Gospel Story Finder

Recently I saw a young teen-aged friend, Jami Palmer, whom I have known for several years. She is recovering from cancer. She has endured the diagnosis. She has undergone surgery and painful chemotherapy. Today she is a bright, beautiful young lady and looking to the future with confidence and with faith. I learned that in her darkest hour, when any future appeared somewhat grim, her leg where the cancer was situated would require multiple surgeries. A long-planned hike with her Young Women class up to Timpanogos Cave was out of the question—she thought. Jami told her friends they would have to undertake the hike without her. I’m confident there was a catch in her voice and disappointment in her heart. But then the other young women responded emphatically, “No, Jami, you are going with us!”

“But I can’t walk,” came the anguished reply.

“Then, Jami, we’ll carry you to the top!” And they did.

Today, the hike is a memory, but in reality it is much more. James Barrie, the Scottish poet, declared: “God gave us memories, that we might have June roses in the December of our lives.” None of those precious young women will ever forget that memorable day when, I am confident, a loving Heavenly Father looked down with a smile of approval and was well pleased.

Should you become discouraged in your efforts, remember that sometimes the Lord’s timetable does not coincide with ours. When I was a bishop many years ago, one of the leaders of the young women, Jessie Cox, came to me and said, “Bishop, I am a failure!” When I asked why she felt this way, she said, “I haven’t been able to get any of my Mutual girls married in the temple, as a good teacher would have. I’ve tried my very best, but my best apparently wasn’t good enough.”

I tried to console Jessie by telling her that I, as her bishop, knew that she had done all she could. And as I followed those girls through the years, I found that each one was eventually sealed in the temple. If the lesson is engraved on the heart, it is not lost.

“Mommy,” Marla called, frowning, “I’m hungry!”
“Lunch isn’t ready yet, but while you wait, you can play a game,” said Mother.
Marla’s frown vanished. “OK!”
Mother picked up a ball of string, opened the back door, and said, “Follow me.”
Marla skipped along beside her mother. The sun danced on Mother’s hair as they made a big circle with the string in the yard.
“Inside the circle,” Mother explained, “are many wonders of God’s world. While I’m fixing lunch, I want you to count them.”
Marla’s smile faded. “All I see is grass.”
“Look carefully. Not all of God’s wonders are big,” Mother explained.
Marla sat inside the circle. She saw a purple violet blooming.
Next, she discovered an acorn missed by the squirrels. The brown shell had cracked open, and a sprout was curling out of it. Marla gazed at the tall, leafy branches above her. Will this little sprout grow that big? she wondered.
Nearby, an earthworm poked its way through the earth, seeming to wave hello.
Her eyes now saw tiny ants working their way through their grass jungle.
When Mother returned, Marla proudly shared her discoveries with her.
“What a good detective you are,” Mother praised her. “But I see one of God’s wonders that you missed—a very large one, compared to all these others.”
“Where? Where?” Marla asked, looking around.
“Why, you, of course!” Mother told her. “To me, you’re the most special of God’s wonders in that circle.”

Some years ago a priests quorum decided to gather food for the needy as a service project. Jim, one of the priests, was excited to participate and was determined to collect more food than anyone else. The time arrived when the priests met at the chapel. They all went out at the same time and returned at a specified time later in the evening. To everyone’s surprise, Jim’s cart was empty. He seemed rather sober, and some of the boys made fun of him. Seeing this and knowing that Jim had an interest in cars, the adviser said, “Come outside, Jim. I want you to look at my car. It’s giving me some trouble.”
When they got outside, the adviser asked Jim if he was upset. Jim said, “No, not really. But when I went out to collect the food, I really got a lot. My cart was full. As I was returning to the chapel, I stopped at the home of a nonmember woman who is divorced and lives within our ward boundaries. I knocked on the door and explained what we were doing, and she invited me in. She began to look for something to give me. She opened the refrigerator, and I could see there was hardly anything in it. The cupboards were bare. Finally, she found a small can of peaches.
“I could hardly believe it. There were all these little kids running around that needed to be fed, and she handed me this can of peaches. I took it and put it in my cart and went on up the street. I got about halfway up the block when I just felt warm all over and knew I needed to go back to that house. I gave her all the food.”
The adviser said, “Jim, don’t you ever forget the way you feel tonight, because that’s what it is all about.” Jim had tasted the nutrient of selfless service.

At the time, my mom and I were living in New Delhi. I was close to my aunt, so when I was 11, I went to visit her and Uncle Reza in Toronto for the summer. While I was there, my aunt invited me to church. In my first meeting, I loved seeing families sing the hymns together. I had never experienced anything like that.
“What is this place?” I asked my aunt after the meeting. “Everybody’s so happy and friendly. I want to know more.”
Two sister missionaries came and taught me the lessons. I knew I wanted to be part of what I was learning. The gospel made me happy, and I wanted to join the Church, so I did.
Tahira at her baptism with her Aunt Assiya, Uncle Reza, and Sister Jane Rogers, who taught Tahira the gospel.
I attended boarding school while growing up, so I had long summer vacations. My mom worked and my parents were divorced, so I began going to Canada in the summertime. My aunt and uncle became like second parents.
Uncle Reza, originally from Pakistan, enjoyed translating Church hymns into Hindi and Urdu. In sacrament meeting, we would often sing his translated versions of the hymns.
Uncle Reza, pictured above with the author, enjoyed translating Church hymns into Hindi and Urdu. “In sacrament meeting,” Tahira says, “we would often sing his translated versions of the hymns.”
Eventually my mom wanted to know more about the church her daughter and sister had joined. She met with the missionaries and was soon baptized. My mom and aunt made sure I went to Toronto every summer so I could attend church and participate in Church activities.
When it was time for me to choose a college, my aunt and uncle helped me get into Brigham Young University, where I met my husband, who is from Argentina. I often think about what brings our families together. Because of the Church, a young man from Argentina met and married a young woman from India.
As the music supervisor in the Church’s hymn-translation team, Tahira says, “I’m sharing the gospel through the hymns.”
Photograph by Christina Smith
Today, I am the music supervisor in the Church’s hymn-translation team. I work on projects in six different languages. I’m working on translating hymns into Nepali and Burmese, which is my mother’s native language. It’s fun and rewarding. I also work on Amharic from Ethiopia, Twi and Fante from Ghana, and Sinhala from Sri Lanka.
I love my work because music has come full circle in my life. Music was my introduction to the Church. Now I think about how many people will hear the hymns in their own language and be touched. I’m sharing the gospel through the hymns, and I can see how my work fulfills promises made in my patriarchal blessing.
My uncle and aunt have passed away, but through the hymns, I feel the legacy of their strength and testimony. My uncle loved sharing his testimony in song.
“Someday members of the Church will hear and sing these hymns in their own language,” he said. “People will understand what the hymns are saying, and the words will touch their heart.”
I get to be part of that project. It has been a great blessing in my family.
The author and her family at their home in Payson, Utah, USA.
Photograph by Christina Smith

One such family with four young children writes: “We decided to start small because of our children’s short attention spans. Our oldest child was not yet reading, but she could repeat our words, so we began reading the Book of Mormon, just three verses each night. My husband and I would read one verse each, and then Sydney would repeat a verse. We progressed to four verses and then five verses as the boys began to repeat their own verses. Yes, it was tedious, but we kept going. We tried to focus on consistency instead of speed. It took us three-and-a-half years to finish the Book of Mormon. It was a great feeling of accomplishment!”
The mother continues: “Daily family scripture reading is a habit in our family now. Our children are comfortable with scriptural language, and my husband and I take opportunity to bear testimony of truths. Most important, the Spirit has increased in our home.”

What does learning how to cut hair have to do with setting up stage lights?
“It’s all part of my plan,” says Lisa, a young adult now in her first year of college.
Lisa started cosmetology school at age 16. She even found a program that let her attend shorter days at high school so she could train at cosmetology school in the afternoons. The fact that she’s now at college studying theater tech doesn’t mean that the whole salon thing didn’t work out, either. In fact, everything is unfolding exactly how she’d hoped.
“I wanted to have a skill I could use to help pay for college,” Lisa says. “Plus, it lets me serve other people and save money on family haircuts for the rest of my life!”

During her marriage, Deborah, from Michigan, USA, never had a problem managing her finances. But after she and her husband separated, bills became harder to pay. Although Deborah had enjoyed attending the temple regularly, she started struggling to pay her tithing and discontinued going to the temple.
She sought help from her bishop, who told her about the Church’s self-reliance class on managing personal finances, which was being held in her stake. Deborah agreed to go, but at first she didn’t see the reason to attend: “To tell the truth, I said to myself, ‘I don’t know why I’m here. I know how to budget my money. I’ve had a budget all my life.’”
Deborah met with the group and a facilitator. For two hours each week, they learned about both the temporal aspects of financial stability (like organizing a budget) and the spiritual aspects of financial stability (like being a faithful steward over income). “I never connected the two together the way this class connected them,” Deborah confides.
Deborah felt that her covenant connection with Heavenly Father helped her learn how to include Him in her financial decisions. “My Heavenly Father has always been there for me. … I have to include Him in everything.”
When Deborah acted on promptings and direction she received from her self-reliance group, she was able to put aside money for tithing, pay her bills, and even save money, all without increasing her income.
Deborah received blessings “both temporal and spiritual” (Mosiah 2:41) as she kept the law of tithing and applied gospel principles to her budget. Direction from her self-reliance group and inspiration from the Holy Ghost provided a way for her to get a temple recommend and return to the temple. “Everything that I said that I could not do, He showed me that I could do that and so much more,” she testifies. “What you do today determines your future, and I want my future to be that I can walk into that Detroit Temple and start doing the work for my ancestors again.”

A few weeks later, as I was walking through the school library, my friend Brian asked me if I wanted to come to his baptism. Brian and I didn’t have any classes together that year, so it had been quite a while since I had seen or spoken with him. The previous year we had sat next to each other in a history class and had partnered up for a class project. Our project topic, randomly assigned by our teacher, was “Joseph Smith and the Mormons.” I remembered Brian had been quite interested in the topic as we did our research. However, he also liked to joke around, saying things like, “Remind me which wife number your mom is” and “There is going to be this fun party this weekend, but oh, wait—you’re Mormon, so you would be no fun to go with.” Thus, I initially dismissed his baptism invitation as another joke at the expense of my religion. He did not seem like the type ready to join a church with such “restrictive standards.”
But the next words out of his mouth stunned me as he described the whirlwind of the past few weeks of his life. He explained overhearing a fellow classmate and member of my ward invite someone to a question-and-answer activity at the Mormon church. When the person receiving the invitation declined, Brian asked our classmate if he could come along instead. Following the activity, he immediately began taking the missionary lessons. He read the Book of Mormon. He prayed about it. He knew it was true. He really was getting baptized, and if I wanted to, I was welcome to come. After all, he said, I was the one who introduced him to Joseph Smith and the Mormons.

Seventeen years ago today, during the Sunday afternoon session of general conference, I responded to President Hinckley’s assignment that I represent the six newly called Seventy in accepting our calls. As I awaited my turn at the midpoint of the session, I stood between two great Apostles: Elders Marvin J. Ashton and Bruce R. McConkie. I felt their love and support as I gazed with no little trepidation at the congregation of Saints gathered in the Tabernacle. Incidentally, we’re four times greater today. Elder Ashton, sensing my feelings, whispered, “I know it’s an awesome sight, but they’re all your friends.” As I stood that first time to speak, I felt the love of the Saints washing over me. Since then, in all the places to which worldwide assignments have taken us, Shirley and I have felt that same love and tried to return it.

Illustration by Joseph Alleman
I joined the Church when I was 20. Shortly thereafter I married a man from the ward, and we moved because of work. When I was 22, our first son was born. At that time, my visiting teachers started visiting me regularly, even though we lived at the edge of the ward boundary.
Since I was a new mother at that time, my conscience told me that I needed to get in contact with my own mother. But I had broken off all contact with her eight years earlier when my parents divorced. Each time my visiting teachers came over, we spoke about it, and I felt that the Spirit was urging me to take this difficult step.
We discussed how I could begin rebuilding our relationship since my mother does not belong to the Church. So much had changed in my life in the eight years that had passed since our falling out. Because of the strong promptings of the Spirit, I decided to contact my mother’s mother first. My grandmother was blind, so her mail was sent to my aunt who cared for her.
I received a wonderful letter back, and we went to stay for a visit with my grandmother and my aunt. My grandmother was pleasantly surprised and asked only that I stop by to see her daughter—my mother—on our way home. She was very happy.
My grandmother was a Lutheran, and she loved the Savior. While we stayed with them, my husband would read to her each morning from the Book of Mormon. She really enjoyed it. After a few mornings, my husband and my grandmother felt so full of the Spirit that my grandmother went to her desk and pulled out a genealogy book that had belonged to my deceased grandfather and showed it to him. There were eight generations listed neatly, including even their occupations. My grandmother was very happy while we were staying with her, and I promised her that I would visit my mother on the way home, which I did.
Five weeks after our visit to my grandmother’s, she had a stroke and passed away. Two years later I performed the temple work for my ancestors from my grandmother’s information.
I now have a good relationship with my mother. We live in the same town, and she helps me with my children at times.
Without the regular visits from my visiting teachers, who encouraged and supported me through this time, I would never have dared take this step to repair my relationship with my mother. Not only I but also many generations were blessed.

Last year, my Primary teacher asked us to pray for a girl in our class who hadn’t come to church. I decided to remember her in my personal prayers too. I prayed for her all year, even though I didn’t know her. I reminded my family to include her during family prayer too. I was so happy because that friend came to Primary on Christmas Sunday! She is now my friend and comes to church sometimes. I know Heavenly Father heard those prayers.
Campbell D., age 5, California, USA

That Saturday night, the Phoenix Arizona Temple had just had its cultural celebration, and I came away full of emotions. I felt uplifted, excited, and grateful, and I wanted to do it all over again. How could I possibly share this experience with everyone around me?
Well, on Sunday night my friend and I were talking and came up with an idea. What if we got all the members in our school to wear their bright orange “Be a Light” shirts (from the celebration) on Monday? We knew we didn’t have much time, so we tried to spread the word quickly.
On Monday morning as I walked into school, I didn’t see anyone wearing their shirts, and I got kind of nervous. However, a few minutes later I began to see more and more bright orange shirts. As the day went on, I realized our shirts were getting lots of attention. I kept hearing fun, random comments like, “Mormons are awesome,” “Mormons are the nicest people,” and even, “Wow, Mormons are invading our school!” And people would even ask questions like, “What’s up with all the orange shirts?” or “Why are so many people wearing them?”
Then, in the beginning of my social studies class, my teacher said, “There are a lot of people wearing orange shirts today.” Someone shouted, “It’s the Mormons!” and everybody looked right at me! Right then, I decided to stand up and explain our bright orange shirts. I explained why we were wearing them, and I got to tell them all about the celebration of the temple and how we performed for our prophet. I honestly couldn’t have felt more proud that day!
I am grateful for the temple celebration and the opportunity it gave me to share a little bit about my beliefs. It’s a weekend that will never be forgotten.

Some years ago, President Gordon B. Hinckley told “something of a parable” about “a one room school house in the mountains of Virginia where the boys were so rough no teacher had been able to handle them.
“Then one day an inexperienced young teacher applied. He was told that every teacher had received an awful beating, but the teacher accepted the risk. The first day of school the teacher asked the boys to establish their own rules and the penalty for breaking the rules. The class came up with 10 rules, which were written on the blackboard. Then the teacher asked, ‘What shall we do with one who breaks the rules?’
“‘Beat him across the back ten times without his coat on,’ came the response.
“A day or so later, … the lunch of a big student, named Tom, was stolen. ‘The thief was located—a little hungry fellow, about ten years old.’
“As Little Jim came up to take his licking, he pleaded to keep his coat on. ‘Take your coat off,’ the teacher said. ‘You helped make the rules!’
“The boy took off the coat. He had no shirt and revealed a bony little crippled body. As the teacher hesitated with the rod, Big Tom jumped to his feet and volunteered to take the boy’s licking.
“‘Very well, there is a certain law that one can become a substitute for another. Are you all agreed?’ the teacher asked.
“After five strokes across Tom’s back, the rod broke. The class was sobbing. ‘Little Jim had reached up and caught Tom with both arms around his neck. “Tom, I’m sorry that I stole your lunch, but I was awful hungry. Tom, I will love you till I die for taking my licking for me! Yes, I will love you forever!”’”
President Hinckley then quoted Isaiah:
“Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows. …
“… He was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.”

Joining a church where members teach and speak and pray publicly can be intimidating to those for whom church membership was once a more passive experience. Today Aileen Figuerres serves on the Relief Society general board, where she teaches Relief Society leaders throughout the Church. She joined the Church in Hawaii at age 21, and she still remembers how worried she was the first time she was asked to pray in a meeting and teach a lesson as part of a teacher improvement class. In the Buddhist church she grew up attending, she recalls, “The minister did everything, and we sat and listened.” Having come from a non-Christian background, she also found the scriptures difficult to understand at first. She confided her feelings to a friend, and the friend offered to study the scriptures with her. Friends also taught her how to pray.
Sister Figuerres now emphasizes how important it is for new members to reach out to make connections with other Church members. She says it’s important to be brave enough to let others know what you need so they can help.
In retrospect, Sister Figuerres also realizes that as a new member she need not have been so concerned about the “form” as opposed to the “substance” of her service. To keep new challenges from feeling burdensome and overwhelming, Sister Figuerres recommends that new members try to approach challenges with a sense of joy in the learning process. “Because I had sufficient experiences of feeling the Spirit and God’s love, I could proceed in my own conversion process in spite of feelings of inadequacy and fear,” she recalls.

For years, I have wanted to create a large poppy display and in November of last year, I voiced this to our Relief Society president, Yvonne Kerr, who expressed a similar desire. Because we were coming to the close of a horrible year of lockdowns, we felt that setting this up as a project for 2021 would be an ideal time to do it as it would give us something to focus on while we were restricted to our homes and by giving us a common purpose, we would not feel so isolated. Little did we know at that point that we were heading into further lockdowns and this project became a lifeline for many women. The culmination of this work was to be a display at the chapel where we would hold a special commemorative meeting, to which we would invite community leaders as well as our members and friends.
Yvonne asked me to pull a small committee together to make this happen and I knew exactly who to ask.
Esther Wilford became our internal communications director, whose job it was to keep the sisters and ward members updated with our progress. When she relocated out of our ward, we enlisted Julie Beveridge who also did a wonderful job.
Yvonne Kerr acted as our external communications director. She sent out all the external invitations to official delegates, war veterans and medal holders to attend our event.
Mandy Watson acted as the technical and structural engineer (to ensure the large display was stable). The fact that the structure is so sound is very much down to Mandy’s skills and hard work. Part of the display was the silhouette of a soldier. Mandy built all the framework and did all the sealing to make it waterproof before spending many hours as doing several coats of undercoat and paint. She really needs to be acknowledged more for her role in it all. I had the idea and vision, but she engineered the whole thing. Mandy has lots of experience with making sure structures and frameworks are safe and secure and we would need her skills when it came to putting the display together. Mandy is in the middle of restoring a very large, old house and so many of the materials that went into the framework and structure of the display came from her home—from the netting holding the poppies to the cobblestones that weigh the stands down, to the scaffolding outriggers used to stabilize the frame.
I had the easy task of chairing the committee and acting as a wool merchant and distributor. Because we commenced the project during a four-tier lockdown in Scotland, no one could get out to buy wool so I bought in bulk then coordinated with individuals, finding safe ways to deliver and distribute.
Thirty women made and contributed poppies. Because we wouldn’t physically collect poppies from sisters, every four weeks, Esther, and then Julie, would send a request on various messaging platforms to ask how many poppies had been made since the last count. Sisters would relay this to me, and I would keep a tally in a small notebook. We were hoping to reach a total of 1,500 poppies, feeling we could do a nice, decent display with that amount. However, I soon had to keep a record using a spreadsheet because within no time at all we had by far exceeded our initial goal. By the week before the display went up, we had received a staggering 5,589 poppies!
3,592 were made by sisters from the Alloa Ward. Another 262 by sisters from other wards around the country.
There were 967 poppies made by a friend of one of our members and a further 692 made by others not of our faith based up and down the country who belong to a Facebook crafting group. There were also 76 that came from a nonmember relative of mine in Holland.
We were grateful to all 30 women who made and added to the total, but recognition should go to a committee member, Julie Beveridge, who made a very impressive 1,373 poppies herself.
A brother who gave plenty of help throughout the project, Eammon Brereton, made a ‘Lest We Forget’ sign as part of the display.
We estimate that thousands of hours were spent by so many in the preparations for this event but they all felt that this truly has been a labour of love.
Other neighbour and local companies contributed the steel and used their equipment to cut out the soldier’s gun, others donated tenting fabric, and super heavy-duty guy pegs from rebar. A kind and generous benefactor donated £200 for the making of the soldier. A self-employed contractor came to the building on the final day of construction, and when he saw that we were rapidly running out of time, took the afternoon off to help us with some of the wire tethering and knocking in ground spikes.
On 22 October we held an outside lighting up ceremony, conducted by Sister Yvonne Kerr. Besides members of the ward, we had in attendance invited guests who included the lord lieutenant of Clackmannanshire, Lt Col (Retd) Johnny Stewart, and the most senior member of the Alloa Ward, Sister Dorothy Kendall, who pushed a button that lit up the monumental display. Esther Wilford beautifully sang Vera Lynn’s “When The Lights Go on Again, All over The World” and “I Vow to Thee My Country”. One of our Primary children, Emma Black, read the much-quoted lines from ‘For the Fallen’ by Laurence Binyon. People passing stopped to join the crowd, inside and outside of the fencing surrounding the grounds.
We tried to give each poppy its own space to clearly represent an individual. There are varying shades of red and a myriad of patterns, symbolizing the differences in those individuals who, all together have made a huge difference for each of us.
Just before the button was pressed to illuminate the display, we acknowledged to the assembled crowd, many who were not members of our Church, that as members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, we try to put Christ at the centre of all we do and it was in His name that on that night and during the season of remembrance, we honour those from World War I and World War II who fought and fell to give us our freedom, but the display also honours and gives reverence to those in the past and those who currently protect our land, shores, and skies from unseen enemies. They are the real heroes, and that really is what the display is about.
Yvonne Kerr, president of the Relief Society, said: “We really felt that there was a need for people who weren’t able to get together to be able to do something in unity. “It was a good way for the women of the Church to stay in contact with one another and to be able to serve and help other people.” She added: “As COVID started to progress, we really wanted to run with the idea, to be able to acknowledge that there were other people who had sacrificed a lot more than we got to sacrifice. We were very privileged to be able to acknowledge them by creating the poppies.”
Yvonne Kerr told the Advertiser: “It was very well attended. We were surprised by how many people came. It was really wonderful—a lovely event and a great tribute to those who served in our military services and a great way to thank them for what they’ve done for us.”

Brian felt very proud. He had built a birdhouse with a feeder tray that was just right for sparrows. Brian poured birdseed on the tray before he hung the birdhouse up in a tree where he could see it from the kitchen window. Then he waited.
About a week later a mother and father bird moved into the house. They carried small twigs and pieces of grass and string into the house to build a nest. Then the mother bird laid some eggs. Brian watched them every day. He always checked to make sure there was birdseed in the feeder.
One day Brian heard chirping. The baby birds had hatched! All day long the mother and father birds flew out of the house, then came back with a worm or a bug. They landed on the perch in front of the door and poked their heads in. When they pulled their heads out, their beaks were empty, and they flew away again.
A few days after the baby birds hatched, Brian saw some bees near the birdhouse. After the mother and father birds left to find food, the bees flew into the birdhouse. The bees buzzed and buzzed, and the baby birds chirped like they were scared. The mother and father birds came back, but they could only sit on a tree branch and watch.
Brian was scared. The bees buzzed like they were getting angry, and the babies were chirping frantically. He didn’t know what to do. “Those bees are going to sting the babies and kill them!” he cried.
He ran into the house to tell his mom. After she saw the bees, she called a teacher at the university. Brian sat in the kitchen, listening to his mom on the phone and watching the birdhouse out the window.
“Are you sure?” Brian’s mother said into the phone. “Well, all right, then. Thank you.” She hung up the phone and said, “He said there’s nothing we can do.”
Brian started to cry. He reached up and hugged his mom. Then he said a prayer in his heart. He asked Heavenly Father to help his mom save those little birds.
In about a minute, Brian’s mom ran over to the fridge. She quickly pulled a great big white onion out of a drawer and chopped it in half. Juices started oozing out of the onion and tears started rolling out of her eyes.
“Here,” she said, handing half to Brian. “Go put this on the bird feeder. Maybe it will scare the bees away.”
Brian took the onion and ran out the door. His eyes had started to water and his nose had started to run by the time he got the onion on the feeder. The bees suddenly swarmed out of the birdhouse and were gone. Brian was relieved, but the mother and father birds still wouldn’t come feed their babies. They stayed on their branch, staring at Brian. One had a worm in its beak; the other had a bug. Brian took the onion off the feeder and threw it away. Then the birds came back to the nest and fed the babies.
Brian smiled and silently thanked Heavenly Father for answering his prayer.

While traveling along a mountainous road one evening through a driving rainstorm punctuated with frequent claps of thunder and flashes of lightning, Sister Wirthlin and I could barely see the road, either in front of us or to the right and the left. I watched the white lines on that road more intently than ever before. Staying within the lines kept us from going onto the shoulder and into the deep canyon on one side and helped us avoid a head-on collision on the other. To wander over either line could have been very dangerous. Then I thought, “Would a right-thinking person deviate to the left or the right of a traffic lane if he knew the result would be fatal? If he valued his mortal life, certainly he would stay between these lines.”
That experience traveling on this mountain road is so like life. If we stay within the lines that God has marked, he will protect us, and we can arrive safely at our destination.

“I ran a 5K last Saturday with some of the most wonderful women and men at the Utah YSA conference ‘Together in Christ.’ I was touched by the Spirit of that evening. We had so much fun and felt energized as we gathered together and talked of Christ and ran near His holy house. Several analogies stood out to me that I wanted to share with you.
“First, we were meant to run at our own pace.
“My goal for this 5K was to keep running, don’t stop, and finish (keeping the pressure low!). As I prepared, I realized I could go much farther if I ran at my pace and was consistent. In this beautiful run, some people ran fast, some ran slow, some walked, and some pushed friends or family in wheelchairs. It was not about who came in first or last, but it was about encouraging each other to keep going, doing it together, and finishing.
“Your pace and progress is between you and the Lord. And I think He’s not so much concerned about your placement in comparison to the person ahead of you or behind you. Rather, I think He’s focused on helping you to keep going wherever you are in your personal journey back home to Him. So find and enjoy the pace that works for you, and let Heavenly Father and the Savior strengthen and enlighten your steps!
“Second, we run better together!
“I loved meeting and running with so many incredible disciples of the Savior! With others beside me, I felt motivated to keep going, and the distance didn’t feel as long. One sister said to me, ‘I can run so much better with you!’ I loved that we cheered each other on. Helping others along the way actually gave us the motivation to keep going. I somehow had the breath to visit while running and felt as though I could’ve kept on going. I think that was because of who I was running with and Who we were really running for. We were gathering together in Christ.
“And just as we lifted and encouraged each other in this 5K run, the Savior often works through others in this mortal run to lift our burdens and give us strength, encouragement, safety, comfort, and increased joy. He gives us relief through those that run beside us.
“The last leg was long and uphill and directly toward the Saratoga Springs Utah Temple, which was glowing in the night. I won’t soon forget the comradery and love offered and received as we pressed our way to the finish. May we strengthen each other and feel increased joy as we run this journey together in Christ.”
Sister Kristin M. Yee, Facebook, Aug. 18, 2023, facebook.com/RS2ndCounselor.

A stake president in Logan, Utah, kept a guest book, and after he passed away that book was given to his son. When the son thumbed through the pages, he was impressed with the signatures that were there. Most of the General Authorities had signed the book. One entry he saw was:
Name: Elder Spencer W. Kimball
Date: 1954
Position or title: Apostle
Hobby: “I love people.”
He thumbed through many more pages, and then he saw an almost identical entry ten years later:
Name: Elder Spencer W. Kimball
Date: 1964
Position or title: Apostle
Hobby: “I love people.”
We all knew President Spencer W. Kimball as a man of love. He thought of love as a way to overcome even unknown offenses. Such an incident occurred with one of his neighbors. This neighbor would go out and talk to President Kimball whenever he saw him in the yard, until one day the neighbor’s wife said, “You mustn’t do that. The only time President Kimball is alone is when he is in the yard, and then you go over and impose yourself upon him.” After that, the neighbor stayed in and just watched President Kimball through the window.
A few weeks passed before President Kimball rang the neighbor’s doorbell and handed him a casserole. “What’s this for?” the neighbor asked. “I don’t know,” replied President Kimball. “I’ve come to make amends for whatever I’ve done to offend you. You never come and talk to me anymore, so I decided I must have done something wrong.”
It was President Kimball who has so lovingly explained to us that the Lord whispers to our hearts to go and do and in this way he answers the fervent prayers of others. President Kimball said the Lord has chosen this method of answering prayers because he knows it is the way we will learn most effectively to give love.