Gospel Story Finder

I will always remember one time when I performed the sealing for an ancestor. She had lived a difficult life, including the death of her first husband, the death of a toddler, and bankruptcy. During the sealing, the veil was thin, and the joy she felt while receiving her covenants was palpable. The Spirit filled my heart and the hearts of everyone in the room. It drew me closer to my Savior and gave me a surer witness of Heavenly Father’s plan of salvation and the eternal nature of families.

Sid told me of an experience he had on his mission. It was evening, and he and his companion were just about to return to their apartment. They decided to visit one more family. The father let them in. Elder Going and his companion testified of the Savior. The family accepted a Book of Mormon. The father read all night. In the next week and a half he read the entire Book of Mormon, the Doctrine and Covenants, and the Pearl of Great Price. A few weeks later the family was baptized.6

One family created a learning experience while displaying their Nativity figures. The figures of Mary and Joseph were placed near the stable. The figures of the shepherds and sheep were placed nearby. But the figures of the wise men and camels were situated across the room. As Christmas Eve approached, they moved the figures of the wise men closer and closer to the stable scene. On Christmas Eve, the figure of the baby Jesus was placed in the manger and the shepherds were moved close around the stable. The wise men were moved close by.

One Sunday in July, I could feel the Spirit in the room as I passed the sacrament. After passing to the people in the back, I checked to make sure everyone had a chance to receive it. I then reverently walked over to the line of the other young men who had finished passing the sacrament.

As the other young men lined up, I looked around and saw a family on the far side of the chapel. I realized that they had not received the sacrament yet. It seemed too late, because the priests stood up and the line started to move. As the young men in front of me took the sacrament, all I could think about was that family and how they didn’t receive the sacrament.

I felt a great urge to break from the line and pass to that family. I knew it was the Holy Ghost telling me to do it, so I left the line and walked down the aisle toward the family near the back. As I grew closer, I felt warmth overcome me. I looked up and saw the family smiling at me. I could feel their appreciation for not forgetting them.

I passed the sacrament to the family even though I felt like everyone in the congregation was looking at me. I could almost sense the Holy Ghost whispering, “Good job.” You don’t need words to know that someone truly cares and appreciates your love and respect for them. All you need to do is a good deed.

The sound from more than 700 barking dogs is deafening, but Kim Nahler enjoys the noise. And it’s a good thing, because during her summer vacation, Kim spends four hours a day listening to this canine chorus.
Kim, 14, is a member of the Kanab Utah First Ward and a volunteer at the Best Friends Animal Sanctuary in the heart of southern Utah’s red-rock country. The sanctuary houses more than 1,800 animals, including dogs, cats, birds, and horses. All the animals at the sanctuary are there because they have been injured, abused, or abandoned. Kim, along with the rest of the volunteers, helps care for and rehabilitate the animals until each animal can be placed in a permanent home.
“I like being around the animals,” says Kim, who has volunteered with the dogs for three years during her summer vacations.
Every morning Kim prepares food for the dogs and feeds them. Some of the dogs require special foods and medication, and Kim learns quickly which dogs need special attention. “It makes you patient,” Kim says. “When you feed the dogs, they all jump on you when you go into their cages.”
When Kim takes biscuits around to the dogs, she suddenly has hundreds of best friends. As a small pack of dogs, eager to eat a snack, jumps on Kim, she stays calm even though she doesn’t weigh much more than some of the anxious animals. Although the more aggressive dogs get their biscuits first, Kim makes sure that all the dogs gathered around her get an equal helping.
During the three summers she has volunteered at the animal sanctuary, Kim has gained a greater respect for animals. “Everything is God’s creation, and we should respect that.”
Kim takes her stewardship over animals seriously and is upset when she sees people abuse God’s creatures. Through her service, she shows by example how animals should be treated.
Although working with dogs every day can sometimes be tiring, Kim feels the service is worth her sacrifice. “Sometimes it’s a little bit hard because you have to wake up early in the morning. You know it’s your summer, and you want to sleep in a little bit. Other times it’s ‘Oh yeah, I get to go in to volunteer today.’
“Doing this is well worth my time. Afterwards I feel like I’ve done something,” Kim says. “The dogs need attention, love, and caring.”
As Kim walks past the dogs in the sanctuary, the crescendo of barking moves along with her. Although Kim volunteers with dogs, she loves all animals.
Kim’s service allows many animals to live in a caring environment, free from abuse. This service gives Kim the feeling that she is doing her part to care for God’s creations.

Another one of my friends was an older man who owned a flower shop. I’d often go see him, and he’d let me use his microscope. When he died, I didn’t know where he went. I was afraid. I worried about it for almost two years. I came to the point where I had to know if Heavenly Father was really there.
One night, while sleeping outside, I knelt by my cot and poured my heart out to the Lord for a long time. I asked Heavenly Father, “Are You there and do You love me?” As I was kneeling there, I felt a warmth from the bottom of my feet to the top of my head. I heard and felt these words: “Yes, I’m here, and yes, I love you.” I know that if Heavenly Father knew and cared about a little boy in Wyoming, He knows and cares about all of us!

Valeria Pontelli of Río Gallegos, Santa Cruz, Argentina, didn’t set out to convert her friend. She simply lived her standards with conviction. Because she is a member of the Church, there were certain things she did and certain things she didn’t do, and all her friends knew it. One of those friends was Paula Alvarez, who always watched Valeria closely and was impressed with how faithfully and consistently she lived her beliefs.
Paula had a wonderful family, but they didn’t have the gospel—at least not until Valeria came on the scene. Paula remembers, “Valeria was not ashamed of the testimony she had. She knew who she was. She knew she was a daughter of a royal and eternal King, a daughter of God.”
That knowledge and confidence impressed Paula’s uncle, Moises. He began investigating the Church and meeting with the missionaries. The day he announced he was getting baptized, Paula was a little shocked. She hadn’t expected her uncle to be willing to make such big changes in his life.
The whole family was invited to the baptism, but Paula was hesitant to attend. She didn’t know what to expect. Finally, her family convinced her to accompany them to her uncle’s baptism. Paula remembers, “As we witnessed my uncle entering the waters of baptism, the Spirit touched my heart. The impact was deep, even undeniable. In that moment I also wanted to commit myself to God and do whatever He might ask of me.”
“May I speak to you?” Paula said, pulling Valeria aside. “I felt something special at my uncle’s baptism,” she explained quietly.
Valeria told her friend she had felt the promptings of the Spirit. “He’s telling you that you need to follow your uncle’s example.”
“But I can’t do it alone,” said Paula.
“Don’t worry. I’ll help you,” assured her friend. Before long, Paula and her whole family were meeting with the missionaries and accepting the invitation to be baptized. Their lives changed forever.
Paula says, “The standards I always saw my friend live were now mine. My friend’s testimony was now mine.” Not long after, Paula began to feel an intense desire to share with others what she had been given. When she had been a member for one year, she filled out her mission papers, met with her priesthood leaders, and received a call to serve in the Chile Santiago East Mission.
Valeria says, “As I watched my friend prepare to serve her mission, the Spirit touched my heart. I wanted to commit myself to serve God the way she was.”
“May I speak to you?” This time it was Valeria who had pulled Paula aside. “I’ve felt something special as you have been preparing to leave on your mission.”
Paula told her friend the same thing her friend had once told her: “It’s the Spirit telling you what you need to do.”
Valeria’s plans hadn’t included a full-time mission. She wasn’t quite sure how to proceed. “I can’t do it alone,” she told Paula.
“Don’t worry. I’ll help you,” her friend assured.
Later, when Valeria opened her call, she was surprised to be going to the same mission as her friend. Paula began serving in October 2002; Valeria joined her in February 2003.
During their missions they saw each other quite often at conferences and activities. They enjoyed catching up and sharing news from their separate areas. They never dreamed that in November 2003 they would be assigned as companions. Their friendship bloomed into a relationship that will last forever. They have gone from being friends to sisters in the gospel to missionary companions.
Sister Valeria Pontelli says, “At first I was afraid that working together might damage our friendship, but that fear faded the first day. This chance to work together has only strengthened our relationship, and our friendship has helped us in the work.”
Others agree. One woman, who used to be less active but has come back to church because of the efforts of these two missionaries, says, “You can’t help but love them because you can see the love they feel for each other and for everyone around them. They are my angels.”
It was hard for these two companions to say good-bye in March 2004, when Sister Paula Alvarez’s mission came to an end. She was nervous about returning to Argentina and all that the future might bring. These two sisters talked about her concerns as they walked to their appointments together. “I can’t do it alone,” said Sister Alvarez.
“Don’t worry,” came the familiar words from her companion, Sister Pontelli. “I’ll help you.”

When Sally was about eight years old, she lived in Salt Lake City. President David O. McKay (1873–1970) was the prophet. Sally had heard many stories of people having the chance to see him. After general conference, he always came out a back door of the Tabernacle and climbed into a big car. A huge group of people waited outside the Tabernacle to see him, hoping to shake his hand, say hello—even just see him in person instead of on television. Sally thought it must be wonderful to actually meet the prophet.
She decided she would ask her parents if they would take her to Temple Square during general conference. But she did not tell them that she wanted to wait with all the other people and maybe have the chance to talk to President McKay. This was her special secret.
It was a beautiful day—not too hot, not too cold—when Sally’s family went to Temple Square during an afternoon session and listened to conference on the Tabernacle grounds. Large speakers carried the meeting to everyone outside, because the Tabernacle—every bench, every seat—was filled with people.
As Sally walked by the open doors, she caught a glimpse of the Tabernacle Choir and the General Authorities. Her heart leaped with excitement as she thought, “Today’s the day! Today’s the day! I’m going to meet President McKay!”
She could see people starting to gather at the back of the Tabernacle. After receiving permission from her parents, she joined the group and struggled toward the front. She wasn’t very tall, so if she didn’t stand right in front, how would she meet the prophet?
At last, with a wriggle here and jostle there, she reached the front of the crowd, where ropes blocked off a pathway between the Tabernacle and the road. There, just as she had heard, waited the big shiny car.
“Not much longer to wait,” she thought. She could hear the closing hymn being sung. “Sing faster! Sing faster!” she silently urged. After the closing prayer, the organist began to play the powerful Tabernacle organ once more. It was really time!
The crowd around her pressed forward, pushing against the ropes a bit. People were pouring out of the building, many of them joining the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of the prophet, too.
The big car started and pulled forward a little. A large door at the back of the building opened.
But much to Sally’s dismay, now that the car had moved, she couldn’t see a thing but the car! She could also see the heads of a few men. But President McKay was not well, so although he was a tall man, he now sat in a wheelchair. Sally couldn’t see him at all—not even to catch a glimpse of his wheelchair’s rubber wheels. How was she supposed to see the prophet, let alone meet the prophet, if she couldn’t see anything?
She wanted to dash under the rope and run to the car. She wanted to climb in the car and shake his hand, say hello—something.
But all too quickly, the door slammed shut and the big car pulled slowly onto the road. It was over. He was gone.
Sally stood stunned. Her dreams! Her plans!
The crowd scattered, leaving her standing alone, staring at the ropes that had been dropped to the ground after President McKay left.
Then, a quiet whispering thought entered her mind: “Why do you want to meet him, anyway?”
“To see him and to know for myself that he is a prophet,” she almost said aloud, feeling the sting of tears.
Suddenly, she sensed a warm feeling in her heart. It was sweet and loving and slightly reproving. The thought came: “You do not need to see him to know. All you need to do is ask.”
Ask?
It was so easy, so simple! Before she could even begin to say a quick prayer in her heart, an incredible warmth filled her from the top of her head down to her toes. She knew. The man in that car, the one who had sat so quietly all through conference, the one who seemed so frail—who, to her, seemed like he must have lived forever—was without a doubt a prophet of the Lord. She didn’t need to meet him. And she didn’t need to shake his hand. He didn’t need to pat her on the head or speak to her. She just knew.
And now she understood that for the rest of her life, she could always find out that the man who became the prophet and President of the Church was called of God. All she had to do was ask.

My eldest son was always a healthy, obedient, and focused child in the ways of the Lord. When the time came to serve a mission, he was prepared. I remember him saying that he had always planned to be a missionary and we, as his parents, were happy and grateful. He was always a loving child and had a wonderful sense of humor that charmed everyone who knew him.
A year and a half after serving an honorable mission, he was attending college with defined goals for his life, preparing for a profession, meeting an eternal companion, and starting a family. I was the happiest and most peaceful mother to have such a focused, loved, and cherished son.
On May 2, 2022, while I was working from home, I received news that would forever change my life and that of my family. My eldest son had drowned at a beach. It couldn’t be true! Did I hear wrong? Was it a joke? No, it was real. For a moment, I felt like I was falling into an endless abyss. Then the thought came to me that my son was already on the other side of the veil.
I went to my room and knelt and prayed to Heavenly Father like never before. I didn’t ask why. I didn’t complain. I simply asked for strength. I did it with so much faith and certainty that from that moment, everything passed in slow motion.
I cried for my beloved son, but at the same time, I felt that everything would be okay. I felt calm. I thought of the temple, the covenants I made there with my husband, and the promises given to my family.
From that moment, I had the strength to comfort my younger son, be a loving companion to my devastated husband, and I fully, and without any doubt, believe that families can be eternal. I understood that my son had moved to the other side of the veil, but he continued to be and still is my beloved son. I felt and recognized that his time on earth had ended, but that one day I could embrace him again and we would be together forever.

I’d like to tell you about the time I and other family members crossed that Canadian-U.S. border with our dad and mom on our way back home, knowing for Dad it would be the last time. As we cleared customs, Dad raised up from his sick bed in the back of the car and commented, “This prairie has never looked so beautiful. It’s at it’s very best for my last inspection.”
During our brief stay in our old hometown, we sauntered haltingly down the gravel road past the tall cottonwood trees where the old school had been. Dad took the lead. “It was the old bell,” he said, and we all looked in the same direction, seeing it clearly in our mind’s eye. “The school bell kept us in line. There were two bells,” he went on. “A fifteen-minute bell would ring six times, giving ample warning before the final five-minute bell sounded a simple dingdong—and you’d better be there.” His weakened voice increased in intensity as he added, “It’s important to listen for the bell.”
As we mused together in silence for a time, I pondered the possibility of my own inner bell being silenced, if only for a moment, just a rest break maybe. In years since, rather than wishing to silence the bell within, I feel myself strain a little that I might hear it more clearly.
After our trip to Canada, Dad talked about going home on that final journey and we talked together of the border crossing. His body was less than 100 pounds, and his mortal journey was coming to a close. Dad talked about the sweetness and sacredness of these times and spoke of the nearness of the Lord, the Holy One of Israel, the gatekeeper. Life had presented plenty of struggles, and he had used them to prove himself worthy and to cleanse the soul. And he was ready for the border crossing.
That last day, Dad spoke of Addison, his younger brother who had gone on before him. I wonder if his brother, and maybe his mother and father, were standing at the window an hour before his expected arrival, anxious for his safe return home.
By midafternoon I had decided to sit with Dad. It seemed his eyes were open, yet he wasn’t seeing me. I took his hand in mine, a hand that had spanked me and blessed me and caressed me throughout my life. “Dad,” I whispered. He didn’t respond. “If you know I’m here, please squeeze my hand.” I wasn’t sure if there was a squeeze, but it didn’t seem like it. I bent over and put my cheek to his very bony cheek, with my hand on the other side of his face. I waited just a second, then straightened up. He looked at me just a moment, and in his eyes I saw complete peace. Joy, trust, confidence, and anticipation all mingled together in that look. He was ready for the border crossing and the gatekeeper, the Holy One of Israel. A tear escaped the corner of his eye. I pressed my cheek to his again. There are things we cannot find words or even sounds to express, but in that moment, I had some sense of what that final crossing might be and the ecstasy that we’ll never fully understand in this life.

Sister Massey and I have been married for 12 years; I commend her for keeping up with me. We had the desire of making those sacred covenants in the Temple, we consistently worked towards that goal and were sealed to each other and our 1.5yr old daughter in the Hong Kong, China temple on March 25th, 2015. The moment was desired above all. We felt relieved. We knew that as we keep those covenants, we would not lose each other. There were several blessings we received as we made those covenants. Through ‘rain and sunshine’ we gained a lot, even lost some, but one thing was constant, we always had each other, as each other’s strengths, which I feel is the most needed blessing that comes from living and honoring temple covenants. It is a promise that the Lord will guide us, as we walk in faith together as eternal companions, holding on to each other, nurturing the children the Lord has blessed us with.

One example of the challenges related to this financial crisis was experienced by Elder Parley P. Pratt, one of the great leaders of the Restoration. He was an original member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. In the early part of 1837, his dear wife, Thankful, died after delivering their first child. Parley and Thankful had been married almost 10 years, and her death devastated him.

A few months later, Elder Pratt found himself in one of the most difficult times the Church has experienced. In the midst of the national crisis, local economic issues—including land speculation and the struggles of a financial institution founded by Joseph Smith and other Church members—created discord and contention in Kirtland. Church leaders did not always make wise temporal decisions in their own lives. Parley suffered significant financial losses and for a time became disaffected with the Prophet Joseph.10 He wrote a stinging criticism to Joseph and spoke in opposition of him from the pulpit. At the same time, Parley said he continued to believe in the Book of Mormon and the Doctrine and Covenants.11

Elder Pratt had lost his wife, his land, and his home. Parley, without telling Joseph, left for Missouri. On the road there, he unexpectedly met fellow Apostles Thomas B. Marsh and David Patten returning to Kirtland. They felt a great need to have harmony restored to the Quorum and persuaded Parley to return with them. He realized that no one had lost more than Joseph Smith and his family.

Parley sought out the Prophet, wept, and confessed that what he had done was wrong. In the months after his wife, Thankful’s, death, Parley had been “under a dark cloud” and had been overcome by fears and frustrations.12 Joseph, knowing what it was like to struggle against opposition and temptation, “frankly forgave” Parley, praying for him and blessing him.13 Parley and others who remained faithful benefited from the Kirtland challenges. They increased in wisdom and became more noble and virtuous. The experience became part of their foundations of faith.

My father never did join the Church, but he was a fervent supporter of it because he could see its blessings in the lives of his wife and four children. (My sister and two brothers were also baptized.) Prior to his death, he asked me to give him a priesthood blessing, and I did. We had a very special conversation, and he confided in me for the first time that he had faith. Coming from him, this was a major step.

I always thought we had a strong family. Our three boys and two girls were normal children, and we had normal problems with them. Sometimes when they would act up, I would get angry. Later I would think to myself, “Why did you get so mad at them?”
I didn’t know then that perestroika—a period of political and economic change—was beginning in Russia. I didn’t know that goods would disappear from the shelves of all the stores, that for months and later for years, we would not receive paychecks. Life became very difficult. We had struggles, and my husband and I were on the brink of divorce. There came an epidemic of drug use, and one of our sons got involved. It seemed that the sun didn’t shine in our windows anymore. I didn’t know whom to pray to, but still I asked God for help. We fought with all our strength, and little by little we pulled out of this bog.
In the summer of 1998, missionaries found us. Our lives changed 180 degrees as we headed in a new direction. Within five years we had attended the temple and had been sealed as a family for eternity.
When our middle son served a full-time mission in the Czech Republic, he wrote to us in every letter, “Stay firm and faithful. Together we are the happiest family.” Even my friends would tell me I must be the happiest woman in the world to have so many children and grandchildren and to know I will never be plagued with loneliness.
Looking back, I realize that like the people who heard King Benjamin, our family experienced a mighty change in our hearts, becoming children of Christ (see Mosiah 5:7). It was a huge transformation for me. Before becoming a Latter-day Saint, when I thought about death, an unbearable grief gripped my heart and soul. It took every bit of strength I had to repel those thoughts from me. Now I have peace in my soul.

My turn in the line came, and the official-looking woman asked for my name. She looked at her list and said, “So you’re the young man from Utah.”
“You mean I’m the only one?” I asked.
“Yes, you’re our only student here from Utah.” She then handed me my nametag with a bold “Utah” printed below my name. As I clipped it on, I felt like I was being branded.
I walked to the hotel elevators with my luggage. Five other high school students with nametags like mine crowded into the elevator. “Hey, you’re from Utah. Are you a Mormon?” said a tall guy.
I felt out of place with all of these student leaders from all over the country. “Yes,” I hesitantly admitted.
“Yeah, my minister told me all about you. You’re the guys who believe in John Smith and his golden glasses, right?”
“I think you mean Joseph Smith,” I responded.
“Yeah, that’s right. He’s the one who said he saw all those angels and stuff. You don’t actually believe any of that, do you?”
I didn’t even know what to say. The other students in the elevator were all staring right at me. I had just arrived, and already everyone thought I was different. I became a little defensive and spoke up.
“I know that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God.”
Where had that come from? I wondered. I didn’t know I had it in me. But the words felt true as they left my mouth.
“Yeah, my minister told me that you were all just a bunch of religious nuts,” he said.
With that, there was an uncomfortable pause as the elevator door opened to our floor. As we gathered our luggage, the tall student walked down the hall laughing to himself. I felt a little humiliated.
Right then, a voice from behind me asked, “Hey, don’t Mormons have some sort of another Bible?”
Oh no. Here we go again, I thought. I turned to see one of the students who had been in the elevator with me, a very tan guy named Christopher from California.
“It’s called the Book of Mormon,” I said, half wanting to drop the subject. I picked up my bags and started walking down the hall.
“Is that the book that Joseph Smith translated?” Christopher asked.
“Yeah, it is,” I answered. I kept on walking, not wanting to embarrass myself any more.
“Well, do you know how I could get one?”
A phrase from a scripture that had been taught to me by my ninth-grade seminary teacher suddenly came to my mind. “I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ” (Rom. 1:16). As this thought entered my mind, I felt ashamed that I had been so embarrassed.
For the rest of my week with all of the student leaders, that same scripture wouldn’t leave my mind. I was asked all sorts of questions about the Church, and I made many friends. As I answered the questions that I could, I discovered I was proud of my religion. I think I learned as much about myself as they did.
I gave Christopher a Book of Mormon, and he later wrote to me, telling me he had invited the missionaries to his home.
I learned that I don’t have to be embarrassed by my beliefs. I know this is the true gospel of Christ, and I am not ashamed of it.

I remember a personal experience in dealing with a Japanese manufacturer. One of the divisions that reported to me when I worked in New York was a large shoe warehouse. We warehoused over a million pair of shoes. We had been purchasing most of them from New England sources until the waste of their operation priced them out of the market. We resolved to try the Japanese market and decided to try with a gym shoe that one of our U.S. manufacturers had been producing for us. We sent an order to Japan to compare the costs. We had a frugal shoe buyer who decided not to send a good pair, but he had a defective one that had a little marking on the heel of the left shoe. The Japanese firm agreed to produce the shoes at much less cost for us, and so the order was placed for 3,000 pairs of gym shoes. When the shoes, all 3,000 pairs, were delivered to us, they were exact copies of the American shoe in every detail, including the flaw on the left heel.

One of the most beautiful modern-day examples of meekness that I am aware of is that of Brother Moses Mahlangu. His conversion began in 1964, when he received a copy of the Book of Mormon. He was fascinated as he read this book, but it was not until the early ’70s that he saw an LDS Church sign on a building in Johannesburg, South Africa, as he was walking down a street. Brother Mahlangu was intrigued and entered the building to learn more about the Church. He was kindly told that he could not attend the services or be baptized because the country’s laws did not allow it at that time.

Brother Mahlangu accepted that decision with meekness, humility, and without resentment, but he continued to have a strong desire to learn more about the Church. He asked the Church leaders if they could leave one of the meetinghouse windows open during the Sunday meetings so he could sit outside and listen to the services. For several years, Brother Mahlangu’s family and friends attended church regularly “through the window.” One day in 1980 they were told that they could attend church and also be baptized. What a glorious day it was for Brother Mahlangu.

Later the Church organized a branch in his neighborhood in Soweto. This was possible only because of the determination, courage, and faithfulness of people like Brother Mahlangu who remained faithful for so many years under difficult circumstances.

One of Brother Mahlangu’s friends, who had joined the Church at the same time, recounted this story to me when I visited the Soweto stake. At the end of our conversation, he gave me a hug. At that moment, brothers and sisters, I felt as if I was encircled in the Savior’s loving arms. Meekness emanated from this good brother’s eyes. With a heart full of goodness and deep gratitude, he asked if I could just tell President Thomas S. Monson how grateful and blessed he and many others were for having the true gospel in their lives. Brother Mahlangu and his friend’s example of meekness truly influenced many lives for good—especially mine.

I remember when I was serving as a branch president and was working on our annual tithing report. It was a beautiful winter day, and my wife was waiting to go for a walk with me. I was used to doing finances as a government officer, so this was no big task for me. But every time I tried to balance the figures, they did not add up right. I kept trying and trying, but nothing worked, and I was getting frustrated. I asked Heavenly Father to help.
After I got up from my knees, I couldn’t see that anything had changed. But I felt prompted to review a specific portion of the donation receipt file again. In those days the receipts were glued together in pads, and this time I discovered that two receipts had stuck together and looked like one receipt. The problem was solved.

Years ago, while serving as a mission leader in Portugal, I received a phone call from the parents of one of our beloved missionaries, informing me about the death of his younger sister. In the tenderness of that moment, I remember that this missionary and I discussed God’s marvelous plan of salvation for His children and how this knowledge would comfort our hearts in a circumstance like that. Although stunned and sad, this elder—through his tears and unwavering faith in God—rejoiced in his sister’s life. What really impressed me during that experience was his expressions of strong confidence in the tender mercies of the Lord for him and his family. Despite the difficult situation, he resolutely turned his heart to the Lord. He renewed his commitment to serve Him with all his heart and faith in the promises of eternal life. He kept his awe-inspiring faith in Jesus Christ and did not lose sight of his eternal promises.

Nellie’s father died on October 22, 1856, from hunger and exposure to the cold. Five days later her mother died too. Graves could be dug only in the snow because the early winter had frozen the ground. Nellie and Maggie wearily and sadly walked on alone. They watched as more of the company died and the weather’s cold fierceness strengthened.
One day as Nellie and her sister made their way at the head of the group, two men appeared and motioned for them to come closer. At first the girls refused but soon decided that the men meant no harm. The men gave Nellie some money and instructed her to buy something to put on her feet at the trappers’ trading post they were nearing. Nellie gratefully accepted the money and the chance to cover her bare feet, which had long since grown numb with cold.
In Salt Lake City, President Brigham Young had called for volunteers to meet the handcart company on the plains. When the volunteers finally reached the company, near Laramie, Wyoming, they found the pitiful group nearly buried by the snow. Nellie’s feet were badly frozen. The rescue party gathered her and the remaining members of the company into their wagons and returned to Salt Lake, arriving on November 30.
Nearly everyone in the handcart company had endured painfully frozen feet, hands, and ears and had witnessed the deaths of family members and friends. The doctor had to amputate Nellie’s feet. There was no skin to cushion the bone, so she was left with throbbing sores that never healed.
Nellie and her sister eventually moved south from the Salt Lake Valley to Cedar City. Here Nellie married William Unthank and reared their six children. With a leather apron slid under her damaged legs, Nellie crawled about their small home on her knees, keeping it spotless.
Nellie willingly worked at whatever she could to help provide for her family. Along with other jobs, she took in other people’s clothes to wash, and made articles to sell to add to the family income. If anyone offered food or assistance, she insisted on repaying the favor. As a way of showing gratitude, she gathered her children once a year to clean the church meetinghouse. While the boys carried water, the girls washed windows, and Nellie scrubbed the floors.
William carved wooden “cup feet” for Nellie, but they only irritated her never-healing stumps. Later, through donations, wooden legs were given to Nellie, but these she only wore on special occasions, because they added to her constant pain.
Despite poverty and pain, Nellie rarely complained. She had come to know her Heavenly Father in her sufferings. From the shoes provided for her bare feet, the carriage sent when she couldn’t go on, help given to her through a lifetime of affliction, Nellie Pucell Unthank knew she could count on the Lord.