Gospel Story Finder

Neither of my parents or any of my siblings are members of the Church, so a year after my dad, Gerald Prior, passed away, the time came to do his temple work.
It was decided to do the work at the Preston England Temple. Upon our arrival on a Friday afternoon, I booked an appointment with the temple registrar and explained that I wanted to try to complete all the ordinances for my dad the next day. He informed me that the only way that it would be possible was if the baptism work was done that evening. There was a youth temple trip scheduled, and if I came back to the temple at 7:00 pm, I could join them and get the work done for my dad.
I returned to the temple at 7:00 pm and waited. Around 7:30 pm, the registrar informed me that the stake youth had cancelled their appointment, assuring me, “Don’t worry; we will get something sorted.” True to his word, 15 minutes later, he returned and invited my wife, Tracey, and me to the baptistry.
There, we met with about 10 temple workers who had already finished for the day. Upon hearing of my predicament, they generously sacrificed their time to assist. They asked whether I would be happy to be involved in doing the work for other people as well as my dad. I was more than happy to oblige, and it also gave me the opportunity to baptise Tracey, which I had never done before.
A great couple of hours were had in the Preston temple that evening. The following day I carried on doing the necessary ordinances for my dad, and several times met with the temple workers that I had met the evening before. They enquired how the work was progressing, and it was touching to see their support and encouragement for the work for my dad.
At the end of the day, I was able to participate in the sealing of my mum and dad. My daughter, Lauren, and her husband, Gabe, joined us and with their help, I was able to be sealed to my parents. Officiating were the very workers from the previous evening.
It was truly a wonderful experience, and one that will never be forgotten by Tracey and myself. I will always be grateful to those temple workers who selflessly sacrificed their own time to help me and my father.

I remember when I was about 16 years old overhearing Mom talking to Dad. She was concerned about some choices I was making. I was not guilty of any sin more serious than the immaturity of youth, but Mom was worried. What Dad said seared into my heart. “Don’t worry,” he said to Mom. “I trust Sharon, and I know she’ll do the right thing.” Those hours in the hayfield paid off then and there. From that moment on I was bound to those loving, trusting parents.

President Brigham Young once remarked that the Spirit of the Lord would do more to convert people than the eloquence of man. The same is true of singing. It is not always the ability that a missionary has to sing in a creditable and entertaining way that will aid him most in his missionary work; but on the contrary, if he can sing some of our beautiful hymns with the spirit in which they were written, he will be able to carry conviction to the hearts of his hearers as to the truths of the gospel. As an example of this: Elders J. Golden Kimball and Charles A. Welch, neither of whom claim to sing well, while on a mission in the southern states, were about to baptize some converts; a mob had assembled, and the brethren were given to understand that if they carried out their intentions of baptizing, the mob would throw them into the river. The brethren determined to go ahead no matter what the result might be. Before doing so, however, they sang a song. The song seemed to have such an effect upon the mob that they were almost transfixed. The brethren proceeded with their baptisms, and then went some distance to attend to confirming the baptized. A message came from the mob asking them to come and sing that song again, and the request was complied with. The leader of the mob, Joseph Jarvis, afterwards joined the Church, and he stated to Elder Kimball that the sentiments of the hymn and the inspiration attending the singing converted him to the gospel. …

The Lord says in a revelation given to Emma Smith, the wife of the Prophet: “For my soul delighteth in the song of the heart; yea, the song of the righteous is a prayer unto me, and it shall be answered with a blessing upon their heads” (D&C 25:12).
My soul has always delighted in listening to singing, having been passionately fond of it all my life, and I am delighted to be able today to pray unto the Lord “in the songs of the heart.” It is my opinion that if we will all remember the words of the Lord, that the song of the righteous is a prayer unto Him and shall be answered with a blessing upon our heads, and will frequently supplicate our Heavenly Father in the sweet songs of Zion, earnestly and honestly echoing in our hearts the sentiments of our beautiful hymns, that we are bound to have the promised blessings. …
I am confident that the hymns of Zion, when sung with the proper spirit, bring a peaceful and heavenly influence into our homes and also aid in preaching the gospel of Jesus Christ. I recommend to the youth of Zion, that they go to work with determination and learn to sing; particularly is this recommendation made to the young men, because, next to a familiarity with the scriptures, the ability to sing will assist them when they are called to the nations of the earth to preach the gospel. …
I have learned to sing; you can do the same; will you make the effort?

The Lord placed me in a home with loving parents. By the world’s standards, they were very ordinary people; my father, a devoted man, was a truck driver; my angel mother, a stay-at-home mom. The Lord helped me find my lovely wife, Melanie; He prompted a businessman, who became a dear friend, to give me an employment opportunity. The Lord called me to serve in the mission field, both as a young man and as a mission president; He called me to the Quorum of the Seventy; and now He has called me as an Apostle. Looking back, I realize I did not orchestrate any of those moves; the Lord did, just as He is orchestrating important moves for you and for those you love.

Some years ago while serving in the office of public affairs of the Church in Mexico, we were invited to participate in a radio talk show. The purpose of the show was to describe and discuss the different religions of the world. Two of us were assigned to represent the Church in responding to questions that might be asked during this type of a program. After several commercial breaks, as they say in radio parlance, the program director made this comment: “We have with us this evening two elders from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” He paused and then asked, “Why does the Church have such a long name? Why don’t you use a shorter or more commercial name?”
My companion and I smiled at such a magnificent question and then proceeded to explain that the name of the Church was not chosen by man. It was given by the Savior through a prophet in these latter days: “For thus shall my church be called in the last days, even The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints” (D&C 115:4). The program director immediately and respectfully responded, “We will thus repeat it with great pleasure.” Now, I cannot remember how many times he repeated the significant name of the Church, but I do remember the sweet spirit that was present when we explained not only the name of the Church but also how it makes reference to the members of the Church—the Latter-day Saints.

Many years ago dear friends of mine, Craig Sudbury and his mother, Pearl, came to my office prior to Craig’s departure for the Australia Melbourne Mission. Fred Sudbury, Craig’s father, was noticeably absent. Twenty-five years earlier, Craig’s mother had married Fred, who did not share her love for the Church and, indeed, was not a member.

Craig confided to me his deep and abiding love for his parents and his hope that somehow, in some way, his father would be touched by the Spirit and open his heart to the gospel of Jesus Christ. I prayed for inspiration concerning how such a desire might be fulfilled. The inspiration came, and I said to Craig, “Serve the Lord with all your heart. Be obedient to your sacred calling. Each week write a letter to your parents, and on occasion, write to Dad personally, and let him know how much you love him, and tell him why you’re grateful to be his son.” He thanked me and, with his mother, departed the office.

I was not to see Craig’s mother for some 18 months, when she came to my office and, in sentences punctuated by tears, said to me, “It has been almost two years since Craig left for his mission. He has never failed in writing a letter to us each week. Recently, my husband, Fred, stood for the first time in a testimony meeting and surprised me and shocked everyone who was there by announcing that he had made the decision to become a member of the Church. He indicated that he and I would go to Australia to meet Craig at the conclusion of his mission so that Fred could be Craig’s final baptism as a full-time missionary.”

No missionary stood so tall as did Craig Sudbury when, in far-off Australia, he helped his father into water waist-deep and, raising his right arm to the square, repeated those sacred words: “Frederick Charles Sudbury, having been commissioned of Jesus Christ, I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.”

Love had won its victory. Serve the Lord with love.

Rob: You usually don’t realize you have a problem until you are in so deep you can no longer see the light. That’s what happened with me. I was curious and justified my involvement with pornography by reminding myself that guys at school were involved with it too, and it didn’t seem like a big problem for them.
Pornography first appeals to curiosity. Somehow, just looking doesn’t seem all that dangerous. Every one of us has gone into a store just to look—not to buy. But this is a huge store, with almost unlimited merchandise. Once we are in the store, the invitations to satisfy our curiosity are endless. And so curiosity is never satisfied.
There are lots of things in life—like rattlesnakes or abandoned mine shafts or drugs—that we may be curious about. But knowing how dangerous they are, we walk away or leave the party or turn off the computer.
Actually, with pornography, there is no such thing as “just looking.” Looking is the problem. Viewing pornography triggers sexual feelings. We can easily get hooked on those pleasurable feelings, especially if they seem to relieve stress or anxiety—and we can start a cycle of addiction just as difficult to break as an addiction to drugs or alcohol.
Rob: Curiosity turned to interest, and interest developed into a strong habit. Soon I was addicted. I would get home from school, go straight to the computer, and be there for hours. My social life suffered. So did my schoolwork, family ties, and—most important—my spirituality.
At the very time I most needed the promptings of the Spirit in my life, I was less and less able to feel anything. Life became a constant struggle against depression.
My soul hungered, and the only thing I fed it offered no nourishment. I would get discouraged with myself, so I would delve into pornography to feel better. But the pornography would upset me even more.
Guilt, fear, and depression are common emotions for those involved with pornography—guilt, because they know what they are doing is wrong; fear, because they are terrified their secret will be found out; and depression, because they no longer feel the Spirit. Relationships with family, friends, Church leaders, and the Lord are damaged.
Blair: My self-confidence dwindled in church, school, and everywhere. Many times I felt very alone, awkward, and unworthy. If a girl liked me, I would think, “She wouldn’t like me if she really knew me.” I would shy away from being social.
Rob: Through all those years I attended church, but I was mentally inactive. I kept going to church so I wouldn’t upset my parents. But I knew the lifestyle I was caught up in was wrong. I noticed a change in my own countenance day by day, year by year. I became calloused and hardened. I found myself lying to my parents, my bishop, everyone around me. Inside I was going through personal turmoil and spiritual torment.
As these young men struggled with their addiction to pornography, each tried to overcome it on his own. But like a hiker trapped in a dangerous crevice, each needed help. Talking to the bishop became the key to changing the direction of their lives.
Blair: I prayed for strength to leave these temptations alone. I made a list of things such as prayer, scriptures, and clean thoughts that would help me draw close to God. But although I worked hard, it didn’t solve my problems.
The thought of confessing to the bishop made me cringe. I felt it would be better to tell the bishop about the problem when it was in the past. But I finally realized it wasn’t ever going to be in the past if I did not confess. If God already knew my struggles and I felt comfortable talking about them in prayer, why not talk face to face with God’s servant? Once I finally decided to confess, I felt a reassuring peace that it was the right thing to do.
If you are using pornography, you are not morally clean, even if you haven’t done anything else immoral. Rob talks about realizing he wasn’t worthy to go to the temple or on a mission.
Rob: I humbly bowed before the Lord in tears and pleaded for strength beyond my own. Night after night I prayed, and finally I knew I had to talk to my bishop about it. That was the hardest part—admitting to someone else that I had a problem. I kept thinking I could handle it myself and no one would ever have to know. I wanted it to be something just between God and me. But I finally matured to a point where I realized that was impossible. I approached my bishop and began a long and difficult repentance process.
Repentance may be difficult, but it is also comforting and filled with hope.
Speaking of those who struggle with pornography, one bishop says: “Help is available. The repentance process is just that—a process. It takes time to break negative patterns, and each small victory must be acknowledged, reinforced, and celebrated along the way. Sometimes those I have worked with still struggle, but at least they are not hiding anymore. They have begun to build a support system. They have realized they don’t have to face this challenge alone.”
A former bishop explains: “Besides my own family, I don’t think I loved anyone in my ward quite as much as I loved those who came to me with broken hearts, seeking forgiveness and peace. They cared more about what the Lord thought of them than what any person thought. I respected their courage and desire to make things right. I shed tears over them. I rejoiced when they were clean and whole again. And afterward I never looked at them as former sinners—only as beloved brothers and sisters.”
“Trust in the Lord,” counseled Elder Richard G. Scott of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. “He knows what He is doing. He already knows of your problems. And He is waiting for you to ask for help” (“Trust in the Lord,” Ensign, May 1989, 36).
I felt relief when I stopped pretending. Sharing the burden with my bishop and my family meant I no longer had to deal with this addiction alone. Now I hold on to this support system.
A problem that dominated my youth could not be overcome overnight. This road has been long and hard—and it continues. It isn’t enough anymore to look happy. I want to be happy. I am coming to know Christ and to understand the Atonement. The Savior gives me the strength I need so my self-confidence and self-respect grow each day.
I was honest with my bishop. And when my dad talked to me, I was honest with him too. We worked on the problem together. We decided not to have the Internet in our home for a while. That was a big help.
I’m turning 16 soon, and I’m glad I decided not to let pornography control my life. I feel better about myself, and I think about young women differently than I did before. With my bishop’s help, I’m preparing now for the temple, a mission, and a great marriage one day.
It took a lot of time and sincere effort to break bad habits. Eventually I was judged by my priesthood leader as worthy to serve a mission. The best feeling in the world was to go to the temple and know I am clean. The Spirit I wanted to feel during all those teenage years came flooding into my heart and life. I am so thankful for the Atonement of Jesus Christ.
The adversary still works on me, trying to get me to backslide. But I have learned to put on the armor of God every day. I know Jesus Christ loves me, and I love Him.

If you’re involved in sports, you’ve probably heard this: You can’t afford to take two years off for a mission. You’ll lose your scholarship, you’ll lose your skills, and you’ll lose your edge. You won’t have the fire for the sport anymore.
Nate Soelberg can tell you that those warnings are not true.
Nate was a standout in track and football while he was in high school. In college he not only ran, he also worked hard to eventually earn a spot on the football team—and then he left it behind so he could serve as a missionary in Norway for two years.
Some people wondered if he would be able to get back into form again when he came home. Nate wondered a bit too. But, he says, “I knew if I followed the Lord, He would bless me, that it wasn’t going to be a major setback.”
After his mission, he was able to earn a starting spot as cornerback on the Brigham Young University football team and a scholarship. On the track, the spring after he returned from his mission, he kept cutting his times in the 100 meters until he ended the season winning the conference championship. “Every single race I got better,” he says.
So was there some connection between the spiritual strength he gained while serving a mission and recapturing his physical ability? Nate thinks so: “I believe it was one of the blessings I had from going on a mission and serving the Lord.”
The successes came at a price, of course: hard work. Staying in shape for competitive sports “takes a toll on your body,” Nate says. After workouts, “it’s really hard to come home and do anything. You just want to rest.” He has developed the habit of doing his homework between classes during the day to keep up. “I’ve learned to manage my time wisely.”
Nate started in sports at age five when he played on a T-ball team. Later, he enjoyed playing basketball. He started track competition in junior high school and joined the football team his first year in high school.
He started preparing for his mission at a young age, too. “Sometimes in my life, I felt nervous about going, but I always knew I wanted to go.”
Norway was cold, in more than one way. He remembers looking at his reflection in a window and seeing frost in his eyebrows and ice on his eyelashes. He remembers serving for two years and having just one baptism, near the end. And he remembers how much he enjoyed it all.
“Most people think it’s just hard work, which it is.” But Nate was surprised at how good it made him feel to serve others. It made him happy to work with members. They “just embrace the missionaries,” he said. Their friendship was warm when it was cold everywhere else.
Did he ever get discouraged? “It’s hard not to,” Nate says. “I just kind of stuck it through. I don’t really hold on to things that discourage me. I put them in the past and move on.” And if a week was hard, he knew things would be better on Sunday when the missionaries could meet with members. “It was never a bad day at church.”
Nate’s dad, Steve Soelberg, says his son learned a lot about hard work from winning and losing when he was younger. “He knows that to get the wins you have to work for them.”
Nate also knows that you don’t win, no matter what the scoreboard says, if you’re not living the way the Lord wants you to. “If your mind isn’t in tune with the Lord, it is hard for the Lord to help you, and I know athletes need the help.”
Everyone needs help, he says. Nate prays often, for help in life, for help in doing his best on the field, for protection from injuries. He prays not just for himself, but for those around him too.
“I feel like I have help from the Lord. I just try to live so I’ll be worthy of it.”
Now Nate prays also for the family he is just beginning. He married Jessica Ashcroft in April this year.
Just because he prays, he doesn’t always win—at least not on the scoreboard. “There are things sometimes that don’t go my way, and I know I need to learn from those.” When that happens, he does what he did in the mission field: he learns, he puts the hard times behind him, and he moves on.

I can’t think of a better example of helping someone gain understanding than the story of Helen Keller. She was blind and deaf and lived in a world that was dark and quiet. A teacher named Anne Sullivan came to help her. How would you teach a child who can’t even see or hear you?

For a long time, Anne struggled to connect with Helen. One day around noon, she took her out to the water pump. She put one of Helen’s hands under the waterspout and began to pump the water. Anne then spelled out the word W-A-T-E-R on Helen’s other hand. Nothing happened. So she tried again. W-A-T-E-R. Helen squeezed Anne’s hand because she began to understand. By nightfall, she had learned 30 words. Within a matter of months, she had learned 600 words and was able to read Braille. Helen Keller went on to earn a college degree and helped change the world for people who couldn’t see or hear. It was a miracle, and her teacher was the miracle worker, just like you will be, parents.

When I was young I was overly dependent on my older sister. For example, I was a fussy eater, and when we went to visit our grandparents I was constantly faced with being offered food I didn’t like. To minimize my embarrassment, when the plate was passed to me, I would turn to my sister and ask, “Collene, do I like this?”
If it was familiar and she knew I didn’t like it, she would say, “No, he doesn’t like that.”
I could then say to Grandma, “She’s right; I don’t like it.”
If it was something we hadn’t eaten before, she would say, “Just a minute,” and taste it, and then tell me if I liked it or not. If she said I didn’t like it, no amount of coaxing could get me to eat it.
I know it is past time for me to rely on my own taste buds and stop denying myself healthy food just because my sister told me I didn’t like it.

The Summiteers of the Lansing Michigan Stake undertook a rather unusual hike. They chose to join with 50,000 other participants in the five-mile annual walk across the Mackinac Bridge.
Young women and their leaders and advisers camped for several days before the event. They attended church at a small branch where they were asked to help with the sacrament meeting program and Sunday School.
After breaking camp early on Monday morning, the girls were driven to the starting point to cross on foot the largest suspension bridge in the world. They joined the crowd of young and old, including families with babies in strollers and senior citizens in wheelchairs. They completed their five-mile walk in a little over an hour and a half and received their certificates.
The Summiteers enjoyed the adventure and the chance to get together for the event.

As he was growing up, Douglas L. Callister often accompanied his father and grandfather as they fulfilled Church assignments such as visiting members, presiding at meetings, or speaking at firesides. “They wanted their posterity to see them in the context of honoring the priesthood,” says Elder Callister, “and as we drove to and from their assignments, they would always share their experience and testimony with me.”
That caring tutelage has played an important role in preparing Elder Callister to serve in the Second Quorum of the Seventy. “A life-altering experience for me,” says Elder Callister, “was that training that came from those generations of family members who were willing to teach me.” Elder Callister continues to teach his own posterity just as his own father and grandfather taught him.

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).

Old Mom flapped her huge ears and swayed her long wrinkled trunk. The journey from Germany aboard the big ship had been long and tiring.
“Come on, old girl,” the men coaxed. Reaching their bull hooks gently behind her ears, they tugged her along the gangplank and pulled and prodded until she boarded the circus train to her new American home.
“I can’t believe that my friend Karl would send me such an imbecile!” the American circus owner wailed a few days later. “He told me that he was sending his prize queen! But she doesn’t know any tricks, and she doesn’t obey a single command.” Angrily he placed a call to Germany.
“It is not possible,” said the shocked Karl. “Old Mom is the smartest elephant in the world. Only because we are friends have I sent her to you.”
“Perhaps she is deaf,” suggested her new owner.
“Nein, nein (No, no)!” insisted Karl. “Every morning I would say to her, ‘Wie geht’s Mama (How are you, Mama)?’ or ‘Vas ist los (What’s up)?’ and she would greet me like a child.”
As soon as he hung up, the circus owner hurried over to Old Mom. “Wie geht’s, Mama. Vas ist los?“ he asked.
The huge beast immediately fell to her knees, trumpeting happily. She rose to her feet and shimmied her huge backside in a frenzied dance. Then she curled her trunk around the owner in an elephantine hug. In a strange land, among strange people, finally something was familiar!
“I should have known,” the owner said, chuckling. “A German elephant doesn’t understand English. We’ll find someone to translate for her for a while. Then we will teach her English.”

Monday night in Manila doesn’t seem much different at first glance than any other night. Traffic in the city moves like a million ants all trying to use the same narrow tree branch to crawl in two different directions at once. Except these ants honk.
We were trying to get to the Velascos’ house so I could see a Filipino family home evening in action, but rush hour wasn’t cooperating. Finally our guide announced he was taking a shortcut, and we pulled onto a narrow street packed with people buying and selling items at small roadside stands. The shoppers were enjoying themselves, laughing and calling out to one another. They paid little attention to our compact car inching its way through their open-air shopping center.
When we finally arrived at the Velascos’ at the other end of the market, the contrast was astonishing. As we walked into their home, the hustle and bustle outside seemed to simply fade away.
They hadn’t sat down for a lesson yet, but family night had already started. Six-year-old Stephen sat on Sister Velasco’s lap while she and Brother Velasco chatted with Grandma and Grandpa. Kevin and Kirby, 14, laughed about something 15-year-old Naomi had said. Katrina, 11, was setting out the scriptures and hymnbook.
After we had met everyone, the family sat down together. Grandpa offered an opening prayer. Brother Velasco talked about talents. During the discussion the family switched easily between Tagalog and English whenever one language suited better than the other. Katrina and Naomi took turns reading the parable of the talents from Matthew 25:14–30. Brother Velasco pulled out his guitar and shared one of his talents in song, then passed the guitar to Kirby, who played a song too. Sister Velasco helped Stephen say the closing prayer, and everyone stepped into the kitchen for a special treat, homemade pizza.
While everyone was chewing, I had the chance to ask them their feelings about family home evening.
“What’s your favorite part?” I asked Kirby. Unfortunately, he had just taken a bite. “The refreshments,” he said around the mouthful. Everyone laughed.
“The laughter,” Naomi said as their fit of the giggles passed.
“What has it done for your family?”
“It has helped us bond,” Kevin said. “That’s what happens when you share your thoughts and feelings.”
It was a good answer, but I wanted to make sure he wasn’t saying it just because I was there. “Does it really?” I asked.
They all nodded. “Because of family home evening, we have become closer,” Naomi answered. “We’re more friendly to each other.”
That was obvious. The blessings of family home evening were obvious too. And it was with great reluctance that I said good-bye and stepped back out into the endless rush of a busy world.

As a young missionary, I spent three Christmases in Tonga. Christmas there was the hottest, most humid season of the year, but the spirit of the holiday was the same.
People thought more about others and less about themselves. There was lots of music and singing, and the feeling of peace and good cheer seemed to permeate everything.
There was not a lot of physical gift giving, since there weren’t a lot of things to give. But people gave marvelous gifts of love, service, and kindness.
A few days before Christmas, a nine-year-old granddaughter, who had come to spend the holiday with her grandparents, developed a high fever. They spent all their time caring for her, but the fever seemed to get worse. They called for the missionaries to give her a blessing. We did, and felt prompted to tell her everything would be all right. Then we went on about our other activities.
The day before Christmas, I was visiting various families with a teacher from the local Church school. As we concluded our visits, I asked him where else we should go that Christmas Eve. He said, “I’ve heard ‘Ofa’s granddaughter is still doing poorly, and the grandfather is out of town. I’m sure ‘Ofa is very tired. Why don’t we volunteer to watch her granddaughter tonight and let ‘Ofa get some rest?”
I thought, What a great idea! Why don’t I think of things like that?
It was early evening when we arrived at ‘Ofa’s house. As we explained what we wanted to do, I saw gratitude in her eyes. ‘Ofa looked at us a long time and then said, “She is very ill. I have been up day and night the last three days. I’m not sure I can make it another night. Thank you. Thank you!”
She then explained she’d been using a cloth dipped in water and a woven fan to cool her granddaughter and give her some air. All the girl had done for the last two days was moan.
“I’m not sure if she will get well or not,” ‘Ofa said. “Maybe I should try to stay up and help.”
My companion said, “No, you go on and rest. We’ll fan her and cool her forehead and she’ll be all right. You go get some sleep.” ‘Ofa finally left. I imagine she was asleep the second she got to her room.
We immediately started waving the fan and cooling the girl’s forehead. She seemed in a bad way. Her breathing was strange, her fever high, her eyes closed, and her moans pathetic.
We devised a system where one would hold the wet cloth and the other fan the air through it to get some moist air moving around her mouth and head. It doesn’t sound like much work, but the anxiety of the situation, the sweltering evening, and the effort to get water, rinse the cloth, and constantly wave the fan, caused us both to soon tire. I appreciated what ‘Ofa had been through the last few days.
There was an old wind-up clock where we were. Around 11:00 P.M. we realized we were going to have to do something different to make it through the night. My companion again came up with an idea.
“Why don’t we take turns?” he said. “You sleep for an hour. Then I’ll wake you and you care for her for an hour while I sleep. Then you wake me, and so on. We’ll get through the night that way.”
“Fine,” I said. “Who should start?”
“I’ll start,” he replied. “You rest first.” At midnight he woke me and I fanned with one hand and sponged her forehead with the other until 1:00 A.M. Then I woke him. He did likewise and woke me at 2:00 A.M. I, again, woke him at 3:00 A.M. I knew I would be awakened for my next turn at 4:00 A.M. I was very tired, but felt we would make it through the night all right.
The next thing I remember is sunlight streaming into my eyes. I suddenly awakened, jumped up, and said, “My goodness! What time is it?”
“It’s six o’clock.”
“Six o’clock! Why didn’t you wake me at four?” I asked.
He smiled broadly, a smile that came from deep within and seemed to encompass his whole being as he said, “Oh, you looked so tired. I decided to let you sleep. That’s my present to you. Merry Christmas!”
I couldn’t say anything. Again I thought, Why don’t I think of things like that? My companion stayed up for me! I thought of the Savior coming to his sleeping disciples and asking, “Could ye not watch with me one hour?” (Matt 26:40). The Savior stayed up nearly all night performing one of the greatest works this world will ever know, while those close to him slept.
I felt a little ashamed, yet I also felt happy, as I could see the joy in my companion’s face. He hadn’t been able to give me anything else for Christmas. There was, literally, nothing material for him to give. But what he could give, he had given freely, just by letting me sleep.
I wonder how many of us, in our Christmas giving and our giving all year long, think of not just exchanging material possessions, but of giving of ourselves, fully and freely. True giving comes from the heart, not the wallet.
Sometime during those early morning hours, the girl’s semidelirious moaning ceased, her fever broke, and we could tell the crisis was over. She stirred and opened her eyes.
We waited until midmorning and then knocked on the door to wake up ‘Ofa. She responded quickly, possibly expecting the worst. As she came out on the porch, her granddaughter was there, sitting with us. We were all smiles as we said in unison, “Merry Christmas!”

Because Shellee is always trying, people are drawn to her. For example, in ninth grade Shellee wanted to be a cheerleader. When it came time for tryout practices, she went but struggled trying to understand all the instructions. Luckily, her bubbly personality and eagerness to learn won her the admiration of the other girls and one varsity cheerleader in particular.
Michelle Shoell, then a junior, took Shellee home with her every night that week to practice with her. Shellee could do the moves; she just needed help combining the moves with the words. “She is one of the most sparkling people I’ve ever met,” Michelle says, “and I wanted to see her make it.”
Before the final tryouts, Michelle even told the coach, “I don’t really care if I make it as long as Shellee does.” Both girls made the squad.

When Sister Pieper and I were raising our family, we wanted to teach them good nutrition. We planned nutritionally balanced meals and encouraged our children to try eating each food served. As an incentive, we created a rule that only those who took at least one bite of each food served would be able to have sweets that day. One evening at dinner, our son Chris said that he did not want to eat his peas. We encouraged him to try at least one bite and reminded him of the rule that if he did, he would be able to have ice cream for dessert. Chris said that he wanted ice cream. We reminded him that if he wanted ice cream, he would first have to take a bite of his peas. He continued to insist that he wanted ice cream but refused to eat his peas. As a result, he watched while his brothers and sisters ate ice cream for dessert, complained the rule wasn’t fair.

The next day in family scripture study we were reading Alma’s teachings to his son Corianton about laws and punishments. We read that there are always consequences when laws are broken. Suddenly, Chris blurted out, “that’s peas and ice cream.” We had a good discussion of how we have agency to choose what we will do but we cannot choose the consequences of our actions. This helped us all learn important principles and apply them in our lives.

When I was a young man, before I was even ordained a deacon, I went to one of our ward meetings, and two missionaries reported their missions in the Southern States. When I left that meeting, I felt like I could have walked to any mission field in the world, if I just had a call.

And I went home, went into my bedroom, and got down on my knees, and asked the Lord to help me to live worthy so that when I was old enough I could go on a mission. And when the train finally left the station in Salt Lake and I was headed for the little land of Holland, the last thing I said to my loved ones was, “This is the happiest day of my life.”

We had just moved to Maryland. A big semi truck came to our new home to deliver all of our things. My sister and I were outside, playing in the front yard and watching the moving people unload the truck. We listened to them when they said, “Stay on the porch.”
Suddenly our van came crashing out of the truck, and three men were hurt. Mom was really afraid that we were hurt, because one of the moving people came inside to ask her to call 911 and told her that someone had been run over. But we were OK because we were on the porch. The moving people said, “It was a good thing that you listened to us. You could have been hurt really badly.”
I’m glad that I’m obedient. I want to obey Heavenly Father, and I know that I get blessings when I do.Amy Pearson, age 5, and her sister, Rachel, age 3Eldersburg, Maryland