Gospel Story Finder

“One of his favorite subjects is that of being a good neighbor and friend to people. When he was younger he was particularly kind to a girl who was especially sad. Later the girl told him she had anticipated taking her own life; but since Dad had been so kind to her, she had decided life seemed worthwhile after all. He likes people and likes to help them.” His wife added that he is always pleasant and willing to help even if someone calls him in the middle of the night.

Hi! I’m Gabriel. I have a talent that can help people!
I practice my cello every day with my dad or my mom. My little brother and sister play instruments too. Playing together is fun!
Whenever I see people who don’t have homes, I want to help them. My mom and I decided we could use our talents to help.
I started learning songs on my cello. I learned 15 Christmas and Hanukkah songs. On Christmas Eve my mom and I went to a shopping area and played for the shoppers. We had a sign that said “Tips to Benefit the Food Pantry.”
I felt a little bit nervous about playing in front of strangers, so I just focused on my songs. We played until my fingers were too cold to play any more. I was happy when our music made people smile. And lots of them gave us money.
We took all the money and gave it to the food pantry. Then they could buy food for people who don’t have enough.
I’m glad I could help, and all I had to do was play songs! I want to do it again next year!

Don’t look now, but there are three boys flying through the air on a magic bench. They’re wearing wild clothes, hats, and boots, and they’re singing beautiful music. The people on the ground below are also dressed in colorful costumes—one of them looks like a bird—and they’re singing a plea for help. The words to the boys’ song in response seem enchanted. All problems are resolved.
Does this sound like some bizarre dream caused by a hot fudge, french fry sundae right before bedtime? It’s not. It’s all in a day’s work for professional opera singers Steven Wilkin, Andrew Grose, and Jeffrey Perry, the deacons who recently starred as the “genies” in the Utah Opera Company’s version of Mozart’s The Magic Flute.
At 13, the three boys have been singing professionally for several years. Their performances have taken them all over the country and even to different parts of the world. They’re making friends and developing talents at a remarkable rate. As far as after-school jobs go, “it beats a paper route,” says Jeff.
When you hear the three boy sopranos sing, whether they’re harmonizing together, performing in front of huge crowds in Japan as Steven and Andrew have done, or crooning country-western tunes as Jeff does in a restaurant on Thursday nights, you think you’ve been transported to heaven and are listening to the angels themselves. Their voices are high and clear, and although they work hard and practice incessantly, it’s obvious that a certain degree of their talent is a divine gift.
Steven discovered he had a gift when he was about three, singing and talking in Primary. Andrew’s talent was discovered by his third-grade teacher when she cast him in the class production of Hansel and Gretel. Jeff discovered he was talented only a few years ago, when his friends heard him sing along perfectly with Whitney Houston’s recording of “The Star Spangled Banner.” Voice lessons would be a good thing here, decided the boys and their parents. Training helps, but without the “something extra” they were born with, they would never be where they are today.
Each was also blessed with the ability to sing on stage in front of thousands of people without being nervous or afraid. These boys have always been amazingly poised, getting leads in major productions like Oliver and Amahl and the Night Visitors almost the first time they tried out. “Prayer helps a lot,” says Andrew. “And Dad’s blessings that I’ll perform to the best of my abilities help too,” adds Steven.
Now before you get jealous and start wondering why God didn’t bless you with a talent like that, consider the fact that there are some drawbacks to being a gifted boy soprano. All the blessings in the world won’t make these three boys comfortable singing in front of their own wards.
“The older boys and the deacons quorum tease you about singing high,” says Steven. “I like to collect fast offerings and to pass the sacrament with them, but when it comes to singing, it’s easier to be on stage in front of thousands of people you’ll never see again than to have to sing in front of a room full of people who really know you.”
Because of his high, clear voice, Andrew couldn’t even get a part in his own school musical. “They were doing Guys and Dolls, and the drama teacher said the only part they had for my voice would have been the female lead, which I obviously couldn’t play. Some of the kids at school went around saying, ‘I got a singing part without even taking a lesson, and Andrew, who has had all this training, doesn’t even get to be on stage.’ It worked out okay though. I got to be stage manager, and it was fun to watch everyone else perform without any pressure on me.”
The pressure. That’s something else these boys are forced to deal with, and at a very young age they’re learning some amazing things. Steven was ecstatic about landing the lead role in a professional production of Amahl and the Night Visitors, until he heard his understudy sing. His voice was like silver. “Oh Mom!” Steven said, with tears in his eyes, “He’s so much better than I am! He should have my part.” It was then explained to Steven that the boy who was singing had grown too big for the lead, and Steven’s part was secure.
Steven decided right then and there that he would be very nice to his understudy and treat him without jealousy or malice. Steven knew how that felt, because he’d been treated poorly as an understudy before. This decision turned out to be better than Steven ever expected. His understudy in Amahl was Andrew, and now they’re the closest of friends.
It’s a good thing these boys have learned how to make friends at all times and in all places. When they’re involved in a production, there isn’t a lot of “hang time.” While most guys their ages are playing Nintendo and hanging out with their friends, Jeff, Andrew, and Steven are busy learning Italian, Latin, German, Japanese, taking dance and voice lessons, and attending rehearsals. Those activities, plus Scouting and deacons quorum duties, and a few sports like baseball, skiing, and basketball, take up almost all their time. That doesn’t leave many minutes for just being with friends.
“Sometimes I wish I had more time for that,” says Steven, wistfully. “But I’ve become good friends with the other guys in the productions, and we hang out at the rehearsals. We’ll rollerblade when we’re not on stage, and stuff like that. It’s pretty fun.”
That’s all fine for now, you might say, but what happens as they start growing up? “The Dreaded Voice Change,” as Andrew calls it, has been looming darkly on the horizon ever since these boys discovered they could sing soprano.
How will they deal with it? Their beautiful voices have been earning them money and attention, and all that could easily change in a week. They each handle it in their own way. Steven’s voice has already changed, but because he was rehearsing so hard for The Magic Flute while it was happening, he can still reach the high notes and sound as good as ever. Andrew is hoping to develop his new, deeper voice as well as he developed his boy soprano voice. Jeff can’t wait for his voice to go lower. He’d rather be a professional baseball player or a doctor in the long run anyway.
In the meantime, these boys do what they can to turn around and bless others with the talents they’ve been given. You’ll often find Andrew entertaining large groups at nursing homes. “I love singing for older people,” he says. Steven has performed in a number of charity concerts to raise money for the homeless and terminally ill children, and Jeff has used his voice to help his grandparents do missionary work. All three boys sing often at missionary farewells, funerals, and in other Church programs.
While all three boys love the feeling they get when they sing before an audience, their lives don’t necessarily revolve around their singing careers. If you catch them after a Saturday night performance when the audience is roaring and they’ve just taken three curtain calls, you might ask them, “Now that you’ve won the hearts of thousands and your voices are critically acclaimed, what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to pass the sacrament!” these three deacons would tell you. What else would they do on a Sunday?

The prophets’ lives encourage us to draw close to our families at Christmastime. President Joseph F. Smith remembered one Christmas as a young father when he had no money—not even a penny—to buy gifts for his children. Just before Christmas he left his home and walked down the street, looking at all the wonderful things in the shop windows but knowing that he could buy none of them. Near despair he found a private place and “wept like a child” to relieve his aching heart. But, drying his eyes, he went home and played with his children all day, “grateful and happy only for them.”4 Despite his inability to provide a material Christmas for his children, he had nevertheless given them the greatest gifts any father could—his love and his time.

Tuesday, June 8, 1982, dawned bright and clear in London, England. It was destined to be an historic day. A spirit of excitement permeated the very air and filled expectant hearts with keen anticipation. The President of the United States of America had arrived in Great Britain and soon would be addressing Parliament. Crowds gathered for the occasion, filled the streets and overflowed the nearby park. Uniformed policemen maintained order while famous Big Ben chimed its proud and clarion call which marked the appointed hour.
My wife, Frances, and I stood midst the milling crowd. Then, suddenly, Parliament’s doors swung open, the Prime Minister and the President greeted the throng, entered their limousines, and the motorcade drove slowly away. The crowd gave a mighty cheer, then began to disperse. Frances and I walked from the sunbathed street into the semi-dark, yet welcome, refuge of Westminster Abbey.
A reverence filled this world-famous edifice, as it should. For here, kings are crowned, royalty wedded, and rulers, whose mission of mortality has ended, are honored then buried. We walked along the aisleways, thoughtfully reading the inscriptions which marked the tombs of the famous. We remembered their achievements, recalled their deeds of valor, and marked their well-earned places in the world’s history. Then we paused before the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, one of many who fell in France during the Great War. From an unmarked grave, the body of this fallen youth had been brought to London to forever lie in honor. I read aloud the inscriptions: “They buried him among the kings because he had done good toward God and toward His house.” “In Christ shall all be made alive.”
Toward the doorway we walked. Still visible in the park beyond were the remnants of the crowd. The immortal words of Rudyard Kipling coursed through my mind and spoke to my soul:
The tumult and the shouting dies,
The captains and the kings depart;
Still stands thine ancient sacrifice:
An humble and a contrite heart.
Lord God of hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget, lest we forget.
(“Recessional”; see also Hymns, no. 77.)
One final marker to see, one more inscription to read. As a Scouter, I had come from America to view the plaque of honor dedicated to the memory of Scouting’s founder, Lord Baden-Powell. We stood before the magnificent marble memorial and noted the words:
Robert Baden-Powell, 1857–1941
Founder of the Boy Scouts
Friend of all the World
On that day during this year which commemorates the 75th anniversary of Scouting and the 125th anniversary of its founder, I pondered the thought, “How many boys have had their lives blessed—even saved—by the Scout movement begun by Baden-Powell?” Unlike others memorialized within the walls of Westminster Abbey, Baden-Powell had neither sailed the stormy seas of glory, conquered in conflict the armies of men, nor founded empires of worldly wealth. Rather, he was a builder of boys, one who taught them well how to run and win the race of life.

It was Saturday, and there was work to do at my law office. But as stake president, I had committed to attend a service project with our stake Relief Society sisters. The sisters would be visiting sick children and expectant mothers in the Sergio Bernales de Collique-Comas Hospital in Lima, Peru. They would lend spiritual support, as well as deliver quilts and toys they had made during the year.
As I left behind everything else I had to do and headed for the hospital, the words of the first of many scriptures I thought of that day came to me: “When saw we thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee? And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me” (Matt. 25:39–40).
A warm, peaceful feeling flooded my heart, and I knew this would be a special experience. The Spirit also whispered to me that the Lord had called me as stake president to love and help others—especially the sick and afflicted. Throughout the day, thoughts of our Savior and His compassionate ministrations were never far from my mind. In our small way, we labored to be like Him.
When I arrived at the hospital, I was greeted by the 60 warmest hearts and the 60 warmest smiles I had ever seen. And as the Relief Society sisters entered the hospital, I watched this sad and gloomy place begin to be filled with light and joy.
“It came to pass that Jesus blessed them … , and the light of his countenance did shine upon them” (3 Ne. 19:25).
Our first visit was to a very small boy who had pneumonia and who was connected to a respirator. The boy’s mother sat at the foot of his bed. “Have faith,” the sisters encouraged her. I could see the hope and happiness she felt as she listened to the comforting words of these good sisters.
“Jesus … saith unto them, Have faith in God” (Mark 11:22).
Next we met a father whose young son was ill. He placed his son in a wheelchair so he could have his picture taken with us. One of the sisters gave the boy a pair of blue jeans that seemed to have been made just for him. “When I get out, I will put them on immediately,” the little boy told me very excitedly.
“He that hath two coats, let him impart to him that hath none” (Luke 3:11).
We visited teenage mothers who had just given birth. One was a young girl of just 14 whose baby had been born dead. The sisters put their hands on her shoulders, comforted her, and gave her much wise advice. My eyes filled with tears as I watched these wonderful women of Zion who had laid aside their own problems, which were many, to give of what they had.
“Ye are … willing to bear one another’s burdens, that they may be light” (Mosiah 18:8).
In one room a woman sat alone at the bed of her daughter, who was brain dead. For many days the mother had been living and sleeping at the hospital because she wasn’t from the city and she had nowhere else to stay. I felt inspired to say, “I am a priesthood holder in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Would you like me to give your daughter a blessing?” Her eyes filled with tears, and she answered, “I would.” Never before had I had such a feeling as on this occasion, and I thanked Heavenly Father for the opportunity to hold His holy priesthood and bless that little girl.
“He … put his hands upon them, and blessed them” (Mark 10:16).
The sisters gave this afflicted mother an issue of the Liahona and promised to come back again on another day.
“Jesus answered and said unto her, … whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life” (John 4:13–14).
When our visit was over, I felt that each of those who had visited the hospital that day was a new person. As I saw the beautiful smiles on the sisters’ faces, I realized that when we give care and service to our fellow beings, we feel the true joy that comes from serving God.
“If ye know these things, happy are ye if ye do them” (John 13:17).

When I was called to be a member of the high council, the stake president expressed his desire for more members to go to the temple on the days assigned for our stake. Transportation was a problem, so the first thing he did was arrange for a bus to pick up the members at all the ward buildings in the stake and also bring us back when the day was over.
There was another problem, however. Many mothers could not attend because they didn’t have anyone to watch their children. As we discussed the possibility of having some of the young women from the stake help care for the children, I realized that we could call a stake nursery leader. I proposed the idea to the stake president. He suggested that we call new converts to serve as assistants to the nursery leader so they could feel the spirit of the temple. When these ideas were put into action, we had great stake temple attendance.

Jimmy and his mom were shopping in an outdoor mall during the Christmas season. It was very cold, and they saw some high school students playing holiday songs. They played a few for Jimmy. As Jimmy and his mom walked away, he said they needed to give the students something. They went to their car and Jimmy got all the candy he had just received at his school Christmas party. He went back to the students and gave them all of his candy.

One year the young women in my ward participated in an interesting experiment related to dressing modestly. Here’s an account of one young woman who learned about this gospel principle and applied it to her life.
Anna Larsen* was excited that her turn to shop for clothes had finally come. Sister Jensen, her Laurel adviser, had taken each girl in the class shopping to learn a modesty lesson. Anna wasn’t sure what to expect.
When they arrived at the store, Sister Jensen asked Anna to pick out three outfits. As they walked to the dressing room, Sister Jensen said, “After you’ve put on an outfit, come out. Be prepared to have your eyes opened.”
Intrigued by her leader’s directions, Anna put on the sleeveless button-down shirt and hip-hugging skirt. When she walked out, Sister Jensen motioned her to the mirrors. “Now we’re going to play a game.”
“I doubt the clerks would be happy with me playing in their clothes before I’ve bought them,” Anna said.
Sister Jensen laughed and shook her head. “We’re going to play ‘Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes.’”
Anna looked skeptical.
“I’m serious,” Sister Jensen said. “Let’s start with your head.”
Anna put her hands on her head and saw her shirt pull up, baring her skin. “Oops,” she gasped, tugging it back down.
Sister Jensen put Anna’s hands back up. “That’s part of the game. You see how much your shirt lifts up? Now try shoulders,” Sister Jensen said.
When Anna dropped her hands to her shoulders she noticed even more showing inside the armholes. She also saw the shirt straining at the buttons.
“Now bend over and touch your knees and toes,” Sister Jensen advised.
Between her shirt and skirt was a two-inch gap. “Wow,” Anna said.
“I know,” Sister Jensen said. “Now, go try on the next outfit.”
After repeating the game twice more, Anna’s mood dimmed. None of her outfits had completely passed the “Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes” test.
“Don’t worry,” Sister Jensen said. “There’s hope. You just have to know how to put things together.” For the next hour Sister Jensen showed Anna how to layer different clothes to make them modest and stylish. She then challenged Anna to look through her closet and see if any changes needed to be made.
Later that night Anna looked at the mess on her bed. It had been overwhelming trying everything on to see what was modest or immodest. With a sigh she picked up one particular pile and carried it to her mom.
“Mom, I was wondering if I could donate these clothes.”
“Sure, honey. Why?” her mom replied.
Anna smiled. “Have you ever played ‘Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes’?”

If you are Vaga Babayan, 16, of the Severozamoskvoretsky Branch, you’ll rejoice in the hope of the future.
Two years ago, Vaga and his family, frightened by continual earthquakes in Armenia, moved to Moscow. His father found employment in a bakery run by relatives. Although Vaga studies hard all day, he also helps with the family business.
“One day my father and my sister met the missionaries. Dad invited them to our house. My mother had been searching for the truth and was excited to learn. They kept teaching us. Every time they came over, I felt a warmth in my soul. Three months later, my mother, my sister, and I were baptized.” His father, in Vaga’s words, is “still working” toward baptism.
“There are a lot of great things in Moscow,” Vaga says. “But the greatest of all is that I became acquainted with the Church here. The growth of the Church in Russia is creating a new history in our own lives.”
The power to change. That’s also a great gift, a gift even those with 850 years of experience might appreciate.

Bravery is a trait every young man can develop. It is based on love for others more than safety for self. One Venturer Scout who is blind signed up to go on a hike in southern California with his Scout troop. They hiked to Lord Baden Powell Peak over a steep trail. The young man held on to the shirt of a fellow Boy Scout every step of the way. It was a long hike and took two full days. This boy did not complain, did not seek pity, just kept grinding on and on until they came to the trail’s end. Equally as brave was the Scout who volunteered to lead his friend over a steep and challenging trail. He felt honored to help.

One day I received a letter from one of my former missionaries. He had labored under me while I was a mission president, and now he was in the armed forces. He was successful in bringing a young man into the Church. This young man wrote him a letter, and he sent it to me to read. It read something like this:
“I have just written a letter to my mother and to my best girl. I have been quoting to them out of the Book of Mormon.” Then he started mentioning the words of Nephi, Alma, and some of the other great prophets. He continued, “They are the best letters I have ever written.” You know, it is wonderful when the gospel gets into someone’s heart enough so that he can write to his mother and his best girl and have them be the best letters he has ever written.

I never really understood the statement in 2 Nephi 32:5 “the Holy Ghost … will show unto you all things what ye should do” until I experienced it.
My friends and I often took our bikes to a place we called the dirt hills. It was our favorite place to go. It was only about a mile from where we lived, so we could ride our bikes to get there. We would literally spend hours at the dirt hills jumping and riding our bikes. It was great fun.
One day, my friend Tyler crashed his bike. He seemed to be OK, and the bike looked OK, so we kept jumping. After about five more minutes, I stopped. Tyler rode over to me and asked what was wrong. I told him that I had this really strong feeling that we should leave and go home, even though we had only been there about 15 minutes. Tyler told me that he had the same feeling, and we both realized it was time to go.
As we rode closer to home, Tyler said that his bike was acting weird. As we got to the corner of the street where we both lived, Tyler’s bike broke into pieces—the pedals fell off and the chain broke.
What would have happened had we not followed the prompting to leave and had still been jumping? Tyler may have been seriously hurt. The Holy Ghost knew it was time for us to go. I am so thankful that we listened.

A story from my own family history illustrates this principle. My great-grandfather Joseph Watson Maynes was born in 1856 in Hull, Yorkshire, England. His family joined the Church in England and then made their way to Salt Lake City. He married Emily Keep in 1883, and they became the parents of eight children. Joseph was called to serve a full-time mission in June of 1910, when he was 53 years old. With the support of his wife and eight children, he returned to his native England to serve his mission.

After serving faithfully for approximately two years, he was riding his bicycle along with his companion to Sunday School services in Gloucester, England, when his tire burst. He got off his bicycle to assess the damage. When he saw that it was serious and would take a while to fix, he told his companion to go ahead and begin the Sunday service and he would be there shortly. Just as he finished saying this, he collapsed to the ground. He had died suddenly of a heart attack.

Joseph Watson Maynes never saw his wife and eight children again in this life. They were able to transport his body back to Salt Lake City and have his funeral service at the old Waterloo Assembly Hall. A statement made at his funeral service by Elder Anthony W. Ivins of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles teaches us an important lesson about life, death, and endurance: “This is what the gospel gives us—not immunity from death, but victory over it through the hope we have in a glorious resurrection. … It applies to [Joseph Maynes]. … It is a pleasure, and it is a satisfaction and joy to know that men lay down their lives in righteousness, in the faith, true to the faith.”4

This family story inspires me to try my very best to follow the example of endurance and spiritual stamina illustrated by my great-grandfather. I am equally inspired by the faith of his wife, Emily, whose life after Joseph’s death was certainly a heavy burden to bear. Her testimony was strong and her conversion complete as she spent the rest of her life true to the faith while supporting her eight children on her own.

My senior year in high school brought a challenge I wasn’t expecting. Shortly after school began, our speech teacher assigned me to participate in debate. We studied, practiced, and competed, and I humbly learned many valuable lessons.
Months later and four weeks before the state speech competition, my teacher casually informed me that he had also just entered my name to compete in extemporaneous speech. He began explaining that on the first day I would be required to deliver at least three different seven-minute speeches in front of a panel of judges.
And there was another catch—the speech topics were randomly assigned contemporary issues, with only 30 minutes to prepare. I was stunned; I had never even witnessed an extemporaneous speech.
Preparing in the remaining weeks, reading as many articles on contemporary issues as I could, I still felt overwhelming self-doubt and anxiety. On the day of the competition, I asked the officials, “I’ve already drawn my topic, but may I go in and listen a couple of moments to someone who’s actually giving his talk?” They replied, “You’ve only got 30 minutes. If you want to spend it listening, that’s up to you.”
That very first time, I went in and listened for a few precious moments. I knew I needed to be alone and pray to my Heavenly Father. I noticed a secluded grove on the university campus next to a pond where I could be alone, on my knees.
I pleaded with Heavenly Father for help. It wasn’t a prayer to win—it was an earnest prayer for the assistance of the Holy Ghost so that I would be able to do something I had never done before and make it through this challenge. I realized I needed God’s help.
Heavenly Father answered my prayer. I remembered what I had studied and was able to connect facts and impressions. With every new topic drawn, I would first leave to pray. Then I would go to work. The next day surprisingly brought me to the final round.
My faith in God was developing into my testimony, and my faith grew stronger as I felt Him near. I thanked Heavenly Father for the help I had received, for after doing all that I could do, He made more of me than I could ever have done myself (see 2 Nephi 25:23).

Some years ago I was appointed chairman of the board of a music school in the city of Hanau, Germany. As part of my duties, I attended an exhibit of musical instruments. Although I am not a musician, I strolled through the thousands of instruments and tried to ask an intelligent question or two.
As I wandered around the main floor, I noted that each exhibit had a soundproof enclosure, supposedly so that those trying out trumpets, cornets, French horns, organs, drums, or tubas would not disturb those trying out violins, clarinets, pianos, flutes, oboes, or saxophones. Actually, “not quite soundproof” would be a more accurate description of those enclosures. A terrible noise filled the air, as if musicians from several orchestras were all tuning their instruments at once.
Then I saw a sign reading “Orchestral Instruments” with an arrow pointing upstairs. I’m saved, I thought, even though the sign was a bit unclear—the instruments on the main floor were orchestral instruments. But I headed up the stairs anyway, hoping to find a little peace and quiet.
Instead I found myself in another large room filled with even more musical instruments—most of them used for performing rock music. The air was filled with much louder and shriller noises than those I was trying to escape. I quickly scanned the room for the closest exit.
But suddenly I stopped. For just a fraction of a second, I thought I heard a beautiful melody among all those discordant sounds. Was it possible? Or was it an illusion?
Then I heard the melody again. What an unmistakably beautiful sound! It was definitely a strain of violin music—almost lost in the ocean of noise. I looked around to see where it was coming from. I noticed that two others had heard it as well and were also seeking it out.
Eventually, we found what we were looking for. In the smallest booth in the hall, a man was softly playing a beautiful violin while his wife stood nearby. He told us that he was a Swedish violin maker and that he was trying to market his product the best he could amid the electric guitars and synthesizers.
“I was deceived,” he told us sadly. “I rented this spot because it was supposed to be the site of the orchestral exhibits.” Then he turned again to his violin, and we listened entranced as he played a familiar masterpiece. We no longer heard the discord around us—just the beautiful notes of that violin.

Francisco, age 8, is sometimes persecuted at school because he is a member of the Church. One day two boys he was playing with started to hit him. One of them hit him very hard on the head. “I didn’t fight with them,” he says, “because I don’t like to fight and I know it is bad. Also something told me not to fight with them. It was the Holy Ghost.”
The director of the school called in the parents of all three boys to help solve the problem. After the meeting, the director told Francisco’s parents how impressed she was with him for not fighting, for telling the truth, and for setting a good example for the other children. “My friends were punished for what they had done—they couldn’t go out at recess for one or two weeks,” Francisco remembers. He is grateful the Holy Ghost prompted him to do what was right.

While teaching at BYU in 1978, Brother Dennis Rasmussen applied and was selected to study at the Jewish Theological Seminary of America. In the opening session, as he gave his name and university, Rabbi Muffs boomed, “You’re the Mormon! … Do you pay your tithing?” “Yes,” he answered. “Do you pay it with a joyful heart?” “I believe,” the rabbi said, “that joy is the essence of religion. There is nothing more fundamental to religious living than joy. … I am working on a book about joy.” Brother Rasmussen responded, “There’s a passage in the Book of Mormon that you might like. It says, ‘Adam fell that men might be; and men are, that they might have joy.’” Rabbi Muffs was profoundly touched and exclaimed, “I’ve found the text I’ve searched for all my life … in the Book of Mormon.” Turning to Brother Rasmussen he said, “Say it again, but not so fast.” As he repeated the familiar words, the rabbi’s eyes glowed in appreciation of this great truth he understood but had not heard so succinctly expressed.

Near the end of last year, I learned of the passing of a dear couple, Mario and Regina Emerick, who were very faithful to the Lord and passed away four days apart from one another due to complications from COVID-19.
One of their sons, who is currently serving as a bishop in Brazil, related the following to me: “It was so difficult to see my parents depart from this world in that condition, but I could clearly feel the hand of the Lord in my life amidst that tragedy, because I received strength and peace that transcended my understanding. Through my faith in Jesus Christ and His Atonement, I received divine help to strengthen and comfort my family members and all those who helped us during this trying experience. Even though the miracle that everyone hoped for did not occur, personally I am a witness of many other miracles that have occurred in my own life and in the lives of my family members. I felt an inexplicable peace that penetrated the depths of my heart, giving me hope and confidence in the love of the Savior for me and in the plan of happiness of God for His children. I learned that on the very most grief-filled days, the loving arms of the Savior are always extended when we seek Him with all our heart, power, mind, and strength.”

When I was a full-time missionary, I learned the importance of a sincere fast. A family we had been teaching was nearing baptism—all except the oldest daughter. As the oldest child, she was a spiritual leader for the rest of the family. But something was holding her back from joining the Church.
On a regular fast Sunday, my companion and I, along with her family, fasted for her. Then after sacrament meeting, we visited with the family briefly. As my companion was talking with the girl and her mother, I had one of those spiritual surprises that brighten the landscape of our lives. The Spirit made manifest to me what was holding her back from being baptized: She had a boyfriend in her own church who had experienced several spiritual manifestations, and she was concerned that she might be forsaking something very good. Then, through the Spirit, I perceived that the Lord knew her personally, understood her concern, and had great blessings ready to be poured out upon her.
In my excitement, I interrupted my companion and said, “I know what the problem is!” Both the mother and the daughter were startled and then tearful as I explained what the Holy Ghost had just made known to me. Then I bore testimony that I knew greater blessings would come to her than she ever dreamed possible if she would accept the gospel. We had a prayer and left for our next appointment.
Her tears worried me. I thought I might have offended her. But the next evening, when we returned with our zone leaders to interview the family for baptism, she asked, “May I be interviewed, too?”
“Yes,” I gasped. “But tell me what has happened.” She told me that I had been correct and that the Spirit had borne witness to her of the promises I had made to her. She was baptized along with her family. What great blessings had come to all of us as a result of that day of sincere fasting!