Gospel Story Finder

The president of the Cardston Alberta Temple told me this incident. He said, “A group of young people came to the temple for the first time to do baptisms for the dead. After they had gone through two or three baptismal sessions and were about ready to go back home, I talked to them about their own baptisms. I said, ‘After your own baptism, you were told to receive the Holy Ghost, which means that the Holy Ghost will guide and bless you if you are worthy. If anyone should oppose you, or bring harm to you, you can overcome that opposition by the influence of the Holy Ghost.’
“I looked around and saw a pleasant young girl sobbing. She said, ‘When I was baptized, my mother cursed me. Every time I would go out she was vile and called me wicked names. When I told her I was going to the temple, she profaned and said I was no daughter of hers. I have been fasting ever since I left home that here in the temple I would be given a guide and the power to overcome the opposition of my mother. I was going away disappointed. But now, at the last moment, you have given me the key.’ A smile lit up on her face as she said, ‘I am going to bring Mother within the influence of the power of the Holy Ghost which I have a right to enjoy.’”
Then the president said, “Weeks went by, and a letter came from this girl. The letter said, ‘When I returned home and entered the house, mother greeted me similarly to the way she had when I left, by profaning. On other occasions I had fought back, but this time I walked over and put my arm around her shoulder and said, “Mother, I am not going to quarrel with you today. I want you to come over on the couch and sit down beside me. I want to tell you something.” This surprised Mother. As we sat down, we touched cheeks so that in actuality the Spirit would emanate from me to her, and I bore my testimony. I told her what a wonderful experience I had had in the temple. And to my amazement, Mother burst into tears and begged my forgiveness.’
“The girl closed her letter by saying, ‘We are now preparing Mother to be baptized a member of the Church.’”

These escapes started at an early age.
One morning in my eleventh year my brother, my cousin, I, and a fourth boy were standing on the rim of Salt Lake’s City Creek Canyon.
The fourth boy had a mail-order 22-caliber pistol with a broken trigger spring. He had stretched an elastic band across the hammer and under the trigger guard to act as a spring to fire the weapon.
He was showing us how Buffalo Bill shot, by raising the gun high and then bringing it down slowly, releasing the hammer when it was level. Suddenly I felt my left hand go numb. Looking down, I saw a red stain on the white sleeve of my left arm at the biceps level. The stain got larger. I yelled, “I’m shot,” and ran for home.
The bullet had pierced my arm and passed completely through it without touching bones or arteries. I had been on the extreme left of the group, the boy with the gun on the extreme right. The bullet passed in front of my chest on the level of my heart and must have been very close to the skin as it passed. Otherwise it could not have hit my left arm. If that gun had been turned one-fourth of an inch farther to the left, I wouldn’t be here now!
I have since thought about what it was that protected me. I am not one to say that I am a man marked for protection, but I believe I was protected that time.

Mia Maids Kate Hancock and Charmaine Davison, from the Sydney suburbs of Revesby and Gymea, have been friends since they were very young. Even though they live about 45 minutes apart, they go out of their way to do things together. They like the same music, they enjoy spending time together (especially at the beach), and sometimes they even like the same boys.
That closeness became even more precious last year when tragedy struck Kate’s family.
“My nephew, Ben Innis, died just before Christmas, and Charmaine helped me through it,” says Kate. “She always reminds me to go to the scriptures when I feel bad about it. She helps me remember that we know where he is and that he’s all right.”
But it was more than just Charmaine’s good advice that kept Kate going. It was also her willingness to listen, to sympathize, and to care that helped Kate through a very rough time.
“My grandfather had died some time previously,” says Charmaine. “I was just devastated. He died during school holidays, so I had heaps of time to read the scriptures. It helped me so much, and I knew it would help Kate, too.”
So now when Kate and Charmaine list the kinds of activities they like to do together, they not only include things like shopping, talking on the phone, and sports, but they also remember things like studying the scriptures and attending the temple.
“When you do temple work for a member of your family, and you feel really worthy to be there, it helps you feel closer to people who are gone,” says Charmaine. “It’s such a good feeling.”
And, not surprisingly, Kate couldn’t agree more.

Such a project is ongoing on the Pacific Island nation of Kiribati.
Tamana Natanaera, the local self-reliance manager for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, was tasked with finding members with gardening experience and a passion for growing things.
Working with local leaders, Tamana helped to identify seven qualified members whom he refers to as “champions.”
Each champion was given the equipment to set up a nursery tailored to fit in his or her available space.
A simple greenhouse was supplied to hold and protect seedling trays, as well as to offer shade as needed. Seeds were provided for growing nutritious produce such as cucumber, eggplant, capsicum, cabbage, tomato, watermelon, papaya and rock melon.
A watering system is a particular necessity in Kiribati. Although the 33 islands that comprise Kiribati stretch across 3.5 million square kilometres of ocean water, fresh water is very scarce.
The champions were thus each provided with a watering system composed of a small solar pump to draw water from a well, a water tank with a stand, and a piping system.
Tamana Natanaera noted that the water system given to the champions is a big help as it greatly improves their ability to produce more.
With these necessary tools, the champion gardeners are able to do their part. For two years now, they have been planting the seeds in the small trays and nurturing them.
When the seedlings are ready to be transplanted into a garden, the champions begin sharing them with neighbours and friends. They may ask their church leaders to announce to their congregation that seedlings are available. They may also give the seedlings to coworkers or to neighbours in their communities who are interested in growing their own produce.
When the champion has seedlings left over, they can transplant them into their own garden for their personal use or they may sell their excess produce to neighbours.
The Church will provide seeds to the champions for one more year and at the end of that period, the gardeners should be capable of producing their own seeds to maintain growing and sharing the seedlings. The program will continue to bless many people in Kiribati communities.
This project is not just an example of growing seedlings, but also of growing self-reliance, community spirit and neighbourly friendships. Underpinning all of this is a growing faith—among many participants—in He who created all things, and who cares for His children, one by one.

Since it was near the beginning of the school year, being only the second week of classes, his teachers didn’t make much of a fuss over him. He sat unknown in his first two classes. When the bell rang, old friends joined up, leaving him alone and ignored.
His 11:00 class was sociology. It took him a long time to find the room, so that by the time he arrived, it was already nearly full. He found an empty desk and sat down.
To his left a boy was scanning a “men’s” magazine. As he slowly turned each page on his desk, he grinned, chattering a stream of crude remarks to his friend ahead of him.
Kevin looked away to avoid seeing the picture spread blatantly on the desk next to his. He felt his stomach churning; he clenched his teeth tightly, thinking sarcastically that he wished his father were there to see some of the new friends he was making in his new school.
“Hey, are you new here?”
Kevin turned back and saw the boy facing him, holding the rolled-up magazine in one hand. Nodding his head, he said, “Yeah, we just moved here.”
“Great. They call me Fitzie,” he said, flashing a broad grin. “Hey, have you seen this issue yet? Go ahead, take a look.” He plopped the magazine on Kevin’s desk.
Kevin’s mind raced, his internal defense and prosecution lawyers giving their arguments why he should or should not open the magazine to avoid offending the only person who had made any attempt to be a friend.
“C’mon, hurry up,” the boy said impatiently. “Class is going to start in a minute. You do want to look at this, don’t you?”
Kevin paused for what seemed a long time, then with a smile handed the magazine back. “Later. There’s not enough time now.”
At first he thought it had been a victory. After all, he thought, I didn’t look at the magazine. But a gnawing uneasiness bothered him.
The class began with Mr. Martin yelling to get everybody to quiet down. Mr. Martin had the voice and face of a movie gangster, but either because of that or in spite of it, he had control and the interest of his class.
“Today,” he said, leaning against the front of his desk, “we’re going to talk about what ethical basis you use in making decisions or why you do the things that you do. Fitzie, you usually have something interesting to say. Why do you do some things but don’t do others?”
Fitzie extended his feet further into the aisle, attempting to look more relaxed than he was. “I don’t know. I’m no philosopher. I just do things.”
“But how do you decide?”
“Well,” he said with a mischievous grin, “if it looks like fun, then I do it.” This brought catcalls of approval from many in the class.
“Kim, what basis do you use in making decisions?” Mr. Martin asked.
Kim sat three seats from Kevin. He was fascinated by her. Her high cheekbones made her look as if some sculptor had fashioned her face. She caught him staring at her and cast him a hurried smile.
“I think it’s important to be sincere,” she answered. “We live in an age of freedom, don’t we? All the old barriers are down. We’re free to do anything we want to, as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone. So all we have to do is to be honest with our feelings.”
The discussion came around to dating. Kim raised her hand and was called on by Mr. Martin.
“If a girl is going with a guy,” she said, nervously tapping her pencil on the desk, “and if she really cares about him, and if he’s sincerely interested in her at the time, then I think it’s okay for them to use their freedom. I mean, what good is freedom if you don’t use it?”
Mr. Martin walked intently across the room toward Kim. “You say if he’s sincere at the time. What happens when he no longer cares about her?”
Kevin sat close enough to see her eyes close momentarily, as if Mr. Martin had found a weakness. She fought for composure for only a moment, her distress unnoticed by most in the class. “Well, of course, people change … and drift apart. Maybe if they can just try to be honest with their feelings,” her voice trailed off, “while they’re together, maybe that’s all any of us can hope for.”
As the discussion continued, Kevin suddenly realized that he was waiting for someone to stand and present arguments against the ideas being given for doing whatever looked like fun—someone who would say that freedom requires responsibility. In his classes back home in his old high school, although there had been the same reasons given for freedom to “love,” there had always been some of his friends who defended the standards of the gospel.
By the end of the class he realized that the someone he waited for wasn’t around anymore. More painful to him, he realized that he had not been that someone.
After class Kevin went up and introduced himself to Mr. Martin, who gave him some previous assignments.
As he turned to leave, Kim was waiting for him.
“You’re new here, aren’t you? Can I show you how to make it through the cafeteria alive?”
They jostled their way through the line and ate by themselves at one end of a table in the corner. As they ate, other boys came and talked with Kim. As they were leaving the cafeteria, she told him, “I’m not going with anyone now … in case you were wondering.”
They walked outside to the parking lot in back of school. It was filled with students lounging in cars or standing around talking.
“You can get anything here in the parking lot if you need it,” she said to him.
He looked at her with a puzzled expression.
“You know? Beer, grass, whatever you need.”
“Oh,” he said, looking more carefully at the cars filled with students.
“Mostly I’ve given it up. Now it’s just for special occasions. How about you?”
“I’ve never tried it.”
“Never? Why not?”
“I don’t know,” he said weakly, again feeling his stomach tighten up.
“Well, you should,” she said, touching his arm, “just to see what it’s like. It’s fun. Sometime, when my parents are out of town, I’ll let you know. Maybe we could get a few others together and have a party.”

“I spent eighteen years teaching and fulfilling my responsibilities as a priest,” says Hsieh. “I was very busy, but I wasn’t happy. I had had the opportunity to study in Europe; I had been a teacher, a student, a professor, a chaplain, a seminary director—my life was colorful—but there was a spiritual void.”
And there were rules and customs within the Catholic church with which Hsieh was uncomfortable, such as the ban on certain books—and he liked to read and study all he could. Another problem that bothered him as an ordained priest was the Lord’s statement: “It is not good that the man should be alone” (Gen. 2:18).
“This particular scripture became a vivid reality for me once when I was seriously sick and there was no one close to take care of me. I felt very alone. I realized the need for a companion to share my life. I decided then that being alone forever wasn’t right.”
This combination of feelings built up over time. Finally, in 1973, he asked to be released from his priestly vows. He resigned from Fu Jen University and was immediately hired by National Cheng Chi University in Taipei. There, one year later, Hsieh met, courted, and married one of his university assistants. He was about fifty years old at this time.
“But giving up the priesthood was difficult for me,” he says. “I had been a priest for so long. Now I had given up everything that I had lived for up to that point in time. I missed sharing my knowledge and understanding of the gospel, something I had been able to do as a priest. I thought about becoming a minister in another church that allowed priests to marry. But because of my belief in the Catholic church, I couldn’t make that change.”
Three years after his marriage, Hsieh was alone in his home when two young men knocked on his door. “They asked to talk to me, and I said I had no time and no interest in whatever they wanted to talk about.
“But as I thought about them, I became more curious. I wanted to know who they were and what they were doing in Taiwan, so I looked out from the balcony of my apartment and saw them going from door to door. I waited for a long time for them to come out of one of the apartments, and then I called to them to come back to mine.
“The first question I asked them was, ‘Are you missionaries?’ When they answered yes, I questioned them about their religion. Many of my questions were left unanswered, and I didn’t feel satisfied with our first conversation.
“That evening, as I discussed their visit with my wife, she reminded me of the Lord’s admonition to ‘beware of false prophets.’” (See Matt. 7:15.)
When the missionaries made a return visit, Hsieh was not going to let them in, but he didn’t want to be impolite. For the entire evening, Hsieh explained to the missionaries what true religion should be. He did not tell them that he had been a Catholic priest, but they felt encouraged by his knowledge of Christianity.
One of the missionaries, Donald B. Cenatiempo, wrote of the experience, “I felt as if we were the students and he was the teacher. We could tell he was a very intelligent and religious man.” The missionaries asked if they could return, and Hsieh said yes. The visits became a weekly ritual.
“I didn’t want to send them away,” Hsieh remembers. “I thought that if their church were true, it would have a prophet and continuing revelation. I asked them why their church didn’t have crosses or crucifixes, and they said, ‘Because Christ is risen; Christ lives. If one of your friends or parents dies,’ they said, ‘do you take out a photograph of them dead and show it to everyone?’ I was spiritually touched by the wisdom of their response.”
Hsieh started to read the Book of Mormon and the Doctrine and Covenants, which he especially liked because it is a record of the Lord speaking to man in these latter days. He asked for other books to read, and the missionaries gave him a copy of A Marvelous Work and a Wonder, by Elder LeGrand Richards.
“We told Brother Hsieh that it was possible for him to receive the priesthood and perform certain duties within that priesthood,” Elder Cenatiempo wrote. “Brother Hsieh understood as well as anybody could in his stage of spiritual progression what it would mean to hold the priesthood—the true priesthood of God.”
Hsieh explained to his wife what he had read, and she found it very interesting. Together, they began to study and pray for understanding. Eventually, Hsieh’s wife announced to the missionaries, “We have prayed and we feel it best to be baptized together.” They were baptized in December 1977.
In the years since that special event in their lives, they have developed strong testimonies that they enjoy sharing with others.
“We have always said that we would be willing to do whatever the Lord wants us to do,” says Brother Hsieh. “And we’ve always tried to use every opportunity and every talent he has given us to help build up the kingdom of God on the earth and to share the gospel message.”
Some unique opportunities have opened up to Brother Hsieh to do this. He has lectured seven times at the International Conference for Christian Professors. “They are interested in the Church because it is quite new and unique in modern Christianity,” he says. “The Lord has given me many opportunities to bear my testimony to these scholars.”
Currently, Brother Hsieh, a member of the Mu Cha Ward, serves as a high councilor in the Taipei Taiwan West Stake and has assisted in work on a second Chinese translation of the Book of Mormon.
“The gospel is the love of God,” he says. “It is important that all men and women hear this message. What we do, we do for the glory of God and the salvation of souls. Friendship is the method by which we share the gospel. The final goal for all is salvation and exaltation.”

On the many occasions “when death invaded his home, … and his little ones were taken from him, he grieved with a broken heart and mourned, not as those mourn who live without hope, but for the loss of his ‘precious jewels.’”18 On 6 July 1879 President Smith expressed grief in his journal over his daughter Rhoda’s death: “I took her on a pillow and walked the floor with her, she again revived but only lingered about an hour and died in my arms at 1:40 A.M. Now God only knows how deeply we mourn. This is the 5th death in my family. All my little ones most beloved! O! God help us to bear this trial!”19

Sir Tom Moore was 100 years old and recently passed away, but before he did, he decided to help frontline health workers during the COVID-19 pandemic. He walked 100 steps, using his walking frame, every day for 100 days in his garden. He raised 40 million pounds! He said: “One small soul like me won’t make much of a difference.” He proved himself wrong. His most famous quote is: “Tomorrow is gonna be a good day!”

Over the years, Brazil has become famous for its skilled soccer teams, white beaches, and tropical climate. But the force behind this pulsating, vibrant culture is perhaps its greatest resource: its warm, fun-loving people. Having a good time and being with friends and family are the central components of most activities. And among the most important and anticipated days in any Brazilian young woman’s life is her 15th birthday celebration. Families sometimes save money for years to put on an extravagant night of dining, dancing, and gift-giving for this coming-of-age celebration.
Priscila Vital, a member of the Rio Negro stake in Manaus, Brazil, had to make a difficult choice about how to celebrate her 15th birthday. Priscila’s birthday would come while her mother, Francilene, was in the middle of a 17-day stake caravan trip to the São Paulo Brazil Temple. Francilene had saved money for three years to go to the temple for the first time, and she had enough money to either take Priscila with her or throw a traditional 15th birthday party upon her return. Priscila’s decision was further complicated because most of the relatives in her tight-knit family were members of other churches and had been eagerly anticipating her birthday for several years. They did not understand the importance of going to the temple.
“All of my aunts and uncles wanted me to stay and have the birthday party, especially because I’m the only girl in my family,” says Priscila. “When I decided to go to the temple, it was a good opportunity for me to show them just how important this was to me.”
As a witness of the increasing faith of Manaus’s members, each year between 150 to 200 members in Manaus go on a multistake caravan to the temple in São Paulo, the most accessible temple in Brazil. Because of the dense forest that surrounds the city, the only way to travel from Manaus to São Paulo is by boat or plane. Plane tickets are very expensive, so eight years ago the stake presidencies in the city arranged a yearly temple caravan by chartering a boat and buses for those desiring to go to the temple. By sharing the costs, the members have enough money to travel to the temple with their families.
The caravan begins by traveling for four days by boat to Porto Velho, a Brazilian city near the borders of Peru and Bolivia. From there, members board chartered buses to take them an additional three days and nights to São Paulo, where they stay in Church-owned apartments next to the São Paulo Brazil Temple. For four days they do temple work, then make the reverse journey homeward.
Priscila prepared for her temple trip by studying general conference talks about the temple with her mother, reading Church magazines, and studying the scriptures. She also gathered the names of four generations on her father’s side of the family so she could perform vicarious baptisms for them. Priscila’s mom compiled the family history information for four generations of her side of the family.
Once the 185 members departed Manaus by boat, Priscila and the five other young women in the caravan helped tend the Primary-age children and fixed meals. At night they slept in hammocks on the boat deck to try to stay cool in the hot jungle temperatures.
“Being on the caravan was so spiritual because everyone was so excited and anxious to go to the temple,” Priscila comments. “Most people had never been to the temple, so almost no one knew exactly what to expect. Everyone sang songs and read scriptures together. We were so united.”
The bus ride was the most difficult part of the journey because the buses traveled both day and night for three days, and the members were unable to move around much. As a result, many of the members had severe pain and swelling in their legs.
When they arrived at the temple, Priscila immediately went to the baptistry to do baptisms for the dead, while her mother went to a different part of the temple to receive her endowment. Priscila spent every day in São Paulo in the temple, even though it was the first time she had been to the large metropolis.
“I spent my 15th birthday in the temple. When the baptismal font coordinator discovered it was my birthday, he told me he had a present for me,” Priscila explains. “So many people come to the temple that most patrons can do the baptisms for only five people. He gave me a large stack of names of people who needed their baptismal work done for them. He couldn’t have given me a better present.”
Priscila’s mother comments about other changes that happened in Priscila’s life: “The caravan spiritually influenced her. She was a light for all of the other members. Everyone came back different. On the bus ride home, we felt that our appearances and faces had changed; we were all so happy.”
Priscila’s example and willingness to share the gospel helped many of her family members and friends join the Church. One of them, her aunt, recently returned from serving in the Brazil Recife Mission. Now Priscila is encouraging her father and two brothers to prepare to go to the temple so they can be sealed as a family—something she hopes will happen soon.
For Priscila, giving up her 15th birthday celebration was no sacrifice. “When it was time to come home, I didn’t want to leave,” Priscila remarks. “All I want to do is save money so I can go back to the temple as quickly as possible.”

I’ve spent quite a bit of time as a visitor at the Utah State Prison. Some of my best friends are there. I like to go there because every time I go, I learn something. I learn about personal pride. I learn something about performance. I learn something about people.
One day, when I was talking with the warden at the prison, I asked, “How many prisoners do you have here in the prison who might be classified as ‘impossible’?” I knew that the prison was overcrowded—over 800 prisoners in a facility large enough for only 600, and I knew also that there were a lot who were really problems. I remember one day being in the yard with some of them and seeing a tattoo across the chest of one man that said “A Born Loser,” and he was out to prove it. So I was impressed when the warden said that, of all the prisoners at the Utah State Prison, there was only one whom he would classify as being really impossible or incorrigible.
I asked him to tell me about the man. He said that that prisoner has to remain in his cell 23 hours and 40 minutes every day. He cannot be with anyone else. He isn’t insane; he’s just hardened. “We can’t give him any freedom,” the warden told me. “His meals are served in his cell through iron bars. He has toilet facilities and a bed, and that is where he stays all but about 20 minutes of the day, when he is taken out for a shower. The last time he was allowed to be with other prisoners he put a knife through another inmate. He would do this today if he were allowed any freedom.”
No personal pride. No worthy performance. No patience. The only thing he is accomplishing in his life is being number one—number one in impossibility, in incorrigibility.

As a single parent, my mother had many things to do, but she always took time to help me, comfort me, or simply listen to me. Knowing that she was always there was invaluable, and I want to give that to my own children in the future.
When my mother remarried, her new husband chose to become the father of my older brother and me. Soon afterward, a little sister joined our family, but I have never felt the slightest difference in the affectionate and loving way he has taken care of us all as his own. Thanks to his attitude, my older brother and I have been able to grow up in a strong and unified family with the priesthood in the home. The day we were sealed as a family was very special. His loving example has taught me that a father isn’t just something you are—it’s something you become.

Susie and Sammy were in their secret hideout behind the couch.
“I wonder where Susie and Sammy are,” said Mommy as she walked by. Susie giggled. Sammy giggled.
“Listen,” said Daddy. “I think we have mice in our house. Maybe we should get a cat to chase them away.”
Susie and Sammy giggled again.
A few minutes later, when Mommy put dishes out on the counter so that she could set the table for dinner, the doorbell rang. When she went to answer it, nobody was there. She stepped out on the front porch and looked around. She still couldn’t see anyone. When she returned to the kitchen, she had quite a surprise—the table was all set! “Now, who could have done that?” she asked. There was a giggle from the closet. “It must be mice,” Mommy mumbled to herself.
After dinner, Susie and Sammy excused themselves, Mommy went to do the laundry, and Daddy started to clear the table. The doorbell rang again. When he went to answer it, nobody was there. He looked all over the yard, but couldn’t find anyone. When he came back to the kitchen, the table was cleared. “Now, who could have done that?” asked Daddy. Another giggle came from the closet. “We really need a cat,” Daddy said to himself.
The next morning when Mommy was starting to make beds, the doorbell rang again. And again, nobody was there! “This is very strange,” she said. When she got back to the bedroom, both Susie’s and Sammy’s beds were already made. “This is very, very strange,” she said. “Is that a giggle I hear coming from under the bed? No. It’s probably just mice again.”
That night Mommy called to Daddy, “It’s time to get Susie and Sammy ready for bed. Will you help me?” Suddenly the TV went on, the radio went on, the doorbell rang, and the timer on the top of the stove started ringing. Mommy and Daddy went running. When they came back, Susie and Sammy were in their pajamas and in their beds, looking freshly scrubbed and pretending to be asleep.
“My, my!” said Mommy. “Wasn’t that a commotion?”
“What could have caused it?” asked Daddy.
Susie and Sammy started to giggle.
“Just those mice,” said Mommy winking at Daddy.
“We’d better get a cat,” said Daddy winking at Mommy.
“Meow! Meow! Meow!” Mommy and Daddy said, tickling and kissing Susie and Sammy. “Let’s keep these mice!”

When I was in junior high, a party was a big deal. There weren’t very many of them in those days, so I was excited when I received an invitation to a party given by Cheryl Allen, a new girl at school.
Cheryl arrived on the scene in the middle of eighth grade. She was pretty and confident. Somehow she knew how to choose and wear clothes that made her look older than the rest of us. She immediately seemed to attract a large group of friends, especially the boys.
A big crowd was expected at the party, with a lot of friends from her old school attending. I felt flattered to be invited and talked Mom into buying me a new dress to wear for the occasion.
The party started fine enough. Cheryl’s dad barbecued, and we ate dinner outside on the patio. The atmosphere was casual and fun. Things were going great, and I met some of the friends she had invited from her old school. Then the games began.
During the first game, we took turns asking each other riddles from a game book. If we answered correctly, we were told to select a member of the opposite sex and kiss him “long and slow like they do in the movies.” I was 13 at the time and had never kissed a boy before. I felt so young, inexperienced, and out of place. Some of the others must have sensed my discomfort, because when it was my turn they told me to just give one of the boys a hug. How embarrassing!
I wanted to get out of there. But how could I do it without embarrassing myself further? I was worried what the kids would think of me and how dumb it would look to have my parents pick me up from a party at 8:30 P.M. Would I be a total outcast at school on Monday?
Then there was the problem of my parents. Would they think I was running around with a bad crowd if I told them why I really wanted to come home? Maybe they wouldn’t let me attend any more parties.
Finally, I shut out all these worries and just walked away from the group and called home. Dad answered the phone and said he’d be right over to get me.
I don’t remember what excuse I gave Cheryl for leaving. It really didn’t matter. I’m sure she knew why I left anyway.
I had planned to be really nonchalant with Dad on the way home and just tell him the party was boring. Somehow, when I started talking, my voice started to quiver and the truth spilled out with a flood of tears.
Dad was upset at first and said, “I’m going back there to talk to her parents.” My worst fear. When Dad saw the panic on my face, he must have sensed how sensitive I felt about it. Fortunately, he kept driving the car toward home.
Dad did most of the talking on the ride home. He told me about a couple of experiences he had at my age when he felt awkward around girls and unsure of himself. He really had some crazy things happen to him. Dad was usually such a quiet man. He never talked much about his childhood. He made me laugh that night. It was good for me to know that it was hard for other people to grow up, too.
I developed a real appreciation for Dad that night. We seemed to have a bond between us after that experience. I had seen a new side to him. When you’re young, you think your parents have always been parents and that they couldn’t possibly understand what you’re going through. My eyes were opened a lot through that experience.
As for school on Monday after that infamous party, I can’t remember what happened. I guess it really didn’t matter in the long run.

I started my freshman year at college, and everything was going great. Great, that is, until an all-too-familiar feeling of my personal shortcomings began to settle in my stomach. My second-oldest brother, who was not only co-captain of my college team but also my roommate, had just come home from the mission field. He told extraordinary stories about living in England and preaching the gospel.
I read letters from the mission presidents of both of my older brothers describing what a good missionary “Elder Bennett” was and how blessed they would be because of their obedience and faith. Again, I began feeling inadequate. How could I ever measure up to their high level of missionary success? Although my body had grown several inches taller and my muscles had doubled in size, my testimony had not grown proportionately.
I confided in my brother and roommate, “What can I do to prepare to be a great missionary like you were? How can I change people’s lives like you did?” Again I received simple counsel. “Do the things that great missionaries do. Be nice to people, read your scriptures, and pray daily.”
I took the advice to heart and could feel my spiritual growth begin to catch up with my physical body.

Susan Hardy, California, USA
When I was 11 years old, my Sunday School teacher, Brother Deets, told our class that if we would memorize the Articles of Faith and explain to him what they meant, he would buy us our own set of scriptures.
Brother and Sister Deets were a young couple, just starting out. I wasn’t sure Brother Deets could afford to buy a gift for anyone. But I decided that if he thought the Articles of Faith were important enough to memorize, I would take the challenge.
After I finished all 13, time went by and I forgot about his promise.
Then, on Christmas Day, I received a package with my name on it. I opened it to find a set of scriptures just for me, with a card encouraging me to read them regularly. That was in 1972, and to this day I still have those scriptures. They are precious to me.
It wasn’t the cost of the gift but the kindness he showed to me and the sacrifice he was willing to make for me that left me with a deep desire to study the word of God. I try to follow Brother Deets’s example of ministering by giving meaningful gifts to those around me, hoping that I can bless others’ lives as he has blessed mine.

When our children were little and we lived in San Rafael, Mendoza, Argentina, we started the tradition of making Christmas doves. Previously we had been sending so many Christmas cards to friends and family that it started to become a strain on our budget. So, instead of purchasing expensive, preprinted cards, we decided to make our own in the shape of doves, spreading a message of peace at Christmastime. In the beginning, our doves were simple and made of white cardboard, but over the years they have been adorned with a variety of colors, Christmas messages, and scriptures about the birth of Christ. The children enjoyed making them. Although our children are all grown now, the tradition continues on.
Georgina Crisman,Black Creek (Spanish) Ward, Mississauga Ontario Stake

A true story from India and Canada.
Tahira folded the last shirt and put it in her suitcase. She was packing for a trip to spend the summer with her aunt and uncle in Canada. She was excited but also a little nervous. Canada was far away from her home in India.
“Do you have everything?” Mom asked.
“I think so.” Tahira closed her suitcase.
“You’ll have a great time. Be sure to give Uncle Reza and Aunt Misu big hugs from me,” Mom said.
When Tahira got off the plane in Canada, she gave Uncle Reza and Aunt Misu a big hug. “This is from my mom,” she said.
They spent the next few days exploring the city and nearby places. She got to visit her first amusement park and see Niagara Falls. It was a lot of fun!
On Saturday afternoon, Tahira helped make chicken makhani for dinner. After they ate, Uncle Reza asked her a question.
“Would you like to come to church with us tomorrow?” he asked. “We go to a Christian church. We learn about Jesus Christ and His gospel there.”
“Sure,” Tahira said. Mom and Dad believed in a different religion, but Tahira went to a Christian boarding school in India. Going to a new church wouldn’t be that different.
The next day, Tahira put on a dress her aunt gave her to wear. When they got to the chapel and walked inside, everyone was singing. Tahira stopped and stared at all the people. There were moms and dads sitting with their kids. Everyone looked happy. The singing was so beautiful.
This feels like heaven, Tahira thought.
Tahira sat down on one of the benches with Aunt Misu and Uncle Reza. She watched as trays of bread and water were passed. She listened to the speakers talk about Jesus Christ. And she heard more singing. The last song was about families being together forever. She loved how the words made her feel.
After the last prayer, Tahira turned to Uncle Reza. “What does being together forever mean?”
Uncle Reza smiled. “We believe that if we follow Jesus Christ and make and keep promises with God, we can live in heaven with our families someday—all together.”
Tahira felt warm inside from her head to her toes. She liked the idea of being with her family forever.
After church, Tahira kept thinking about the beautiful music. She wanted to learn more about Jesus Christ and forever families. She decided to meet with the missionaries. As the weeks passed, Tahira knew more and more that the gospel was true.
Tahira called her parents to tell them about what she was learning. Then she asked them an important question. “Can I be baptized?” They said yes!
On the day of her baptism, Tahira, Uncle Reza, and Aunt Misu sang “I Am a Child of God.” Uncle Reza had translated it so they could sing it in Hindi. Hindi was the language she spoke at home in India.
As Tahira sang, she felt a warm feeling in her heart. It felt like heaven. And Tahira knew that because of Jesus Christ, if she kept her promises to Heavenly Father, she could live with both of Them again one day.
About Tahira
After her baptism, Tahira went back to India. There wasn’t a ward or branch near her home, but her ward members in Canada called her often.
Today, Tahira helps translate the hymnbook into many languages.
Illustrations by Ekata Mandal

My companion and I later learned that Brother and Sister Diaz were both working for minimum wage at a local textile mill and sending half of their earnings to Guayaquil to help support their families. When we suggested that we eat less often at their house so we wouldn’t be a financial burden on them, Niza exclaimed, “Oh, no, Elder Norman!” She explained that since they got baptized and started paying tithing, somehow their freezer seemed to stay full of chicken and fish, even though she frequently fed the missionaries.

In Doctrine and Covenants 123:12 we learn, “There are many yet on the earth … who are only kept from the truth because they know not where to find it.” Through Hugo and Niza’s missionary efforts as members and later as stake missionaries, many came to know the truth of the gospel.
When we, like Hugo and Niza, seek diligently for the truth and then eagerly share the good news of the gospel of Jesus Christ, we will see a multitude of blessings in our lives and in the many lives we touch.

Malo e lelei! I’m Lui, and I shine my light by sharing what I have with others.
I live on a big island in Tonga. I have six sisters and four brothers, and I live close to the Nuku’alofa Tonga Temple.
We have many beautiful plants and animals on our island. I’m in class four at the Ocean of Light Primary School, and science is my favorite subject.
My father grows crops, so we have plenty to eat. But many widows (women whose husbands have died) and other families don’t have their own crops. So my parents take them some of ours. I like going along to help!
The widows we visit use coconut husks to make fires to cook their food. When we take food to them, I always remind my parents to take coconut husks too. I help load the husks into the van and unload them when we get to the widows’ houses.
Heavenly Father gives me great blessings when I help others—not blessings of money but blessings of wisdom and knowledge. I always want to help and share what I have with others.

During high school my heart wasn’t really in the gospel. In the mission field I slowly learned what a mission was really about and wanted the power and progress it could bring in my life if I were truly worthy. Finally, the guilt and sorrow from past transgressions bore me down, and I wanted freedom—to be clean and to be a better tool in the Lord’s hand. After some discussion with my mission president, I went home to take time to repent.
Returning home was among the hardest times of my life. I began reading the scriptures differently, actually understanding and applying them. While I was doing everything “right,” I still felt a great burden of guilt. Then I started to focus my studies on Christ and His Atonement, how He could be my Savior and how His infinite Atonement could redeem my soul. One night while meditating upon all I had learned from those prayerful studies, I felt the Spirit touch my heart, heal my soul, and comfort me. I felt secure and loved, and my guilt left.
When I first got home, I thought a change of heart was all I needed for the repentance process. Now I know that I needed time to repent—change comes line upon line, a little at a time. It requires prolonged effort to change our hearts, desires, and habits to be more like Christ. We can’t make 180-degree changes instantaneously, but because of the Atonement, they can happen completely.
Name withheld, Georgia, USA