Gospel Story Finder

Everyone loves Christmas caroling! The missionaries at the Ghana Missionary Training Center were completing their classes on a Monday night before Christmas when they heard music coming from the courtyard. They went outside on that warm December night and saw the Africa West Area senior missionaries singing Christmas carols. It didn’t take long for them to join in and enthusiastically add their voices to those of the senior missionaries. The spirit of Christmas was strong as they sang well-loved Christmas carols such as Joy to the World, Hark the Herald Angels Sing and Silent Night. The final song was Called to Serve, which embodied the reason that both the young and senior missionaries were there! Singing could be heard in English, French, Portuguese and Swahili.

My mother was a tremendous support to us. She always cleaned our white shirts on Saturdays so they would be ready to wear on Sundays. We would polish our shoes and the shoes of our youngest brothers and sisters. We lived in a poor neighborhood in Guatemala, and our neighbors would laugh at us on Sundays as we wore our white shirts and ties to church.
My mother always gave us courage to do the right. Because of her influence, we were very active in the Church. I remember that at one time, my father served as the Sunday School president, my older sister served as the Primary president, my mother served as the Relief Society president, and four of my brothers passed, prepared, and blessed the sacrament.

I’m happy to be a Latter-day Saint here in the Philippines. I like to tell my friends that. My religion has taught me many things that my friends do not know, and one of those things is honesty. Honesty is one simple way to teach my friends to respect me and my religion. An experience that happened recently proved that.
I’d gone to school without eating any breakfast, and during class my stomach kept making this funny sound, telling me I was hungry. So during recess, I hurried to a nearby barbecue stand. I took two sticks of meat, ate them, then went back to class.
When our teacher asked us to copy something on the board, I reached into my pocket for a pencil, and found that my money for the sticks was still in my pocket! Without hesitation, I ran back to the store and paid for my snack. The vendor was so happy he gave me another stick free.
I went back to the classroom smiling but found a very angry teacher there. I’d forgotten to ask permission to leave, and she wanted to know what I’d been doing.
I told her everything, and to my surprise she put her arm on my shoulder and facing the class, she said, “Class, I want you to be honest like Julius.”
Then she asked me why I returned the money when I easily could have kept it. I answered, “Because I am a deacon, and my bishop won’t let me pass the sacrament if I’m not worthy.” She didn’t quite understand what I was talking about and asked again why I hadn’t kept the money.
I answered, “Because we believe in being honest.”
“Why? What’s your religion?” She wanted to know.
Without hesitation I said, “I’m a Mormon.”
“Oh,” she responded. “No wonder.”
My teacher made me feel like a giant that day. I’m glad I followed the 13th article of faith [A of F 1:13], which starts, “We believe in being honest, true …” Honesty really is the best policy.

Now 15 years old, I went to live with a foster family for about a year. That was when the fifth miracle came. While sleigh riding with two friends, I met an LDS family with two nice daughters. During the ride home, one of the daughters spoke up, saying, “I think the Lord wants us to adopt Ephrem Smith.” Remarkably, the other three members of the family had also received the same inspiration. The father worked with the Department of Social Services, and soon I moved to my new home. From the very beginning my amazing new father gave me agency. For example, he explained that their family goes to church on Sundays. He allowed me to choose to join them or stay home; he said that they still would love me if I chose not to attend church. I chose to attend church, and I have since made many other righteous decisions.

I grew up in Idaho Falls, Idaho, on the edge of town. Across the street were fields where pheasants flew and where we played in the snow. Later our new chapel was built there. I went over every night after school to help build the chapel, handing bricks to bricklayers and cleaning up the construction site. I remember that I took great pride in that chapel. I wanted to take good care of it because I had helped build it.
My mom has been a Relief Society president and a Young Women president. Dad was not active in the Church, but he was a very good man.
My testimony has always been a part of me. I have always had a gift of faith. I remember saying my prayers every night, even when I didn’t feel like it.
I also knew that I felt at peace with myself when I did what was right. I learned when I was in the third or fourth grade how it felt to make a wrong choice. The rules at school were that we could not throw snowballs and that we could not go off the school grounds. One day I got in a snowball fight and crossed the street to get the advantage in the fight. Afterward I felt bad because I knew I had done something wrong.
I remember going to the Idaho Falls Temple when I was twelve to do baptisms for the dead. I felt really good about doing that. I encourage you to do that when you have the opportunity.
As we were growing up, my younger brother and sister and I had lots of fun. We didn’t play video games or watch TV. We played active games—red rover, kick the can, and cowboys—and we floated in inner tubes down the irrigation canal where Mom had taught me to swim.
We always had work to do. When I was eight or nine, we picked potatoes for farmers. We earned seven and a half cents for each half sack we picked. At eleven, I got a paper route. I remember coming home after delivering papers in weather twenty degrees below zero and sitting on my hands to try to warm them up. Later on I hoed beets, moved sprinkler pipe, and hauled hay. And when I was a little older, I paid for braces for my teeth with money I earned working at a grocery store.
My parents always felt that it was important for me to get an education. When I was a junior in high school, I wanted to buy a car. It was the prettiest car I’d ever seen, a white 1950 Oldsmobile convertible, and its price was four hundred dollars. I had just four hundred dollars in my bank account. This is going to work out great, I thought.
When I told my mom about my plan, she asked, “How will you get to college?” Then she said, “I believe that if you will save your money and go to college, you will be able to buy an even nicer car.” I thought and prayed about it and decided that she was right. I saved my money and went on to college. Then, when I had finished the “twenty-second grade” and had my bachelor’s, master’s, and doctoral degrees, I bought an old classic convertible. I still drive this car. It reminds me that if you are patient, follow good counsel, and follow the Spirit’s guidance to do what’s right, there will be all kinds of rewards.
Buying and acquiring things when you are young is unwise. Invest in yourself with education. And the kind of education we will need most through the eternities is spiritual.
Dad was very keen on my going to school, and he had told me that I had better not go on a mission. But one night I talked with my friend Harry about missions until 2:00 A.M. He told me, “You have the opportunity to go on a mission now. You might not always have that opportunity.”
I didn’t know if Dad would support me, but I asked my mother to ask him. When I finished my first year of college, I went home. We were doing the dishes one night, when my dad said, “Stephen, if you want to go on a mission, that will be all right.”
I was called to serve my mission in France. After serving twenty-eight months, I got a telegram telling me that my dad had died of a heart attack. I went home to attend the funeral and to help Mom, and Harry’s words came back to me: “You might not always have the opportunity to go on a mission.” If I had put off serving my mission, my widowed mother could not have afforded to send me.
Many of you children today feel unsettled and worried. You hear about serious problems and dangers in the world. But you do not need to be fearful. There is a way to be guided away from what’s bad for you. Your parents and the Holy Ghost will help you if you will just ask what is good and right for you.

Jason remembered how his foot had tingled when it went to sleep that night as he stood motionless by the kitchen door, listening. The big folks were in the living room, discussing Grandpa! Mom had sent him off to watch TV, but when he went to get a drink, he couldn’t help overhearing them. Then he just stayed there.
There was no mistaking Aunt Madge’s high-pitched, nervous voice. She always seemed to talk too fast. She and Uncle Bill had flown in from Texas the day before Grandma’s funeral. Jason could hear Aunt Madge say that there was no way that Grandpa could live alone now that Grandma wasn’t there to take care of him. And that it was impossible for him to live at their house.
Aunt Edith said that she was sorry, but she didn’t have room for him in her little apartment. Aunt Sherma and Uncle Dick traveled a lot; besides, Aunt Sherma said, they just didn’t have an extra bedroom either.
Jason’s mom had spoken up quickly. “We can move the TV into the living room and give Grandpa the TV room. We’d be happy to have him live here with us.”
Jason was delighted!
Grandpa moved in with them at the first of the year. It had been hard for him to leave his home. The movers brought his bed and dresser, a lounge chair, and some boxes of his personal things, but that was all.
He and Jason soon became good buddies. Grandpa was a great storyteller, and Jason loved to listen to his stories. Grandpa talked a lot about his boyhood, the time he’d spent overseas during the war, the early days of his law practice, and the years that he sat behind a big podium as a judge in a black robe. But he was old and frail now, and it was hard for Jason to picture him as a little boy, a soldier, a lawyer, or a judge.
Grandpa helped fill the empty spot in Jason’s heart. Jason had never known his own father—he’d been only two at the time of the car accident. “Did Daddy look like me when he was six?” he asked Grandpa one day.
“You’re a dead-ringer for my Joe when he was your age,” Grandpa told him. “Your dad’s hair was darker than yours, but he had your same nose and that same cleft in his chin.” Grandpa smiled and started talking about all four of his children—Madge and Edith and Sherma and Joe.
Later Jason pushed Grandpa’s wheelchair out onto the front porch to try to escape the hot, humid house. The cool, fresh breezes from the sycamores brought a refreshing change. Jason threw his leg across the brick-bordered porch, pulled a leaf from the lilac tree, folded it, and put it to his lips. As he blew softly, out came a low, clear whistle.
Grandpa stopped, then said, “If you’d like to see the seashell, I still have it. Would you go get the brown shoe box in the back corner of my bottom dresser drawer, please?”
Jason returned a few moments later with the shoe box. Grandpa opened it and took out a small white and coral seashell, beautifully formed and with black and gray striations. “I want you to have this, Jason,” he said, placing it in Jason’s hands. “If you listen to it often, it will help you remember another Voice that is always there to guide you and help you make right decisions.”
Jason placed the seashell next to his ear and listened for a moment. “Thank you, Grandpa, for telling me about Dad,” he said softly. “And thank you for sharing your treasure with me. It will always remind me of the Holy Ghost, Dad, and you.”

Shortly after, a good friend felt inspired to introduce me to a member of his stake presidency. This kind man listened intently to my story and seemed to know what I was going to say before I said it. We talked for hours. My story, my questions, the logic I had been exposed to were so similar to what others had shared with him. I began to realize that there were reasonable answers for many of my concerns and that many of my questions, while sincere, had been planted by people intent on damaging faith.
Were all my questions and concerns immediately resolved? No, of course not. But my heart was softened enough to realize a great truth: questions are good, but some questions are more important than others.1 Was losing my family and standing before God worth a few unanswered questions? When I focused first on the questions that were most important and put God back in first place in my heart, I began to find answers that reassured me that I was getting back on the right path.

My friend Annika had been hanging out with me and my other Latter-day Saint friends for a few years. Because she spent so much time with us, she learned many things about our standards and what we believe in.
One night I was texting Annika about the gospel and decided it was the perfect opportunity to share my testimony with her. I also felt like I should invite her to come to church. I was a little nervous that she would say no, but I knew that I was doing the right thing and that it would be OK no matter what. I texted her my testimony and asked her to come to church, and she said yes!
The Sunday that Annika came to church, we were studying about the Godhead. She already knew most of the other youth in the class, so we all worked together to help her learn. If she didn’t understand something, we tried to explain it to her. This led to great discussions where most everyone was commenting. Because so many people were sharing ideas, Annika felt comfortable asking questions and got to hear pieces of her friends’ testimonies.
During the lesson, Annika was overwhelmed with joy and peace because she felt the Holy Ghost. She learned that Heavenly Father, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost are three separate beings, and she learned a little bit about the plan of salvation. She also learned that Heavenly Father loves us so much that He sent His Son to earth to die for us, and she learned how much Christ loves us, because He atoned for us.
At the end of the lesson, my Sunday School teacher invited us to go home and look up scriptures that could help us learn more about the Godhead. I completed this assignment. Later, during a discussion with Annika and the missionaries, I talked about the scriptures I found.
It was a wonderful experience to watch Annika learn about Heavenly Father, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost. It made me realize how many people don’t know about the Godhead. Just like Annika and I did, we can all grow closer to Heavenly Father, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost when we learn more about Them.

Mamãe, can we go see the Jesus statue at the visitors’ center today?
I want to go too!
Let’s wait until it stops raining.
Hours later …
Can’t we just get a little wet from the rain? We don’t mind!
OK! Let’s grab our raincoats.
I want to wear my Sunday clothes.
That’s a great idea!
Let’s hurry!
We’re almost there!
Bem vinda!
Can we see the statue of Jesus?
Of course! Follow me.
Look, Mamãe!
Jesus is our Savior. Imagine what it will be like when we see Him someday!
I can’t wait!

by Shirley F. Berlin
It was the night of the annual basketball game between the “Young Men” and their “Old Men” church leaders in the 30th Ward, Ogden Utah East Stake. In the stake center bleachers, ward members, families, and friends excitedly shouted encouragement to both teams.
Bob Blair of the Old Men had just connected, closing the Young Men’s lead to one point at 16–15, with 4:41 left in the second quarter.
“We’re going to walk away with it—take it from the coach,” Darold Rawson, Sr., of the Young Men said confidently.
The competition had begun five years before when the youth were planning a fund-raising project. They challenged their priesthood leaders to a game of basketball, certain that they could easily beat such out-of-shape old folks. But the Old Men won! A surprised group of Aaronic Priesthood boys immediately planned a comeback. They would have another game next year, and the next, and the next.
Over the years, the boys had grown stronger and taller, and their leaders had grown … well, older. The Young Men had won three times, and their leaders had won twice. This one could be anyone’s game.
Earlier in the evening, the excitement started as the Young Women introduced the players on each team with words from original songs. The Old Wives Cheerleaders waved their pom-poms. Dressed in jeans rolled to mid-calf, with shirts emblazoned with big “O’s”, they were poised for the grand entry of their husbands.
As the Old Men burst energetically through their “We’re the Greatest!” banner, the crowd went wild.
Then, all eyes turned to the opposite corner where the Young Men were eagerly waiting their turn behind the banner reading, “We’re #1.”
Unexpectedly, Zan Treasure casually tore an opening through which the boys stepped with dignity, one at a time. Then Mike Ward ceremoniously placed some steps a few feet from the basket and stood at attention. Suddenly, Jim Berlin streaked past and went up for a spectacular slam dunk. The fans roared as the Young Men sprang into action. Following the tip-off, Darold Rawson, Jr., quickly scored the first point.
Bishop Arlo Ward, who has played in all the games, said, “They’ve been highlights for me. They are an opportunity for the Young Men to really get the best of their leaders. They haven’t always done it, but as they have prepared and developed, they have given us a challenge. The games bring out a closeness that you don’t always get.”
When asked how many practices the Old Men had before the game, Bishop Ward smiled. “Zero. But we’re so good we don’t need any.”
However, his counselor Gary Saunders didn’t sound so confident. He admitted that when the Old Men heard that the game would be played on the large stake center floor instead of the small one in the ward cultural hall, “We decided to play with two teams—one defense and one offense so we wouldn’t have to run up and down that big court.”
The Young Men hadn’t had many more practices than their elders. Term papers, final exams, jobs, and dates interfered. However, some mornings at 5:30, the more eager ones jogged. On moonlit nights they played ball in the driveway of the home of three participating brothers. But even when the boys weren’t actually practicing, they were “psyching up.” In fact, one night after the youth had been boasting in the Elliott Berlin living room, Brother Berlin commented, “There’s enough hot air in here to dry a corn field.” But they won anyway.
All of the original Young Men will be on missions, married, or will have “graduated” to Old Men status by the next game. New loyalties will have to be formed as rivals become teammates. A different group of hopeful young players will challenge their leaders, and an enjoyable tradition will carry on.
Visitor Brenda Gilbertson summarized the feelings of many when she said, “I’m really impressed with your ward. You do such fun things. I can see why your boys stay active.”
Indeed, the 30th Ward surely demonstrates that a ward that plays together stays together.

Leniel Gava was called to serve in the Mozambique Maputo Mission, but he began serving in his native Zimbabwe while awaiting the visa that would allow him to train and learn Portuguese at the Brazil Missionary Training Centre. After a four-month wait, Elder Gava finally made it to Brazil, and a few weeks later, he arrived in Maputo.
Elder Gava loved Mozambique and his opportunity to share the gospel. He had settled into the work and was starting to feel comfortable with Portuguese when the COVID-19 pandemic began in March 2020. Most missionaries in Africa were suddenly returned to their native countries. Back he went to Zimbabwe.
Elder Gava says that the missionaries felt constantly confused during the repatriation process. Where would they be sent? For how long? In what way would they serve while they were waiting for the pandemic to die down? It wasn’t until he finally met with his mission president, Tasara Makasi, that he was calmed. President Makasi told him, “The Lord’s work doesn’t stop, just adjust and continue to do His work.” So, Elder Gava did, even in lockdown conditions.
Missionaries, who were confined to their homes like everyone else, soon received smartphones and access to social media platforms that allowed them to connect with people responding to a Facebook ad published on the Africa South Area Facebook pages titled “Where Can I Turn for Peace?”
Very soon after the ad ran, Elder Gava and his companion were given a stack of names and phone numbers from people who had responded to the advert, indicating that they were interested in meeting with the missionaries and finding out more about the Church. They were asked to contact each person. As they looked through the names and numbers, both missionaries were impressed to call a particular woman. She answered in a very low voice, but after they had introduced themselves, she almost screamed with happiness. “Thank you so much for reaching out to me!” she said. “Thank you for calling at the right time.”
As the conversation progressed, the elders learned that this woman was then lying in a hospital bed having just suffered a stillbirth. “She was saying she was so hurt . . . like there was a deep hole in her heart,” he said. “At the time we called her, she needed someone to be there with her, but, unfortunately, she was alone. That sister became one of our good friends and we started teaching her online.”
President Henry B. Eyring, Second Counsellor in the First Presidency, taught that the gift of the Holy Ghost helps us to lift others when they need it the most. “You are a covenant member of the Church of Jesus Christ. . . .
“That is why you have a feeling to want to help a person struggling to move forward under a load of grief and difficulty. You promised that you would help the Lord make their burdens light and be comforted. You were given the power to help lighten those loads when you received the gift of the Holy Ghost.”1
Elder Gava says this experience taught him how the Spirit works in our lives and how it can move us to talk to people who need us, at the time they need us. He also learnt another lesson: the importance of the proper use of technology in missionary work. He realised that technology can be used to reach out to our Heavenly Father’s children.
On Elder Gava’s mission he saw these two channels working together: the Holy Ghost was the heavenly channel, bringing a message from heaven to the missionaries; and technology was the earthly channel, bringing that message from the missionaries to their brothers and sisters.

But poor or not, Jules couldn’t do without books. His heart was set on owning all the books by Sir Walter Scott and a complete set of Shakespeare’s works. Almost every day, he passed by a store where the books were displayed. He spent what little money he had to buy the set of Shakespeare. For the next three days, he had no money to buy food, and nothing to eat except some moldy prunes. But he had his books! While living in Paris, Jules met Victor Hugo and Alexander Dumas. Encouraged by their examples, he began writing articles and plays. But his works weren’t very successful, and the stress of trying to earn a living by writing caused him many sleepless nights. He had earaches and facial paralysis. These symptoms reoccurred the rest of his life whenever he was under stress.

In 1857 Verne met Honorine, a young widow with two daughters. Marriage to her meant that he had a family to support, so it was important that he earn more money. He and a friend went into business as stockbrokers.

Meanwhile Jules kept writing. His first novel, Five Weeks in a Balloon, published in 1862, was an instant success. He was able to quit his job as a stockbroker and write full-time. He continued writing until the last few months of his life. Master of the World was published in November 1904, four months before he died.

Jules Verne’s books are still popular. They are remarkable for their vision of the future. In Around the Moon, he described the weightlessness of space and the use of rockets to alter the course of the orbit. He even chose a launch site in Florida and included a splashdown at sea. Star of the South is about the effort to make artificial diamonds—which wasn’t really possible until 1955. And the Nautilus in Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea was a submarine far ahead of its time.

Verne was not a scientist. His books are fiction. But as science advances, as we reach into space and explore the ocean depths, we continue to be amazed by the man who guessed the future, and traveled there in his imagination.

The same difference was true, too, for the group of approximately 110 teenagers from the Augusta Maine Stake, who were at the Washington (D.C.) Temple. They were there to receive baptism for their kindred dead. The youth themselves had prepared the information for the ordinance work.

For the teenagers of the Augusta Maine Stake, temple activity took on an added dimension, too. Every April the youth of that stake usually made a trip to the Washington Temple to perform baptisms for the dead. This time, as leaders formulated plans for the April 1988 trip, they urged the young people, with the help of their families, to obtain the information on one or more of their ancestors and prepare the records for the temple work themselves.

The response was heartening. Even though many submitted records too late for normal processing, by the time of the trip, the names of about 150 ancestors had been cleared for ordinance work. Virtually every active teenager in the stake—about 110 youngsters—went this time. About sixty-five of them anticipated being baptized for their ancestors.

The group rode for fourteen hours to reach their destination. They spent the next day performing baptisms for the dead. That evening, in a fireside at the Washington D.C. Stake center, many testified that they finally knew what the Spirit was like because they had felt it in the temple. The trip was especially meaningful for those baptized for deceased family members.

Second, we can give more generously to the poor and needy. As I visit with Church members, I am overwhelmed with the goodness of faithful Latter-day Saints. A young man in Colombia, raised by his grandmother, owned several shoe repair shops and served as the custodian in his ward. When he was called on a mission, he had saved not only enough money to pay for his own mission but also contributed extra funds to support another missionary.

What about sharing our food, clothing, and furniture? The Lord commands that we not covet our own property (see D&C 19:26). In many places we are blessed to have Deseret Industries. We can teach our children to go through their closets regularly and share their clothing while it is still in style, allowing others to dress fashionably too.

Many rewards come from sharing our material possessions. King Benjamin reminds us of this when he says, “For the sake of retaining a remission of your sins from day to day, that ye may walk guiltless before God … impart of your substance to the poor, … such as feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, visiting the sick and administering to their relief” (Mosiah 4:26). We can all be searching for the many opportunities in our lives to give—to share.

This story happened in the USA.
Daniel lifted the lid off Grandpa’s old toybox and peeked inside. His cousins gathered around to see. They loved to play together at Grandpa’s house!
Inside were lots of old toys that Daniel’s mom and aunt had played with when they were kids.
“What are those?” Daniel’s cousin Noah pointed to six shiny, old-fashioned lawn darts. They had pointy ends and colored flags—some red and some yellow.
Daniel picked one up. “My mom told me about these,” he said. “You put a hoop on the lawn outside. Then you take turns throwing these up in the air and try to get them to land in the hoop.”
“Cool!” said Noah. He was already running to the yard to set up the game.
Soon Daniel and his cousins were launching the metal lawn darts in the air all around Grandpa’s yard. Daniel liked it when the darts landed hard and stuck in the grass.
“I bet I can throw mine higher than yours,” said Daniel’s cousin Lily.
The kids laughed and threw the darts higher and higher.
Then Daniel had an idea. “I bet I can throw mine all the way across the driveway and into the hoop!” he said. He ran to the other side of the driveway and threw the dart hard.
The dart flew high into the air, but it didn’t land in the grass. Instead it fell onto Aunt Robilyn’s brand-new car with a loud THUD.
“Oh no!” yelled Noah.
Daniel picked up the dart. There was a giant dent on the car where it had landed.
The kids looked at each other with dread. Then, without saying anything, they left the darts on the lawn and ran inside.
Later that afternoon, everyone went to their cars to go home. Daniel’s aunt noticed the dent on her car. “What happened?” she asked.
Daniel’s stomach felt heavy. But he didn’t say anything. He just climbed into the car and waved goodbye to his cousins.
On the drive home, Daniel sat quietly in the backseat. He tried to read his book. But he couldn’t focus. He felt sick inside about what happened. He knew being honest was the right thing to do. But telling the truth would be awful! His parents would be so mad at him. So would his aunt.
Then Daniel thought about his favorite scripture hero. Daniel in the Old Testament was thrown into the lions’ den for choosing the right. He was brave. Maybe Daniel could be brave too.
“Hey, Mom?” Daniel said. “I threw a lawn dart, and it hit Aunt Robilyn’s car and made the dent. It was my fault.”
Mom glanced at him in the rearview mirror. She wasn’t as mad as Daniel thought she would be. “Thanks for telling me the truth,” she said.
Daniel took a deep breath. “Can I call Aunt Robilyn when we get home?” he asked. “I want to say sorry. And I’ll work hard to earn the money to pay to fix her car.”
Mom smiled. “That’s a great idea.”
The heavy feeling in his stomach was gone, and Daniel felt peaceful. He had been brave enough to tell the truth. Because of Jesus Christ, he could repent and make things right.
How did Daniel feel when he told the truth and repented?
Illustrations by Josh Talbot

Once upon a time in a small village there lived an old tailor and his three sons, Judah, Yarin, and Isaac. One day the old man called his boys together. “My sons,” he said. “I have worked hard. Now I wish to spend my days resting in the shade of the olive trees. I am giving the shop to you.”
Judah stepped forward. “Thank you, Papa. We hope that we can live up to your teachings.”
The old man smiled. “How splendid it will be to see my sons working together.”
Yarin picked up some cloth. “I can design the garments,” he said enthusiastically.
“I will cut the patterns,” added Isaac happily.
“And I will sew the pieces of cloth together,” said Judah eagerly.
“Good!” said the old man, beaming. “You have made my heart sing.”
A moment later, there was a knock on the door. Judah opened it. A messenger handed him a letter for his father. “It is news from the Rabbi’s wife,” he said. Then he bowed and left.
Judah gave the letter to his father. The old man quickly opened it and read aloud:
On the first day of next week my daughter will marry Ganseh the gabbai [synagogue trustee], cousin of the hazan’s [cantor’s] daughter. A prize of fifty shekels will go to the tailor who makes the most beautiful dress in Jerusalem before sunset this Friday. The Rebbetzin.
“Our fortune will be made!” said Yarin.
“We will become known throughout the Holy Land!” exclaimed Isaac.
“Everyone will buy our finery!” rejoiced Judah. “Let’s get busy and make the dress. We have only two days’ time.”
The old man stepped forward. “I am going to the marketplace to buy more cloth. I will return tomorrow. Good luck, my sons. I know you will do well together.”
And he left.
As Yarin picked up some paper and a quill, he thought, I should win the prize because I will make the pattern. He quickly drew some sketches.
“Show us what you have drawn,” said Judah.
Yarin hid the paper behind his back. “No,” he replied. “Not unless you both agree that the prize shall be mine!”
“That’s not fair!” cried Isaac. “If anyone should have a prize, I should, because I shall cut the pattern with great precision.”
“Wait!” protested Judah. “I shall sew the fine white linen with delicate stitches, so the prize should be mine!”
The brothers argued all day and night and into the next morning. When the old man returned, he heard their angry voices and hurried inside. “What is the trouble?” he asked them.
Enraged, the sons told him that each of them felt that he deserved the prize. The old man sadly shook his head. “As of this moment, I do not even see the beginning of a dress, yet you all expect to be rewarded.”
The old man fetched a broom from the doorway and removed three twigs. “Yarin,” he asked, “can you break this twig?’
“Of course, Papa,” he said, and he did.
“What about you, Judah?” asked the old man. “Can you break a twig too?”
“Easily,” replied Judah, and he did.
“Can you do the same, Isaac?” asked the old man.
“Certainly,” replied Isaac as he snapped the twig in two, “but what does this prove?”
The old man smiled and picked up the broom. “Now,” he said, “break the twigs that are bound together.”
Each son took a turn, but not one of them could do it.
The old man held the three broken twigs in his hand.
“Surely you can see that there seems to be more glory and riches in standing alone,” he said, kindly. “But like these bound twigs, working together brings strength.”
The sons looked at each other shamefacedly.
“We have wasted precious time being greedy,” said Isaac. “Now it’s too late, Papa.”
“Nonsense!” countered the old man. “Yarin, place the pattern on the table so that Isaac can cut the cloth so that Judah can sew it. Together you will make a fine gown.”
The brothers worked together all night and most of the next day to finish the gown before the Friday deadline.
When the rabbi’s wife saw the dress, she was very pleased with it. However, she liked another gown better, and she awarded the fifty shekels to someone else.
On their way home, the sons remained silent.
“I know that you are disappointed,” said the old man, “but together you made a very fine gown. Because it is so fine, others will buy the garments you make.”
The next day, many people came to the tailor shop.
One of them was the hazan’s daughter.
“Oh,” she said, admiring the dress, “what a beautiful design! Such delicate stitches! And it is cut so beautifully that I’m sure it will fit me.”
She was so delighted with the dress that she bought it and ordered several more. So did her friends and others, until the three brothers had earned fifty shekels many times over.

During the better part of a year, Jim Christensen, Steve Taylor, Steve Hatch, Kirk Henrichsen, and Bruce Chapman, all of the Sharon East Stake in Provo, Utah, photographed, recorded, and edited a fantastic thirty-minute three-screen slide show, complete with stereo sound track.
The presentation requires six people to set up and run the equipment, so others often get called in to help, especially since the two Steves recently left on missions. The show is in great demand, and thousands of people have seen it at many school and ward showings.
Their reason for doing the show? They wanted to show themselves as they are, young people who are products of the gospel. “It is nice to be out and alone and away from all the world’s hang-ups. We all love nature, and we wanted to show how beautiful the world around us really is. Everything is so great and the plan is so perfect, so why get all hung-up? Just go out and let the environment and your inner action with it tell you what to do,” explained Jim Christensen.
To them, the show represents life as the pictures slide through the various seasons. They really have great ideas for their next production, because now they have reaped the artist’s reward—they have moved people. They reached out and touched someone; they made them feel good and warm inside. And with their music and pictures, they have made thousands aware of the power and beauty of God’s creations. The following words and pictures are theirs.

Ellie is twelve. She was planning to go to the Family History Library with her Beehive class. She was a little apprehensive, not having been before. But her father told her not to worry. All she needed to do to get started was to use the computer.
But Ellie smiled. She was sure that her father was joking, and she replied, “Oh, I could never do that. I couldn’t even work the computer.”
The day arrived for her visit to the library. Ellie and her friend Cami decided to give the computer a try. They quickly learned that if they would read and follow the instructions on the screen, they would do just fine.
It was an excited Ellie who returned home that evening. “So you found some names you recognized?” her father asked. “Oh, yes! At first I looked for Grandpa’s name, and I found it. Then I looked for Uncle Steve, and he was there. And then I looked for me, and I was there. I found me! I was right there on the screen! And all of the other family names filled up the whole screen. When can we go again?” she said.

Mary Jane Driver was eager and excited. James Buchanan had been elected President of the United States that year of 1856, and on such an occasion, as on all national holidays, her father flew their flag.
Mary Jane, her brothers and sisters, and a number of neighbor children gathered around her father, Captain William Driver, as he opened the camphorwood chest and removed the folded flag. Mary Jane knew how much he loved that flag, for he handled it with tender care. “That’s my Old Glory,” he told them proudly. Mary Jane never tired of hearing the story of the flag.
Her father had been born in Salem, Massachusetts, in 1803, when the United States was very young. He had gone to sea when he was just thirteen. He loved the sea and ships, and he had become an expert seaman. By the time he was twenty-one, Mary Jane’s father had been made captain of a merchant ship, the Charles Doggett.
Captain Driver’s mother and his friends wanted to show him how happy they were about his new command, so they made a flag of worsted bunting for the Charles Doggett. It was a large flag, measuring nine feet five inches by seventeen feet. Captain Driver named the flag Old Glory.
“It was the proudest day of my life,” he told his children. “The flag looked beautiful flying up there on the mast of my ship.”
Old Glory flew from the mast of Captain Driver’s ship as he sailed to Australia and to Pitcairn Island—and on two voyages around the world.
But in 1837, when Mary Jane’s mother became ill, Captain Driver gave up his life at sea and settled his family in Nashville, Tennessee. It was here that Mary Jane grew up and where she watched her father take the flag out of his old sea chest on important occasions.
When the Civil War broke out, three of Mary Jane’s brothers fought for the Confederacy. Her father, however, remained loyal to the Union, the country of his flag. And because Nashville was in confederate hands, Captain Driver, fearful that his flag would be destroyed, hid it.
The Confederates knew that he had a Union flag, and several times they came to his home, demanding that he turn it over to them. Mary Jane’s heart beat fast on those occasions. But though Captain Driver allowed the soldiers to search his home, they were never able to find the flag.
Then, on February 25, 1862, Union forces entered Nashville. Mary Jane’s father asked a captain of an Ohio regiment to accompany him home, where he took his flag from its hiding place, stitched inside a quilt. Mary Jane watched proudly as soldiers escorted her father, carrying the folded flag, to the state’s legislative building. Once more his flag flew proudly in the breeze—this time over the Tennessee State Capitol! After the flag was raised, Captain Driver said, “I lived to raise Old Glory on the dome of the Capitol of Tennessee; I am now ready to die and go to my forefathers.”
Old Glory was flown throughout the night, and Captain Driver stayed at the capitol to guard the flag against possible harm.
The Ohio soldiers liked Captain Driver’s nickname for his flag, and as news of what had happened in Nashville spread, the term “Old Glory” became popular. Soon the Stars and Stripes came to be known as Old Glory on many battlefields.
In 1873 Captain Driver gave Mary Jane his dearest possession, Old Glory. He knew that she loved his flag, too, and would care for it. Mary Jane was very grateful, and for years she flew it on all holidays over her home in Nevada, where she had moved after she was married.
In 1886 Captain William Driver died. He was buried in Nashville. On his tombstone was engraved, “His ship. His country. And his flag, Old Glory.”
Usually the flag of the United States is flown only between sunrise and sunset, but Congress authorized a flag to fly day and night over Captain Driver’s grave.
Mary Jane kept Old Glory for many years as a reminder of her father and to honor the country that he had loved so dearly. Then, in 1922, she decided to give the flag to the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, D.C. Although Old Glory was worn and faded by then, it was put on display there with other famous historical flags of the United States.

2. Prayerfully select specialists.
The Tanners were a new couple in the stake. No one was aware that he was a builder. Their expertise was crucial when setbacks developed. The manufacturer of the trusses wouldn’t assemble and deliver until three days after youth conference. Brother Tanner knew how to apply just the right pressure to get the trusses there on time. The plans for the barn/house were submitted with the standard load of 40 pounds per square foot, but the city said the structure had to have the barn specifications of 120 pounds per square foot. Five days before construction was to commence, Brother Tanner had to scrap the blueprints and completely redo the engineering, foundation, etc. He and another builder burned midnight oil to get the plans back to the city. Since no plans were approved, he couldn’t get the trusses. What a mess. It was a miracle to finally have everything approved and ready and be able to begin the projects. The Tanners started a new business and moved out of the stake soon after youth conference. They were there when we needed them most.