Gospel Story Finder

My family has been reminded of this recently in a very poignant way. I have 17 nieces and nephews, who are a pure delight. We have hiked and biked and fasted and prayed together. And recently we have cried together. A few weeks ago we suffered a crushing loss when an accident took the lives of two of my sister’s children—Amanda, who was 11, and Tanner, who was 15. Because we have lived together in love, we have truly wept for the loss of them that died (see D&C 42:45).
Our friends in our hometown wept with us, most of them nonmembers, and we knew their hearts might never be more open to truth than on the day two caskets rested in our little Kansas chapel. So we dedicated the funeral entirely to testifying of Christ and the restored gospel. Afterwards many told us how moved they were by what they heard and by what they felt. Some have even asked to learn more. Now, we don’t know if anyone affected by our children’s deaths will join the Church. But this we do know—that standing up for what we believe and teaching the gospel to friends who had never before been willing to listen helped soothe our pain and bring us joy as a family.

Camille N. Johnson has spent her life studying words, crafting them, and using them to help people solve problems during her more than 30-year career as a lawyer. And she has always found great peace in the words of the scriptures. She counts scriptural figures among her fondest friends.
Still, when she and her husband moved to South America to lead the Peru Arequipa Mission from 2016 to 2019, she longed for words. Having never studied Spanish, she prayed for the ability to communicate with her missionaries and the people so they would feel her love for them and her testimony of the Book of Mormon.
“I trusted in the Lord and relied upon the Spirit to communicate my love and testimony when words failed me. What a sweet and poignant lesson I learned to ‘lean not unto [my] own understanding’ [Proverbs 3:5] but to give it all over to my Savior.”
Along the way she relearned a simple truth of the gospel: “It is about loving the Savior, loving like the Savior, and letting the love and Atonement of Jesus Christ work in our lives.”
Sister Johnson was blessed with love for the mission’s 552 missionaries and now feels her heart expand to love the one million children for whom she has stewardship.
“I relish this opportunity to learn from the children who are a reflection of the pure love of Jesus Christ,” she said.

After talks by all three members of the First Presidency, President Wilford Woodruff knelt on a “plush, covered stool” and offered the dedicatory prayer. “He offered the prayer seemingly with [the] strength of a man fifty years old,” wrote David John of the 86-year-old prophet, who read the 35-minute dedicatory prayer “unhesitatingly without glasses.” Nearly fifty years earlier, President Woodruff had dreamed that Brigham Young gave him the keys of the temple and told him to go and dedicate it. This event was the fulfillment of that dream.

“Seven years after his death, I received a text from my son—or so it appeared.
“My teenage grandson (his son) had just celebrated a birthday and was given his dad’s old phone as a present.
“And I still hadn’t updated the contact information.
“Curious to see what my son and I said to each other in the last days of his life, I began to scroll through past texts.
“I saw many short messages about errands and family events. My heart sank the longer it took to find a text that simply said, ‘I love you.’
“I knew that he knew I loved him, but I wondered if I had missed the chance to say it one last time.
“Since then, I’ve tried to end every text with ‘Thank you’ or ‘I love you so much.’
“I want YOU to stop right now and check YOUR texts.
“Sometimes we get so busy telling each other the urgent things that we forget to say the most important thing: I love you.
“I invite you to text or tell the people you love and live with just how much you care about them.
“Let’s not wait another second to let them know how much they mean to us.
“Text them. Tell them.
“I promise you won’t regret it!
“‘Beloved, let us love one another: for love is of God’ (1 John 4:7).”
Sister Tamara W. Runia, Facebook, July 23, 2024, facebook.com/youngwomenworldwide.

Some time ago a friend of mine was facing the same decision you are. My friend Sarah* always had a strong testimony of the Church and its truths. Since we were young, both Sarah and I had a great desire to get married in the temple.

When she was 17 or 18, she met and started dating a young man. He had a great personality and was very easy to like. He wasn’t a member, but in the beginning it didn’t seem like that was a problem.

Eventually, she started to think about how life would be if she married him, even though it wouldn’t be in the temple. She thought: “Maybe it can work; maybe we can compromise. Maybe he will change in time. Maybe I can bring him into the gospel.”

She thought a lot about this, and she cried and she prayed. She knew deep inside that she had always wanted temple marriage, but her feelings for her boyfriend made it hard for her to decide. In the end she broke up with him. It was one of the hardest things she had ever done, but she put her trust in the Lord.

In the spring of 2007 she married a wonderful man. They are now sealed to each other for time and eternity. She’s truly happy she decided to wait until she found someone she loved and could marry in the temple.

If you don’t know what kind of decision to make, pray about it until you do know. Put your trust in the Lord. I know from watching Sarah—and from my own life—that when we do, He blesses us.

I spent my childhood in Dalton, Georgia. It was during my high school years that my family, with the exception of myself, was introduced to two fine Mormon missionaries and subsequently baptized members of the Church. During that time I spent most of my leisure hours shooting pool.
In my senior year of high school I signed up for the marines, and while my classmates were attending graduation exercises, I was in an airplane headed for boot camp at Parris Island, South Carolina. Three months later, I was back home on leave and my parents invited me to attend church.
I had always been a scrappy person, but after graduating from marine corps boot camp, I felt as though I could lick the world and probably would have tried with little hesitation. I accepted my parents’ invitation to attend church services and immediately began preparing my uniform so that I might present an impeccable appearance.
I rose at 0600 that morning to check my uniform to make sure it was in immaculate condition. Sure enough, my brass was so shiny you couldn’t look at it directly, and when you growled at my leather, it was so brilliantly shined, your reflection growled back at you. My swagger would have made John Wayne turn green as we neared the church entrance. I was prepared to lick anyone who met my gaze with anything less than the fear of death. I opened the door and stood aside, letting my mom pass through, and then the rest of the family. I sidestepped through the door so that my shoulders wouldn’t rip the wood from the sides of the door frame. As I corrected my body position to its original stance and faced the occupants of the room, I felt as though I had been slapped in the face.
I was flabbergasted as I stared into a sea of genuinely smiling faces. Everyone present had a light in his eye that I had previously seen in only a few individuals. There was a spirit of happiness and contentment present that was hard for me to comprehend. I think it would have been impossible to provoke one of these fine people into a fist fight.
I never regained my composure after making my way through the tidal wave of handshakes and back pats that met me. I sat meekly through the entire service—like a lamb among wolves, or perhaps the reverse.
Back on duty I took up my usual way of life. Once in a while I thought of the LDS Church back home, especially when letters came from my family as there were always a few lines about their Church activities.
Two years dragged by and my tour in Vietnam drew close. I stopped drinking and smoking and found myself wishing I could wash off my tattoo.
By some stroke of luck, I was selected to be attached to the Department of State for what was to be a year in Nicosia, Cyprus, and a year and a half in Jerusalem, Israel.
I’m sure that gnawing feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when you leave home is a feeling you never get used to. It’s worse when you are single, in the service, or on a mission and aren’t sure what to expect. For some reason I was unusually homesick as I waited for my orders. My imagination made my plight seem worse. As I lay on my bunk I envisioned myself as the last of the good guys, alone without a friend in the world, sworn to uphold justice and virtue, a knight in shining armor, the champion of damsels in distress, and a slayer of dragons. Yet there was nothing foreseeable in my future but the “devil and the deep blue sea.”
At the height of my misery a glimmer of hope and truth shone through. Stored in my “gourd” for two and a half years were memories of smiles, love, virtue, warmth, and a strong moral environment. I remembered that the Mormon members possessed all those personal qualities that characterized the knights of old: personal dignity, self-reliance, initiative, and loyalty to their own. I kicked myself mentally as I thought, “You should have joined that outfit before you even thought of going into the marines.”
The next Sunday I looked up the address of the nearest LDS chapel and told the cabbie to take the fastest route. Out of the cab, I raced down the sidewalk and jumped into the foyer. Standing there was a small group of distinguished looking gentlemen. I made a beeline for them and zeroed in on the gentleman with silver-gray hair and piercing eyes. Trying to stop within three feet of him, but having slid to within six inches, I counted three silver fillings as his mouth flew open. I suppose he thought the ward was about to be invaded by the entire marine corps.
I tried to be tactful but had built my momentum to a fever pitch. Standing within six inches of his nose, I caught him by the arm and shrieked, “Sign me up, coach; I don’t smoke!”
I know that God lives and that Jesus is the Christ. How thankful I am for the fine example of the members of the Church for it was that example which brought me into the only true church on the earth.

I have witnessed this happiness in the lives of many members of the Church. Several weeks ago I had the assignment to preside over a stake conference in Cali, Colombia. I met a very special young man there who is a member of the Church and can well illustrate the meaning of true happiness.
His name is Fabián. His family belongs to the Church, and he learned of the plan of happiness when he was just a little boy. In 1984, when he was three years old, Fabián and his family lived in a house close to a large and busy avenue. That avenue was a route for many city bus lines.
One day, seeing the gate open, little Fabián tried to cross the avenue and got hit by a bus. Thanks to Heavenly Father’s goodness, Fabián survived the accident. His parents took him to three different hospitals that indicated they could not treat him. They continued looking for help, and, upon finding the proper medical assistance, they learned the prognosis was not very good. After performing multiple surgeries, the doctors informed the family that the damage to his feet and legs was so extensive that to save him, they had to amputate his right leg.
Little Fabián started a different life then, without one of his legs. He slowly learned to control his body balance and to walk with the help of crutches. He went to school and had the support of his teachers and friends. Some people used to mock him, but he soon learned not to care about the jokes they played on him.
He wanted to participate in all physical activities and did so frequently. Even though winning was very hard to come by, he was always brave and ready to participate.
Fabián currently serves as a counselor in the Young Men organization of his stake. He attends institute of religion classes and is active in the student body organization. He plays basketball and soccer. He also plays Ping-Pong with his friends from the institute. He rides a bike and does everything a young man can do. He works as a volunteer teaching English at a foundation that cares for poor children.
Fabián wants to serve his fellowmen and God with all his strength. He has a smiling face and is always there to help someone in need. Fabián is truly a happy young man. With an overwhelming strength which comes from his faith and trust in God, Fabián is a great example to the citizens of his hometown.
His happiness comes from striving to live worthily every day and to obey God’s commandments. He reminds me of a scripture found in Mosiah 2:41: “And moreover, I would desire that ye should consider on the blessed and happy state of those that keep the commandments of God. For behold, they are blessed in all things, both temporal and spiritual; and if they hold out faithful to the end they are received into heaven, that thereby they may dwell with God in a state of never-ending happiness. O remember, remember that these things are true; for the Lord God hath spoken it.”

Jim came home one Friday night and asked his father if he could borrow the family car to drive some friends to a high school ball game. His father asked him, “Jim, can I trust you with the car?”
“Sure, dad, you know me.”
“Yes,” chided his father, “that’s why I asked. I want it back in one piece, and I don’t want you to hot rod around. If you will give me your word that you will drive carefully, keep within the speed limits, and not leave the gas tank empty when you come back, you may take the car. Do I have your promise, Jim?”
“Yes, dad. Do I have to sign in blood?”
“No,” his father said. “Your word is good enough.”
Taking the keys, Jim left the house, climbed into the car, and drove off to pick up a couple of friends on the way to the game. For the first few blocks he was a model driver, remembering everything he had learned in driver’s education. Shortly after picking up his friends, however, he found himself speeding down the road. One of his friends asked, “How fast will this machine go, anyway?” The other friend responded, “This hunk of junk probably won’t even go over 90.” But it did!
Jim and his friends soon pulled into the neighboring town for the ball game. It was a great game. Jim’s team won. He and his friends were excited as they got into the car to head for home. Driving up to a stoplight, Jim and his friends noticed some girls pulling up alongside them in a brand-new car.
“Ya wanna drag?” said one of Jim’s friends to the girls.
“You bet!” came the reply.
Amidst the roaring of engines and the screeching of tires, two men standing on the street corner waiting for the light to change went unnoticed. They, also, had attended the ball game and were on their way back home when they saw the great drag race.
Later that evening Jim dropped off his friends at their houses and returned the car to the family garage. It was late, but his father was snacking in the kitchen. When Jim came in, his father asked, “Well, Jim, how did you treat the car?”
“Fine, dad,” was the reply.
“Okay. Goodnight, son.”
“Goodnight, dad.”
The following Sunday, however, both the men who had witnessed the drag race the Friday before approached Jim’s father.
“That son of yours is some race driver!” one of them said.
“I’ll say!” exclaimed the other. “He passed me on the freeway, and he must have been going at least 100.”
“You must be mistaken,” retorted Jim’s father. “Jim wouldn’t do that. He gave me his word.”
“I’m sorry,” one of the men replied, “but we both saw Jim hot rodding the car and racing from a stoplight. We were only a few feet away from him.”
That night Jim approached his father and said, “Dad, can I have the keys to the car? I want to go to a fireside.” What do you think Jim’s father said to him on that occasion? What would you have done if you’d been Jim’s father? In this case Jim’s father said, “I’ll take you to the fireside, son, but don’t ever ask me to loan you the keys to the family car again. I can’t trust you.”

The meeting in Nikolay and Lena’s home on Sunday, 1 June 1997, is typical of the meetings during those days. Twelve people are in attendance: Nikolay, Lena, Anya, and Yulia; Alla, Vitaliy, and Alla’s nonmember mother, Vera; Katya Malihina, a 19-year-old Church member from Kiev attending law school in Chernigov; and four missionaries who have been teaching the group—Elder William and Sister Manette Murri, Elder David Sills, and Elder Chris Colton.
Elder Sills conducts the meeting. Sister Murri plays the piano. (She has been encouraging Anya and Yulia to learn to play several hymns. Before and after the meeting, the girls demonstrate how well they are progressing.)
The opening hymn is “I Need Thee Every Hour,” and Vitaliy offers the prayer. The sacrament hymn is “Jesus Once of Humble Birth.” Nikolay and Elder Colton prepare the sacrament on a small table covered with a simple white cloth and offer the sacrament prayers. Vitaliy passes the bread and water. Then, as sunlight streams through the living room windows, the members and missionaries express love for the Savior and gratitude for the gospel.
Lena weeps as she expresses how wonderful it is to hold Church meetings in her home. “There are very few people here; everybody fits into one apartment,” she says. “In other places, there are more members of the Church, and everybody does not have the opportunity to bear his or her testimony every time.”
She tells about a visit she had with a woman during the week: “I had a feeling in my heart that I should share the gospel with her.” In return, the woman, a member of a Protestant church, shared with Lena the steps necessary to officially register the LDS Church in the city—making a complicated process seem manageable. “The woman and I were happy to have the opportunity to talk with each other about religion. We became good friends, sisters in faith, even though we have different religions. We are all children of God. I know God will always help us and that the Church will grow here in Chernigov.”
Nikolay expresses appreciation for “being able to bear my testimony freely and to show my feelings to other people. How wonderful it is to come to know the truth and to have faith in God and in Jesus Christ, our Savior.” Then he bears witness of the Word of Wisdom. “By following it, we can have a clean heart and a clean body,” he says. “Before, I was often a drunk man, but today I am bearing my testimony! When I began to live the Word of Wisdom, there was a big change inside of me. I look at life a lot differently than before. I don’t want to go back to the darkness we had around us. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints has the truth and the commandments we should obey. We are coming closer to becoming like our Heavenly Father.”
Katya Malihina, the 19-year-old law student, says: “Yesterday I spoke with my friend about what Jesus Christ did for us. She asked me many questions.”
Young Anya Shaveko testifies: “I know Jesus Christ lives. The Church of Jesus Christ is true. It was restored through the Prophet Joseph Smith. I hope we can get a branch here as soon as possible so people can come more quickly to the gospel.”
Alla Kurnosova says: “I love the Savior with all my heart, and I try to live His commandments. After our meeting last Sunday, I spoke to my cousin about the Church. She was very interested and wants to come to our next meeting.”
Then Alla’s nonmember mother, Vera, speaks: “This is my first time to come to church here in Chernigov, but I attended several times in St. Petersburg. I have noticed here today the same feeling I had when I went to that branch—peacefulness in my heart. My soul is softened today. I think I will keep coming.”
“Love at Home” is the closing hymn. Eight-year-old Yulia offers the prayer.

As a boy, I learned a great lesson of faith and sacrifice as I worked on my grandfather’s farm during the terrible economic depression of the 1930s. The taxes on the farm were unpaid, and Grandfather, like so many, had no money. There was a drought in the land, and some cows and horses were dying for lack of grass and hay. One day when we were harvesting what little hay there was in the field, Grandfather told us to take the wagon to the corner of the field where the best stand of hay was, fill the wagon as full as we could, and take it to the tithing yard as payment of his tithing.
I wondered how Grandfather could use the hay to pay tithing when some of the cows that we were depending upon to sustain us might starve. I even questioned if the Lord expected that much sacrifice. Ultimately I marveled at his great faith that somehow the Lord would provide. The legacy of faith he passed on to his posterity was far greater than money, because he established in the minds of his children and grandchildren that he loved the Lord and His holy work more than earthly things. Grandfather never became wealthy, but he died at peace with the Lord and with himself.

Although he loved to play softball in his youth, President Thomas S. Monson was a tall, skinny boy who felt disappointed each time he was chosen last for the team. He was not particularly athletic at first, but one day that changed.
“As a boy, I played team softball in elementary and junior high school. Two captains were chosen, and then they, in turn, selected the players they desired on their teams. To be selected fourth or fifth was not too bad, but to be chosen last and relegated to a remote position in the outfield was downright awful. I know. I was there.
“How I hoped that the ball would never be hit in my direction, for surely I would drop it, runners would score, and teammates would laugh.
“As though it were just yesterday, I remember the moment when all that changed in my life. The game started out as I have described: I was chosen last. I made my sorrowful way to the deep pocket of right field and watched as the other team filled the bases with runners. Two batters then went down on strikes. Suddenly, the next batter hit a mighty drive. The ball was coming in my direction. Was it beyond my reach? I raced for the spot where I thought the ball would drop, uttered a silent prayer as I ran, and stretched forth my cupped hands. I surprised myself. I caught the ball! My team won the game! This one experience bolstered my confidence, inspired my desire to practice, and led me from that last-to-be-chosen place to become a real contributor to the team” (Ensign, May 1989, 43).

Tara let the soft strains of the prelude music wrap themselves around her. Slowly she felt herself relax. People whispered, feet scuffled, but she heard only the muted notes of the organ.
The bishop stood and welcomed everyone to sacrament meeting. Tara looked around. All around her were families—mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters. Everyone had someone. All except her. She was alone.
The Millers, who picked her up every week, had invited Tara to sit with their family, and Tara did, but it wasn’t the same as sitting with one’s very own family.
Tara listened to the talks and the prayers, but it was the music that touched her in a way she didn’t fully understand. She only knew that it made her feel warm and peaceful inside.
She’d been baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints six months ago. Since then, she’d attended church every Sunday. There was so much to learn that sometimes she felt overwhelmed.
But she kept coming back, wanting that sweet feeling she had whenever she entered the church. If only her parents would come with her, just once! If they did, they’d experience the same feelings she had. She just knew it.
She pushed away the thought. Her parents weren’t likely to ever come to church with her. They’d been against her joining the Church in the first place. They’d only agreed to let her be baptized because she’d asked them so many times. She was nearly ten now, they’d said, and old enough to make her own decisions.
This morning had been like every other Sunday morning since Tara had started going to church. Her mother had been tight-lipped with disapproval. Her father had barricaded himself behind the Sunday newspaper. Neither had spoken to her as she got ready. When she’d begged them to go with her, their answer was the same as it always had been: No.
In Primary, Tara felt the same spirit she’d had in sacrament meeting. Again, it was the music that sparked something inside her. Why wouldn’t Mom and Dad come and feel it too?
As the Primary children sang “I’m trying to be like Jesus,” tears started rolling down her cheeks. She brushed them away, hoping no one had noticed. She listened to the words. Had she been trying to be like Jesus in how she acted around her parents? Or had she been demanding that her parents believe as she did?
She grew uncomfortable, remembering how she’d tried to pressure them into coming to church with her. She wanted so much to share the gospel with her parents and have them by her side at church that she hadn’t been very loving or patient. Sometimes she even got mad at them for not coming.
During the ride home with the Miller family, she decided, I’m going to practice what the song says. I’m going to try to be like Jesus. She smiled as she let herself into the house.
Humming softly, she changed out of her Sunday clothes. She was still humming as she went downstairs.
She found her father in the living room, lying on the sofa with the newspaper tented over his head. She gently pushed it aside to give him a kiss.
He looked up. “What’s that for?”
“Because I love you and I’m happy.” She smiled at him and then went into the kitchen.
Her mother was stirring something on the stove. She looked up as Tara came in.
“Can I help?” Tara asked.
“Would you set the table, please?”
Tara hummed as she put plates, glasses, and silverware on the table.
“What’s that you’re humming?” her mother asked.
“A song I learned at church.” Tara hesitated. “Would you like to know the words?”
Her mother smiled. “If it makes you this happy, I think I would.”
Tara sang the words, her voice breaking on the last one.
“It’s a beautiful song,” her mother said, a little hitch in her voice. “Are all the songs at your church that pretty?”
“They’re all different,” Tara said. “But most of them make me feel this way.”
“What way is that?” Her mother stopped what she was doing and turned to Tara. She looked like she really wanted to know.
Tara chose her words carefully. “Happy inside. Kind of peaceful.”
Her mother pushed back a strand of hair. “I’d like some of that feeling for our whole family.”
As the family sat down to dinner, Tara felt her mother’s gaze on her. Hesitantly she asked, “Tara, would you give a blessing on the food?”
Tara looked up, surprised. Her family never said a prayer before a meal. She looked at her father. He nodded and said, “Your mother and I have been wanting to start having prayers in our family. This will be a good way to begin to do it, if that’s all right with you.”
Tara smiled peacefully as she bent her head. “Heavenly Father, we thank Thee …”

I recall one memorable week when the family was all together after an extended period of separation. Missions, marriages, and college had scattered us across the globe for a number of years. Then Christmas of 1970, like a magnet, brought us all back home again.

During that week we spent a great deal of time talking about my health. We had all researched the possibility of a kidney transplant, and each member of the family had personally volunteered to donate one of their kidneys to me.

One afternoon while playing basketball with my brothers, I stepped back for a moment and watched them play. Each was a superb athlete. Craig had been a contender for the Olympic swimming team; he was now married and had a family. Barry had been one of the best football players in the state and was now an expert snow skier. And Kevin was one of the best high school basketball players in the state.

“Thanks anyway,” I thought as my eyes brimmed with tears. “I love you all for the desires of your hearts, but I simply don’t feel right about it.”

With Christmas over, Barry returned to Brigham Young University and Craig and his family returned to their home in California. I eagerly busied myself with missionary labors, and all returned to normal.

Then one evening a marvelous and unexpected event occurred during family prayers. My father said the prayer, and when the prayer was completed we all knew what was to transpire. With tears in our eyes we discussed our feelings. Yes, each had felt the same confirmation. We should go ahead with the transplant.

In retrospect, that decision may have been the greatest miracle of all. Logic and personal feelings just didn’t matter anymore; we knew what the Spirit had directed.

That evening I made a long-distance phone call to my brother Barry in Provo, Utah, and talked with him about the transplant. I explained to him the answer we had received and asked him to pray about it. But Barry eagerly accepted immediately saying he had prayed about it many times and was simply awaiting my call. I told him we could wait until June, but the next day he dropped his classes and came home.

After Barry arrived, however, the surgical team discovered that he had developed an immunity to Parrot’s Fever while serving his mission in Mexico, and they feared a reaction to the medications necessary after the transplant. To Barry’s deep disappointment, it was determined that his kidney was not transplantable.

About two weeks later, we had another of those extra special family home evenings. And again we felt impressed to proceed with a kidney transplant. Again I went to the phone and called a brother, this time my older brother, Craig. Again I received a positive response.

Within a week, Craig, his wife Penny, and their one-year-old son Jason flew in from California. That same afternoon I went to the hospital, and Craig was admitted the next day.

Our names were placed on the prayer rolls of six temples from London to Los Angeles by friends of the family.

The night before surgery we held family home evening in my hospital room. At one point I tried to tell the family that it didn’t seem worth the risk or sacrifice required of my brother to attempt that transplant. But Dad looked at me soberly, put a hand on my shoulder, and softly said, “We all feel that this is what the Lord wants, and your brother is proud to be able to do it. Remember, Brent, we’ll all live to see you running across the park lawn again, with that large grin of yours.”

Surgery began the next morning at 6:00 A.M. with my nurse giving me a sedative before the operation. At the end of the day I opened my eyes to see my parents close to my bed. I was back in my hospital room, and I knew everything was all right.

I remember seeing other members of the family briefly that evening. But I couldn’t find Craig. “How is Craig? Where is my brother?”

A familiar hand rested on my shoulder, and I heard my mother’s voice: “Brent, Craig is fine and your new kidney is fine, too.” With those words I went to sleep. “Thanks, Father in Heaven. Thanks, Craig. Thanks a lot, family.”

During those first few days after my transplant, I got a feeling that something was wrong when I looked at the troubled faces of my parents and brothers. All was not well with Craig. By the third day I was sure he had died and no one would tell me about it. Actually, he hadn’t died. But he was very ill and having a difficult time recovering from his part of the surgery.

On the afternoon of the third day, my father and brother carried Craig to see me. He was the color of a ripe banana. With a half smile on his face he said, “How’s it going, brother?” At that moment, seeing his pain and considering his sacrifice, I knew what love was and what having a family meant.

Two days later, the medical reports indicated that my body was rejecting the new kidney. It appeared that we had failed. Drastic medical measures were taken, but with little success. As it turned out, the most powerful aid of all was prayer. Etched deeply into my soul is the memory of many nights when family members knelt around my bed and one by one prayed to our Father in Heaven. I listened as my brothers wept, praying that I might live. Then, silently, none of us able to speak, we’d touch hands to say good-night. And they were good nights, for we each experienced the pure love of Christ.

My body’s rejection of the kidney was finally overcome; Craig, too, rapidly regained his health and strength. Today, my doctors report that I am one of the healthiest kidney recipients in history. I have a beautiful wife, two sons, and a daughter. Craig, now the father of three, lives a normal life surrounded by people who still don’t know why he made that quick trip to Seattle, Washington, several years ago.

I can testify that one of the greatest joys of mortality comes when a family is spiritually united in seeking the Lord’s aid and comfort. I am awed by the love displayed in my behalf. When I think about my family I think about the Lord, who is the true head of our gospel family. I think about his love, his devotion, and his willingness to sacrifice for us. And I feel that I have gained a special testimony and appreciation of the atonement of Jesus Christ, for I know what the love and sacrifice of an older brother can mean.

Not long after we joined the Church, my husband and I were vacationing in Bermuda. While there I took advantage one day of a midafternoon social held in our hotel. As I was eyeing the delicious pastries, I caught a whiff of the smell of tea. I found it so inviting that in my mind I seemed to hear a voice say, “Have a cup.”
I had faithfully lived the Word of Wisdom since my baptism. In my mind I said, “No, I will not.”
“Oh, come on,” a soothing voice seemed to say in reply. “You don’t know anybody here, and you are far from home.”
With even more conviction, I once again responded in my mind, “No, I will not!”
Again that enticing, reasoning voice came: “No one will ever know.”
Firmly I responded, “I will know!”
At that point I was standing by a waiter who was pouring tea. Resolutely I passed by. As I looked for a table, I was surprised to hear someone call out my name. To my amazement I saw the smiling face of a former boss whom I had not seen for many years. He came up to me, and as we walked toward a table he said, “I heard that you joined the Mormon Church. Tell me all about it.”
I was happy to oblige, sharing with him some principles of the gospel, my happiness as a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and my testimony. My former boss told me that he had been researching his family name and that he had documented many generations of family history. He was sincerely interested in what I had to share about the Church, and I felt a great outpouring of the Spirit as we conversed.
During our visit a thought came into my mind: “Could you have had this conversation had you put a cup of tea on your tray?” I knew the answer. Had I given in to temptation, I would have missed out on a memorable spiritual experience and a chance to share my testimony.

Rosemary, our firstborn child, was a new pretty baby when my mother visited us from her village in central Zimbabwe. As brand-new parents, my wife, Naume, and I were so excited for my mother’s visit. We were eager to learn everything we needed to know about raising a child.

Upon arriving, my mother brought out a round cloth necklace. Wrapped in the cloth, she explained, was a magical object. She held out the necklace to Naume to put on Rosemary’s neck. Sensing Naume’s hesitation, my mother immediately said: “From an early age my mother and maternal grandmother gave me this magical object, which has protected me and all my children, including your husband. This amulet will protect your daughter from diseases and from all sorts of spells that might befall her, and she will overcome any difficult situation in life. She will need to wear this until she is five years old.”

At that time I was serving as branch president, and I immediately thought, “What will the members of my branch think when they see this ‘magical’ necklace on our baby’s neck?” Then I thought, “Maybe we could cover it so that it will not be so visible.” I looked at Naume; her expression told me that we should not accept this gift. I asked my mother if she could make a small, thin necklace, one that might not be so visible. She responded that it was not possible, and that the magical object worked best in the format she had prepared it.

Again, Naume gave me a look that clearly expressed her disapproval. I turned to my mother and explained that as a branch president in our local congregation, I would not be comfortable placing the necklace on our child. My mother replied with a warning: she told us that without the necklace our baby would die.

A few weeks after this incident, our little Rosemary fell very ill. We did not have money to take her to the doctor. It was at night, and at that moment I started thinking about what my mother had said in her warning. I began wishing I had accepted the necklace. I would have taken it and put it on Rosemary’s neck. At this moment of panic, I heard a still, small voice urging me to exercise faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. I immediately got dressed in my Sunday best. I took our baby in my arms and pronounced a priesthood blessing. I felt peace and comfort, and I sensed that my wife felt the same way. Almost immediately both Naume and little Rosemary fell into a peaceful sleep. Our daughter Rosemary was healed. In the proceeding days she slowly recovered and regained her full health. What a miracle we witnessed! The Lord in His tender mercies reached out to me and strengthened my faith in Him.

I was grateful but also a little ashamed. Here I was, a returned missionary serving as a branch president, but I was more concerned about what people would say rather than believing in God (see Mosiah 4:9). Yes, even my mother, whom I love and admire so much, could not comprehend all things. I needed to be something more than just a returned missionary; something more than a branch president; I needed to change—to experience what Alma experienced.

When my mother offered me a necklace of protection to put on my baby’s neck, I based my concern on outward appearance. I was worried about what the members of our branch would think of me. Apparently, I had not yet fully experienced that “mighty change of heart.” I have since come to realize that our success and happiness is based on how fully we are willing to take the gospel into our hearts. In order for us to find true happiness, joy, and peace, “the pure gospel of Jesus Christ must go down into [our] hearts … by the power of the Holy Ghost.”1

Can you see how I missed an opportunity to share the gospel with my mother when she offered us that magical object, which she believed had always protected her and her children? I could have been an instrument in the hands of the Lord—just like Alma—who preached the gospel of Jesus Christ and “changed their hearts; yea, he awakened them out of a deep sleep, and they awoke unto God” (Alma 5:7).

As I reflect on that occasion with my mother, I wonder what would have happened had I responded more like Alma. My mother may have been awakened unto God, and her change could have had a positive impact upon my siblings. This change could then have had a great impact in the lives of my siblings’ children and on to their posterity.

What if our baby Rosemary had not survived her illness—even after the priesthood blessing I pronounced upon her? The Lord’s admonition is a great strength to me: “He that findeth his life shall lose it: and he that loseth his life for my sake shall find it” (Matthew 10:39).

To most of the world, Nepal is a land of mystery. On a map, it can be hard to find, wedged as it is between Chinese Tibet and India. Nepal is a land of kindness, beauty, and vibrant colors. It is the land of Sagarmatha, as Mount Everest is commonly called.
It is a land of Hinduism and Buddhism and a land where everything that is worshiped—rocks, trees, stone statues with many arms—has been smudged with red powder and worn down by ceaseless rubbing. Rubbing powder on such objects is a form of respect, and by rubbing the powder the Nepali people are praying to the god represented by the rock or tree. The Nepali greeting, namaste, means, “I bow to the god within you.”
Below the ridges of terraced rice paddies, in the middle of the crowded capital city of Kathmandu, is a small branch of the Church. In a country where missionaries are not allowed to teach, this branch of 50 active members is thriving. Much of its success is due to the young people who have become pioneers for the Church and Christianity in Nepal.
How have they been so successful, averaging 12 baptisms a year, when there are no full-time missionaries to spread the gospel? Once converted, Nepali people can teach each other, and these young people have not been afraid to speak about their new faith.
If you ask 13-year-old Manita Maharjan about the Church, she will happily tell you her story in beautiful English. As a seven-year-old, she lived near two friends, sisters Usha and Sabita Thapa, who had joined the Church. They brought her to church regularly, and Manita says she was always happy there. “I got such love from the branch members as a little girl,” she says. “As I grew up, I learned to play the piano, lead music, and share my talents. I learned to pray and study the gospel. I thank Usha and Sabita for bringing me into this happy world.” Manita has become the top student in her class at school, and she regularly brings her school friends to church.
This same love soon brought another young lady to the gospel. Monika Gurung, now 14, also came under the wings of the Thapa sisters. Her family was already Christian, but she says she felt such pleasure when she joined the Church. “Here everybody loves me, and I love them too,” she says. “I am still the only member in my family, but I bring my little brothers with me every Sabbath day.” (In Nepal, the Sabbath is on Saturday.)
Monika is also one of the top students in her school class. She was permitted to give a talk in school about the Church and the Book of Mormon. This is unusual in the schools, but Monika was allowed to make her presentation because she is such a fine student.
To demonstrate their love for their culture, Monika and Manita both perform Nepali folk dances in native costumes with professional grace and ability.
The day after the baptism of Veswengal Gharti Chhetri (known as G. C.), a political group in Nepal called a bund (strike). This meant that no vehicles were allowed on the roads. But G. C., who lives a great distance from where the branch meets, knew people were counting on him to be at church to be confirmed. He walked 2 1/2 hours one way on roads that, empty of the crushing traffic, were now crowded with people and wandering animals.
He first learned of the Church at the school where he teaches when he overheard a young Latter-day Saint teacher discussing the gospel with the school’s principal. He quickly approached Ramesh Shrestha and began asking questions. Now, age 21 and a member of the Church for only a few months, he has been called as Young Men president. G. C. says, “The Church was something more than I expected.” He loves the concepts of eternal marriage, agency, the Word of Wisdom, and the plan of salvation. G. C.’s talents are the warmth of his personality and his great love of people, which make him a natural for his second calling as a branch missionary. When asked why he likes to teach the gospel, he says, “It is not good to have something so delicious and not share it.”
Love seems to be the central key for the growth of the branch in Kathmandu.
Like the rugged Himalaya mountains in the north, which are geologically young and constantly being changed by nature, these young people’s lives are being changed by the gospel. Sixteen-year-old Suman Shilpakar says the Church has made a wonderful difference in his life. He no longer feels shy and uncertain. He knows the scriptures have the answers to all his questions about life.
Preeti Khadgi says that she has become more kindhearted and she enjoys talking to people more since she became a member of the Church. Preeti is one of the few whose entire family joined the Church, starting with her father, who was the first Nepali to be baptized in Nepal and is now the branch president.
Before joining the Church, Preeti’s mother had a dream in which she found a way “to make all of her children good children.” The Khadgis feel the Church is fulfilling that dream. Preeti’s brother, Pratik, is now serving in the India Bangalore Mission.
In Nepal, students must pass 10th-grade exams to continue in school. Failing the exams ends their education. “One of my teachers,” Preeti says, “wanted me to come on the Sabbath to a study session for the exam. I explained that I could not; I had to go to church.”
“Is that necessary?” he asked.
“Yes,” Preeti answered. “I have a teaching responsibility.” She later passed her “iron gate,” her name for these rigorous tests. “I prayed that whatever I had learned, Heavenly Father would help me remember,” she says.
For Nepali families, drinking tea with milk first thing in the morning is an ingrained tradition. In every home and every tiny shop along every narrow street, small stoves brew tea. To begin to follow the Word of Wisdom has been difficult for many of these young converts.
When Deepak Shrestha’s older brother, who was the first missionary to serve from Nepal, told him the Church was the greatest thing in the world, Deepak was interested. Then his brother challenged him to live the Word of Wisdom. Deepak quickly felt the wisdom of this advice because “it affects the future.” The result of that decision has been the start of Deepak’s strong and continually growing testimony of the gospel.
Seventeen-year-old Bikki Sahi has recently been baptized. And like many of the other Latter-day Saint youth here, he is the only member in his family. He feels strongly that he has “chosen the right way.” Bikki has a new but beautiful testimony to share. “When I first came to the Church, I felt peace in my heart,” he says. “I also felt that my tensions and sadness were driven away. The brothers and sisters showed me their love and taught me about Jesus Christ and the Book of Mormon. When I obeyed the commandments, it helped me improve my habits, and I felt good. I know that Jesus is the Christ and that the Book of Mormon is true.”
The only thing these youth lament is not having the Book of Mormon in the Nepali language. For those who do not speak English well, it is difficult to study the gospel. They must accept on faith alone and learn what they can in class. Even for those who are quite fluent in English, it is a struggle.
Though they lack a Nepali Book of Mormon, these youth fill their lives with school, Church, and cultural activities. They sing, perform Nepali dances, and play the piano. They go bowling and rock climbing and have tried golf and tae-bo exercises. They do service projects and enjoy their friends both in and out of the Church. They face life with enthusiasm.
In the midst of the incredible mountains and valleys of Nepal, a clear voice is sounding. It is young, vibrant, and full of faith. These teens are pioneers in the truest sense of the word. They are leading the gospel forward in their native land. These young converts will continue to love their people into the gospel until that day comes when this country opens its welcoming doors to the missionaries.
Namaste.

In the spring of 1975 my family and I were living among beautiful green farmland in the Rheinland-Pfalz area of West Germany. Driving home from church one rainy Sunday, we stopped to have a look at an automobile that had rolled onto its side in the wet roadbed at the edge of a forest. Inside the forest it was already dark because of the thick canopy created by the trees and the oncoming night.
After looking at the wrecked vehicle, we returned to our car and discovered it was stuck in the mud. I couldn’t back up, but I could drive forward—into the forest. We had previously driven through the forest and found that many forest roads were interconnected and would eventually lead back out, so I decided to move forward into the blackness.
I quickly realized that I had made the wrong decision. The narrow, wet road was filled with deep ruts of mud and kept leading farther and farther into the dark forest. I tried to keep up speed, fearing that if we stopped, we would become mired. I saw a high spot just ahead that looked firm enough to sustain the weight of the car. My plan was to get the car out of the mud to give myself time to think. The car lunged up and out of the mud.
I turned off the car and climbed out. With the headlights off, I couldn’t see a thing. I turned the headlights back on, grabbed our flashlight, and after looking the car over, decided that my best bet was to back into the forest and then make a mad dash out the way we came.
I backed as far into the forest as possible, revved the engine a little, lunged back onto the road, and sank deep into the mud. Now we were really in trouble. Outside the car it was total darkness and silence. Inside the car my wife and I sat with three terrified children.
I asked my wife for any ideas. After a moment she said, “Maybe we should pray.” The children calmed down almost immediately. I offered a humble but desperate prayer for help. As I prayed, a thought came clearly into my mind: “Put on the tire chains.”
Standing in 10 inches (25 cm) of mud in her Sunday dress, my sweet wife held the flashlight while I cleaned the rear tires with my bare hands and put the chains on. With faith and confidence, we prayed again and started the engine. Slowly we drove through the mud and eventually back onto the pavement.
In the excitement of being freed from the mud and the darkness, I almost forgot who had helped us out of the forest. Our five-year-old daughter reminded me when she said, “Daddy, Heavenly Father really does answer prayers, doesn’t He?”

Dana was born with a hole in her lips and inside her mouth. She had already had four operations to try to fix it. Today Dana and her parents had an appointment with the doctor to talk about another operation.
During the operation, we will take part of the bone from your hip to use in your mouth.
Dana was worried about what would happen after the operation.
Can I still drink chocolate milk?
When your mouth heals, you can have all the chocolate milk you want.
The night before the operation, Dana’s dad and uncle gave her a priesthood blessing. Uncle Hyrum anointed Dana with consecrated oil. Then Daddy said the blessing.
The next morning Mommy and Daddy took Dana to the hospital.
The nurse came to take Dana to the operating room. Dana gave Mommy a hug.
I love you, Dana.
Don’t worry, Mommy. I’m not afraid. Daddy gave me a blessing.
After the operation Dana was all right. She was glad that Daddy gave her a special blessing to help her feel better.

“I remember going to the mountains to get our Christmas tree. We decorated it with little candles that fastened to the tree in little tin holders. A fire committee was appointed in the family to make sure the tree didn’t catch fire. We children each had a stocking and received one present for Christmas. Of course, there was the special Christmas dinner and the singing while my sister played the piano and I played the violin.

It was a cold day, and I was scared. I shook hard in my speed suit. It was my first ski race since I had been injured. The course was a long blur of blue and red gates. My coach skied by me.
“Noah, are you OK?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said, but I was actually scared out of my skin!
It was time for me to be at the start gate. Oh no! I thought as I skied down to the start gate. But then I remembered something I had learned in Primary: I can pray anytime, anywhere.
So I prayed, Heavenly Father, please help me to be safe and do well. Right then, I pushed out of the start.
What came next was natural instinct. Left, then right, gate after gate, for what felt like days until I finally crossed the finish line. Boy, I was slow! I thought. But I looked at the timer. I was 12th in my category!
“That was so good!” Mom said.
During the excitement, I silently thanked my Heavenly Father for answering my prayer.