I was met with accusations and insults. The situation worsened when I decided to serve a mission. My grandmother had tears in her eyes when she said, “Annie girl, if you serve this mission, you will break my heart.” I told her that a mission was something I had been prompted to do, and if I didn’t serve, I would be disobeying Heavenly Father.
While I prepared for my mission I found comfort and strength within my ward family. They did an amazing job of helping me adjust to the lifestyle changes that come with being a Church member, and they gave me support in coping with the opposition of my family. I found it easier to persevere despite the frustrations by immersing myself in the Church through callings, activities, and going on exchanges with the missionaries. Also, I lived close to Palmyra, New York, so I often found myself sitting in the Sacred Grove, pondering my situation and seeking peace.
Although I had support from my ward, I still felt frustrated and misunderstood by my family. Everything they knew about the Church they had learned from outside sources, and they would not accept anything I told them. I tried to discuss the gospel with them and correct their misconceptions, but I never seemed to succeed in reaching common ground. The gap separating me from my loved ones was widening, and I did not know how to narrow it. By the time I left on my mission to Virginia, I had almost lost hope that my family would ever show interest in the Church.
Through my letters home, I continued my efforts to share the gospel. I remember inviting my father to meet with the missionaries. He said frankly that he was not interested. Reading his response was one of the hardest experiences of my mission, but it gave me a greater drive to work hard and share the gospel with anyone willing to listen. I came to realize that everyone is someone’s family member and that by helping one person I might be answering someone else’s prayers. I strive to continue in my efforts in sharing the gospel, even though I am no longer a full-time missionary.
When Elder Henry B. Eyring of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles got up to speak at the April 2005 general conference, I felt a strong impression that I needed to pay close attention to what he was about to say. He started his talk with these words: “My message is to those who are converts to the Church. … You are not the exception in the Church. To you I wish to say how much the Lord loves you and trusts you. And even more, I wish to tell you how much He depends on you.”1
He spoke of how converts should never stop trying to share the gospel with their families. He then explained that another important aspect of missionary work within the family is temple work.
Elder Eyring’s words inspired me to make goals about temple attendance and family history work. I have found much fulfillment in taking family names to the temple and have received some amazing, unexpected blessings in the process. It has greatly increased my connection with those on the other side of the veil. I have seen miracles as I’ve tried to find their names, and I have felt their presence while performing their ordinances.
Another blessing came when I saw my grandmother for the first time after my mission. She gave me a list of names to take to the temple. She also talked about how she wanted to read the “Mormon book” because she remembered her father reading it. She now calls me every week to talk about what she has learned from the Book of Mormon.
Prior to leaving on my mission, I had felt an impression that my grandmother’s husband—who died in 1996, before I joined the Church—was striving to help soften her heart. While I was in the Missionary Training Center, the elders in my district did his temple work. Sitting in the celestial room, I was overwhelmed with the idea of my entire family being there together. I like to think that my grandfather is doing all he can to help our family accept the gospel.
My mom came to pick me up from my mission, and it happened to be October general conference weekend. She watched three of the conference sessions with me and enjoyed them so much that she asked for them on DVD for Christmas. To me, this was a miracle to let me know that I need not lose hope.
At the present time, no one in my family has shown much interest in joining the Church, but I feel it will happen one day—whether in this life or the next. Our relationship has improved so greatly that I know it was not through my own efforts but through the workings of the Spirit. Heavenly Father blesses us with miracles and the righteous desires of our hearts when we are striving to do His will. I have felt His strength and support to move forward, and I know that I will never be alone in His true Church.
Find comfort and strength in your ward or branch family.
Seek peace and direction through prayer.
Share the gospel with others. Remember that everyone has a family, and you may be the answer to someone else’s prayer.
Participate in family history and temple work.
Never give up hope that your family may some day accept the gospel.

The Syracuse youth laughed and talked together as they arrived. But noise dropped to whispers as they entered the lower level of the temple itself, through polished brass-and-glass doors that lead to the baptistry. Their eyes were as wide as their smiles.
“When you come through the door, everyone stops talking,” Tyson says.
Ryan Tucker, 16, says, “I noticed the peace and serenity the moment I walked in.” It helped him to leave worries of the world behind.
Leaving the baptistry, the Syracuse youth walked up a wide staircase to the second floor. Their heads kept swiveling as their long line slowly progressed past images of the Savior and paintings of local landscapes.
“It was nice looking around and noticing things by yourself,” says Megan Skidmore, 15. “It’s nice to get away from the world. It helps me feel like I have someplace to go if I ever feel alone.”
As they stepped into the celestial room, quiet awe replaced already softened whispers. They craned their necks just enough to take in the detailed glass chandelier hanging in midair, with a high, vaulted ceiling overhead.
Their final glimpse inside the temple included a short stop in one of its five sealing rooms. This was the favorite room of recently ordained deacon Stockton Stoker, age 12.
“When you look at the mirrors on either side of the altar, the reflections just keep going,” he says. “It represents that families can be together forever.”

Recognizing their inadequacy, some of the girls went to heroic lengths to teach themselves. Mathilde Nielsen, born in Copenhagen, was brought to the United States when she was six, and her family settled in a Scandinavian village in Morgan County called Milton. The family was very poor. Mathilde had to milk ten cows and do the housework; card, spin, weave, and sew; and help tend her little brothers and sisters. Her mother died when she was 12; Mathilde had to “get out and rustle,” as she expressed it. By the time she was 16, she was working in a household in Ogden, making $3 per week. While there, she received a letter from her brother Waldemer, asking her to write home. But she had never written a letter! Let her tell the story:
“I will never forget my first letter [that] I ever tried to write. My brother insisted I write when he knew I had never had a pencil in my hand. But I was game. I got a book with the letters in and a lead pencil and paper, and started to write. It didn’t look so bad while I was writing, but when I got it finished I couldn’t read one word. I rolled it in a little ball and started to cry and was going to put it in the stove. I changed my mind. Instead, I sat down, smoothed it out, and sent it. I thought he would never ask me to write again. Just as quick as my brother could answer, a letter came back. He said he could read every word. If he hadn’t answered my questions, I would have thought he was fibbing. He begged me to write again. I did and kept on writing until it looked pretty fair.”
Mathilde continued to write the rest of her life, and because of that her grandchildren and great-grandchildren are able to know about her fascinating life. Her legacy was a marvelous, if brief, personal history.

As a Kenyan teenager, Jastus Suchi Obadiah once vowed to his friends that he would physically harm any white South African he happened to meet. “My friends and I often read in the newspapers about the injustices of apartheid, and we hated white South Africans,” he explains. Fortunately, Jastus forgot his hateful vow before he ever met a South African.
As a young man, Jastus was introduced to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints by his cousin, a Church member. “I’ll never forget the first missionaries who taught me; one was a black African, and one was a white elder from the United States,” says Jastus. As Jastus observed these two young men working together in harmony, “I learned there were many good people no matter what their color.
“As they taught me, the principle of love came into my heart. I realized that to be like God, you really must be loving. My sense of love grew—even for my enemies.” Two years after his baptism, Jastus was himself a missionary, serving in the Kenya Nairobi Mission.
Jastus and his senior companion seemed to work particularly well together; they shared a strong mutual respect and quickly became the best of friends. One day, as Jastus was looking into the white face of his South African companion, the long-forgotten vow made in his teens came rushing back to him. “It really affected my heart when I remembered what I had said. Then I realized how wonderful the gospel is, because it brings people together, no matter who we are or where we come from.
“And I felt how wonderful it is to teach this gospel together with my white companion,” he says. “The gospel changed the course of my life.”

Because Jessica is surrounded with words, both those she can see and those she hears, she has become a very good reader. She says, “My brother, Jonathan, taught me to read when I was starting kindergarten. It’s interesting that television actually helped me and my brother learn a lot of words and how to pronounce them correctly. It really helped us when we started school.”
Jessica also learned to read well from watching the words that appear at the bottom of the television. It’s called closed captioning. The words that people say on television are typed and scrolled across the bottom of the screen. Jessica became a very good reader by reading the captions as she listened.

Time passes. The hand of a bride becomes the hand of a mother. Ever so gently, she cares for her precious child. Bathing, dressing, feeding, comforting—there is no hand like Mother’s. Nor does its tender care diminish through the years. Ever shall I remember the hand of one mother—the mother of a missionary. Some years ago at a worldwide seminar for mission presidents, the parents of missionaries were invited to meet and visit briefly with each mission president. Forgotten are the names of each who extended a greeting and exchanged a friendly handshake. Remembered are the feelings that welled up within me as I took in my hand the calloused hand of one mother from Star Valley, Wyoming. “Please excuse the roughness of my hand,” she apologized. “Since my husband has been ill, the work of the farm has been mine to do, that our boy may, as a missionary, serve the Lord.” Tears could not be restrained, nor should they have been. Such tears produce a certain cleansing of the soul. That boy continues to be very special to me, as he does to her. A mother’s labor sanctified a son’s service.

My second example emphasizes the importance of persevering through the trial of our faith. A few years ago a family traveled to Europe from the United States. Shortly after arriving at their destination, a 13-year-old son became quite ill. The mother and father initially thought his upset stomach was caused by fatigue from the long flight, and the family routinely continued on its journey.

As the day continued, the son’s condition became worse. Dehydration was increasing. The father gave his son a priesthood blessing, but no improvement was immediately evident.

Several hours passed by, and the mother knelt by her son’s side, pleading in prayer to Heavenly Father for the boy’s well-being. They were far from home in an unfamiliar country and did not know how to obtain medical assistance.

The mother asked her son if he would like to pray with her. She knew that merely waiting for the anticipated blessing would not be enough; they needed to continue to act. Explaining that the blessing he had received was still in effect, she suggested again petitioning in prayer, as did the ancient Apostles, “Lord, Increase our faith” (Luke 17:5). The prayer included a profession of trust in priesthood power and a commitment to persevere in doing whatever might be required for the blessing to be honored—if that blessing at that time was in accordance with God’s will. Shortly after they offered this simple prayer, the son’s condition improved.

The faithful action of the mother and her son helped to invite the promised priesthood power and in part satisfied the requirement that we “dispute not because [we] see not, for [we] receive no witness until after the trial of [our] faith” (Ether 12:6). Just as the prison holding Alma and Amulek did not tumble to the earth “until after their faith,” and just as Ammon and his missionary brethren did not witness mighty miracles in their ministries “until after their faith” (see Ether 12:12–15), so the healing of this 13-year-old boy did not occur until after their faith and was accomplished “according to their faith in their prayers” (D&C 10:47).

Sam Gray, a fifteen-year-old Aaronic Priesthood holder and Boy Scout took the lead in setting up the JustServe programme in the Dublin Ireland Stake. Sam was looking for a project that would help him achieve his Eagle pin, the highest rank a Scout can earn. The project needed to benefit the community or country in which he lives.
While looking for a potential project, Sam and his dad spoke with Mark A. Coffey, stake president, who asked Sam if he would consider taking the lead in setting up JustServe for the stake. Sam said that it sounded amazing as it matched all the requirements of his project, and it could grow over time. Sam prepared a project proposal, a project workbook and a project report before he spoke to his Scout leader and President Coffey to get final approval.
Sam met with Michael Holton, a counsellor in the stake presidency and they agreed to hold the first meeting of the stake’s JustServe committee. It consisted of President Holton, the stake Relief Society president, a public communications representative, a few members of the stake and Sam, who hosted the meeting. It was a slow start, but momentum increased and continued to do so under Sam’s guidance and leadership.
Initially, the committee got eight organisations signed up with opportunities for volunteers. It also set up a JustServe Facebook page for the stake. There are currently over 50 opportunities posted on JustServe.org. Sam will soon be leaving, so his leadership role is now being taken on by another member of the stake.
Sam said he would like to thank President Holton, and the JustServe committee, for all the help they have given him; they did much that he couldn’t do himself. He continued, “I would like to especially thank my Mum and Dad. I used to think it was weird that the Boy Scouts award parents and give them an Eagle pin as well, but now I realize why, it’s because of all the work and time they put into helping their Scout get to that point. I have really enjoyed working on this project and helping not only our stake but also the entire country. I’ve been contacted by several members of the Limerick District and the Belfast Stake who are eager to learn more about JustServe and how to get it up and running. I would encourage everyone to sign up and get serving. I can’t wait to see how JustServe develops and grows over the next period.”

Zion’s Camp was formed to reestablish the Saints in Jackson County, Missouri. In this “effort to redeem Zion,” some 200 men traveled more than a thousand miles in the most trying circumstances under the personal leadership of the Prophet Joseph Smith.
George A. Smith, age 16, was selected to go on the camp and recorded some of the suffering, trials, and hardships the brethren endured. He stated that on May 26, 1834, “the day was exceedingly hot and we suffered much from thirst and were compelled to drink water from sloughs which were filled with living creatures. Here I learned to strain wigglers with my teeth.” The next day, an exhausted Solomon Humphrey lay down on the ground and fell asleep. “When he awoke he saw a rattlesnake coiled up within one foot of his head and [lying] between him and his hat, which he had in his hand when he fell asleep. The brethren gathered around him, saying, ‘It is a rattlesnake, let us kill it.’ Brother Humphrey said, ‘No! I’ll protect him, you shant hurt him for he and I have had a good nap together.’” I have no desire to have a nap with a rattlesnake!

For me while growing up, Christmas was the greatest time of year—not simply because of the gifts but also because Christmas was a time to share with those who mattered most in my life, my family.
Family means everything to me, and through the years, Christmas traditions were always a wonderful arrangement of family fun that still carries many cherished memories for me.
But this past Christmas was different. I had a new job that required me to be out of town on Christmas. Up to this point in my life, I had missed only two Christmases with my family—both while on my mission. Before I even left on my business trip, I was already heartsick and homesick. All Christmas Day I thought, “What a waste!” No work could possibly be worth this!
I decided to watch a movie on TV in my hotel room. In the movie, one of the characters expressed how important it is to give thanks. It wasn’t a major part of the movie, nor was it a particularly moving scene, but nothing could have touched me more.
In that moment I realized that I had never gotten on my knees on Christmas Day to thank Heavenly Father for the gift of His Son, Jesus Christ. In all the years I celebrated Christmas, I had really focused only on my family, presents, and games. Despite my parents’ and grandparents’ best efforts to teach me, I never truly appreciated just how important the Savior was to Christmas. As a family, we read the story of His birth in the scriptures, but I had never given much thought to the significance of His birth on Christmas.
Tears filled my eyes as I prayed to my Heavenly Father. I thanked Him for the sacrifice He made to have His Only Begotten Son come to earth and for His Son’s wonderful life of sacrifice and kindness. The fact that I was alone and away from my family on Christmas still made me sad, but it allowed Heavenly Father to teach me a lesson I might never have learned while surrounded by my family: the Savior is the reason I could have a family at all!
I’m grateful that being alone at Christmas brought me just a little better understanding of Heavenly Father’s loving and infinite gift of His Son.

Fritz lived with his parents, four younger brothers, and one sister on a small farm in Cammin, Germany. One spring he was more excited than he had ever been; he was going to America!
Some LDS missionaries who had just been released from their missions were staying at Fritz’s home before leaving Germany for America. They had kindly offered to take one of the children with them, promising to see that the child arrived safely in America and was sent on the train to Rockland, Idaho, the home of the missionary who had baptized the family.
A year earlier a missionary from Rockland and his companion had taught Fritz’s family the gospel, and after careful study and prayer they accepted it and were baptized.
When they became members of the Church, their friends and relatives shunned them. Life in Germany was not as happy or easy without their friendships, so the family decided to go to America. However, there was only enough money now to buy passage for one person. The family prayed and discussed the missionaries’ offer.
It was a difficult decision. Whoever went with the missionaries would be alone in America until Fritz’s father could save enough for the rest of the family to go to the new country. Finally, it was decided that Fritz would go first.
Early in April Fritz and the missionaries left Cammin and traveled by train to Hamburg. There they joined other missionaries and a group of emigrants who were going to America.
On the 16th of April they sailed from Hamburg on the S.S. City of Rome. The water was rough in the North Sea and English Channel, and for three days Fritz was terribly seasick. There were times when he doubted whether he should be making the trip. But he finally developed his sea legs and his doubts vanished.
Later, as the group was traveling westward from New York City by train, the immigrants and missionaries left the train as they reached their various destinations. The last missionary said good-bye to Fritz when they arrived at Cheyenne, Wyoming, leaving Fritz to make the rest of the trip without his friends.
Before the last missionary left, however, he gave Fritz a ticket to Idaho and wrote a note with the young boy’s name and destination on it. Pinning the note to Fritz’s jacket, the missionary put him on the train and bade him good-bye.
Although the missionary had been very helpful, he forgot one important thing; he forgot to tell Fritz that his last train stop would be in American Falls, Idaho, sixteen miles from Rockland.
As the train pulled out of Cheyenne, Fritz examined his ticket anxiously, looking for the only English word he knew—Rockland, but it wasn’t there.
Fritz tried asking his fellow passengers for help, but no one could understand him. After a while he decided that he would stay on the train, although he wasn’t sure where it was going. Maybe it will go to Rockland even if I can’t see that word on my ticket, he reasoned.
Early one morning a few days later, the train came to a stop. Fritz was asleep on a side seat in the railroad coach when the conductor came in and shook him roughly. “Come on! Come on!” he said. Startled, Fritz grabbed his suitcase and paper bag containing half a loaf of bread and a small piece of bologna. Quickly he followed the conductor off the train.
They had no sooner alighted when the conductor stepped quickly aboard and the train chuffed on its way again. Fritz stood silently on the station platform.
Across the tracks in the soft light of dawn, he could see some saloons and grocery stores. And from somewhere close by he could hear the steady roar of a river.
Fritz felt extremely alone. He knew there was only one way he could get help. Walking into the tall sagebrush behind the station, he knelt down and earnestly prayed to his Heavenly Father for guidance.
Upon returning to the station, a man approached Fritz and asked him a question. Fritz answered in German that he could not speak English. And then in fluent German the stranger spoke to the boy and a calm, comforting feeling came over Fritz. Together, he and the man sat down on a bench and talked until the sun rose and people began to fill the streets.
Then the man took Fritz across the tracks and bought him some breakfast. It seemed like a feast after so many meals of bread and bologna. While Fritz ate, the man inquired around for someone who might know the family in Rockland who Fritz was to stay with. Eventually he learned of a Swedish couple who lived near Rockland; they agreed to take Fritz to the home of his friends.
Fritz gladly helped the couple load their supplies into their wagon. When they were about ready to start homeward, Fritz looked around for the stranger who had befriended him so he could express thanks for his help. But the man was gone and no one there knew where he had come from nor which way he had gone.
Reaching Rockland, Fritz surprised his friends who had not expected him that day. Nevertheless, it was an especially happy reunion.
Before climbing into bed that night, Fritz knelt to thank his Heavenly Father for His help. The boy knew that although he was far from his family, Heavenly Father had been very close.

Madeline, her clothes under her arms, ran down the stairs and into the kitchen where her mother was preparing breakfast. Mother looked up to say good morning to her little girl, but when she saw how pale and breathless Madeline was, she asked, “What’s the matter? Are you sick?”

“No,” answered Madeline, but at the moment she could say no more. She sank down onto a stool near the fireplace and stared into the flame. She wondered how she could ever put into words the strange dream she had just had, and what her mother would think if she could.

It had seemed in her dream that she was a young lady sitting on a small strip of meadow close to the vineyard and that as she watched to make sure the goats didn’t tramp on the vines and eat them, she glanced down at a Sunday School book in her lap. As she looked up again, she was startled to see three strange men.

At the remembrance, Madeline shivered in fright, just as she had shivered in her dream. But almost at once there came the feeling of peace that had flooded over her when one of the men said, “Don’t be frightened. We have come from a place far from here to tell you about the true and everlasting gospel.”

Then the men told her that an angel had directed a boy to find an important book of gold hidden in the earth. They said that someday she, Madeline, would be able to read this book, and then, because of it, she would gladly leave her home, cross the great ocean, and go to America to live.

In the warm sweet-smelling kitchen Madeline relived her dream. It seemed so real to her that she turned pale again and began to tremble. Father came in from milking the goats, and asked, just as her mother had done, “What’s the matter? Are you sick?”

Madeline could only shake her head. Father gently stooped down beside her, picked up a stocking, and without another word began to help her dress. Afterward he lifted her onto his lap and quietly asked, “Do you want to tell me about it?”

Madeline nodded. It was hard to get the words started, but then they seemed to tumble over each other in their eagerness to be spoken. Mother left her preparations for their simple breakfast of figs, potatoes, and goats milk so she could hear every amazing detail of the dream. Father listened intently, occasionally nodding his head as if he understood more than was being said.

Long after everyone else was asleep that night, Madeline could hear the murmur of her parents’ voices. The last thing she remembered before she went to sleep was hearing her mother insist, “But we already have the true gospel, so there couldn’t be any real meaning to that story Madeline told us.”

Madeline did not hear Father’s answer, but occasionally as the years went by, he would question her concerning her dream. Even though some of the details became vague to her, they never did to him.

Shortly afterward, on a Saturday afternoon, Madeline’s father went home early from his work of building a chimney for a neighbor. He told his family that three strangers were coming to bring an important message. “I must dress in my best clothes and go welcome them,” he said.

He found the men he was looking for on Sunday morning and invited them to go home with him. As they walked up over the winding paths and through the dangerously narrow mountain passes, Madeline’s father told them of the dream his daughter had had many years before.

When they reached his small rock home, they found Madeline sitting on a little strip of meadow close to the vineyard. She looked up from the Sunday School book she was reading into the faces of three men. They told her they had come to give her people the message contained in a wonderful book of gold that had been taken out of the earth, and said that she could now read this book.

That evening Madeline’s neighbors came to meet the strangers and hear their message. Some of the men found it so unusual and exciting that they stayed up all night to learn more about the newly revealed truths that had been brought to them by these missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Some baptisms were held in October 1850. Twenty families eventually accepted the gospel, and as Madeline’s dream became a reality, the Vaudois area truly became “A Light Shining in Darkness.”

A cold wind blew and Little Squirrel shivered when something white flew by. “What is that?” Little Squirrel asked.
“Snow,” said his mother.
“Snow?” questioned Little Squirrel.
“Yes,” replied Mother Squirrel. “Winter is coming soon.”
Little Squirrel caught a snowflake and held it in his paw. It was cold. Then suddenly it was gone. Little Squirrel looked around. But he could not find it. “Where did it go?” he cried.
“It melted,” said his mother. “But don’t worry, there will be more snowflakes soon.”
Just then snow began to tumble out of the sky. “Hurry!” urged Mother Squirrel. “We must finish storing seeds and nuts for later.”
Little Squirrel ran after his mother. At first he had helped her store seeds and nuts in the burrow, but now he wanted to hide some outdoors. Little Squirrel found an acorn and took it to the gooseberry bush. He dug a deep hole, put the acorn in it, and filled the hole with dirt. He patted the dirt with his paw to smooth it.
Then Little Squirrel found a hazelnut that he buried next to the wild strawberry patch. Little Squirrel buried some maple seeds under the dogwood tree and a small ear of corn near the fence post. Last of all Little Squirrel found two walnuts. He loved to eat walnuts, so he ate one. Then he scampered to the bank of a rushing brook and buried the other walnut.
When Little Squirrel had finished, he found his mother. The wind began to howl and Little Squirrel shivered.
“Time to go inside,” said Mother Squirrel. They scampered into their underground burrow where it was warm and snug and safe from the howling wind. Mother Squirrel wrapped her tail around herself, and Little Squirrel wrapped up in his tail too. Then they went to sleep.
Days, weeks, and months went by. Soon the air became warmer and the sun melted the snow. The sap flowed from the trees, and birds began to sing. Both squirrels began to stir in their burrow. It was spring at last. Little Squirrel and his mother sniffed the clean, fresh air.
“I’m hungry,” said Little Squirrel.
“Me too,” said Mother Squirrel. “Let’s eat some of our stored seeds.”
Little Squirrel shook his head. He wanted to go find the seeds and nuts he had hidden outdoors. First he ran to the gooseberry bush, where he dug several holes. He looked all around, but he could not find his acorn. In its place was a tiny plant. Where did that come from? he wondered. It wasn’t there before.
Then Little Squirrel ran to the strawberry patch. The strawberry plants were in bloom, and there was a strange new plant growing among them. It was growing right where Little Squirrel had buried his hazelnut.
Next Little Squirrel ran to the dogwood tree, but he could not find the maple seeds. He did notice some tiny new plants. Little Squirrel was getting hungrier, so he ran to the fence post. All he could find there were some bright green shoots. Finally Little Squirrel ran to the bank of the brook to look for his walnut, but it was not there.
Little Squirrel went back to the burrow. “Oh, Mother,” he cried, “I can’t find any of my seeds. And I buried them so carefully.”
“Are you sure?” asked his mother with a smile.
“Yes,” said Little Squirrel. “I’ll show you.” So Little Squirrel took his mother to the gooseberry bush, the strawberry patch, the dogwood tree, the fence post, and back to the brook. “See,” he said.
Mother Squirrel smiled again and said, “You have been a good gardener without even knowing it. The seeds you buried in the earth have sprouted and will grow bigger and bigger. Someday they will make many more seeds for you to eat.”
“But I don’t want to wait for these seeds to grow. I’m hungry right now!” complained Little Squirrel.
“Yes, I know,” said Mother Squirrel patiently. “Come with me. I have found some good wild lettuce. Then I will help you find some other seeds while you wait for yours to grow.”

Last year in Cub Scouts, we were asked to design a crest, drawn on paper. The theme was “Yesteryear,” and only eight pictures out of the whole district were chosen. These pictures were then designed on a crest for all the Cub Scouts in the district.
I drew a covered wagon, and my picture was chosen to be on the crest. At the Cub Scout camp, a special presentation was to be made, and the eight boys whose designs were chosen were to be presented with a special award.
My Cub leader told me this would take place on Sunday morning at ten o’clock. I didn’t know what to do. If I went, it would mean that I would miss church. My mom said that I could decide. I thought about it, and I said a prayer. I told my mom that I didn’t want to miss church. I received my award later. I felt good about the choice I’d made.
Caleb Johnson, age 9Orono, Ontario, Canada

A young woman in Michelle’s ward had made some bad decisions. She repented, but people in her ward and school judged her for her past mistakes. Wherever she went, the young woman’s reputation preceded her, and many people gossiped about things she had done and even things she hadn’t.
What do you think Michelle should do? What would you do if this young woman were your friend? What if you heard the rumors?
STOP IT!
Try This Michelle decided she would be the young woman’s friend no matter what people said about her. “I think people just need to give her a chance,” Michelle says. “I was lucky to get to know her, and she is such a lovely person. I think it’s unfair that people judge her before they even meet her. Once most people hear the rumors, they don’t even want to be her friend. I think people just have to stop spreading rumors.”

When I was growing up, many people were out of work and homeless. The Relief Society president in our small branch was an older woman from Norway. She knew that God wanted her to care for those in need. So she asked her neighbors for old clothes. She washed the clothes and ironed them. Then she put them in cardboard boxes on her back porch. When someone needed clothes, her neighbors would say, “Go to the house down the street. There is a lady there who will give you what you need.”
This sister found out what God wanted her to do, and then she did it! She helped hundreds of Heavenly Father’s children who were in need.

My friends and I take turns inviting a friend of ours to church. She really likes going to Primary. I thought it would be neat if my friend could be in the Primary sacrament meeting program. My mom talked with a counselor in the Primary presidency, and the presidency wrote a part for my friend. She worked hard to memorize her part, and her parents came to see her in the program. It was so neat to share this with her and see her family at church. Maybe one day I can go on a mission and share the gospel with lots of people.
Bailey S., age 10, Arizona

During the summer between my sophomore and junior years of high school, I attended a leadership camp along with a number of other high school students across the state. After a day of classes and workshops, the next activity was to go to the town’s new wave pool. It was a hot day, so the pool was crowded.
I had taken swimming lessons for a number of years and was a pretty strong swimmer, so when the waves stopped, I decided to swim down in the deep end of the pool to check out where the waves originated. Everything was fine until the buzzer sounded, indicating that the waves were going to start. I pushed off from the side to start swimming back toward the more shallow water when I suddenly felt myself being pulled under. I realized quickly that the waves were made as water was pulled from the bottom of the pool and then pushed out at the top. As the machine pulled water in, I got pulled under the surface. Then, as the machine pushed the water out, I would be pushed to the surface, where I could get a little breath and start to call out for help. Then I would again get pulled under.
After this happened a few times, I felt myself getting weaker from not getting enough air. No matter how hard I tried, I was not strong enough to get out of this cycle. Then, as a wave pushed me back up, I felt an arm go around me, and a big man pulled me over to safety. I was so weak I could hardly pull myself out of the pool. I was gasping for breath. The man who saved me asked if I was all right, and then he swam away and has probably never thought of the incident since. I don’t know this man’s name, but he literally saved my life. He did for me what I could not do for myself.
I have reflected on this incident often and have learned many lessons from it.

The home teachers had scarcely sat down and exchanged greetings with the family when their teenage son blurted out, “How can you say we’re the only true church when some of the best kids in school aren’t Mormons and they believe in their church just as much as we do?”
A quick glance at the young man’s father was met with a tired shrug, as much as if to say, “We’ve tried; now see what you can do with him.”
The older of the home teachers paused a moment, then said, “Well, Chris, that’s a fair question. It reminds me of something that happened when I was just a couple of years older than you are. When I first went away to college back east, I took certain notions along with me—prejudices, I guess. I thought I would be going from the shelter of simple farm life to a decadent city where my principles would be challenged every minute. But that didn’t really happen. I was surprised to find that most of my classmates were fine people. Some of them belonged to other churches, and some didn’t belong to any church at all. And as I observed their behavior, I sometimes wondered if I would have been as honest as many of them were if I hadn’t been raised in a Latter-day Saint family. Have you ever thought about that?”
Chris nodded, and the home teacher continued: “So when we say that ours is the only true church, we’re not saying that we’re superior to other people or that we’re the only people on earth who are concerned about doing good, but that this is the one church that the Lord has authorized through priesthood power to preach his gospel and perform the ordinances necessary for salvation. We want all people to have these good things. …”
The discussion continued calmly. After looking up “One Lord, one faith, one baptism” (Eph. 4:5) and a few other scriptures, Chris soon had a satisfactory answer to his question.
The response of this home teacher to Chris’s troubled question illustrates a number of principles that can be helpful in dealing with criticism positively and effectively:
1. Don’t be shocked; be prepared. Questions or statements that seem critical of the Church, of gospel principles, or of other members and leaders do confront home teachers from time to time. How they respond to such criticism can have a lasting effect upon the families they are called to assist. But if home teachers are prepared to respond in a reasonable way, and to exercise their influence “only by persuasion, by long-suffering, by gentleness and meekness, and by love unfeigned; by kindness, and pure knowledge” (D&C 121:41–42), there will seldom be an occasion for surprise, embarrassment, or a collision of opinions.
Argument and contention have no place in home teaching. By responding with a sure gentleness, this home teacher was careful to leave Chris an easy way to agree with him when he eventually chose to.
2. Focus on the positive. When a troublesome statement is made, a thoughtful home teacher might begin by assuming that the person is trying to express an honest question. Then divide the statement into positive and negative elements, he can focus on the positive.
In this instance the home teacher saw that Chris’s statement had two parts: (1) the question of ours being the only true church, and (2) his feeling that there are many admirable people who are nonmembers. Therefore, the home teacher first focused on Chris’s positive feelings about his friends—something that both of them could agree on completely. Then, when everyone was comfortable in the discussion, he went on to deal with the doctrinal question that the young man had raised. Because of his approach, the home teacher was able to avoid an argument; and when there’s no argument to win, agreement is always easier.
3. Don’t be in a hurry to correct the error. It isn’t easy to change the direction of a person’s thinking when he is filled with emotion—and criticism is generally an emotional experience. Give the critic time and opportunity to correct himself.
In the days of the great cattle drives there were sometimes stampedes. A stampede was not only destructive to everything in its path, but it was also very harmful to the cattle themselves. The cowboys learned from experience that it was unwise to try to stop a stampede by meeting it head-on. Instead, they would ride alongside until they could reach the front of the herd and redirect the lead cattle into paths which would avoid harm until they could get the head cow in control, slowed down, and moving toward the desired destination.
Criticism that home teachers encounter often has many parallels with a cattle stampede. It is usually a result of fear, pain, hurt feelings, or misunderstanding. It is destructive not only to the criticized, but even more to the critic. And as with a stampede, it is generally not wise to try to stop criticism by direct confrontation. The most helpful way to begin is often to run alongside until you can redirect runaway emotions into calmer paths, just as Chris’s home teacher did.
Sometimes this requires that the home teacher simply be a listener, for listening often detects criticism that is voiced to cover up other problems. For example, “I just don’t like to go to meetings” may really mean, “I don’t have good hearing” or “I can’t quit smoking.” And the statement, “Relief Society is just a place for gossip” may mean, “My daughter and her husband are separating and I worry about what people will say.” By listening with patience and encouragement, the home teacher allows the person to overcome the hurt or weakness that is keeping him from enjoying the spirit of the gospel.
The Savior said, “Agree with thine adversary quickly, whiles thou art in the way with him” (Matt. 5:25). This does not mean that we should add our voices to the chorus of criticism. We should try to find a common, positive ground and establish a level of confidence before we try to correct or redirect. This was the home teacher’s approach with Chris: agree where you can, and don’t deal with divisive issues until you have created an atmosphere where calm discussion can take place.
Bear testimony. In a way that will be encouraging and uplifting, bear testimony to the truthfulness of the gospel and the power of revelation in directing the Church. Be careful not to convey a message of condemnation or antagonism toward the person you are trying to help.
Chris had other disturbing questions that had come up in talks with his friends—questions that were also of concern to his parents. Though inactive, they wanted their son to be positive about the Church but they didn’t have all the answers he needed. Therefore, when the home teachers left, it was agreed that they would return once a week for some time to teach the family gospel principles selected from a list of topics they prepared. After each lesson the family members were invited to ask any questions they desired.
This arrangement worked very well. In a later visit, Chris asked another question that was troubling him: “Why does the Church build so many expensive buildings while there are so many people starving in the world?”
The home teachers approached this question much the same as they did the previous one. Analyzing his statement, they saw that it too was composed of two parts: (1) a feeling of concern for the needy people of the earth, and (2) an assertion about the amount of money spent on Church buildings.
Having divided the question into its positive and negative elements, they focused on the positive—for, as long as the focus was on concern for the needy, they could be in complete agreement. One of the home teachers said:
“Chris, when you mention the poor, you’ve hit on one of the most important areas of concern in the Church. I suppose there have been very few times when the Lord was really pleased with the people of the earth and the way they lived. But one good example is Enoch’s city of Zion.” He thumbed through his scriptures and handed the book to Chris. “Read verse 18 there,” he said.
Chris read, “‘And the Lord called his people ZION, because they were of one heart and one mind, and dwelt in righteousness; and there was no poor among them.’” (Moses 7:18.)
“In Zion there should be no poor,” said the home teacher, “and that’s a problem the Church is trying to do something about.” He mentioned the Church’s personal and family preparedness program, in which families are taught and encouraged to become literate and productive, to improve their employment, to be prepared through storage of necessary commodities, to look after their health, both physical and emotional. Then he added, “You mentioned Church buildings, Chris. Our meetinghouses are the places where we go to worship and to learn these important things.”
“That’s true,” said his companion. “I remember when I lived in the Northwest. It was a little town, and there weren’t many members there when we joined the Church. We were anxious to learn, and I can’t tell you how important it was to us to have a place to meet together and be taught. We built a chapel there. It was a real sacrifice, but we had no doubt that it was necessary and practical one. All building construction is expensive. We put into our chapel as much excellence and beauty as our limited funds would allow.”
“Where does the money come from?” asked Chris.
“From you and me,” the companion chuckled. “That’s why we watch the dollars carefully. Meetinghouses and temples are all well built but not extravagant. But I want to say that it’s hard to express the change that comes in the life of a new convert, even people as poor as we were. The Church has improved everything about us, I think—and I guess our standard of living too. That’s why I believe that ultimately the gospel is the solution to poverty and suffering of all kinds, spiritual and physical.”
In this instance again, these home teachers succeeded with Chris because they were able to move in the direction of his thoughts without contributing to the problem. Ignoring for a moment the hint of bitterness in his question, they reinforced his positive inclinations and thus turned a potentially negative experience into a fine teaching moment.
These same steps might well apply even in situations where there is criticism of individual Church leaders or other members. Regardless of what the criticism is, we should begin with whatever might be positive in the communication. It might simply be the implied wish that every leader-every member of the Church, for that matter—could be perfect. The initial discussion should lead away from the specific person to the principle that the objective of the gospel is to lead us to perfection. Above all, the home teacher should avoid giving the impression of joining in the criticism.
The discussion should eventually lead to the idea that leaders in the Church are called through the process of inspiration, and that sustaining means helping a person fulfill his responsibilities no matter what we think his shortcomings may be. It means upholding someone whom God has called. If you have served as a leader, you might tell of the difficulty of making certain decisions you were faced with, and how important that sustaining influence was to you.
Going further, the home teacher might find a gentle way to remind the critic that another person’s imperfections have little to do with his own salvation.
Regardless of the procedure we might use in responding to criticism, there is one principle which overshadows all others. That, of course, is love. Criticism may be one of the greatest obstacles to love, but love is also the greatest tool for overcoming criticism. The message of the gospel is that we should not only have love but that we should create love in the hearts of others. We create love by showing it. In home teaching we show love by recognizing the accomplishments, by visiting, by helping, teaching, supporting, and caring. That’s home teaching. It is the process by which we create love for the gospel, and for one another.