Gospel Story Finder

Peni and Jieni Naivaluvou doubled the size of their family when they took in four girls from Vanuatu who were attending the Fiji LDS Church College. But the Naivaluvous do not see this as a sacrifice. They feel they have been amply blessed for doing it. One of those blessings, they believe, is the addition to their family of baby Hagoth, born in January 2009.
In early 2008 Bishop and Sister Naivaluvou of the Tamavua Ward, Suva Fiji North Stake, heard that two young students from Vanuatu needed a place to board, so the Naivaluvous took stock of their own situation. Their sons, Soane, 18, and Ross, 16, were away from home attending a Church school in Tonga, the land of their father’s ancestry. The two girls from Vanuatu were boarding, at high cost to their parents, with a non-LDS family in Suva. The two girls would be good company for then 13-year-old Andrea Naivaluvou; Andrea also attends the Church College and was arriving home in the afternoon before her parents were off work. So Brother and Sister Naivaluvou decided they would invite the two girls from Vanuatu to live in their home at no charge.
The girls insisted on helping with costs, but still their expenses were less than half of what they had been paying earlier—a blessing for their families.
In April two other Vanuatuan girls came for a visit and enjoyed the atmosphere of the Naivaluvou home. A short time later these two girls asked if they too might come there to live. The Naivaluvous gladly took them in.
How did it work to have four extra young people in the home? “We’ve built up such a bond it’s more like they are our daughters,” Bishop Naivaluvou says. The Naivaluvous made it clear from the beginning that the girls were to be considered part of the family. The four girls from Vanuatu actually are related to each other, but in the Naivaluvou home they treated each other like sisters born of the same parents. Andrea Naivaluvou also came to accept them “like my sisters,” she says; the older girls watched out for her and even helped her with homework when there was a need. The four girls began to call Bishop and Sister Naivaluvou Ta and Na—“Dad” and “Mom” in Fijian.
This may be the first time, Sister Naivaluvou says, that girls from Vanuatu who are attending the Church College have been able to board with member families. The father of one of the girls, when he came to visit, expressed his deep gratitude to the Naivaluvous for the love they have shown his daughter.
Sister Naivaluvou points out that one of the girls, the daughter of a district president on Vanuatu, was a great example to their family through her faith; Bishop Naivaluvou says her example helped his family be more consistent about scripture study and family prayer.
Both of the Naivaluvous say they have been blessed temporally because they have shared with others. Their resources have gone farther. And Sister Naivaluvou believes the blessing of being able to become pregnant again after 13 years is connected with their willingness to share love with others.
When the Naivaluvous’ two sons returned home at the end of their school year in Tonga, they too accepted the young women as part of the family. But perhaps Soane can be excused for not seeing the girls exactly as sisters. He found himself drafted as a prom date for one of the young women. He played his role like a gentleman.
When the four girls finished their school year and returned home to Vanuatu late in 2008, the farewells were heart tugging, Bishop Naivaluvou recalls. It was as though he and his wife were saying good-bye to four daughters. And when a new school year began in 2009, the Naivaluvous were glad to welcome their four “daughters” back—plus two more.
With only four sleeping rooms in their home, some would wonder how they could make room for six young women in addition to their own daughter and new baby. But the Naivaluvou family quickly worked it out without difficulty.
After all, it was not a matter of personal space. It was simply a matter of expanding their circle of love.

The day starts early. Everyone meets in the parking lot of a conveniently located, no-longer-in-business shopping center. The on-timers chastise the late-comers, the leaders gather everyone together for prayer, they all debate about who’s riding in which car, and pretty soon the parking lot is vacant once more.
Next stop is the commercial fishing dock at Port St. Joe where Brother Davis ties up the Randy F. And of course, before anyone heads out to sea, he’ll lecture them—just a little—about safety, good conduct, and the fine arts of clamming and scalloping.
“Ya’ll reach down there with your toes in the mud,” he says, his hands outstretched and his fingers wriggling ecstatically. “Nudge around till you feel somethin’ solid. Then catch yourself a good lung full o’ air, dive down and snatch it.”
“How do you tell if it’s a rock or a scallop?” inquires Dan Stone, second counselor in the Marianna Florida Stake presidency, who is not a Florida native.
“There are no rocks in Florida,” chimes one of the youth, and everyone laughs. It’s nearly true. Miles inland or miles out to sea, everything is sand, mud, or pebbles. Roads are paved with red clay from Georgia.
Brother Davis mixes humor and instruction well. Every person present is a strong swimmer, but there are still reminders about using the buddy system. “When one of you is under, one of you stays up. Then if there’s trouble you can holler.” There are reminders about staying with the group, staying close to the boat, about remembering that everybody has to help catch the food. “You don’t work, you don’t eat.”
And, of course, a mild reminder about appropriate conduct. “Ah ketch any of y’all misbehavin’, and ah’ll rip your limbs off.”
By the time other precautions (like making sure to wear T-shirts and to use sun screen to keep from burning) are issued, and farewells are said to a stray dog on the pier, a horn is blasting to warn that the drawbridge is being raised, and the good ship Randy F. is chugging out into the bay. “Can’t you go faster?” someone yells.
“Cain’t do,” Brother Davis replies. “It’s full throttle now, and we got 47 younguns aboard.”
Past a paper mill on the near side of Cape San Blas, past fishermen casting from the shallows, past a pelican perched on a piling, the boat lumbers through still, smooth water toward an obscure little lump of palm trees known as Black’s Island.
The constant throbbing of the engine stops. The boat staggers, like an out-of-shape runner stumbling over the finish line. Something whirs, chains clank, and the anchor splashes into the sea.
“The water’s deep here, so be careful,” Brother Davis says. “You can dive off the boat, but then make for the shallows over there. That’s where the clams are.” The bishop watches from a small four-man boat nearby, just to make sure everyone gets there safely.
It isn’t long before the whole group makes it out of the deep water into the chest-deep water covering a sandy shelf. It’s warm, like a swimming pool. Clear, like a swimming pool. Ripple-free, like a swimming pool. But boy is it salty!
“It tastes nasty,” says Kathy Shuler, 13. “And it stings your eyes.”
Soon there are buckets full of clams, and everyone moves on to the waist-deep water, where scallops hide in the sea grass.
“If you don’t have a mask or a snorkel, then you feel with your feet or watch to see them clapping their shells together,” Robert explains. “I only caught three by watching for them. Feet are more reliable.”
Troy Davis, 18, who has worked on fishing boats for about six summers, agrees. “Clamming is the same way. You bump something with your foot, then dig around and catch it before it tunnels any deeper. Clams won’t bite you. Every once in a while a scallop will give your toe a pinch, but it doesn’t hurt.”
Troy says he’s glad he came, that it’s fun to teach the younger kids about shellfishing. He’s graduated from Mosley High and from four years of seminary, and will soon be leaving on a mission. It isn’t hard to get him to talk about it, even standing out in the water.
A few at a time, the fishermen return to the Randy F. They take a few minutes to recuperate, then the clams and scallops have to be shucked; stoves heated up; cake, beans, soda, and salads unpacked and set out; seafood cooked; hushpuppies fried, and a heartfelt blessing said.
And then, of course, it’s time to eat.
Jeff Clark, 17, watches the hush puppies bobbing up and down in the hot oil, the corn meal turning from pale yellow to golden brown. “I usually go scalloping about twice a year,” he says. “But this is my first time to go clamming, and my legs are sore! I’m not used to digging holes with my feet.”
He and Troy talk a little about working on the seine boats, catching mullet and bluefish, sardines and herring. Then they talk a bit about Troy’s mission and wonder when his call might come. They remember the fun they’ve had on other youth outings, like the canoe trip on the Blackwater River.
“That’s legendary,” Jeff says.
“You know,” Troy says, “these other kids, these younger kids, they need to realize that the years they’re living now can be some of the best years of their life. They need to get the most out of these years that they can.”
Austin Davis, talking with someone else on the other side of the boat, is saying much the same thing.
“Six or seven years ago we went out and had a day like this on a shrimp boat,” he says. “Those kids are married now and have families of their own, but they still remember things like this. I’ve talked to kids who’ve served missions and come back, and they still remember doing things like this.
“It’s the same way for these kids. For some of them it’s their first time on the water. A lot of things in life they won’t remember, but these sorts of things, being out with their friends doing good things, that’s something they won’t ever forget.
“And I like these kids. I’d do whatever I could to help them. We’ve really got some jam-up kids.”
The conversations are interrupted for a short awards ceremony. Prizes are given for the worst sunburn, smallest scallop, biggest scallop, most scallops, biggest clam, smallest clam, and most clams. Winners receive sunburn lotion, lollipops, and leftover bottles of soft drinks. And everybody’s a winner, because everybody shares.
On the way home, it’s impossible to resist making one more stop. Not too far from Black’s Island, there’s an island so small it doesn’t even have a name. It’s more like a pile of sand. You can walk around it completely in five minutes.
Again the sand is white. It’s hot on your feet, but not hot enough to burn. An abandoned boat rests like a black skeleton on the beach. Horseshoe crabs scrabble for cover among the shells and sand dollars that nature has spread out like an exhibit in a design gallery. Sea oats, tall and green with golden tassles, bend in the wind as if waving in greeting—or in farewell.
Not everyone comes to this island. Some spend a few final moments diving off the boat again. Others, tired, rest eyes that are weary of salt water and sea spray. It isn’t long before the leaders are calling the adventurers back on board. It’s time to go home.
The next morning, in the foyer before priesthood meeting starts, three 12-year-old deacons are talking. They’ve already had their presidency meeting, made their assignments for passing the sacrament, even had a reminder from their adviser about being reverent and remembering the sacredness of helping people renew their covenants.
But now, for a minute, they remember yesterday.
Dale Estey brags about the sea urchin he caught in a net.
“But somebody threw it back in,” he says.
Wesley Davis says the favorite thing for him was diving off the boat, and seeing the leaders do the same.
Richard Stemphoski says that now if he’s ever lost, he at least knows how to find clams and scallops. “And I already know how to make a fire without matches, so I could cook them,” he says.
Over in another hallway, outside the room where the Young Women meet, Lacrisa Laster, Angela Pierce, and Karen Davis, all 16, and Michelle Laster, 14, complain—just a little—about how stiff their sunburn makes them feel. And they laugh—just a little—about how funny one of the leaders looked trying to breathe through a snorkel tube.
“We really had a great time,” Michelle says. “When can we go again?”
Austin Davis was right. The memories are already starting to build.

When Ulisses was 15, his bishop asked him to teach a youth Sunday School class. One lesson he taught centered on gaining a testimony of the gospel. Ulisses had studied the Book of Mormon, always felt that the Church was true, and believed in the Savior Jesus Christ.

As he prepared his lesson, he wanted to strongly testify to his class of the gospel’s truthfulness. “I studied and prayed fervently,” Elder Soares recalls. “After I knelt down, there came to my heart a very sweet feeling, a small voice that confirmed to me that I was on the right path. It was so strong that I could never say that I didn’t know.”

I walked to school one day, my first day in fourth grade and at a new school. I was scared but got to my classroom OK. At recess, I was all alone. I saw Erin* all alone, too. She didn’t have any friends, and other kids made fun of her because she had lived in three foster homes.
I went over and said hi. She started crying. I asked what was wrong. She said that nobody had been that nice to her. It made me feel really warm inside to know that I had made someone feel better.

Within a month of Melissa’s (all names have been changed) baptism in the Midwestern United States, she offered the opening prayer in sacrament meeting. She was nervous about praying publicly but “felt every confidence in my ability to speak to my Heavenly Father,” she recalls. “After all, I had been praying for years, especially while investigating the Church, and could feel the Holy Ghost helping me.”

So it was with surprise that she received an email from a ward member who described “in great detail” all of the ways her prayer was wrong. Shame, embarrassment, and an onslaught of doubt raced through Melissa until she felt prompted to call the returned missionary who had taught her. “He quickly assured me that it was totally inappropriate for this member to criticize me in such a way,” she says. “He also told me the bishopric would never ask another member, as I had assumed, to give me this kind of feedback.”

Reassured, Melissa remained active in the ward, accepted callings, and went on to flourish in her faith. But it took several months to get over the pain and lost confidence from receiving that discouraging email.

Melissa needed genuine friends, especially in her ward, she could approach when she needed advice or help. Her husband and daughter hadn’t joined the Church with her.

“Coming to church and seeing all the families made me feel deeply alone,” she says. Everyone was friendly, but even their happiness made her feel as though “I would never attain that Mormon glow because I was the only one with problems.”

In addition to the returned missionary who had taught her, Melissa was blessed with Cindy, an online friend who had first introduced her to the Church. “It was hard to watch Melissa struggling in her local area as I looked on helplessly,” Cindy explains. “So I created a private Facebook group with a few incredibly grounded, loving, diverse members who helped and befriended her in ways I could never do alone.”

The group not only offered a sense of inclusion for Melissa while she found her place in her ward but also responded to questions about lifestyle and cultural concerns. “I was raised in tank tops and short shorts,” Melissa says. She appreciated online friends who responded with photos of outfits she could check out in local stores. This encouraged her to ask sisters in her ward for movie recommendations after she no longer felt comfortable with some selections in her collection.

An important aspect of friendshipping, Melissa points out, is that she sought the advice. Unsolicited advice feels like intrusion rather than inclusion, an invasion of privacy that can be hurtful to those who aren’t prepared for it.

Eventually, Melissa was called to teach in Relief Society. Her calling provided opportunities to interact with others in the ward. Melissa shared with the sisters her difficulties not only in adjusting as a new member but also in dealing with an autistic child, some personal health issues, and “Oh, and my dog is dying.” The experience of having other sisters listen and respond with their own difficulties in class and in private conversations proved deeply healing. These connections helped Melissa feel that she finally had true friends in the faith.

Christian’s greatest happiness comes from “having a family that loves me.” His parents consider him a true gift from God. Before he was born, his mother, Luci, became ill and had to spend six months in bed to save Christian’s life. He was greatly loved even before his birth. Christian likewise feels great love for his parents and his two sisters, Itzel Lucia (8) and Mildred (4), of whom he is very protective.

At 3:20 a.m. on a dark Saturday morning, 70 young women and our leaders from the Cedar Hills Sixth Ward, Cedar Hills Utah West Stake, gathered at a meetinghouse in order to walk 22 miles from the Draper Utah Temple to the Salt Lake Temple.
We were doing this in honor of John Rowe Moyle, who is a prime example of a person dedicated to the temple. He was a stonecutter for the Salt Lake Temple and was a man who represented hard work, dedication, and pure love for his Savior. We tried to exemplify him.
After gathering in the early morning, we climbed into cars and drove to the Draper Utah Temple. At 4:30 in the morning we began our walk.
In addition to the many leaders and young women walking, John Rowe Moyle’s great-grandson James Moyle walked with us. He not only added to the spirit that was there but also made our journey more intimate as we honored his ancestor.
While walking, we had the privilege of watching the sunrise and seeing a brand new day unfold right before our eyes.
Every couple of miles we had an aid station. What a blessing those stations were. Each aid station was full of members from our ward who supported and lifted us up. There was also music, food, and smiles, which definitely lifted our spirits.
Everyone was feeling pretty good as we continued on our journey to the temple. At about mile 19, things started to get difficult. People were tired, and bodies were aching, yet we still had another couple of miles to go.
The most beautiful aspect about this challenge was the support and love we all had for one another. We supported one another throughout the entire walk, but it was near the end when our love was evident. Girls took each other’s arms, encouraging and lifting each other.
At mile 21, we stopped for lunch. We were within one mile of our final destination—the temple. As we ate lunch and massaged our swollen feet, we listened while Sister Elaine S. Dalton, the general Young Women president, spoke to us. Not only was she expressing her love for us, but she was also encouraging us. She gave us support and the boost we needed to finish.
Following our lunch, we put our shoes back on and continued on our trek. A couple of minutes in, we had an amazing surprise when the young men came to encourage and cheer us on for the last mile. Cheers were yelled in the air as they ran up to meet us. With the young men by our side, we finished the last mile.
Exhaustion and pain had taken hold of everyone, but as we rounded that last corner to the temple, none of that mattered. Shouts of pure joy rang out on Temple Square. There, in all its majestic beauty, stood the temple of the Lord. To add to the spirit, our families were standing at the gates to the temple to welcome us. Everyone ran to their families as we completed the final steps of our long journey.
Following those reunions, all of the 70 walkers gathered together on the steps of the Salt Lake Temple, directly under the “Holiness to the Lord” inscription that John Rowe Moyle had carved 100 years ago. There we held hands, embraced one another, and cried tears of joy. We had done it. We had walked 22 miles from the Draper Utah Temple to the Salt Lake Temple, and we had done it together.

Then, suddenly, Pedrito became ill again. His temperature was dangerously high, and his parents took him back to Guayaquil. The doctors told them that he would have to remain in the hospital at least five days. They also told the Cantos that if Pedrito were to live, he would have to undergo open-heart surgery right away.

But to everyone’s surprise, Pedrito was well enough to leave the hospital the next day.

Back in Quevedo, the welfare services missionaries helped the Cantos apply for help with the cost of the surgery. The doctors told the Cantos that they would have to go to the United States or Brazil for the surgery. But a member of the Church, who had recently had a family member operated on for a similar problem, told them about another doctor—Dr. Oswald Bonilla, a heart specialist in nearby Quito.

Although his calendar was full for several months, Dr. Bonilla agreed to see Pedrito in two weeks. But complications kept Dr. Bonilla from seeing Pedrito immediately. Sister Cantos had been taking a tailoring class so that she could earn money to help pay some of their medical bills. As the day for the appointment with Dr. Bonilla approached, she learned that her final examination was scheduled for the same day.

Dr. Bonilla graciously postponed the appointment for another two weeks. This time, a bus strike kept them from meeting with him. Finally, after six weeks, they stood before Dr. Bonilla.

Electrocardiograms, x-rays, and many other tests revealed that Pedrito was too weak to endure surgery. “It will take at least eight or nine months to build him up sufficiently,” Dr. Bonilla told the worried parents. The doctor ordered another series of tests.

Three days later, just before Pedrito was taken in for the new tests, two young men in white shirts and dark suits told Dr. Bonilla, “We would like to give the child a blessing.” “You have five minutes,” the doctor said, and he left the room.

Later that afternoon he whistled in amazement. The test results showed such a remarkable improvement in Pedrito that Dr. Bonilla decided to schedule the surgery immediately.

“It was worse than we thought,” Dr. Bonilla told the parents and the elders and sisters who had waited with them during the five anguish-filled hours of the surgery. “You keep praying, though, and Pedrito will live.”

Pedrito did live. He recovered rapidly. Soon he was running and playing like any other little boy. And Pedrito’s struggle for life has wrought other miracles. Dr. Bonilla and his assistant, Dr. Lopez, were touched by this display of faith and by the miracle they saw when the elders administered to Pedrito. They decided not to charge for the surgery.

Many of Sister Cantos’s family have accepted the gospel, and members of Brother Cantos’s family are anxiously waiting for the missionaries to come to a remote area where they live so that they, too, can be taught the gospel.

Miss Fee pointed to the enormous paper tree hanging on the back wall of the fifth grade classroom. “What’s missing?” she asked.
“Leaves,” our class chanted together.
“You’re going to help it grow leaves,” she said as she held up a green paper maple leaf. “Each leaf has a place on it to write the name of a book, its author, and what it is about.”
Some of the kids started groaning, but Miss Fee kept smiling. “It’s going to be a contest,” she said.
“Whoever reads the most books this week and collects the most leaves will win first prize.”
Now she had our attention. Everyone likes contests, especially when there’s a prize.
“First prize is a gift certificate for a large pizza,” the teacher said, and the class started cheering.
“Quiet down, please,” Miss Fee instructed. She gave us the rules on how long the books had to be, and what kinds would be included.
I walked home after school with Susan. We each had checked out a couple of books to read.
“You’ll probably win,” Susan said. “No one reads books as fast as you do.”
“I love reading,” I said. “Once I get started, I can’t stop. In fact, Mom usually has to tell me to shut off the light and go to sleep at night.”
“Look!” Susan whispered to me. “Look at Robert.”
Up ahead, Robert carried a stack of six books. He didn’t have many friends. His shirts were a little too big and worn, and his pants had patches on them. He sat by himself at lunchtime and didn’t ever talk to anyone. Robert ignored all the kids, even when they teased him.
“Do you think you’re going to win?” Susan asked him, laughing.
Robert glanced up at us, then looked down again and hurried past us.
“Let’s go,” I said. I didn’t feel right provoking him, but I didn’t want to admit it.
The next night I stayed after school and headed for the library. I wanted to get a couple of books on fishing, which is the thing I love best, next to reading. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Standing in front of the fishing books was Robert, holding one about trout.
“That’s a good book,” I whispered. “I read it last week.”
Robert nodded and didn’t say anything. I think he was almost afraid of me.
“I want to get a book about making flies,” I added. “Dad said he’d help me learn how to tie one.”
Robert hesitated a second, then bent over and pulled a slim volume out from the bottom shelf. “This is the best book about that,” he said softly. “It helped me a lot.”
“Do you know how to tie flies?” I asked, surprised.
“My grandpa is teaching me. We both like fishing.”
“Me too,” I said. It was a good feeling to find someone else who liked the exact same thing. Susan didn’t like fishing.
“Getting lots of reading done?” I asked as I took the book he offered.
“I’m trying to,” Robert said. He paused for a second. “I want to win the contest so that I can take my mom out for a pizza and surprise her. It’s her birthday this Saturday.”
“That’s a neat idea,” I agreed. “Good luck.”
The next morning, I found a wadded up piece of paper in my desk. I almost tossed it out, when I saw the note:
To Mike,
My Grandpa tied this for you.
Robert
I opened up the crumpled paper, and inside was an artificial fly. I picked it up and examined how it had been expertly put together. After math class, I stopped Robert in the hallway. “Thanks,” I told him. “I can’t wait to try it out.”
Robert smiled. “My grandpa’s taking me fishing along Silver Creek Saturday morning. You’re welcome to come with us.”
Before I could say yes or no, Susan walked up. “Come on,” she said. “I want to show you the book I found about dinosaurs.”
I know I should have said something to Robert, but I didn’t want Susan to start teasing me, so I walked away. My stomach felt funny for the rest of the day whenever I thought about it.
On Friday afternoon, Miss Fee declared the contest over. She asked everyone to get out their completed leaves.
“Who has more than five?” she asked. Eleven hands went up in the air.
“How about more than ten?” Only four hands stayed up.
“More than twelve?” Just Robert and I still had our hands up.
“How many leaves do you have?” Miss Fee asked Robert.
“Fourteen,” Robert said proudly. I could see that everyone in the class was surprised.
At that moment, I decided what I wanted to do. I slipped one leaf back into my desk, and when Miss Fee asked me, I said I had thirteen. I guess I wanted Robert to win more than I wanted myself to. I could imagine him telling his mom about the pizza and how happy they’d both be.
When Miss Fee gave Robert the gift certificate, everyone started clapping. I clapped the loudest. After school, I waited by the front door for him.
“Dad said I could go fishing with you tomorrow if you still want company,” I told him.
Right then Susan came walking up. “We’re going fishing tomorrow,” I told her before I chickened out.
“Don’t you want to come over and play basketball?” she asked.
“Tomorrow afternoon, if I get my chores done after I get home,” I said. “I have to try out this new fly.” I took it out of my pocket to show her.
“Did you make that?” Susan asked.
“Robert’s grandpa made it. I’m going to ask him to show me how.”
“Think he’d show me?” she asked.
“Of course,” Robert said. Then he smiled and waved at us. “I have to get home and tell my mom about our pizza date.”
I waved and smiled too. Robert had the gift certificate, but I still felt like I had won first prize.

“I was a little freaked out [after the announcement] because I am not an athletic person whatsoever,” Kendra C., one of the YCLs at camp, said. “I’m terrible at sports. I’m just not coordinated enough to do it.”
After the initial “freak-out,” Kendra decided to at least try the Fit Challenge so she could keep up with the other young women when they ran the 5K. Though she didn’t suddenly come to love physical activity, she was surprised to realize that exercise was actually fun for her.
“I had to find something I enjoyed,” Kendra said. “Exercise shouldn’t be something that you don’t look forward to, that you’re afraid of. Finding something you like, whether it be dancing, walking or running, or playing a sport, is key. For me, yoga and Pilates make me feel really good.”

I am one of those converts. I was converted at 17, when I was a high school student. The missionary who performed my baptism was an Elder Rupp from Idaho. He was recently released as a stake president in Idaho. I have not seen him since I was newly baptized, but I have exchanged e-mails with him and talked to him by telephone. I have never forgotten him. His kind, smiling face is etched into my memory. He was so happy when he learned that I was doing well.
When I was 17, I didn’t really have a good understanding of the messages that the missionaries had been teaching me. However, I had a special feeling about the missionaries, and I wanted to become like them. And I felt their deep and abiding love.
Let me tell you about the day I was baptized. It was July 15, and it was a very hot day. A woman was also baptized that day. The baptismal font had been handmade by the missionaries, and it wasn’t much to look at.
We were confirmed right after we were baptized. First, the sister was confirmed by Elder Lloyd. I sat down with the other members, closed my eyes, and quietly listened. Elder Lloyd confirmed her and then began to pronounce a blessing on her. However, Elder Lloyd stopped talking, so I opened my eyes and looked at him with an intent gaze.
Even today I can clearly remember that scene. Elder Lloyd’s eyes were overflowing with tears. And for the first time in my life, I experienced being enveloped in the Holy Spirit. And through the Holy Spirit I gained a sure knowledge that Elder Lloyd loved us and that God loved us.
Then it was my turn to be confirmed. Again it was Elder Lloyd. He placed his hands on top of my head and confirmed me a member of the Church, bestowed the gift of the Holy Ghost, and then began pronouncing a blessing. And again he stopped talking. However, I now understood what was happening. I truly knew through the Holy Ghost that the missionaries loved me and that God loved me.

Years ago, two of our sons, then little fellows, were wrestling on the rug. They reached that line which separates laughter from tears, so I worked my foot carefully between them and lifted the older one back to a sitting position on the rug. As I did so, I said, “Hey there, you little monkeys. You’d better settle down.”
To my surprise, he folded his little arms, his eyes swimming with deep hurt, and protested, “I not a monkey, Daddy; I a person!”
The years have not erased the overwhelming feeling of love I felt for my little boys. Many times over the years his words have slipped back into my mind, “I not a monkey, Daddy; I a person!” I was taught a profound lesson by my little son.
He is not just a person, nor just my little boy. He is a child of God.
The cycle of life has moved swiftly on. Now both of those sons have little children of their own who teach their fathers lessons. They now watch their children grow as we watched them. They are coming to know, as fathers, something they could not be taught as sons.
All too soon their children will be grown with little “persons” of their own, repeating the endless cycle of life.
Perhaps now they understand what it means to begin our prayers, as the Lord instructed, “Our Father who art in heaven.” He is our father; we are His children.

One day our Primary visited the São Paulo Brazil Temple. The gardens were more beautiful than any I had ever seen. We learned that through the covenants we make in the temple, we can live with our families for eternity. The president of the temple spoke to us in the waiting room, where we saw beautiful paintings. I had a very warm and happy feeling, and my mother told me it was the Holy Ghost testifying to me that what I was learning was true. I gained a testimony that the temple is the house of the Lord.
Renato B., age 8, Brazil
Renato and his family at his baptism

My father especially encouraged me to pay my tithing, so one day I asked him about his testimony of this principle. “When did you really know the importance of paying your tithes?” I asked. In response to my question, my father told me a story about his parents paying their tithing.
When my father was growing up in Utah, his family was poor. His shoes were so worn out that the soles had holes in them and were barely attached to his shoes.
One day his father gave him an envelope full of money and said, “Take this to the bishop. This represents our tithing to the Lord.”
So my father started walking through the fields to the bishop’s house. It was winter, and there was snow on the ground. As my father walked, his feet were very cold. He felt the money in his hand and thought how much he could use a new pair of shoes.
But my father kept walking, and he thought to himself, “I guess this has to be a very important thing, so important that my father would take this money and give it to the bishop even when we need it so badly.”
Walking through the snow that day, my father realized the importance of tithing. He came to understand that tithing is more a matter of faith than of money.

Illustrated by Shauna Mooney Kawasaki
Mama! Matt took the last cookie!So? You were about to take it yourself.
You should at least give me half.OK. You can have the half I’m chewing.Mama! Matt’s being gross!
I’d like to read something that Jesus said: “A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another; as I have loved you.”*
That’s a hard commandment.Actually, our lives are a lot easier when we keep it.
All right, I’m sorry I didn’t share.You should be.
OK! I would have taken the last cookie myself, and I’m sorry I got mad.It’s all right. I’d have been mad, too.

Torje Gundersen, 18, lives in Narvik, where he performs the harsh, rough labor that teenagers eager for money seem willing to do. He spends his days at a factory, cutting and weighing fish. But Torje has an excellent reason for working so hard: he’s saving up for his mission.
Torje is the only young man his age in the Narvik Branch, and here at the conference he’s all smiles. He’s just had his interviews, and he knows he’ll be receiving the Melchizedek Priesthood, one of the final steps in preparing for his mission.
“I know the Church is true,” he says simply. “It’s hard for all the youth here to always see that. It’s a lot like being in the middle of a rainstorm. Sometimes life seems all dark and threatening. But if you hold on to the gospel, if you live by the principles, you’ll make it through the storms. There’s always better weather.”

When I was 17, I’d taken out a small insurance policy that I thought would be useful, when it matured, to go towards a deposit for a house. I cashed it in early. (I lost nothing; every penny I had paid was returned to me; there was no financial penalty for early exit.) I was sent a cheque that paid for my whole mission. Isn’t it funny how things work out? Another small unplanned blessing. I then posted my papers.

“One, two, three, skip four, and five!” Diane chanted as she hopped and skipped down the hopscotch squares. Now that school was out, she could play outside every day with her friend Laura. Diane teetered on one foot, then giggled. As she regained her balance, she noticed a girl she had never seen before walking over from the house next door.
“My name’s Emma,” the girl said. “Can I play with you?”
“Sure!” Diane said. Laura grinned and nodded.
The three girls laughed and played all morning long. Emma was a lot of fun to be around! When she told Diane and Laura that she was visiting her grandparents for two weeks, the girls decided to play together every day.
But on Saturday, Emma told Diane and Laura that she wouldn’t be playing with them the next day.
“Why not?” Laura asked.
“I go to church every Sunday morning, then spend time with my family,” Emma explained. “I’m a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”
Diane frowned. “Can’t you miss church just this once?” she asked. They didn’t have many days left to play together.
“I don’t want to miss church,” Emma said. “I love going. We have a fun meeting called Primary that’s just for kids. We sing and listen to stories about Jesus and the prophets.”
Diane and Laura looked at her doubtfully. It sure didn’t sound as fun as hopscotch.
“You could both come with me, if you wanted,” Emma said.
“Um, no thanks,” Diane said.
“Nah,” Laura said.
But on Monday, Diane asked Emma to tell them more about her church. She and Laura both wondered how it could possibly be more fun than playing on Sunday.
“Yesterday I heard stories from the Book of Mormon.” Her friends looked puzzled. “It’s a book like the Bible and has lots of scriptures and stories about Jesus,” Emma explained. “When I pray about the stories, I feel happy and I know that Heavenly Father is telling me they’re true.”
For two weeks the girls played together almost every day. It felt like they had always been friends. The days passed quickly, and then it was time for Emma to go home. She was sad to leave, and Diane and Laura were sad to see her go. They watched and waved as Emma drove away with her family.
“I didn’t really understand everything she was telling us about her church,” Laura said.
“Me neither,” Diane said. “But I felt good when she was talking about it.”
“Yeah,” Laura said.

Produced in Salt Lake City in 2022, the demo video for ‘I See the Christ’ features vocalists Casey Elliot, from the musical trio Gentri, and Savannah Stevenson, a leading lady from London’s West End. They are accompanied by Jayne Galloway on piano and Grammy-nominated cellist, Nicole Pinnell.
Scott first saw Nicole play in the film adaptation of Rob Gardner’s musical production, Lamb of God, where, through her cello, she stunningly represented the voice of Christ. Following a prompting that spoke to his heart, Scott reached out to her via social media.
“I feel that Heavenly Father truly opened a door for me through Nicole’s incredible talent, generosity and connections,” Scott recalls. “I am so grateful that she had the heart to be willing to listen to my music.”
Nicole introduced Scott to Casey Elliot, and Scott reached out to Savannah Stevenson, also via social media, after seeing her perform on a Brigham Young University programme. Savannah sang the solo for, “Bring on Tomorrow,’ and in the duet, ‘I See the Christ’ with Casey.

“Why do we have to come so early?” Ashley grumbled as she and her parents and brothers sat down in the chapel. Mom and Dad wanted the family to be at church a whole 15 minutes before sacrament meeting started! She’d barely had time to eat breakfast and brush her teeth before it was time to go.
“I like to watch people as they come in,” Mom said.
Ashley noticed Mom looking at the people as they walked into the chapel.
“What are you looking for?” She glanced at the Mendez family as they walked in, but she didn’t notice anything different from usual.
Mom’s gaze moved from one person to the next. “I’m trying to see who might need some extra love.”
“How can you tell?” Ashley asked.
“I notice if anyone seems sad,” said Mom. “Or worried.”
“But how do you know?”
“I look at their faces, especially their eyes,” Mom said. “People’s eyes often show their true feelings.”
“Huh. I guess that makes sense.” Ashley paid closer attention to the people around the room. Mom was right! Some ward members had eyes that seemed a little sad. Sister Henderson looked like she’d been crying. Brother Henderson wasn’t there. Ashley remembered her parents saying that he was very sick with cancer.
Mom wrote down some names in a notebook she kept in her purse. Then the prelude music started, and she put away the notebook.
Later that day Ashley found Mom writing cards. “Are those for the people we saw at church?”
Mom looked up from her writing and nodded. “This is just my little way of helping others. We can’t always take away their problems, but we can try to help. A card shows that someone cares. It’s like an extra dose of love.”
An extra dose of love. Ashley liked that! “How can you know everyone who needs a card?”
“I can’t,” said Mom. “That’s why I pray first. I ask Heavenly Father for His help.”
“Does He tell you who needs a card?” Ashley asked.
“Sometimes I keep thinking about a person. That’s one of the ways the Holy Ghost can speak to us.” Mom signed the card she’d been writing. “I don’t know all the problems people have. Only Heavenly Father knows that. But I want to help where I can.”
Ashley remembered that Mom had wanted a box of cards and stamps for her last birthday. Now Ashley knew why.
That night Mom put a stack of stamped cards on the counter, ready for tomorrow’s mail.
“How many did you write?” Ashley asked.
Mom smiled. “Eight today. I may write a few more during the week as I think of people.”
Ashley thought of her friend Janine, whose parents were getting divorced. Janine was really upset about it and had been crying after school. “Can I use one of your cards?” Ashley asked. “I want to send one to Janine. Maybe it’ll help her feel better.”
“Of course you can.”
Ashley searched through Mom’s box of cards and picked one with bluebirds on it. She found a pen and started to write. “Dear Janine. …”