Gospel Story Finder

Another time, Joseph was having difficulty going to bed. He wasn’t cooperating and was irritable. I asked him to tell me some of “The Living Christ.” As he began, I could feel the Spirit come into the room. He calmed down and changed back into his normal, happy self. Some time later, on another night when he was restless, I tried it again. This time his reply was very different: “No! I don’t want to be happy!” Our young son had learned what remembering Jesus Christ could do. Indeed, the Savior had become more real to all of us.

When I was a young father, our little son, who was five, came home from school one day and asked his mother, “What kind of work does Daddy do?” He then explained that his new classmates started debating about their fathers’ jobs. One said that his father was the chief of the city police, while another proudly declared that his father was the chief of a big company.

So when asked about his father, my son simply said, “My father works in an office on a computer.” Then, noticing that his answer did not impress his new little friends much, he added, “And by the way, my father is the chief of the universe.”

I guess that was the end of the conversation.

I told my wife, “It’s time to teach him some more details of the plan of salvation and who is really in charge.”

But as we taught our children the plan of salvation, their love for Heavenly Father and for the Savior grew as they learned that it is a plan of love. The gospel of Jesus Christ is centered on the love of the Father and the Savior for us and our love for Them and for one another.

In middle school, other kids commonly question me about why I don’t date, drink coffee or tea, or cuss. Sometimes they even tease me. One way I deal with this is to tell them about my standards and what I believe in. There is so much sin and profanity everywhere that it is hard to avoid being teased or asked why you don’t participate in it. I answer that I am a Mormon and live by high standards. For example, when I am asked why I don’t drink coffee, I explain that I live by the Word of Wisdom and want to keep my life free from addiction. Usually after explaining my standards, people are understanding and willing to believe me.
Elijah S., 14, Washington, USA

Illustrations by Scott Peck
Andrew opens his last birthday present …
It’s a model rocket!
This is the coolest present ever!
Sweet! Let’s put it together.
Dad said I have to wait for him to help.
Whatever. We can do it by ourselves.
That doesn’t really feel right. … But I REALLY want to see it take off.
OK, it’s pretty easy. I mean, I’m 10 now. And 10-year-olds can do basically anything.
Three, two, one … BLAST OFF!
But then …
OH NO! That’s Mr. Warner’s car! We have to tell him!
No way! He’ll be so mad when he sees this!
I’m outta here!
I wish I could run away too. But I know that’s not right.
Andrew runs inside to tell Mom what happened. She calls the fire department.
Now to tell Mr. Warner …
Yes?
Mr. Warner! Your car’s on fire!
That warning feeling I had must have been the Holy Ghost. I should’ve listened!
The seats are burned pretty bad. But it looks like the rest of the car is OK.
I’m so sorry, I’ll pay to fix your car.
Thanks for being honest and for sticking around. I know it wasn’t easy to tell me.
A few days later …
What’s that?
The bill to fix Mr. Warner’s car. It’s going to cost a lot.
I probably don’t have enough.
We can pay right now, and you can work to pay us back.
OK. Thanks for helping me. I’ll work hard and pay it back.
I made a mistake, and I want to fix it. I mean, I’m 10 now. And I can do hard things. Especially when I listen to the Holy Ghost!

It was a sweaty Sunday afternoon, and the chapel was stifling. My wife was wrestling with the kids to keep them reverent, and I was wrestling with my eyelids to keep them open. We were both losing.
The speaker didn’t help me any in my fight against sacrament meeting slumber. He was a typical youth speaker, and he followed the pattern of most youth speakers in our ward—he read to us from the book Especially for Mormons.
As he droned on, my wife and I both surrendered: she took the kids out to the foyer, and I decided to grab some shut-eye. I assumed sacrament sleep position number one: weight forward, elbows on knees, head down, face in hands, and soon I was dozing comfortably.
Maybe I was too comfortable or maybe somebody poked me awake—it’s happened before. At any rate, my head slipped out of my hands and “thwap!” my forehead cracked the bench in front of me.
I don’t normally have such headaches in sacrament meeting, but a dull speaker and a stuffy chapel almost always make me drowsy.
Sometimes, though, it’s easy to listen to and learn from speakers no matter how uncomfortable the setting. It’s the speaker, not the conditions, that has a lullaby effect on me. So, what does it take to be a good speaker? Can anyone, including youth speakers, give interesting talks in church?
I never gave much thought to why some speakers are more interesting than others until one of my own sacrament talks bombed. I had prepared what I considered a good talk about patriotism with plenty of quotations and scriptures, but they didn’t help much. I ended up putting more people to sleep than the sandman. I was so embarrassed that I vowed I would never give a boring talk again.
I started paying close attention to what other speakers, interesting speakers, did in their talks. A few weeks after my sacrament meeting disaster, I went to a fireside featuring our stake presidency. Each man delivered inspiring, stimulating messages, and as I looked around the audience, not a single person looked bored.
The second counselor spoke first. He talked about his childhood in a small Wyoming town and how he went out of his way to befriend a boy who had been rejected by all the other kids at school. He told us how, 20 years later, that friendless boy, now a successful man, came to him and thanked him for his kindness. He concluded his talk by quoting a scripture about the worth of souls and bearing his testimony of the gospel.
Next the first counselor told of his great-grandmother, a woman who had personally known all the presidents of the Church since Brigham Young. He related his last visit with her and how she admonished him and his young family, in a firm but aged voice, to “Keep the faith!” He then read a scripture about enduring to the end and finished his address with his testimony of the importance of constantly striving to do good.
Our stake president was the final speaker. He talked of the importance of showing love in families and told the story of the last time he saw his father alive. His parents were at the bus stop to bid him farewell as he left for his mission. In parting he shook his father’s hand, hugged and kissed his mother, and turned to board the waiting bus. As he stepped aboard the bus, the Spirit prompted him to return to his father and say good-bye again. We listened raptly as he told us that he stepped off the bus and went to his father to embrace and kiss him one final time. His father did not live to see him again.
In concluding he bore testimony of the importance of showing love to one another in our families. We were all deeply touched and inspired by his message.
After the meeting, I thought about what each of the fireside speakers had done to present an interesting, uplifting speech. They all used the scriptures to teach a gospel principle, they told a relevant inspiring anecdote or personal experience, and they bore their testimonies.
In the next general conference, I noticed that many of the General Authorities used the same scripture-anecdote-testimony formula in their talks. Could that same formula be used by others with success?
I decided to try the scripture-anecdote-testimony combination in my next speaking assignment to see if it might improve my effectiveness. I spoke about the temple and the joyous experience my family and I shared when we were sealed together. Next I explained the importance of temples and quoted a scripture to emphasize my point. Finally, I bore my testimony of temples and the eternal blessings they provide.
The congregation didn’t stand and applaud my talk at the end of the meeting, but they didn’t fall asleep either. As a matter of fact, several people complimented me on my talk—something that was usually done only by my wife and the bishop. I felt good about the talk I had given.
Anybody can give a talk in sacrament meeting, and most everybody does, sooner or later. Your turn will come soon (or again), and you can make it a successful, enjoyable experience for you and your listeners if you’ll include some of the same simple steps used by effective speakers.
First, prayerfully select or consider your topic. Next search the standard works for one or two pertinent scriptures. Then review your own experiences (or those of others that you’ve read about) and select an uplifting anecdote to relate. Finally, plan to bear your testimony about the principle you discuss in your talk.
If you include these four steps as you plan your next talk, and if you’re well prepared, you’ll deliver an effective, interesting talk in sacrament meeting.
And I promise I won’t fall asleep.

There was Uwe, the young, idealistic environmentalist, who heard about the plan of salvation and knew the message was true. He bicycled 5 miles (8 km) to church on Sunday morning in answer to our invitation, even though his long, leather-clad legs wouldn’t fit into the chapel’s pews. When he prayed on his knees for the first time, we felt the peace that entered his heart, and we watched his countenance change.

When President George Albert Smith was a boy, he had an experience that changed his life. He wrote:
“As a child, thirteen years of age, I went to school at the Brigham Young Academy. … I cannot remember much of what was said during the year that I was there, but there is one thing that I will probably never forget. … Dr. Karl G. Maeser one day stood up and said, ‘Not only will you be held accountable for the things you do, but you will be held responsible for the very thoughts you think.’
“Being a boy, not in the habit of controlling my thoughts very much, it was quite a puzzle to me what I was to do, and it worried me. About a week or ten days after that I suddenly understood what he meant: You will be held accountable for your thoughts, because when your life is completed in mortality, it will be the sum of your thoughts. That one suggestion has been a great blessing to me all my life, and it has helped me on many occasions to avoid improper thoughts, because I realize that when my life is over I will be the product of my thoughts.” (Sharing the Gospel with Others [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 1948], pages 62–63).

Why was the revelation on the priesthood such an occasion of joy? As a young man studying and working in the legal profession, I lived in the Midwestern and Eastern regions of the United States for 17 years. I had observed and shared the pain and frustration experienced by those who suffered these restrictions and those who observed them, criticized them, and sought for reasons. I studied the reasons then being given and could not feel confirmation about the truth of any of them. As part of my prayerful study, I learned that, in general, the Lord seldom gives reasons for the commandments and directions He gives to His servants. I determined to be loyal to our prophetic leaders and to pray—as promised from the beginning of these restrictions—that the day would come when all would enjoy the blessings of priesthood and temple. Now, on June 8, 1978, that day had come, and I wept for joy.

I was born in 1929 in Meissen, Germany. My parents were simple people. My father was unemployed for many years, and my mother worked in a factory. When World War II began, my father was immediately called to military service and became a prisoner of war in 1945.
My parents were not happy in their marriage, and when my father returned from the war in 1947, they divorced. My world fell apart.
I was eighteen when my father left our apartment to live alone. I lived with my mother, but there were many conflicts. Kindness, warmth, and understanding were foreign to me, and I began to lose faith in the possibility of living a harmonious life. I gave my all to my job, but my life had no real meaning. As the years went by, an iron wall developed around my heart.
When my mother died in 1991, the emotional pains of my childhood flooded back to me. I felt forlorn, once again like a lost child.
Just two months later, the missionaries found me. They spoke quietly, with understanding, warmth, and kindness. The spirit they radiated penetrated my iron heart, and on 11 November 1991 I was baptized.
Since that day, peace has entered my heart. I have learned to pray, to fill my mind with the scriptures, and to live according to the Word of Wisdom. Of course I have much to learn, but I will gladly do it, because I know that our Heavenly Father is with me every day, helping and leading me. I have found peace at last.

Years ago I was on a mission in England. I had been called to labor in the European Mission office in London under President Joseph F. Merrill of the Council of the Twelve, then president of the European Mission. One day three or four of the London papers carried reviews of a reprint of an old book, snide and ugly in tone, indicating that the book was a history of the Mormons. President Merrill said to me, “I want you to go down to the publisher and protest this.” I looked at him and was about to say, “Surely not me.” But I meekly said, “Yes, sir.”
I do not hesitate to say that I was frightened. I went to my room and felt something as I think Moses must have felt when the Lord asked him to go and see Pharaoh. I offered a prayer. My stomach was churning as I walked over to the Goodge Street station to get the underground train to Fleet Street. I found the office of the president and presented my card to the receptionist. She took it and went into the inner office and soon returned to say that the president was too busy to see me. I replied that I had come more than 8,000 kilometers and that I would wait. During the next hour she made two or three trips to his office; then finally he invited me in. I shall never forget the picture when I entered. He was smoking a long cigar with a look that seemed to say, “Don’t bother me.”
I held in my hand the reviews. I do not recall what I said after that. Another power seemed to be speaking through me. At first he was defensive and even belligerent. Then he began to soften. He concluded by promising to do something. Within an hour word went out to every book dealer in England to return the books to the publisher. At great expense he printed and tipped in the front of each volume a statement to the effect that the book was not to be considered as history, but only as fiction, and that no offense was intended against the respected Mormon people. Years later he granted another favor of substantial worth to the Church, and each year until the time of his death I received a Christmas card from him.
I came to know that when we try in faith to walk in obedience to the requests of the priesthood, the Lord opens the way, even when there appears to be no way.

I walked to school and to Primary with my closest friend, Ralph Frei, who was three or four months older than I. One day in spring we were walking along the gravel road in front of my uncle’s house. Ralph had just recently been baptized, and I sensed a difference in him. I felt as if he had changed. We began talking about his baptism and confirmation, and he explained about the Holy Ghost.

“When you receive the gift of the Holy Ghost, you’ll know you have it,” he said. “It’s just like someone is sitting on your shoulder, whispering in your ear, teaching you the things you need to know.” He said that if we invite the Holy Ghost into our lives, He will guide us.

I never forgot Ralph’s explanation. From that moment, I wanted to have the gift of the Holy Ghost. Four months later I received that special gift as my father confirmed me a member of the Church.

When I was 30, my friend asked me some questions that changed my life. He asked, “If you had all the money in the world, what would you do?” I gave some simple answers, like buy a house, look after my family, be self-reliant, etc.
Then he dug deeper and asked, “What if you had all those things and all the money in the world, then what would you do?” That’s when I realized that regardless of my marital status, I had a lot to give to the world. I thought about the things I could learn and share and the difference and impact I could make.

Can you remember the last time you wore your old snow boots, the ones that are now a size or two too small? How about those cross-trainers you bought and then decided that you really needed running shoes instead?
Youth in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, knew that there were plenty of perfectly good pairs of shoes in the closets of the members in their stake, shoes that were going to waste. So they requested donations from each ward and were overwhelmed when 1,200 pairs of shoes arrived at the stake center. But after the initial shock wore off, the youth got to work cleaning, polishing, and disinfecting the shoes for people who might otherwise go barefoot.
“The most enjoyable thing was to think that we’re sending these shoes to someone who really needs them,” says Paula Williams, a Laurel from the Lakeland First Ward.
The shoes are now being distributed to orphans in Romania and other countries. Shoes and boots were also donated to local charities in the Coeur d’Alene area.

The Persian marketplace looked like a giant circus of brightly colored tents. It sounded like one too. Jonas Hanway had come to Persia to buy wool to carry back to England in his ships. But before he could begin trading with the wool merchants, a royal parade stopped everything.
“Make way for the Prince of Persia!” a courtier announced.
As the prince passed, the people bowed low as was their custom. But Jonas did not. He wanted to see everything that was happening. Four strong men were carrying the prince in a velvet-draped sedan chair. They held him on their shoulders high above the heads of the people. Over the prince’s head another servant held a strange shade to keep the sun away.
“What a wonderful idea!” exclaimed Jonas. He soon learned that the prince’s shade was called an umbrella.
How helpful it would be if everyone in Persia had an umbrella of his own, Jonas thought.
Soon Jonas had a number of umbrellas made to shield the sun’s rays from the heads of common persons. But when the prince heard about it, he ordered Jonas to come to the palace.
“You must stop making umbrellas,” commanded the prince. “I forbid it. Only princes and kings may carry an umbrella in Persia. It is a sign of royalty.”
The prince shook his finger angrily at Jonas and shouted even louder, “This is the way it has always been in Persia and this is the way it will stay. Take your umbrellas and go home!”
Jonas returned to his home in England, stored the umbrellas in his attic, and became so busy that he forgot about the prince.
Then one day as Jonas was leaving his home it began to rain. In minutes all the covered chairs and horse-drawn coaches were taken. Jonas was left wet and cold on his doorstep.
In those days riding in a covered chair called a sedan was an easy way to travel. Two or four men carried the chair between them on two long poles. When it rained everyone jumped in a sedan chair to keep dry.
All the people riding in chairs reminded Jonas of the Prince of Persia.
If an umbrella can keep the sun off the prince of Persia, maybe it will keep the rain off me! he thought.
Jonas ran to his attic and found an umbrella. Holding it over his head, he walked down the street.
“Look at that crazy man!” cried the children as he passed. Few Englishmen had ever seen an umbrella before.
Jonas carried his umbrella every time it rained. He gave umbrellas to his friends to carry too.
The chair men became angry. They tried to run over Jonas and some threw rocks at him.
But the people liked Jonas Hanway’s strange new idea. It was not long before many people in England were carrying umbrellas. And as the new idea spread to other parts of the world, the umbrella became known everywhere as man’s best friend—when it rains!

You may know that I am the mother of seven sons. I know boys! It has been an exciting life at our house! I’ve learned a lot from them and from their friends, both boys and girls, and I could tell you a few of their secrets. Maybe I could just share one and hope that I won’t get in trouble. This is it: boys hate to be embarrassed. I remember the time a young man I know had a date for the prom. He brought her to our house before the dance so we could take pictures. When they got there he came into the kitchen, where I was looking for the camera, and said: “Wait until you see my date’s dress. She looks so beautiful!” This boy had never said anything like that before so I could hardly wait to see what he meant.

When I saw her I understood; she was lovely. The dress she was wearing was beautiful; I learned that she and her mother had searched everywhere for it. When they finally found this dress, they knew it would be perfect with some added fabric and finishing touches to meet their high standards.

All their efforts were rewarded because she was absolutely radiant this night, but it was more than the dress that made her shine. It was her quiet confidence. As I looked at her, I was reminded of the scripture, “Let virtue garnish thy thoughts unceasingly; then shall thy confidence wax strong.” Where did this confidence that she had come from? I noticed that this young woman could focus on others because she was not worried about how she looked. She had taken care of that detail weeks before. The young man she was with felt comfortable and safe and happy when he was with her because her dress was not revealing. It was modest in every way, and this made her confident and happy. And that’s appealing. He wasn’t embarrassed by her; he was proud of her.

The kind of young woman who can be a terrific torchbearer has high standards all the time, not just in her prom dress, but every, ordinary day. There are so many of you who are like that, and I salute you tonight. You have made modesty your way of life. It is more than how you dress. It includes at least six things that I can think of: (1) your behavior is decent and modest, and yet you are very fun to be with; (2) your language is never crude but happy and interesting; (3) you are well groomed, and that is appealing; (4) you are focused on developing your talents and achieving your goals, not piercing and tattooing and flaunting your body; (5) you play sports with gusto but never lose control; (6) you don’t seem to care about what the latest pop star wears or does because you have a certain style of your own. In summary, you do not imitate the world’s standards because you know a higher standard. You know who you are, and that puts you at a real advantage. You know that you really are a daughter of Heavenly Father. You know that He knows you and that He loves you; you want to please Him and honor His love for you. You know that even if you make foolish mistakes, He will help you if you turn to Him.

You act like you have memorized For the Strength of Youth! Isn’t that a great little guide? Sometimes I like to call it “helps for happiness” because living these standards can be your secret weapon for attracting good people to you and keeping you on the right track. When you live the high standards of the Church every day, you hold high the torch.

A girl I will call Liz is an example of what I am talking about. She was a student in a math class with a girl I will call Lindsay, who noticed that there was just something about Liz that “glowed,” as she put it. Lindsay admitted that she really didn’t think Liz knew her, but she still made her feel good. She really stood up for what she believed, and she always made others feel good and included. For several weeks Lindsay observed Liz. Then one day, Liz didn’t show up at school. Then another and then another passed. Lindsay finally learned that Liz was very ill with life-threatening meningitis.
She came home from school and just sat at the table crying. It wasn’t like she and Liz were close friends, but she said to her mom that they just had to do something to help her. Lindsay suggested that perhaps their whole family could fast and pray for Liz. What a shock it was for the mother to hear that coming from one of her own children, because fasting and prayer had not been mentioned in their home for years. When Lindsay and her mom talked with the rest of the family about it that night at supper, there was some resistance, but Lindsay pleaded with them and finally they all agreed to fast and pray for Liz, a stranger. The most wonderful thing happened. It wasn’t long before Liz returned to school appearing healthy and happy as ever. But even more important than this, the experience brought the most remarkable spirit of hope into Lindsay’s home. Because of it, some serious changes have taken place in their family. They are now having family prayer together, something that had not happened for years.

Liz’s goodness glowed, and it was catching. Liz, if you are here tonight, I would just like to say, “Thank you! By your goodness you have blessed at least one whole family whom you probably do not even know. And who knows how many others have been guided as you held high your torch.”

Being good makes you feel good, and it also makes others feel good! Can I just tell you this—it is so much easier to do what is right than it is to do what is wrong. Life is so much less complicated when you are good.

The greatest advantage of being good is that it will lead you to the temple, the most beautiful and sacred of all the places on this earth. The temple is the place the Savior could visit because it is His holy house here on earth.

President Lorenzo Snow’s granddaughter was in the temple with him on one occasion when President Snow said to her, “‘Allie[,] I want to tell you something. … It was right here that the Lord Jesus Christ appeared to me.’ [Grandfather] put his right hand on [my] head and said, ‘Now granddaughter, I want you to remember that this is the testimony of your grandfather, that he told you with his own lips that he actually saw the Savior, here in the temple, and talked with him face to face.’”

Can you imagine the reverence you would feel to walk the same halls the Savior walked? Do you picture yourself there, pure and clean, a daughter of God, prepared to receive His finest blessings?

Personal Progress will help you in your preparation for the temple. It is inspired of heaven. What a beautiful little treasure it is. It will help you draw closer to the Savior, and it will help you magnify the divine gifts of womanhood of which we have spoken. It is designed just for you at this very important period of preparation, for the patterns you set and the choices you make now will affect the rest of your life. It is our prayer that as you complete your Personal Progress, your light will shine so brightly that it will be an influence for good on generations to come. For these reasons and more, the First Presidency has said: “We desire all young women to strive to earn the Young Womanhood Recognition. As youth work on these goals, they will develop skills and attributes that will lead them to the temple and prepare them for a lifetime of service to their families and the Lord.” The beautiful new Young Womanhood medallion depicts temple spires reminding you that you are preparing to receive the ordinances of the temple, for it is through the temple that we come to Christ.

We are especially thinking of Christ on this Easter eve. More than 2,000 years ago on this eve, as His body was in the tomb, some believed that the light had gone out. But we know that on the morning of the third day, which we call Easter, He arose to be our salvation, our Savior, our eternal light that will never fail us. I testify that Christ is the light and the life of the world.

Dear young women, let your light shine so brightly before all of your family and friends that they may see your good works and glorify your Father who is in heaven. It is a privilege to carry the torch. It is our prayer that His light will shine on your path every step along your way and that your goodness will qualify you to one day receive the ordinances of the temple, for it is in that holy place that you will find the greatest light of all, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

The most widespread and valuable use of sea bottles has been to trace ocean currents so that ships may avoid an opposing current and take advantage of a favorable one. One dramatic example of this use was made by the Colonies’ deputy postmaster general, Benjamin Franklin, before the Revolutionary War. Puzzled as to why British mail packets usually took a week or two longer than Yankee ships to make the Atlantic crossing, Franklin talked to Yankee whaler captains. He found that bottles loosed in the Gulf Stream arrived in North America faster than those simply thrown in the sea anywhere. Thereafter, British ships followed that current.

In 1956, after returning home from several years in Washington, D.C., and having declined several attractive offers there, I received an offer to work at the University of Utah. My wife said I should take it. She said presciently, “I feel if you go there, maybe you will have some influence on students.” I replied impatiently, “I’ll be typing news releases, not working with students.” The subsequent opportunities included being a bishop of a student ward, dean of students, and teaching hundreds of fine students in political science. It wasn’t status that mattered, of course, but being stretched and being given opportunities to serve.

Merry Christmas, Grandma and Grandpa, my two favorite missionaries!
Love, Abby
Abby underlined the word love as her brother, Zac, marched into the living room.
“What are you doing?” Zac asked as he peered over Abby’s shoulder.
“Finishing my Christmas card for Grandma and Grandpa. Are you done with yours?” Abby looked up at Zac as he dropped a fistful of crayons onto the table.
Zac shook his head. “I don’t really want to make a card for them.”
“Why?” Abby asked, surprised.
Zac shrugged. “I don’t know. It seems strange not having Grandma and Grandpa come to visit us. I miss hearing Grandpa’s great stories, and it doesn’t seem the same without Grandma serving her secret-recipe pumpkin pie.”
Abby nodded. “It’s been three months since Grandpa and Grandma left on their mission. We’ve never gone that long without seeing them. I miss them too.”
“I always thought if people loved you, they wouldn’t want to leave you.”
Abby glanced around the living room at the four red knit stockings hung on the mantelpiece, the garland strung around the kitchen doorway, and the colored lights blinking brightly on the Christmas tree. Suddenly her gaze became fixed on the Nativity scene placed on a small wooden table in the corner of the room.
“Come with me,” Abby said, gently tugging Zac’s sleeve. She led him over to the table. “Isn’t this beautiful?”
“Sure,” Zac said with a puzzled look on his face.
Abby carefully picked up two shepherd figures and three small white sheep from the manger scene. She set them on the floor beside her. “Zac, what if an angel hadn’t appeared to the shepherds, telling them Jesus was born?”
“Abby,” Zac said, upset, “the manger doesn’t look right without the shepherds and the sheep.”
“I know,” Abby said softly. “Help me put these back in place.”
She pressed the shepherds into his hands. “The shepherds knew about Jesus because somebody told them. But, Zac,” she said as he placed the shepherds close to the manger, “there are a lot of people who don’t know about Jesus.”
Zac was quiet as he ran his fingers over the top of the stable. “And Grandma and Grandpa are going to find them and teach them about Him.”
“That’s right. Think what a special Christmas this will be for the families Grandma and Grandpa are teaching the gospel to.”
“I still miss them,” Zac said, almost in a whisper.
“Me, too,” Abby agreed.
Zac scooped up his crayons. “See you later,” he said.
“Where are you going?” Abby asked.
“I have to make a Christmas card for Grandma and Grandpa.”
“Show it to me when you’re finished, OK?” Abby called as her brother disappeared around the corner. Her gaze returned to the Nativity scene. She smiled as she gently touched the small star above the manger. “Merry Christmas, Grandma and Grandpa.”

On May 15, 1942, Piet Vlam kissed his wife good-bye and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” As the train carried him through the springtime countryside toward Arnhem, a Dutch city near the German border, his mind was full of his pressing duties as second counselor in the Netherlands Mission. He was impatient to get back to them.
Unfortunately, this trip was unavoidable. As an ex-naval officer in occupied Holland he was required to register in Arnhem with the other Dutch officers.
These all-too-frequent registrations had become a routine, though irritating, part of his life—nothing to worry about. He didn’t suspect as he watched green fields flash past his window that his one-day trip to Arnhem was to be a three-year journey into captivity.
In Arnhem the Dutch officers were informed that they were prisoners of war and were loaded onto trains bound for Germany. As Piet rode through the darkness of discouragement and night on his way to the prison compound at Langwasser, his mind stood somewhere apart from the sweat and metal world around him, wrestling with an unanswerable question: “Why?” The Lord had called him to the mission presidency, and he was needed badly. Why was he being taken away? Every click of the railroad tracks seemed to ask again, “Why?” But there was no answer.
But Piet’s faith was strong. He didn’t really need an answer. He would wait and see.
He didn’t realize till much later that his imprisonment constituted one of the clearest though most unwelcome mission calls in the history of the Church.
One day not long after his arrival at Langwasser, Piet was lying outside the lice-ridden wooden barracks on the camp’s one anemic spot of grass when a fellow prisoner sharing it with him started asking questions about religion. Piet knew exactly how to answer, and this became the first of many religious discussions.
Soon there were many other prisoners who wanted to hear about the Church. Piet couldn’t talk to them in large groups because the guards wouldn’t allow it, so he took two men at a time and walked with them around the camp, mile after mile.
After a few months at Langwasser, the prisoners were transferred to Stanislaw on the Russian-Polish border. Piet made a walk-talk schedule and continued to teach the gospel.
A group of Piet’s most interested investigators asked if they could hold LDS services. They found an empty barracks in a far-off corner of the prison, put a blanket in front of the window for privacy, and set up an old soapbox for a pulpit. They had to do all this in secret because the guards didn’t allow extra meetings.
These services were filled with the Spirit, but they were a little unorthodox. The opening and closing songs were read, since the congregation didn’t dare sing out loud for fear of alerting their guards, and the worshipers had to sneak away afterwards one at a time.
Gospel principles were strictly observed inside the barbed-wire compound. The men observed fast Sunday by giving their meager cup of beans to someone else even though they were already hungry themselves. Many men received a testimony of the gospel while praying through the long nights made sleepless by hunger. One of the most skeptical investigators received a testimony during such a night of fasting. He stood weeping the following day and told of an indescribable feeling of peace that had come over him. He humbly asked that he too might have some small task to help prepare for the Sunday meetings. When Piet asked him to sweep the floor each week, he replied that it would be an honor. “You enter this room,” he said, “and with you the holy priesthood.”
When the men heard about the Mutual Improvement Association, they wanted to hold one of their own, so Piet organized one, calling prisoners to serve as the presidency, secretary, and teacher. They studied the Doctrine and Covenants in their meetings, and Piet later reported that he had never heard that book taught better than it was by these nonmembers.
As the months wore on, the long walks around the camp continued, and men grew strong in the gospel. Their faith helped them to endure. The men developed a deep love for Piet, and one Easter morning they surprised him with an original song entitled “Faith.” It was later included in the official songbook of the Netherlands Mission.
Near the end of the war, the prisoners were moved to Neubrandenburg, Germany, where the Church activities continued. On April 28, 1945, a Russian tank ran down the barbed wire fence, and the camp was liberated. A few weeks later Piet was home with his wife and children. Those of his fellow prisoners who had been willing to receive it took home with them a gift that made the hunger and cold and bedbugs well worth it to them.
Seven of them were later baptized into the Church, and with them many family members. One of Piet’s prison converts later became the first president of the Netherlands Stake.
Piet Vlam was a hard man to distract from his duty. When he was taken away from his mission field, he simply took his mission with him, and many people will be eternally grateful that he did.

“I was only 12 years old when you and your companion taught me the gospel in Taranto, Italy. The year was 1975.” My mind raced as I tried to recall the writer. “You are probably asking yourself if you baptized me. No, you didn’t, because my mother and father refused permission.” The writer went on to explain how painful and embarrassing it was for him and his brother to stop the missionaries on the steps of their apartment building as we were going to ask his parents for permission to baptize him. He recounted how he kept coming to church for a while but eventually stopped because he could not be baptized. “But I kept the teachings in my heart and never betrayed the principles I was taught,” he wrote.
I served in the Italy Rome Mission from 1975 to 1977, and Taranto was my first city. But I could not recall the story that was unfolding in this e-mail. The writer explained that when he was 22 years old he was called into compulsory military service in northern Italy. There he suffered a spiritual crisis that caused him to pray for the first time as an adult. He received an answer to his prayers, and because of this, he sought out the missionaries in that area. He found them at a fast-food restaurant and told them he wanted to be baptized. “Nothing like that ever happened to me on my mission,” I thought. Those elders must have been shocked.
He was baptized and later married in the temple at Friedrichsdorf, Germany. He now had three children, had moved to Canada several years ago, and was an active member of the Church.