Gospel Story Finder

“Good morning, birthday boy!” Mama said. “Come and get some birthday breakfast.”
Marcus jumped out of bed and hurried to the kitchen to eat his sweet oatmeal and berries. “Thanks, Mama!”
After breakfast, Marcus ran to his room and reached under his bed for his box of drawing things. Marcus loved oatmeal, he loved soccer, and he loved race cars. But most of all, he loved drawing.
Marcus pulled out his notebook and markers. He started drawing a race track with a bright orange race car zooming around.
Pretty soon his race car was almost perfect. All it needed was some cool red stripes. He pulled the lid off his red marker. But it was all dried up!
Oh no! Marcus thought. I wanted to make the stripes red!
He grabbed the blue marker. Oh well. I guess blue stripes will be OK, he thought. But the blue marker was all dried up too.
Marcus frowned. He definitely needed new markers. Usually he got a new set of markers for his birthday, but Dad had just lost his job. His family didn’t have a lot of money right now. So Marcus would just have to wait. At least he would still get a birthday cake tonight.
With a sigh, Marcus put his drawing things back in the box and slid it under his bed. Soon his friend Peter would be over to play.
When the doorbell rang, Marcus ran to the door.
“Happy birthday!” Peter said. “We’re the same age again!” Peter was exactly one week older than Marcus and lived nearby. Marcus loved having a birthday in the same month as his friend.
Marcus and Peter played soccer in the backyard. Then they built rocket ships out of boxes. Marcus had so much fun that he almost forgot about the markers.
Then there was a knock at the door. “Marcus,” Mama called. “Auntie is here to see you!”
“Happy birthday, Marcus!” Auntie said. She handed him a present wrapped in bright paper.
Marcus tore off the paper and couldn’t believe what he saw inside. A new set of markers! And even better, there were two of each color.
“Thanks, Auntie!” Marcus gave her a big hug. Then he ran to his bedroom to finish his race-car picture. Peter watched him add the last red stripe. It was perfect!
When the day was over, Marcus lay in bed and thought about his fun day. He got to play with his best friend, and he got new markers!
But a thought kept bothering him. Peter was really quiet when Marcus opened his birthday present from Auntie. Did my present make him sad? Marcus wondered.
Then Marcus remembered something. Peter’s dad had lost his job too. What if Peter didn’t get any presents on his birthday? That thought made Marcus sad. But maybe there was a way he could help.
The next morning, Marcus woke up early. He found the crumpled wrapping paper from his present. He pulled out his markers and wrapped one of each color in the paper. Then he put the present by Peter’s front door and hurried away before anyone could see him.
When Marcus got home, he looked at his set of markers. There was only one of each color now. Marcus sighed. Then he pictured Peter unwrapping his surprise and smiled. Maybe Peter would come over to play after he found his present. Then they could draw race cars together!

Caroline is a holder of a PathwayConnect certificate and has had to pause her studies to allow for the birth of their second baby a few months ago. “I will pick up again this coming September; I have already enrolled,” she said. Looking back on her journey through PathwayConnect, Caroline says, “The journey was not easy because we have many things that we need to accomplish as mothers. However, with faith and lessons from BYU–PathwayConnect, I forged ahead and finished PathwayConnect. Weekly devotionals were the daily drive to keep me moving on. Meeting my fellow students during weekly gatherings and getting to hear their experiences built me and encouraged me. I pleaded with my Heavenly Father for help and strength so that I could accomplish my studies.”

When Nick H. was thinking about ideas for an Eagle Scout project, he knew he wanted to do something meaningful and personal—something that represented a unique contribution from him.
“I remember sitting on my couch in my living room and thinking, ‘We all have talents and skills and abilities. How can we use those gifts from Heavenly Father to bless the lives of others?’” says Nick, 19. As this question went through his head, he thought of his love of running and then asked himself how he could combine serving others with running.
And thus was born an event that has become an annual Christmastime tradition in Nick’s community in southern Indiana.
For his Eagle Scout project, Nick organized a 5K run and partnered with a local charity that helps fulfill the needs and Christmas wishes of disadvantaged children. Those who signed up for the race received information about specific children’s needs and pledged to fill them. Through an arrangement with a local store, racers could also get discount prices on the items they purchased for the children. In addition, Nick organized donations for a Christmas dinner at his ward’s meetinghouse for the families of the children, who would be presented with their gifts there.
About 15 runners participated in Nick’s Eagle Scout project four years ago. But everyone who participated felt it was so worthwhile that it should be held again the next year. A nonprofit organization was created, and the event has been held each year since. Both Latter-day Saint youth and non-LDS youth have organized the event, which had 300 participants last year, as well as a great deal of community support, including offers from other local churches to host the dinner.
Other lessons have come through this service as well. For Nick, who is now serving a mission in Honduras, the story of this Eagle project that grew into so much more is a lesson about what youth can accomplish. “I’ve noticed the fire of the youth spirit,” he says. “It doesn’t set boundaries. It doesn’t say, ‘Oh, this isn’t possible.’ Teens are innovative, they’re creative, they’re young, they’re vivacious. When they have a righteous goal and have the right mindset, they’re going to accomplish it.”

The choice of Cochabamba as a temple site is likely due to its central location in Bolivia. Nestled at 2,400 meters on the eastern slopes of the lofty Andes Mountains, Cochabamba has a temperate climate that attracts many people. The area is subject to drought, however, and in 1996 no rain fell for months. Then, in November, 22 months after the temple was announced, people traveled from all over the country to attend the groundbreaking ceremony. On the day President Gordon B. Hinckley was due, rain finally began falling. When the President arrived at the temple site, Latter-day Saints were already there, having waited for hours in the pouring rain. He welcomed the “wet members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints” and assured them that the Lord was mindful of them and acquainted with their sacrifices.

In the Fall in 1986 I was a first-year student at a private liberal arts college in the Boston area. Every Sunday I took a University shuttle bus to Cambridge where I went to Church at the single student ward. After only a few weeks at school it was the beginning of October and time for General Conference. At that point not all meetinghouses had satellite receivers and we were told that General Conference would be broadcast at the Stake Center in Weston, Massachusetts. I was not from this area and didn’t know the geography well, but someone told me that it was near my campus. I remember going to a payphone in the dorm and looking up the Weston Chapel in the phone book, I didn’t have a phone in my room and no one had a cell phone back then, and I made a call to the Stake Center to get directions.

That Sunday morning I remember walking those four miles or so along the road to the Stake Center, admiring the beautiful changing colors of the New England Fall and enjoying the very pleasant weather. It might have even been what is called an Indian Summer, unseasonably mild weather in Fall. I don’t remember it being cold at all, but just having a wonderful peaceful feeling all the way through that walk. After I arrived I remember sitting close to the front of the chapel, surrounded by strangers and watching the Conference broadcast on the screen.

When I look back now, I am amazed that I was even there, that I had the faith to make that call and take that walk. When you’re out on your own it can be easy to take a Sunday off when no one is looking for you or expecting you. Likewise, being in an elite academic environment can potentially diminish interest in a life of faith and things of the Spirit. I have to give credit to my parents for raising me in a home in which attending Church and General Conference was something not only expected, but desirable. I also give credit for faithful youth leaders and Seminary teachers who had inspired me to read the scriptures daily, building my own faith in the importance hearing the voice of God’s servants.

I don’t remember all the talks that were given that Autumn Sunday, but there was one statement that was planted in my heart that day that has continued to grow and bear fruit until this day. Elder A. Theodore Tuttle of the Seventy spoke on “Developing Faith.” In that talk he also referred to his home that had nurtured faith in him. “I am a product of a household of faith. I learned faith in my home. I was taught it. It was drilled into me. I need that faith now as much as I ever did. I think we all do.”1

Then he said these words that brought about a dramatic shift in my way of thinking. He said “We’re not going to survive in this world, temporally or spiritually, without increased faith in the Lord—and I don’t mean a positive mental attitude—I mean downright solid faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. That is the one thing that gives vitality and power to otherwise rather weak individuals.” I had grown up in an era where it was not uncommon to have many lessons and Sacrament meeting talks that focused on believing in yourself, setting goals, and having a positive mental attitude. In contrast, Elder Tuttle’s witness that only faith in the Lord Jesus Christ would be enough to save us sank deep into my heart. In academic circles we talk about having a paradigm shift or shifting to a new mental model. In scriptural terms I can say I was beginning to repent in the sense of the Greek word metanoeo, to take on a new way of thinking and feeling. I was starting to get a glimpse of the reality that only the Redemption of Christ has to power to save me. I was starting to know that Christ was the Being in whom I needed to put my faith and my confidence in order to get the help I needed to live life successfully.

As I lay in my bed that night, I watched each of my sisters and brothers in turn be taken down the stairs. I was the oldest child at home that year since my older sister had left on her mission. Below me in the living room, I heard the song over and over as each child was sung to. Then it was my turn. I followed Papa down the stairs into the living room. He sat in the big chair and opened his arms.

“Do you still want me to sit on your lap?” I asked.

“Of course,” he smiled. Gratefully, I climbed onto his lap and pulled my knees up to my chin, snuggling up next to him.

“This is my last night to be rocked,” I said.

“I know,” came his quiet reply.

As the first few strains of the familiar tune began in the tape recorder next to us, I thought back to all the years I had heard this song on Christmas Eve. Suddenly something in me wanted to stay. I was so warm and comfortable, and I had no idea what the future months and years would hold. I started to cry.

Don’t let this song end, I thought.

Papa began to sing.

Heaven bless you little one while you’re fast asleep.
You’ll awake to dancing toys,
Candy canes, Christmas joys.
And I pray your whole life through,
Angels will watch over you,
Loving you the way I do,
My little one, sleep well.

Each year before this night, the song had reminded me of Christmas and what the next morning would bring. But on this last time, I knew Papa was singing about life and the years ahead—not toys that would break or wear out, but eternal joys I would find on my journey through life, joys I was not even aware of now. On this night I heard the emotion of his voice as he sang for angels to watch over me, not just for tonight but for tomorrow night and all the nights that would follow when he wouldn’t be there.

I let my tears flow, as the last strains of music faded away. Papa and I watched the lights of the tree in the darkness, and we rocked and rocked, long after the song had ended.

As we rocked, I thought what our last night in heaven must have been like, the night before each of us came to earth to be born. Did Heavenly Father hold us close and tell us of the joys and dancing toys which we would find on the morrow? Did we cry and wish we could stay with him forever, even though we knew earth life would bring us more joys than we could imagine? He must have held us long after his song to us had ended, asking that angels would watch over us in our earthly journey, that our years away from him would be filled with happiness and would eventually lead us back to his presence.

I found comfort as I thought of my Heavenly Father that night, while my earthly father rocked me. Even though Papa couldn’t be there every day in the future to help me with each struggle I would face, my Father in Heaven would be there. No matter what the years ahead would bring, I would not only have the support of an earthly father but of my Heavenly Father. And he would guide my paths and bring me home for good. That night I felt he too was singing, “Loving you the way I do, my little one, sleep well.”

This story took place in Guam.
Johne watched his foster mom set the table. She taped a photo of Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf to an extra chair, along with a cartoon picture of an airplane.
“Time for dinner!” Mom called.
Johne’s foster sister, Lydia, jumped up from the couch. “I’m so hungry!”
“Me too,” Johne said.
Mom pushed Johne’s wheelchair up to the table and sat next to him. Dad and Lydia sat down at the table too. Johne loved it when they were all home for dinner.
Dad said the prayer on the food, and Mom passed around the chicken and rice. “We’re going to learn about one of the Apostles tonight,” she said. She pointed to the photo on the chair. “Does anyone know who he is?”
“That’s Elder Uchtdorf,” Johne said.
Dad nodded. “I chose him to be tonight’s guest.”
“Can I choose tomorrow?” Lydia asked.
“Sure,” Mom said.
Johne was excited to learn about Elder Uchtdorf. General conference was in two weeks, and Johne’s foster family had a great tradition to prepare for it. Each night, they chose an Apostle to learn about. Mom taped a picture of the Apostle to a chair. Then she told the family facts about him and stories about his childhood.
“What do you know about Elder Uchtdorf?” Dad asked.
“Oh, I know!” Lydia said. “He flew airplanes!” She pointed to the airplane picture on the chair.
“That’s right,” Mom said. “Before he was called as an Apostle, he was an airplane pilot in Germany.”
Johne made a flying motion with his hand and made an airplane noise. “Fwoosh!”
“Elder Uchtdorf joined the Church when he was a child,” Dad said. “Just like you did, Johne.”
Johne looked at the photo. It was hard to imagine Elder Uchtdorf as a kid just like him!
“And he had a special job at church on Sundays,” Mom said. “The organ needed to have air pumped into it so it could work. During the songs, he helped pump the air for the organ to play the hymns.”
“I bet it was hard work,” Dad said. “But he loved the music. His favorite song was ‘Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam.’”
Lydia grinned. “That’s my favorite song too!”
“Elder Uchtdorf is a lot like us,” Mom said. “And in just a few weeks, we’ll get to listen to him speak to the whole Church. He’ll share a message that Jesus Christ wants us all to hear!”
After dinner, Mom took the photo off the chair. She taped it onto the wall next to the photos of the other Apostles. They would leave the photos up until general conference to help them recognize the speakers.
Johne helped Dad with the dishes. Dad washed them, and Johne dried them. As he worked, he smiled at the pictures on the wall.
Johne loved learning about the Apostles! He couldn’t wait to hear from them at conference.

I speak tonight especially to the 12- to 25-year-olds who hold the priesthood of God. We think about you a lot and we pray for you. I once told the story of our four-year-old grandson giving his little brother a strong push. After consoling the crying child, my wife, Kathy, turned to the four-year-old and thoughtfully asked, “Why would you push your little brother?” He looked at his grandmother and responded, “Mimi, I’m sorry. I lost my CTR ring, and I cannot choose the right.” We know that you try hard to always choose the right. We love you very much.

Sister Atistosgbui shared her thoughts on being an instructor. “Volunteering as an instructor over the past few weeks has been challenging, yet an eye-opening, learning opportunity for my students and me. My desire to see the YSA succeed motivated me to sacrifice my resources to transporting mannequins, pressing iron, and sewing machines among other things from my workshop to the gathering place and back twice every week. Although the cost of transporting the equipment to class was high, I knew the Lord always blesses the cheerful giver”, she said.

When I was a student at the University of Vienna in Austria, two missionaries came to my door, saying, “We have a message for you from God.” I invited them in, wondering why I did so because I didn’t have any interest in religion. Deeply affected by the Hungarian Revolution of 1956—which sent thousands of refugees streaming into Austria—I had been seeking to know the meaning of life. But I didn’t expect to find the answer in any church.
The message of these missionaries was the message of the Restoration. I think I loved the Prophet Joseph Smith from the first moment I heard about him. I was especially touched by the circumstances of his Martyrdom. Later, as I spent time reading the Book of Mormon and praying, I received through the power of the Holy Ghost a joyful, peaceful assurance that Jesus is the Christ, that Joseph Smith was the Prophet of the Restoration, and that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the Lord’s restored Church on the earth, led by living prophets who prepare the world for His Second Coming.

A long time ago in a distant land lived a family of three sisters.
The first sister was sad. Everything from her nose to her chin and from her skin to her toes seemed not quite good enough to her. When she spoke, her words sometimes came out awkwardly, and people laughed. When someone criticized her or “forgot” to invite her to something, she would blush, walk away, and find a secret spot where she would let out a sad sigh and wonder why life had turned out to be so bleak and cheerless.
The second sister was mad. She thought of herself as very smart, but there was always someone else who scored higher on tests at school. She considered herself funny, fair, fashionable, and fascinating. But always, there seemed to be someone who was funnier, fairer, more fashionable, or more fascinating.
She was never first at anything, and this she could not endure. Life was not supposed to be this way!
Sometimes she lashed out at others, and it seemed that she was always one breath away from being outraged by one thing or another.
Of course, this did not make her any more likable or popular. Sometimes she clenched her teeth, tightened her fists, and thought, “Life is so unfair!”
Then there was the third sister. Unlike her sad and mad sisters, she was—well, glad. And it wasn’t because she was smarter or more beautiful or more capable than her sisters. No, people sometimes avoided or ignored her too. They sometimes made fun of what she was wearing or the things she was saying. They sometimes said mean things about her. But she did not allow any of that to bother her too much.
This sister loved to sing. She didn’t have great pitch, and people laughed about it, but that didn’t stop her. She would say, “I am not going to let other people and their opinions stop me from singing!”
The very fact that she kept singing made her first sister sad and her second sister mad.
Many years passed, and eventually each sister reached the end of her time on earth.
The first sister, who discovered again and again that there was no shortage of disappointments in life, eventually died sad.
The second, who every day found something new to dislike, died mad.
And the third sister, who spent her life singing her song with all her might and a confident smile on her face, died glad.

Ryan* came through the door and placed his schoolbag on a peg in the hallway. His mother called to him, “Be sure to check out the bathtub. You won’t believe this.”
His curiosity aroused, Ryan walked directly to the bathroom. He didn’t know what to expect, but what he saw made him shudder. In the bottom of the tub were five hairy tarantulas. Each was half the size of a man’s hand.
As Ryan peered tentatively over the edge of the tub, his mom touched him on the shoulder. “I can’t even look,” she said nervously. “The girls promised me that those things couldn’t get out of the tub. I’ll have nightmares for a week over this.”
“Who brought them?”
“One of those things has a tag tied to its leg. That will answer your questions,” his mom said as she turned away.
Getting the tag off the tarantula’s leg took half an hour and occasioned the gathering of several of Ryan’s friends, who thought this was the coolest dance invitation they had seen yet. The house was in an uproar. On one side, the tag read: “Hey, big guy! How about going to the girl’s dance with me? Kim.” On the other: “Don’t hurt the spiders. They’re rented.”
When the last of the visitors had drifted away, Mom said to Ryan, “You don’t seem that excited about the invitation. Is Kim somebody you want to go with?”
Ryan replied after a pause, “Yeah, I guess.”
“She’s certainly a gorgeous girl. I was impressed by her poise and self-confidence,” his mom continued.
“Uh huh.”
“And her friends were very classy. I’ll bet they don’t have any trouble dating the boys they want to.”
“Not much.”
“Is she the person you hoped would ask you?”
“Not really,” said Ryan.
“Tell me about her,” his mom pressed.
Ryan was starting to feel impatient with the conversation. He ended it more abruptly than he meant to by saying, “I don’t think it would be a good thing for me to go out with her. She and her friends are making some bad choices.”
That’s what Ryan did. He just didn’t feel right about accepting an invitation from Kim, no matter how cleverly it was presented. In the end, he chose to do what was right. I hope and pray that you will be faithful in developing the ability to do the same.

Do you know what it means to minister? Think about this question while I tell you about a girl named Chy Johnson.
When Chy started high school last year, she became the victim of cruel and thoughtless bullying. She was mistreated, shoved, and taunted as she walked to class—some students even threw garbage at her. You have probably seen people mistreated like this in your school too.
For too many people, the teenage years are a time of loneliness and fear. It doesn’t have to be this way. Fortunately for Chy, there were young men at her school who understood what it means to minister.
Chy’s mother had asked teachers at the school to help stop the bullying, but it continued. She then contacted Carson Jones, an Aaronic Priesthood holder and the starting quarterback of the football team. She asked him to help her find out who was doing the bullying.
Carson agreed to help, but in his heart he felt that he could do much more than just identify the bullies. The Spirit whispered to him that he needed to help Chy feel loved.
Carson asked some of his teammates to join him in ministering to Chy. They invited her to sit with them during lunch. They walked her to class to make sure she was safe. Not surprisingly, with football players as her close friends, no one bullied Chy anymore.
This was an exciting season for the football team. But even with the thrill of an undefeated season, these young men did not forget about Chy. They invited her to join the team on the field after games. Chy felt loved and appreciated. She felt safe. She was happy.
The football team went on to win the state title. But something more important than a football championship happened at their school. The example of these young men has motivated other students to be more accepting, more friendly. They now treat each other with more kindness and respect.
National news media found out what these young men had done and shared their story across the country. What began as an effort to minister to one is inspiring thousands of others to do the same.
Chy’s mother calls these young men “angels in disguise.” Carson and his friends are quick to say that Chy has blessed their lives much more than they blessed hers. That’s what happens when you lose yourself in serving others—you find yourself.2 You change and grow in ways that would not be possible otherwise. These young men have experienced the joy of ministering and continue to seek opportunities to bless others. They are anxious to extend their ministering in the coming months when they serve as full-time missionaries.3

One couple said:

“Serving a senior couple mission was our righteous desire, but we [faced] many challenges. We exercised our faith in the Lord Jesus Christ to have the Holy Ghost guide us in every step. Despite our challenges, we were blessed with peace and confidence to move forward. We were able to save sufficient funds for our mission, paid off debts, and organised our family. We are blessed to have a better relationship as husband and wife, as well as [with] each of our children.”

It was Thanksgiving of 1990. I had just gone through a difficult divorce, and I was a first-year law student in an unfamiliar city. My children were going to be at their father’s house for the holiday, and for the first time in my life, I would be alone on Thanksgiving.
At first I wanted to feel sorry for myself and have a good cry. But then I began to count my blessings. I had two beautiful children, a nice house, an opportunity to gain knowledge, and the gospel of Jesus Christ to guide my life. I truly had been blessed with many things.
As Thanksgiving approached, I discovered that a group of law students had planned to go to a local mission to help serve an early Thanksgiving dinner to the homeless. I decided that helping at the mission would be better than sitting at home feeling lonely and bitter, so I joined my fellow students.
A few days later I found myself placing hot mashed potatoes on the plates of hungry, grateful, life-tossed people. The tears that welled up in my eyes were not for the sadness I felt for myself; rather, they were tears of love for all of God’s children, no matter their circumstances.

I had learned of the Mormon church through a friend of mine, and when I was 13 years old I was baptized. One of the main reasons I was attracted to the Church was the love and concern I felt from the members of my ward.
I had become quite close to a family in my ward—the Fishers. I was their babysitter. They were my friends, and I grew to love them very much. I loved to babysit for them, and they accepted me for the person I was. I knew they cared about me, and I felt secure when I was with them.
To make a long story short, in the next few months I ran away from home twice. The Fishers went to Social Services and requested that I come live with them. I was surprised but thrilled! After several court trials, I was placed in their home as a foster child. I was 14 years old.
That was eight years ago. As I look back over the years, there are many memories. But perhaps the greatest memory I have is being legally adopted and going to the St. George Temple to be sealed to my parents. My whole family was present, grandparents and all, and it was a peaceful, beautiful, and glorious day.
My parents have worked very hard with me. They encouraged me to go back to school, and I graduated from Brigham Young University. It was a great day, and my parents helped me to make it possible.
There are so many other things my parents have done for me, I could never name them all. However, the most important thing they did was to take me into their home and to love me. My parents helped me to learn to love others. They taught me about the gospel. They answered my questions. They had faith. And they were and still are my examples. My parents gave me the opportunity to have a family and to experience the security of belonging.
When I first went to my foster home I was bitter and felt sorry for myself. I often asked myself, why me? It all seemed so unfair. Fortunately, I have since learned that the experiences I had during my first 14 years of life were meant to be. Those experiences have made me into the person I am today. Those experiences were to teach me. Yes, I had to learn to have compassion for others who may be hurting. I have promised myself to never forget how it hurts to be lonely and frightened.
There is no doubt in my mind that my parents were to be mine. My patriarchal blessing tells me so. We just all came together in a different way. I want to repay my parents for their love, help, and understanding, and I know I can do this by living a good life, helping others, and remaining faithful to the gospel. This is what they would want me to do. I know because it is what they have done in their lives.

When Christiane and I were young, these were the words of our living prophet, and we trusted and followed his advice. We knelt across the altar of the Swiss Temple, being only twenty-two and twenty years of age. We were worthy of the covenant, we had no real clue of what to expect, we had no work experience or finished education, and we were as poor as church mice. All that we had in abundance was our love for each other and a lot of naïve enthusiasm. But we began building our world together. We did not postpone having children, and we needed to support each other in getting our educations. We strongly believed in the Lord’s promise that “if ye do keep his commandments he doth bless you and prosper you.”

And He did. When we married, Christiane was in nursing school. Our vision included having her finish her degree, but at the same time we also made a conscious decision to begin fulfilling our dream of having a family. As a result, our first child was born about two weeks before Christiane passed her final exam as a certified nurse.

However, we knew that even in our marriage there would be stumbling blocks, challenges, and some difficulties. But we had a simple oral agreement, which we often repeated with smiles on our faces: “If difficulties approach, no manslaughter and no divorce.”

Now, thirty-six years later, we are grateful that we could build this family together. Our faith in God and our relationship with each other have become unshaken as we have seen the hand of the Lord guiding us through the process of building our kingdom in mortality, which at present consists of seven children and six grandchildren. This kingdom will continue to grow, forever and ever.

When I was about ten or eleven, many of our relatives came to visit. There must have been 35 or 40. Mother had invited them all to dinner. After dinner everyone went in the other room and sat down to visit. There were piles of dirty dishes and silverware everywhere. The food had not been put away, and there were dirty pots and pans from all the preparations.

I remember thinking that later on everyone would leave, and my mother would have all the cleaning up to do. An idea struck me. I started cleaning up. It was in the days before electric dishwashers. Mother had always been very clean, and she taught us how to wash and wipe dishes correctly. I started in on this mountain of work. Finally, about three hours later, I had finished drying the last dish. I had put away all the food, cleaned off all the counters, the sinks, and the floor. The kitchen was spotless.

I will never forget the look on Mom’s face later on that night when all the guests had left and she came into the kitchen to clean up. I was wet from my chest to my knees. It was worth every particle of effort I had put into it just to see the look on Mom’s face. It was a mixture of emotion, relief, and pride. I made a decision then that I would try to put that look back on her face over and over and over again. I think I was able to do that.

Now no one should suppose that I did everything right. I could have been a lot better, but I think Mom would agree that I honestly tried.

Now that I had a testimony of the restored gospel, what about my ministry? I still had 10 months left in my contract as a minister. After much prayer and counseling with God, I decided to complete my service. For the next 10 months, I continued to share traditional Bible truths, but when possible I added the perspective of the restored gospel. People resonated with those truths, and my little flock grew from 20 to nearly 150.

Since receiving her patriarchal blessing, sharing the gospel with family and relatives has always been on my mom’s mind. One day, she was talking to my sister, Jiyon, about it and asked what she could do to share the gospel with relatives. My sister’s answer was funny yet profound, “Wait until they all die.” We are not waiting for every relative to die, but we are doing a lot of work for the dead.

My mom reads the records that are written in Chinese characters and writes them on a separate piece of paper. By 2007, my mom had hundreds of sheets written, which meant tens of thousands of names waiting to be entered. Back then, GEDCOM files were made first. Then, those files were sent to a Korean sister, Sister Seong, who worked in the Family History Center to upload to the Church genealogy system. I started feeling I needed to do genealogy and enter those names into the GEDCOM system. My sister even bought me a computer to do that, but I didn’t jump right into it. Apparently, my ancestors were getting impatient. In the summer of 2007, I was laid off from my job. I was angry for less than a second. Then a clear and strong impression came, "Perfect! I can do genealogy!" I could never quit a job without lining up a new job because my mom would bury me alive. However, by divine intervention, I got six months of uninterrupted time to do genealogy. I knew this time was given to me to enter those names of my ancestors. The first couple of days, I was getting the feel of how long it would take to enter those names. I calculated if I entered about 1,000 names a day, I could finish it in six months. I prayed and asked Heavenly Father that I would not get a job before I finished entering the names. I did this every day. I woke up and entered the names. It was like a full-time job. Those six months were the most spiritual and happiest time in my life, even more spiritual than being a missionary or an MTC teacher. By the time I finished, it took a little under six months. A week after I finished, I got a job offer. Again, in the Lord’s mysterious way, He turned an unpleasant situation into a life-changing experience. It was a time of perspective shift.