Gospel Story Finder

Ten-year-olds are pretty smart. We like to figure things out on our own.
My dad always tells me to liken the scriptures to myself. Liken means that you try to use what you learn from the scriptures in your life. So, when we’re reading together as a family, I sometimes blurt out something before Dad can explain it to us. Like, “I know, Dad, we’re supposed to fast and pray, like it says in the scriptures.”
He smiles because I always get the right message.
But one time, I found out that the scriptures really can be a lot like my life! It all happened when we went on a family reunion backpack trip.
I carried my own big backpack and sleeping bag, and I didn’t complain. After all, it was only supposed to be four miles (6.5 km) to the lake. I could make it, no problem.
The hike wasn’t too hard, but I was glad to stop for a rest after two miles (3 km). Then we saw the first trailhead sign. It said that the lake was still six miles (9.5 km) away. My dad didn’t have to tell me that the trail was really twice as long as we first thought. I already figured that out. He did need to remind us to make our water last longer.
My dad’s advice was important but hard to follow. The afternoon sun felt hot, and we hardly had any shade on the trail. It seemed like we were never going to reach the lake.
The grown-ups stayed in the back with the youngest kids, and the older cousins went on ahead. I stayed with three cousins my age, and we ended up somewhere in between.
When we couldn’t see anyone ahead or behind us anymore, we started to get nervous. Our backpacks felt heavy, and our water bottles were empty. How much farther did we have to go?
Finally, we got so worried and tired that we decided to stop and pray.
After the prayer, we picked up our backpacks and trudged on.
Just a little while later we heard hoofbeats coming up the trail. We waited and saw a man on a horse riding toward us.
He stopped and gave us some water. He explained that our older cousins had hurried to the lake with a water filter to start pumping water to bring back to us. The man heard about how we needed water and had agreed to help. “Do any of you need help with your backpacks?” he asked.
I looked at my cousins, and they smiled back at me. We actually felt pretty good!
“You better go on and help the others,” we said to the man. “We’re fine.”
And it was true! The rest of the way to the lake it felt like angels were lifting our packs and pushing us along. When I told my parents about it later, Dad beamed and Mom got tears in her eyes.
A week later my family read Mosiah 24. My eyes opened wide when we read these words: “And I will also ease the burdens which are put upon your shoulders, that even you cannot feel them upon your backs” (verse 14).
“That’s what happened on the trail,” I blurted out. I didn’t have to think about how to use this scripture in my life—this scripture already described my life! It was amazing! I could hardly wait to find other scriptures that were like my life.
And that’s how I learned I could liken the scriptures to me, and I could also liken me to the scriptures!

Fifteen-year-old Jacque Gray of Bountiful, Utah, looked like she was going to church. Everyone else in the East-Coast modeling contest looked like they were ready for a major professional fashion show. So how was it that Jacque walked away with the grand prize of $250,000 worth of scholarships and prizes?
Some people think it was the personality, poise, enthusiasm, and confidence Jacque developed by being a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. “Most of the other girls were wearing very sophisticated and expensive evening gowns and looked quite a bit older than their ages. Then Jacque came out in her flowered ‘Sunday School’ dress and just charmed the judges,” said one contest official.
Jacque, at five feet, four inches, couldn’t believe she was picked over 72,000 other contestants in the Kid Search ’92 competition. She was surprised when she first made it to the regionals in Denver and won the opportunity to travel to the national finals in New Jersey. She was just happy to be there and wasn’t at all tense about winning. That probably helped her be relaxed in her interview with the judges.
A New York modeling contract is part of the prize, but Jacque doesn’t plan to let that get in the way of being an active Mia Maid, or of using her scholarship money to study at BYU when she graduates from Bountiful High.

I know a young woman who grew up in President Spencer W. Kimball’s ward. She had a fervent testimony of his calling, but while she was on her mission, President Kimball died. This young missionary worried about testifying of a prophet she didn’t know. One evening as she prayed for newly sustained President Ezra Taft Benson, she was immediately flooded with the warmth of the Spirit, and she gained a new testimony. “The Lord knew I needed to know,” she said, “and he knew I would share that witness in the conversion of others.” Sisters, this can happen for you!

When I was 11 years old, my brother and I had a fight, and I refused to forgive him. For three long years, he worked to win my forgiveness, but I kept snubbing him and ignoring his efforts. I always felt guilty—as though I were carrying the heaviest load of my life. But I was selfish, and I had too much pride to admit I was wrong. I don’t know how my brother was so patient with me.
Now I am 14. Recently I was given the opportunity to prepare to go to the Manila Philippines Temple to be baptized for the dead. I realized I had to do something to fix the situation with my brother. I wanted to repent and be friends with my brother again, but I didn’t know how. Every night I thought about how to tell him I was sorry, but I was too shy to talk to him about it. For several nights, I struggled with what to do. Finally, after praying about it, I decided to write him a letter. I put the letter in his room before leaving to attend the temple.
I felt lighter than ever before. My heavy burden was gone, and I was filled with joy. More important than that, I felt worthy to enter the house of the Lord. I realized that if I had listened to the promptings of the Holy Ghost, I would have forgiven my brother long before. And I prayed that my brother and the Lord would forgive me for holding the grudge so long.
I am grateful for the power of forgiveness and that the Atonement of Jesus Christ can help our family be happy once again.

Inspired by a New Era article, “An Author Card for Cindie” (May ’81), Bradley Jenkins of Monte Sereno, California, chose to document the tombstone inscriptions of the Madronia Cemetery as his Eagle project.
Bradley organized the efforts of 33 other people to help in carrying out his project. He organized groups to record the epitaphs on each stone. He then enlisted the help of a computer to organize the names alphabetically. Upon completing his project, Bradley donated copies of his book-length report to local libraries and historical societies as well as to the cemetery and to the Genealogical Library in Salt Lake City.

One Sunday a small child handed the bishop his family’s donation envelope as he entered the chapel before the sacrament meeting. The family had just learned of someone in the ward in need. The boy’s father had said something like this to the child as he placed a generous fast offering in the envelope: “We fasted today and prayed for those in need. Please give this envelope to the bishop for us. I know that he will give it to help those with greater needs than ours.”

I could tell from the boy’s smile and the way he held the envelope so tightly that he felt the great trust of his father to carry the family offering for the poor.

In the early 1950s the United States was at war on the Korean peninsula. Because of the draft policy of the government at that time, young men were not allowed to serve missions but instead were required to join the military. Knowing this, I enrolled in the Army Reserve Officers’ Training Corps when I went to college. My goal was to become an officer like my oldest brother. However, when I made a visit home for the Christmas holiday, my home-ward bishop, Vern Freeman, invited me into his office. He advised me that a young Church leader by the name of Brother Gordon B. Hinckley had negotiated an agreement with the U.S. government permitting each ward in the Church in the United States to call one young man to serve a mission. This young man would receive an automatic deferment from the military during his mission.
Bishop Freeman said he had been praying about it and felt he should recommend me to serve as a full-time missionary representing our ward. I explained to him that I had already made other plans—I had enrolled in the Army ROTC and expected to become an officer! My bishop gently reminded me that he had been prompted to recommend me to serve a mission at that particular time. He said, “Go home and talk to your parents and come back this evening with your answer.”
I went home and told my father and mother what had happened. They said the bishop was inspired, and I should happily accept the Lord’s invitation to serve. My mother could see how disappointed I was at the prospect of not becoming an army officer right away. She quoted:
“Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.
“In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.”
That night I went back to the bishop’s office and accepted his invitation. He told me to go to the Selective Service Office and advise them of my decision.
When I did so, to my surprise the lady who was chairman of the Selective Service Office told me, “If you accept a mission call, you will receive your draft notice before you can reenter Army ROTC. You will serve as an enlisted man, not as an officer.”
Despite this unexpected change, my mission was wonderful. It changed the course of my life as it does for those who serve. But true to their word, the government sent an induction letter drafting me into the U.S. Army about one month before my mission release.

I should like to repeat a beautiful experience, which is very touching to me. I hope Bishop Featherstone won’t mind my mentioning him as the one about whom I am going to speak. This happened just after they moved here from their lovely home, where they had many friends and were very popular. He had come home after work and had gotten into his lounging clothes, and his young son, Joe, said, “Dad, I wish you would give me a special blessing so that I can adjust and feel at home and be happy here.”

His father went upstairs and changed his clothes. As he was coming down, his wife said, “Surely you are not going out tonight.” He said, “I am going to give someone a blessing.” And then he said, “Joe has asked for a special blessing, and I wanted to be dressed and ready to honor the priesthood and to show Joe the interest I have in him, and to make it possible for him to enjoy the blessings through the faith he has in me and the priesthood.”

Brethren, that is the spirit to have. And, of course, as he told his wife, you can naturally imagine what happened. She shed tears as she realized she had a husband, the father of her son, who would be an example and be so interested in him that he would be prepared to represent the Lord in the priesthood that he holds.

Another major sacrifice for the cause of Zion came in 1834, as Brigham accompanied Joseph Smith on the march of Zion’s Camp. Word was received in Kirtland that the Saints in Missouri had been driven from their homes by mobs and that help was needed. An appeal was made to the brethren in Kirtland. Joseph and 205 others answered this plea for help. Force would be met by force. Those who marched knew that death might await them on the other end of their 1600-kilometer trek.

Brigham’s generation was acquainted with long walks, but nothing like this march. President Young later talked about walking month after month with blood in his shoes as he worked as a missionary, but even missionary work was nothing compared to the intensity of this march, day after day, in the heat of the early summer.

As the march proceeded, exhaustion resulted, patience became short, and tempers flared. Finally, the dreaded cholera hit, with its terrifying cramping and sudden death. Two years before that time, North America had experienced a major epidemic of cholera, and its symptoms were well known—diarrhea, spasmodic vomiting, and painful cramps, followed by dehydration that left the face blue and pinched, the extremities cold and dark, and the skin on the hands and feet puckered.

Death could follow in a day, even in an hour, and sometimes the victim would just keel forward as if hewn down by an axe. Some members of Zion’s Camp attempted to flee, but Brigham Young remained. Joseph Smith listed Brigham’s name as one who was most active in caring for the sick and burying the dead.

That leads to the third thing I have seen in the lives of those who have truly come unto Him. They strive to become like Him. They begin to try to do unto others as they know He would do. You and I have seen that in faithful people soon after their baptism and receiving of the Holy Ghost. Once, I went with my missionary companion to visit a family we had taught and baptized just a few weeks previously. The parents took us down into their basement to show us a room. It had been the bedroom of one of their two daughters. But she had now moved in with her sister. The bedroom she vacated was filled with everything the family would need in an emergency.
We had not taught them anything about emergency preparedness. When we asked why they had done something so difficult so quickly, the reply was that they had read in a Church magazine that the Lord would like families to be prepared to take care of themselves and others. They said, “Isn’t that what Latter-day Saints do?”
That simple faith extended to everything they felt the Savior would have them do. And their desire to follow Him lasted. And it changed them. They had always been kind, trying to help others. But that ability to show charity grew. And that has been the pattern in all those I have known who continued to come unto Him over a lifetime.

Hi, I’m Maryssa. And I have a question. About the gospel.
But it’s not the kind that can be answered with a quick appeal to the Topical Guide or even a chat with my institute teacher. It’s complex—beyond my spiritual understanding. This question has kept me up at night. It has made me ache inside. Really, it’s more a spiritual concern than an actual question. And it’s about my role as a woman in the Church.
As a woman, I’m always trying to better understand my place in God’s kingdom. For most of my life, I didn’t think about it much. But as I got older, I began to wonder about the differing roles of men and women in the Church. The more I thought about it, the more concerned I became about the imbalance I perceived. I knew that God is perfectly just and fair. But I couldn’t find a way to reconcile the differences I saw with my existing knowledge of His plan. It was like a puzzle piece that didn’t seem to fit.
So I began to search for answers. I studied the Creation and the Fall and pondered Eve’s choice in the garden. I contemplated my relationship with priesthood power and my future position in the family as a wife and mother. I attended the temple often, paying close attention and yearning for additional insight. But I often came away from these things with even more questions. I pleaded with God over and over for understanding. But my questions didn’t go away.
For months, they ate away at me. I knew that Satan wanted me to doubt my place as a daughter of God. And I knew I could find peace through Jesus Christ. So I continued to search for answers and pray for understanding.
One day, I was reading the Book of Mormon in the temple. I came across 1 Nephi 11:17: “I know that [God] loveth his children; nevertheless, I do not know the meaning of all things.”
It was such a simple verse, but it struck a chord in me. In my time of confusion, it was extremely validating to hear Nephi, one of my Book of Mormon heroes, admit that he didn’t know everything. I finally felt that it was OK if I didn’t understand everything about the gospel.
Nephi’s first declaration hit me even harder: “I know that [God] loveth his children.” To me, Nephi was saying, “I don’t know everything. But here’s what I do know: God loves us. And that’s enough for me.” I was reminded of what I knew all along: God loves all His children—His sons and His daughters alike. And the truth of His love is absolute. It’s the truth upon which everything else is founded. The truth that holds the universe together.
For the first time in a while, I felt peace. My questions still hadn’t been answered, but I didn’t feel lost anymore. I realized that God is in control. He doesn’t expect me to put my questions on the shelf and forget about them. But He does expect me to trust Him. In all of my truth-seeking, I have to remember who the source of all truth is. And I have to recognize that while I’m deliberating over a single piece of the puzzle, He holds the pieces I can’t see. He sees the big picture—the biggest picture. And someday I’ll see it too.
Since then I’ve kept searching for more insight into my questions. And answers come. In bits and fragments—but they come. I gain glimmers of understanding as I search the scriptures, as I “seek … out of the best books words of wisdom” (D&C 88:118), as I talk with people I trust, as I attend the temple, as I study the words of prophets and apostles, as I ponder and pray. Sometimes I still get discouraged. I still have bad days when I get overwhelmed by everything I don’t know. But when those doubts arise, I take a deep breath and a step back and remember what I do know. And that makes all the difference. Even the Savior “received not of the fulness at the first, but received grace for grace.” So, like Him, I will “continu[e] from grace to grace, until [I] receiv[e] a fulness” (D&C 93:12–13).
Maybe some of my questions won’t be answered for a long time. But Heavenly Father has promised that someday “the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea” (Isaiah 11:9). Someday “all things shall be revealed unto the children of men” (2 Nephi 27:11) and “nothing shall be withheld” (D&C 121:28). Someday I will have all the pieces to the puzzle, and it will all make sense.
Until then, I choose to trust in God, no matter how big or how numerous my questions are. I choose to say, “There is goodness here, and I will not abandon it. I will stand by the truth I have, because truth is worth protecting.”
Sometimes the answer is simple. But sometimes, finding answers takes a journey. I won’t give up on my quest to learn and follow God’s truth. I have a long way to go, but I know that Heavenly Father is with me every step of the way.

During a leadership meeting on Saturday, after providing some training, we opened the meeting up for questions and answers. A sister on a pew towards the back raised her hand, identified herself as the district Relief Society president, and asked the following question; “Can we have a second or third or even fourth calling in the Church?” My immediate assumption was that she was concerned about sisters becoming overburdened by the demands of Church service, especially in a district where the total membership is not large. So, I proceeded to explain that in the Church we try to follow a policy of no more than one calling per member. To my surprise, she looked somewhat crestfallen and disappointed by this response. In the tender discussion that followed, I came to understand the purity and honest intent of her question. Although she is serving as a Relief Society president, she yearns to do more, and far from complaining, was actually hoping she could have more callings and assignments. I was profoundly humbled by her righteous desires to serve and was taught a beautiful lesson by her remarkable example of deep conversion. With renewed spiritual understanding, we then talked about how even with one calling we can find great joy in ministering and seeking opportunities to serve as the Saviour would, well beyond our prescribed meetings and specific assignments. In recalling this humbling experience, I am reminded of the Saviour’s statement as he visited with the Nephites that “so great faith have I never seen”2.

I have seen how the Holy Ghost can touch a softened heart to protect a humble disciple of Jesus Christ with confirming revelation.

The prophet sent me to confer the sacred sealing power on a man in a small city far away. Only the prophet of God has the keys to decide who is to receive the sacred power which was given by the Lord to Peter, the senior Apostle. I had received that same sealing power, but only by direction of the President of the Church could I confer it on another.

So, in a room in a chapel far from Salt Lake, I laid my hands on the head of a man chosen by the prophet to receive the sealing power. His hands showed the signs of a lifetime of tilling the soil for a meager living. His tiny wife sat near him. She also showed signs of years of hard labor alongside her husband.

I spoke the words given by the prophet: “Under delegation of authority and responsibility from,” and then the name of the prophet, “who holds all the keys of the priesthood on earth at this time, I confer the sealing power on,” and I gave the name of the man and then the name of the temple where he would serve as a sealer.

Tears flowed down his cheeks. I saw that his wife was also weeping. I waited for them to compose themselves. She stood up and stepped toward me. She looked up and then said timidly that she was happy but also sad. She said that she had so loved going to the temple with her husband but that now she felt that she should not go with him because God had chosen him for so glorious and sacred a trust. Then she said that her feeling of being inadequate to be his temple companion came because she could neither read nor write.

I assured her that her husband would be honored by her company in the temple because of her great spiritual power. As well as I could with my small grasp of her language, I told her that God had revealed things to her beyond all earthly education.

She knew by the gift of the Spirit that God had given, through His prophet, a supernal trust to the husband she loved. She knew for herself that the keys to give that sealing power were held by a man she had never seen and yet knew for herself was the living prophet of God. She knew, without having to be told by any living witness, that the prophet had prayed over the name of her husband. She knew for herself that God had made the call.

She also knew that the ordinances her husband would perform would bind people for eternity in the celestial kingdom. She had confirmed to her mind and heart that the promise the Lord made to Peter still continued in the Church: “Whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth shall be bound in heaven.” She knew that for herself, by revelation, from God.

On the day the Montclair Third Ward was created from parts of three existing wards, the new bishop, Bishop Trask, asked to speak to the youth in his ward for a few minutes after church.
Those waiting for him were mostly all strangers to each other. The ones who came from the same wards sat in small groups and talked about how they wished things could have been left the way they were.
Bishop Trask came in and looked around the room. “Look, I know this is hard on you, but if we try to make it work, the Lord will bless us. And before long all of you will be close friends.”
Bishop Trask looked at the oldest-looking girl in the room. “Excuse me, what’s your name?”
“Dyan. It sounds like D-I-A-N-E, but it’s spelled D-Y-A-N.”
“Which ward are you from?”
“Montclair First. I was the Laurel class president.”
“Glad to have you with us.”
Next he picked out a priest-age boy. “And what’s your name?”
“David Grant. It sounds like D-A-V-I-D and it’s spelled D-A-V-I-D.” David glanced at Dyan and smiled. “I used to be in Cedar Park Second.”
“Could you two stay for a few more minutes? I have to meet with the stake president for just a few minutes, but I would like to discuss some things we could do in this ward as far as youth activities.”
After a few more minutes of introductions, Bishop Trask scheduled another meeting and then excused everybody. A minute later, the room was empty except for David on one side of an aisle of chairs and Dyan on the other.
“Well?” she finally asked.
“Well what?”
“Shouldn’t we talk about this?” she asked.
“What’s there to talk about? I lost all my friends. Not a single one of them is left in the new ward.”
“I lost friends too,” she said.
“But my friends and I were really close.”
She shook her head but didn’t say anything.
David continued, “Cedar Park Second Ward had the best basketball team in the stake. We would have won the tournament this year. I’m the only one from the team in the new ward. Did you look around the room? I’ve never seen so many short guys in my life.”
“I’m going to miss the girls in my Laurel class. We were all really close.”
“This is my senior year. I wish they could have waited a year before making the split.”
“It’s my senior year too.”
“The thing I want to know is why we didn’t get a chance to vote on this,” David said. He rested his head on the back of the chair and stared at the ceiling.
“They asked for people to raise their hands if they sustained the wards’ being split.”
“I know, but that’s not exactly the same thing,” he said.
“Well, it’s common consent. Did you raise your hand to sustain the split?”
“Yeah, sure, everybody did.” David crumpled a piece of paper into a ball and lobbed it toward the wastebasket. It went in. “Three points.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Anybody can do that.”
“You can’t.”
She got up and retrieved the paper from the wastebasket, returned to her seat, and shot. It went in. She looked over and smiled.
“You were closer to the basket than I was,” he complained.
“Maybe six inches.”
“More like two feet.”
“All right, let’s make it fair,” she said.
They stacked all the chairs except two, which they set up side by side in the center of the room. And then they placed the wastepaper basket midway between them on the opposite wall.
Five minutes later they both had made every shot.
“You’re banking the ball off the wall,” she complained.
“So?”
“Anybody can do that.”
“I don’t need the wall,” he said.
They moved the chairs even farther back, then set the wastebasket away from the wall.
After five more minutes, he was forced to admit, “You’re pretty good.”
“I know,” she said with a smile. “I went to the state basketball tournament last year.”
“You did?”
“We made it to the finals. We were ahead most of the game but ended up losing by two points.
“Did you play?”
“Yeah, until I fouled out.”
“How many points did you have?”
“Seventeen.”
“That’s really good.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Not good enough.”
He put the wad of paper in the wastebasket and returned the basket to the corner where it belonged, then came and sat down next to Dyan.
“What are we going to tell the bishop when he comes back?” Dyan asked.
“I don’t know. If they could’ve just waited a year.”
“They didn’t, though.” She paused. “I’m sure the stake presidency prayed about it.”
“I suppose.”
“And the bishop seems nice,” Dyan said.
“I guess so, but he’s not like Bishop Campbell, that’s for sure.”
“He’s not like my old bishop either. But look, I doubt this is very easy for him.”
He scowled at her. “You’re going to say we need to set an example so we can make this work, aren’t you?”
“What would be wrong if I did say that?” she asked.
“I’m still sulking.”
“All right. I’ll give you two minutes to sulk, starting now.”
She watched the clock while he muttered all the reasons why he wished the wards had not been divided.
“Time’s up,” she announced.
He looked over at her. “Already? I was just getting started.”
“We have a new bishop now and in a few minutes, he’s coming back to ask for our help.”
“There’s too many short people in the new ward. The boys’ team will never do any good in basketball.”
“You’ll make up for it.”
He smiled. “You think so?”
“I’m sure of it.”
“Maybe so.”
Just then, Bishop Trask entered the room. He looked around. “Thanks for stacking all the chairs,” he said. “That’s very considerate for the people who will be cleaning the building tomorrow.”
“It was David’s idea,” Dyan said. “We both helped put a piece of paper in the wastebasket too.”
“Several times, actually,” David said with a big grin.
“Bishop, we’re ready to do whatever it takes to make this new ward work out,” Dyan said.
“That’s wonderful! Thank you so much. Do you have a few minutes to talk about how we can help the youth pull together?”
“Sure, no problem. I think we should have a prayer before we get started,” Dyan said.
“Thanks a lot,” David whispered to Dyan as they knelt side by side while the bishop brought a chair over to where they were sitting.
“What’s wrong now?” she asked.
“I was going to suggest we say a prayer.”
“I can’t wait around for you all the time.”
“You won’t have to,” he said.
“Good. That’s the way it should be.”
The bishop returned.
“We’re going to help you any way we can, Bishop,” David said.
“I just said that,” Dyan said.
“I know, but I just wanted the bishop to know I feel the same way.”
The bishop looked confused. “Uh, maybe, I’ll just say the prayer if that’s all right.”
“Whatever you say, Bishop. We’ll support you in whatever you do,” David said. He then looked at Dyan and winked.

A little girl was critically ill. She needed a special kind of blood for a transfusion to save her life.
Her brother had the same type of blood. The doctors asked him if he would be willing to give his blood so his sister might live. Without hesitating, the young boy answered, “Sure!”
After the blood transfusion was completed, the brother turned to the doctor and asked softly, “Now, sir, when will I die?”
It took only a moment for the doctor to realize the young boy had thought that giving blood to his sister would kill him. But he was willing to die for her.

The first of this group in England were Elders John Taylor and Wilford Woodruff, who docked at Liverpool January 11, 1840. Immediately they began their work, and Elder Woodruff became one of the most productive missionaries in the Church’s history. He preached first in the Staffordshire Potteries, working with members among their friends. One member especially helpful to Elder Woodruff was William Benbow, who undoubtedly told the apostle of his brother, John Benbow, a prosperous farmer at Herefordshire, who had joined the United Brethren in his search for the ancient gospel. In early March Elder Woodruff noted in his diary that “the Lord warned me to go to the South.” Immediately he and his host journeyed to the John Benbow home, where the gospel was preached to that family and then to hundreds of willing listeners. In that area alone, Elder Woodruff baptized 158 converts within a month.

When I was 14, I began working for a neighbor who raised bees as a hobby. My job was to take care of his horses, paint fences, mow the lawn, and weed the garden.
The beehives were located in the field behind the garden, and it seemed like every time I was there I’d end up getting stung or chased by some angry bee. I was beginning to wonder if the bees were trying to avenge the death of their long-lost ancestor.
I told my neighbor I was going to need combat pay if he wanted his garden weeded. He told me what I really needed was the right equipment. We went into his basement and he got out his bee suit: thick gloves with sleeves that went all the way up my arms, white pants and shirt because white tends to pacify bees, boots, a hat, and a screen mask that covered my face and head.
Feeling protected, I journeyed outside. Unfortunately it didn’t take long before I felt something crawling around on my head. There was a hole on the top of the mask. I’m not sure who panicked first, the bee or me. I took off running for the house, but before I got very far it was too late.
I guess you could say I got the point that day. But I really got it later when I was reading in Doctrine and Covenants 27:15 [D&C 27:15] where it says, “Wherefore, lift up your hearts and rejoice, and gird up your loins, and take upon you my whole armor, that ye may be able to withstand the evil day, having done all, that ye may be able to stand.”

Brittany Winberg, from Idaho Falls, Idaho, followed President Hinckley’s counsel soon after the fireside. She found that living with a spirit of gratitude does in fact yield wonderful results.
“My mother had prepared a special Sunday dinner after the fireside, and I went into the kitchen to help her with the dishes afterward. While in the kitchen I felt a stinging prompting, remembered the prophet’s words about gratitude, and humbly said, ‘Mom, thank you so much for everything; you are the greatest.’ She looked at me and tears welled up in her eyes and she grabbed me in a tight embrace. She then told me how horrible her day was and that I had done exactly what she had been praying for.”
Just as Brittany had found, saying “thank you” is a wonderful way to express gratitude to those around us.

The closeness of the family now is in contrast to the separation that employment forced upon Brother and Sister Khanakam after they were married in 1981. “A month after our marriage, we were sealed in the Tokyo Temple. When we came home, I returned to Chiang Mai, where I had a good-paying teacher’s position, and my wife returned to her family home in Mahasarakham 830 kilometers away. We lived that way for about a year. But the full-time missionaries would keep asking me, ‘Wisit, do you have the faith the Lord will bless you if you keep your temple covenants? You need to be with your wife.’
“So I quit my job in Chiang Mai and found one in Mahasarakham. I was earning less than half what I had made in Chiang Mai. That’s when we learned to apply welfare principles in our family. We learned how to budget our income, to work with our hands, and to raise a family in the gospel.
“I was called as president of the Mahasarakham branch, and my wife was called as Relief Society president. I was the only male member in the branch. It took a couple of years for the membership to grow. Now they have a chapel of their own—not because of anything we did, but because of the love and unity that the people there have.”

Then, recently I visited the Junior Sunday School meeting in connection with the stake conference where I was assigned. As I entered the room I saw a little girl crying and looking very lost and very, very frightened. Her parents had just deposited her and gone on to the meeting with the big people. In a moment a wonderful young teacher reached her, knelt by her, and put her arms around her and comforted her. The sobs turned to sniffles and peace began to enter a little heart. Just then the second act in the drama began. Another youngster appeared and started to cry also, frightened and feeling alone like the other had. The young teacher, still holding the first little one, reached the second child, and knelt by her and enveloped her in her arms. As she did I heard her say to the first little girl, “Ellen, this young lady is frightened and lonesome. Will you help me make her feel welcome?”
The first youngster, her sniffles barely dried, nodded, and the two little children, in the safe haven of the teacher’s arms, supported each other and soon both were quieted. The teacher put three chairs together and sat between the two of them, a hand gently resting on each.
When I left that morning I thought I had seen as clearly as I am capable of seeing how the Lord expects us to treat each other, and how wonderful it is to have someone who has lived a little longer and learned to love, to reach out and help us, and then help us help others.