Gospel Story Finder

We live in the midst of the land of the Old Testament. The Tigris and Euphrates rivers are only a few hours’ drive from our house. The Sunday School lessons seem to bring this part of the world to life, so we decided to visit the places we were studying. Our first trip to the lands of the Bible was labeled a family home evening activity—but we stayed a week.

We started our journey at 4:00 A.M.; that is the only cool and refreshing time of the day in the Middle East. As a breeze blew across my face, I looked at the desert I had come to know so well. It looked like the sun was coming up on my right, but as I looked more intently, I realized it was just the roaring flames near the oil wells. Kuwait with all its oil has so much natural gas that most of it is burned off. The bright orange flames add color to the brown desert. We were heading this morning for the fertile crescent of ancient times, known to our generation as Iraq.

Our original family home evening activity expanded to include students, teachers, a school bus, and Nofan, our Arabic-speaking guide and bus driver. Nofan slowed the bus at the Iraqi border and told us to expect a long inspection. He was right; the border guards took over two hours to check the visas in our passports and search our bus. Finally, when our patience was emptied to a drop, we were allowed into Iraq.

Then the Bible came to life before my eyes. We passed some Bedouins herding camels, black-robed women riding on the backs of donkeys, square mud-brick houses, barefoot children tending goats.

Nofan drove us to Al Qurna where the Euphrates and Tigris rivers join. This area between the two rivers is the legendary Garden of Eden according to our guide. He even showed us a tree labeled in English “Adam’s Tree.” We believe otherwise, but it was a good lead-in to questions.

In the swamplands between the Euphrates and the Tigris live the Marsh Arabs. These people live as they have for centuries in barrel-shaped houses made of reeds called mudhifs. They still use Stone-Age utensils and live an isolated life. I wondered if this could be the way people lived in the days of the Bible. We stopped and bought a watermelon, broke it into chunks, and shared it with the kids who swarmed around us wherever we went.

In Genesis we had read about Chaldea and that after the flood Noah’s son Shem settled in this area. Abraham is the tenth generation after Shem. My excitement rose as our bus headed toward Ur, the birthplace of Abraham. The dry, dusty road finally brought us to a massive temple, the ziggurat of Ur, where the idol worshipers made sacrifices to their pagan gods. As soon as the bus stopped, my brother and I jumped out to climb the big stone steps to the top. The desert spread out far below us with a grand view of the excavated ruins of ancient Ur. Ur was no longer just a name in the Bible; I could see it! We climbed back down the ziggurat and followed the guide through winding passages excavated by archeologists. All around us lay broken clay pots and fragments of bone. I could imagine some of the pots being used by Abraham and his family. Terah, Abraham’s father, was a maker of images. Maybe he also made some of these pots. One of the teachers found an unbroken clay bowl, but after she carefully dug it out of the sandy cliff, it fell apart in her hands. As we walked deeper into the excavation, we saw skulls partly buried in the mounds. The guard pointed out the place where Abraham possibly lived. Unbelievable! He also showed us the Royal Tombs of King Mesannedpada who ruled about 2500 B.C. Forty-three of the King’s servants took poison and were buried with him. They believed in life after death, and I guess the King still needed his servants. What loyalty! The Queen’s goldleaf crown and some jewels were found in her tomb along with a harp. The guard told us these things were in the museum in Baghdad, so we headed the bus in the direction of Baghdad.

Baghdad—was it actually for real, or were those Arabian Night stories I read as a kid only fairy tales? I could see a golden minaret, but the fabled city of riches looked just like any other city in the Middle East—rather dirty, noisy, and crowded. We stayed overnight in a campground next to the Tigris River. We spread our sleeping bags out in what they called a “resthouse.” My parents took one look and went to a hotel.

A two hour drive from Baghdad brought us to the once great city of Babylon. Nebuchadnezzar was King of this city at the time Lehi left Jerusalem to come to the promised land. Nebuchadnezzar’s Ishtar Gate has been rebuilt and is big and impressive, but it is hard to visualize the once-famous hanging gardens. The ruins look just like ruins to me. It was in this city that Daniel interpreted the King’s dreams and became a ruler in the Babylonian kingdom. It was here that Daniel was brought as a slave when Jerusalem was destroyed. It was here that Daniel was put in the Lion’s den and was saved by the Lord. The stories of Daniel became very real to me.

The next day we decided to visit the old Assyrian capital of Nineveh in northern Iraq. The story of Jonah and the whale had always been a favorite of mine. It took Jonah a while to get to Nineveh because he thought he could run from the Lord, but when Jonah finally arrived there, he convinced the people to listen to him and repent and worship God instead of stone idols. The Lord saved the city from destruction that time, but it’s in ruins now. Nabi Younis (Jonah) Mosque stands on a mound overlooking Nineveh. We were told that Jonah stood on this spot when he preached repentance to the Assyrians.

Visualizing the Old Testament prophets walking in the places where I walked gave me a stronger feeling about the scriptures and their teachings. Seeing these biblical places strengthened my testimony. The Bible has become a very important part of my life.

It was past midnight when the bus stopped in front of our house in Kuwait. We had driven all day through Iraq to get back in time to start school the next morning. In the Arab world our school week begins on Saturday. Good old mixed up Kuwait! It’s been a real blessing after all. Tonight as I kneel beside my bed I will thank my Heavenly Father for one more blessing, the opportunity of having the world as my home.

Maybe for our family it happened the night my husband John, was working late. Our daughter Katie had developed a sudden fever after dinner and was lying stretched out on the couch, whining and uncomfortable. Just then came Brother Braden’s knock at the door. Katie crawled into his lap the moment he sat down, and with a deep sigh of relief she fell asleep. I was unable to persuade him to put her into her bed and go home. Instead, he sat without moving, unwilling to disturb her, until her father had come home to take his place. Then he offered to stop at the pharmacy on his way home to get some medication for her. Later that night and again the next day she received phone calls from “my home teacher” to see that she was well.

As a qualified therapist-counsellor, Elder Robert Durkin had a custom-made mission. He was called as a pre-mission assessment coordinator. He also coordinated all the addiction recovery programme coordinators throughout the Europe areas where the addiction recovery programme is being used. He trained the coordinators and made sure records were kept up to date.

He and his wife served a full-time mission at the MTC in Chorley where he was in the MTC presidency. After her passing, he decided to serve another mission. He wanted to serve and live in Germany, so he was planning to move from the UK to Frankfurt, where he would have paid his own expenses as a service missionary rather than paying the monthly missionary fees. Due to COVID, he stayed in the UK and completed his mission from his own home. He says he was able to do everything he needed to do while living at home. He encourages others to serve a mission. He says, “Don’t miss the opportunity. A mission is a great way to get closer to the Lord.”

Carey saw a bag sitting on the counter. She looked inside. She saw a whole package of stickers! Spacemen. Astronauts. Rockets. Stars.
Carey loved stickers! She opened the package and peeled all the stickers off the paper. She put one sticker on the countertop. She put one on the wall. And one by the light switch. Soon stickers were everywhere.
Then Carey went outside to play.
A few minutes later, Carey heard Mom calling her. “Come here,” Mom said. She didn’t sound very happy.
Carey came inside.
Mom pointed at the stickers. “Do you know who did this?” Mom asked.
Carey was a little worried. Would she get in trouble if Mom knew she used the stickers?
Carey took a deep breath. “I did,” she said.
“Those were for your brother’s birthday party,” Mom said. “Now we don’t have any stickers.”
Carey felt like crying. She hadn’t meant to do something wrong. She hoped Mom wasn’t too mad at her.
“I’m sorry,” Carey said.
“Next time, be sure to ask,” Mom said. “And don’t stick stickers around the house.”
Carey nodded.
“And there’s one more thing,” Mom said. “It’s very important.”
Carey looked up at her.
“Thank you for telling me the truth,” Mom said. “I’m proud of you.” She gave Carey a hug. “I hope you’ll always tell me the truth.”
Carey didn’t feel good about using up all the stickers. But she did feel good about telling the truth.
“Thanks, Mom,” Carey said. “I will.”

I have certainly seen this in my own life.

When I was very young, my family was twice forced to flee our home and leave everything behind. On both occasions, it became apparent that people in our new locations considered us as “less” than them. Among the children my age, my accent marked me as an outsider, and it was a rich source of ridicule and laughter for them.

The trauma and stress of our relocations caused me to fall behind in my studies, and I lost one full school year. In East Germany, I had studied Russian as a second language. It was difficult, but I managed. Now, in West Germany, I was required to learn English.

This seemed impossible to me! I believed that my mouth was simply not made for the English language.

During my teenage years, I had a crush on a most amazing girl with beautiful large brown eyes. Unfortunately, she didn’t seem the slightest bit interested in me.

So there I was, a rather insignificant and struggling young man living in post-war Germany who didn’t seem to have much chance of success in life.

However, I had a couple of good things going for me. I knew that my family loved me. In school and in church, teachers encouraged me to always set my goals high. I still remember when a young American missionary taught this principle from the scriptures: “If God is for [you], who can be against [you]?”2

There was something about this that struck me with great power. “If that’s the case,” I thought, “then why should I fear?”

So, I believed. And I trusted God.

For a time, I was in an apprenticeship program. One of my teachers challenged me to aim higher and attend night school to study mechanical engineering. It took a great deal of extra work, but it led me to discover my great passion for aviation! It came as a shock when I learned that to become a pilot, I needed to know English. But I wanted to become a pilot, and somehow miraculously my mouth seemed to change, and English no longer was such an impossible language.

With new motivation, a fresh commitment to work hard, and trust in Heavenly Father, I took small steps that helped me to build the confidence that I could do it. Of course, that didn’t mean things always went smoothly.

When I was 19, I traveled to San Antonio, Texas, USA, to begin my air force pilot training. On the airplane, I sat next to a man who spoke with a Texan accent. I realized to my horror that the English I had worked so desperately to learn was not the same English he spoke!

At pilot training school, things were difficult too. It was an extremely competitive program, with everyone vying for the top spot at graduation. I knew right away that I was at a disadvantage because most of my classmates were native English speakers.

My flight instructors cautioned me about another potential disadvantage—I spent a lot of time at church. The local members welcomed me into their branch and into their homes, and we even built a chapel in Big Spring, Texas, together. My instructors worried that such activities were impairing my chance at a high ranking. I didn’t think so. So I trusted God and did the best I could.

Eventually, I did learn English, though I’m still working on it. I completed my pilot training—and finished first in my class. I became a fighter pilot and later an airline captain. And that beautiful, brown-eyed girl of my dreams became my wife.

When I was 11, my parents dropped me off at the Salt Lake City home of my great uncle Gaskell Romney. He was a patriarch, and, because he was my father’s uncle, he could give me, a boy from the mission field, a patriarchal blessing. I don’t think he even sat down to visit with me. He didn’t know me except as my father’s son. He just led me through the house to a room where a recording device was on a table. He sat me down facing a fireplace, put his hands on my head, and began to give first my lineage and then a blessing.
He began to tell me about the home in which I would someday be the father. That’s when I opened my eyes. I know the stones in the fireplace were there because I began to stare at them. I wondered, “How can this man know what is only in my heart?” He described in concrete detail what had been only a yearning, but I could recognize it. It was the desire of my heart, that future home and family that I thought was secret. But it was not secret, because God knew.

Shortly after Ka Po was baptized, the sister missionaries encouraged her to take an institute class. It was held early Saturday mornings, and Ka Po remembers how hard it was to wake up and get to class on time.

A classmate called Ka Po every Saturday morning to wake her up and encourage her to attend class. One day the classmate gave the responsibility of calling to King. That was the beginning of their friendship.

Ka Po says, “Church activities helped us know more about each other.” Their first date was a dance practice for young single adults.

Ka Po and King dated for four years. King helped Ka Po share the gospel with her grandmother and brother. Then on the night he proposed, he met Ka Po in the playground of the school where she was attending night school. She had just finished a big exam and was exhausted, but she felt wonderful when he asked her to marry him and gave her an engagement ring.

They were married in the Hong Kong China Temple. Ka Po says, “I will never forget the day we were sealed in the temple. It was so beautiful and amazing that we could be together for eternity. I could not stop crying, and my heart was so full I couldn’t speak. I love the temple and the great blessing that we can go to the temple in our own country.

“Our temple marriage will influence not only us, but it can influence our children and their children. It is so important that we have the same purpose and goals on earth. I love the gospel, and I love my eternal spouse.”

The twenty-five children who are learning to read and write on Lubian Sequi’s patio are poor—too poor to afford shoes or uniforms or supplies for public school. Some have no beds at home, but sleep in cardboard boxes on the ground.
Sister Sequi is a small, lovely woman with a smile that warms and comforts. On the chalkboard she has written the words Dios Me Ama (“God Loves Me”). Besides teaching her students reading, writing, mathematics, social studies, science, and etiquette, Sister Sequi begins each day’s classes with a prayer and a lesson from the Bible. She also encourages the children to pray with their families. Sister Sequi provides pencils, notebooks, and chalk for the children who cannot afford them. She uses a lot of visual aids to help the children learn.
Sister Sequi has found most of her students on the streets of Santo Domingo. “Whenever I see a dirty, barefoot, or neglected child, I say to him, ‘Come here. Don’t be afraid. Where do you live?’” Then she goes home with the child to ask permission for the child to attend school in her home.
Once a month, she invites the parents to an evening meeting where they can see how their children are progressing. She also gives a talk to help the parents spiritually and morally. “Our intention is to teach the parents so that they can teach their children better,” she says. Although it is not Sister Sequi’s primary goal to convert, at least one student’s family has been baptized since coming to her school.

In the spring of 1950, he began to worry more about an annoying hoarseness. Cancer was diagnosed, and he was operated on. Doctors removed all of one and part of the other vocal cord, which would leave him with a raspy voice.
Under total anesthesia after having been operated on, he was being wheeled back to his room. Still drugged, Spencer sensed his table stop by an elevator and heard the orderly, angry at something, profaning the Lord’s name. Half-conscious, he managed to say, “Please don’t say that. I love Him more than anything in this world.” The orderly answered softly, “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”

When I was about 10, we were on vacation in Mexico with another family. My friend and I made a lunch and took some games. Then we pushed ourselves out into the bay in a little rubber yellow raft. We ate lunch in the raft.
We finally looked up and realized we’d drifted a long way from shore. We were passing the edge of the bay. We thought, Oh no, the tide is going out! We knew we had to hurry and get back. We started rowing and rowing.
All of a sudden I saw a fin pop out of the water. Right away I knew it was a shark!
I thought, We need to tell Heavenly Father we’re in danger. So we said a prayer and kept rowing.
Soon two other fins popped up. But their shape was different, and their color was lighter. They were dolphin fins!
The dolphins swam around our boat until we reached shore. They kept the sharks from coming close. Then the dolphins drifted onto the sand, and we were able to get out of our raft. Our families hurried and helped the dolphins back into the water.
To me, the dolphins were Heavenly Father’s answer to my prayer. I’ve never forgotten that. It’s given me the courage to pray, no matter where I am.

The fulfillment of the Prophet’s statement came some months later when Dan Jones was called to go to Wales. His wife, Jane, accompanied him. They traveled with Wilford Woodruff and others to the British Isles. Elder Jones was assigned to labor in northern Wales. Though he had the great asset of speaking both Welsh and English, he accomplished relatively little in touching the hearts of the people of that area. On the other hand, William Henshaw, who did not speak the Welsh language, enjoyed considerable success in the south.

When Brother Henshaw was released a year later, Elder Jones was called to preside over all the work in Wales. He made his headquarters in Merthyr Tydfil in southeastern Wales. Working with a handful of missionaries, he witnessed a remarkable harvest. From 1845 to 1848, approximately 3,600 were baptized. It is estimated that in terms of population, one out of every 278 people in Wales at that time was baptized into the LDS Church.

Opponents of the Church had access to newspapers and other publications to attack the Mormon missionaries. But the press would not open its columns to Elder Jones. He therefore determined that he would answer with publications of his own. He enlisted the help of his brother, John Jones, a Protestant minister who owned a printing press. It is said that John printed Dan’s literature during the week and denounced him from the pulpit on Sunday.

Dan Jones’s publication was the first Mormon periodical published in a language other than English.2 Issued in 1846, it carried the title Prophwyd y Jubili (“Prophet of the Jubilee”).

We catch the spirit of his sometimes feisty manner in his opening article:
“Dear Reader,—Behold the beginning of a new era in our age, yea, the most remarkable which has ever been, the most wondrous in its preparations, the most goodly in its deeds, and the most glorious in its effects of every previous age. Once more the golden keys of heaven have been entrusted to men for them to open all treasures, to unlock all mysteries and for the clarification of all errors in the midst of mankind. Already the doors of eternity can be seen opening on their rusty hinges, its hidden pearls and the treasures old and new are once again starting to shine before the eyes of men as in the days of God! Let the inhabitants of the earth rejoice, and let every Welshman give a hearkening ear to the good news of great joy which is sounded through this last trumpet.”3

He had an interesting missionary technique. It was essentially one of controversy, a technique not fit for our time but used well by him then. He feared no one. He moved with great boldness. Of his method it has been written: “He would often advertise in a town for several weeks that he was coming to ‘convert’ the whole town. He would inform the mayor, the city council, the ministers, and the police force of his intentions. He would have the local members of the church distribute thousands of tracts to all the city. When he arrived at the railroad station he was often met by all of the officials of the city and many excited citizens.”4

Ministers of other churches lashed out against him. They used their pulpits and the public press. Of their antagonism, Dan Jones wrote, “Most of the stories that were told on poor Brother Joseph in America, are here fathered on Captain Jones, and I often hear those who don’t know that little man [himself], unhesitatingly denounce him as ‘a curse upon this nation.’”5

Public opinions raged this way and that. But instead of shrinking, Dan Jones capitalized on controversies. He drew such public attention that people had to decide whether the gospel of the Mormons was true or false. An increasing number of converts came into the Church while a veritable storm arose against the Mormons in general and Elder Jones in particular. He was vilified in the press. He was shouted at in the streets. His life was threatened.

In those circumstances he wrote, “I delight in the trophies of war. I came here to fight for the spiritual freedom of my brethren, and I thank heaven … that He is knocking off their shackles by hundreds! Who that has tasted of the sweets of liberty would say, ‘hold!’”6

Once again, Relief Society can help. Sister Elsa Bluhm, who is 102, knew the gospel was true. She loved the Lord. She met a good man and married him. He was from Germany, and he was not a member of the Church. Her husband had never been taught to pray. When Elsa knelt beside the bed each night, she would take his hand in hers and pray. After many years he joined the Church, and they were sealed in the temple. Before his passing, Brother Bluhm became an instrument in the hands of God by researching his German ancestors.

This happy ending began with one woman’s insistent, loving, righteous example. Elsa invited the Spirit into their home and marriage by loving her husband and loving the Lord. She was both faithful and filled with faith, even when at times she felt alone. She was an instrument in the hands of God in her own home.

“The princess is here!” cried the innkeeper. “We’ll soon be rich!”
“The princess is here!” cried the innkeeper’s wife. “We’ll soon be famous!”
And at that instant, into the inn walked the princess followed by four of her servants.
Days before, it had been announced that the princess, who was traveling between her castles, would be stopping at this particular inn for her noonday meal.
So now, as the wife scuttled to the kitchen, the innkeeper stepped briskly toward the door.
“Your Highness,” he said, bowing deeply, “what an honor this is to have you stop at our humble inn. Please follow me. Your meal is ready.”
With practiced charm, the innkeeper seated the princess. He scowled, however, when her four servants sat down at the same table.
The innkeeper’s wife whisked into the room, carrying a bowl of steaming stew.
“A rich, thick, savory stew, Your Highness,” she announced, setting the bowl before the princess, “prepared especially for you.”
The princess nodded graciously, picking up her spoon.
The innkeeper and his wife watched anxiously. Everyone knows what delicate and refined tastebuds a real princess has. One kind word from her about their stew, and people would come from far and wide to taste their famous fare.
But the princess paused before even tasting it. “And what about my servants?” she asked. “What are they to eat?”
“What’s this? The servants?” muttered the innkeeper to his wife as they exchanged angry glances. They hardly wanted to serve mere servants.
“Please understand, Your Highness,” replied the innkeeper in sugary tones. “We are poor. It would be a great hardship on us to feed everyone here.”
The princess made no reply. Instead, she raised her spoon and took a taste of the stew. The innkeeper and his wife leaned forward to catch any complimentary word that she might utter.
Slowly the princess licked her lips with the tip of her tongue. “This stew,” she said, at length, “needs salt.”
Salt? “We’ll add salt at once, Your Highness,” said the innkeeper, clicking his heels together. Retrieving the bowl, he and his wife rushed to the kitchen.
A moment later they returned with the salted stew.
“Oh, dear. Oh, my,” the princess said, puckering her lips. “I’m afraid that it’s too salty now.”
Too salty? Adding salt was easy. But removing salt was impossible. The innkeeper and his wife could do only one thing. Taking the stew back into the kitchen, they poured it into a large pot. Quickly they added carrots, onions, potatoes, and broth.
“That will dilute the saltiness,” said the innkeeper. “Yes, the stew will be perfect,” said his wife, tasting it. Both of them smiled at the thought of the fame that the stew would bring them.
When the stew was set once more before the princess, she took another taste. “It’s better, much better now. But,” she added, “a tad more salt would make it perfect!”
The innkeeper and his wife were delighted. Surely they were close now! In the kitchen they added the smallest dash of salt to the stew.
But, alas, when the princess tasted it this time, she wrinkled her nose. “Oh, my!” she said, reaching for a water goblet. “What have you done! This stew is far too salty.”
Back into the kitchen rushed the innkeeper and his wife. They poured the stew into an even larger pot and added more carrots, onions, potatoes, and broth.
“Oh, how famous and rich we’ll soon be!” the wife and the innkeeper whispered happily to each other.
Soon the princess was tasting the stew again. “Almost,” she said, taking her fifth delicate taste. “It needs more salt, however. Just a touch perhaps.”
Ten grains of salt were all the innkeeper and his wife added to the stew this time. But as before, the princess took one tiny taste and said, “Too salty. Much, much too salty.”
“This princess and her fickle taste buds are going to drive me crazy!” cried the exasperated innkeeper as he added more carrots and potatoes to the pot.
“But once we get the combination right,” replied his wife, “we’ll be rich and famous. We’ll call it ‘Princess Stew,’ and everyone will come to our inn to eat it!”
Once more the princess tried the stew, … took a second taste, … then another! The innkeeper and his wife were overjoyed. Breathlessly they waited for her to speak.
“Innkeeper,” the princess said, after another spoonful, “I believe that by now there should be enough stew in your pot to feed my servants.”
The innkeeper and his wife exchanged glances. These were not the words that they had expected to hear! But after all the vegetables that they had added to the stew to dilute its saltiness, they couldn’t claim that there wasn’t enough to serve the servants, after all.
As everyone ate, the innkeeper and his wife waited and waited for a good word from the princess. But the princess finished her bowl of stew without saying another word!

For a long time, I had not been interested in family history. Why did I need to learn about people who lived so long ago? Yes, they endured a lot, but they did not go through the same challenges that today’s world presents. How could I learn from people whom I simply could not relate to since they lived in an entirely different world?
Then my dad gave a family home evening lesson about one of our ancestors. I expected to be bored, but it was one of the most interesting and informative family nights that we’d had for a long time.
He told us about Edward Ashton, a grandfather several generations back. Edward grew up in England, where the missionaries taught his family the gospel. His father then wanted to move the family to America, so they sailed across the Atlantic to New Orleans. A few years later they moved to Iowa. When Edward grew to be an adult, he trekked to Utah as a member of the Willie and Martin handcart companies. Like the other pioneers in that group, he endured snowstorms and near-starvation on his way to the Salt Lake Valley, but he pressed on in spite of it. Once he got to Utah, he became a missionary himself.
While his hardships weren’t exactly like the things I experience today (since I don’t have to voyage across an ocean or pull a handcart through the snow), I realized that he and his family had to endure trials and challenges just as I do right now. Even though our trials came in different forms, I could see how the Lord helped Edward grow through these experiences. I realized the Lord helps me grow through my trials, too.

Years ago, while a … schoolboy in far-off England, I made acquaintance with an aged sage who placed implicit trust in the … stars … He devoted himself with great energy to instruct me in the mysteries of astrology. I drank at this fountain of error with increasing thirst, and trusted his words with all the power of a child’s simple faith … Before I was ten years old, I had learned to cast the horoscope …
“Among my schoolmates was a big blustering fellow, who ruled … the playground by his great strength. We all acknowledged his supremacy, and paid him tribute of our property … Further, he compelled us to do his arithmetic for him, to draw his maps, and write his essays … If any boy appeared to doubt his authority … a severe beating was applied to bring the rebel to a sense of his duty.
“Worse than this, our oppressor … was the son of a wealthy family, and the teacher favored him …
I consulted the stars, and determined to break the chains that bound us and to set myself and my schoolfellows free … I managed to find from the bully’s sister the date and exact hour of Ben’s birth. With this information I hurried home, and at once proceeded to compute his horoscope. Ah! I might have known it: … He was a son of Saturn, born when the planet was in ill conjunction: it was no wonder then that he was untrustworthy, mean, and cruel. Then I cast the horoscope of the future, and found that at a convenient hour, five o’clock in the afternoon Wednesday, his star would be declining, and mine would be ascending … Surely the day of our deliverance was near at hand: the stars had promised to help me in my dangerous enterprise, and victory was assured. Force should be subdued by the power of superior knowledge.
“So on the morning of the appointed day I confronted the big bully on the playground, and challenged him to meet me that evening at five o’clock, boldly expressing my determination to show him who would be master from that time forth … He laughed loudly and cuffed my ears; but this I bore … for the time of revenge had not yet come … During the day I received many a hearty wish for success …
“At five o’clock we were at the appointed place; a score of boys were there to see that everything was fair. My antagonist was nearly 30 centimeters taller, and fully a stone (14 pounds) heavier than I, but these were trifles I ignored; had I not the happy assurance of the stars that I should win? I made a speech to the burly fellow, telling a few of his many acts of oppression and cruelty, and closed with a … flourish, declaring that henceforth we would be free. This was received with a laugh of derision by my opponent, and the hostilities began.
“The conflict, though fierce, was … brief. I gradually recovered consciousness, and found myself lying on the ground, cheek cut, eyes bruised, nose smashed, a couple of teeth loosened, and a quantity of hair gone. The bully left without a scratch.
“As I slowly walked homeward, I was in an unusually thoughtful state. I began for the first time in my life to have serious doubts about astrology. Amongst my family my appearance created considerable consternation; then my father reminded me of his oft repeated injunctions against fighting; and to impress the lesson firmly upon my mind, he proceeded to illustrate his lecture by hitting me several times with the buckle end of a stout strap.
“This was convincing. My doubts vanished, and with them all my confidence in the horoscope. I knew that astrology was a fraud.”
(James E. Talmage, extracted from an article entitled, “My Study of Astrology,” which appeared in The Contributor in 1893.)

Eliana Verges de Lerda, a member of the Church in Argentina, met her friend Anabel when they were both six years old. Their friendship grew as they went to school together. During that time, Eliana never hid the fact that she was a member of the Church.
“I felt very comfortable talking about the gospel with Anabel, even though we didn’t share the same beliefs,” she says.
When the girls were 14, Anabel agreed to listen to the missionaries, but she decided not to be baptized.
Eliana was disappointed, but this did not stop her from continuing their friendship; nor did it stop the gospel discussions. A few years later, Eliana invited Anabel to attend seminary with her. During the lesson, Anabel felt the Spirit very strongly. As Eliana prepared to go to the temple a few days later, Anabel told her, “I promise to go with you next time.” Anabel was baptized a short time after.
Anabel’s conversion did not take days; it took years. The process was possible because Eliana was her friend first—regardless of whether or not Anabel felt an interest in accepting the gospel.

The garage? These girls in Pennsylvania are flocking to a garage?
It might make a little sense to Lani Atkinson, 18, who secretly wants to be a mechanic.
But what about her sisters, Cory, 12; Arin, 14; and Nicky, 17? They come from a family of 11 children and work hard for everything they get. They have their own business that involves cutting and trimming lawns in many of the historical graveyards in the area. It requires a lot of time, yet midweek, at the appointed hour, no matter where they are, the sisters toss their weed whackers in the truck, drive the mowers onto the trailer, and head for the garage.
And what about Heather Hulings? You can often find her strolling around the lake next to her home with an admiring male friend. When it’s time, she’ll run back to the house, jump in the car with her sisters Stephanie, 16; and Darcie, 12, and head for the garage. If the young men are gathering and the male friend is interested, he can come along too. He usually does.
Then there’s Carrie Guskiewicz. She could be on deck in the seventh inning with two outs and the bases loaded, but if it was the right time, she’d drop her bat, race to the car, and have her mom drive her to the garage.
Beth Humphreys is the one who will really surprise you. She’s 19, has graduated from high school, and is on scholarship hundreds of miles away at Alford University in New York. Yet she still thinks wistfully of the garage, and heads there every chance she gets when she’s home on vacation.
What is it about a garage that entices these girls to drop whatever they’re doing and gather there for midweek activities? All right, so the Young Women’s room of the Indiana Branch, Pittsburgh North Stake, doesn’t exactly look like a garage any more. Members have worked hard to convert a small private residence into a church. Kind of gives the word meetinghouse a whole new meaning. Primary meets in the former living room; the chapel is in the basement. And the garage is now a finished room with white walls, and the Young Women’s room in the corner of it has your basic posters, folding chairs, even a window.
But it really isn’t what they find in the garage that pulls them there. It’s more what they bring with them. These young women share an uncommon camaraderie among girls so varied. They belong to a group in which everyone loves each other, the older girls look out for the younger ones, and nobody feels left out.
“There’s a special sisterhood-type thing we share,” says Arin Atkinson. “The girls in the branch are just as easy to talk to as my own sisters.”
Lani, Arin’s older sister, agrees. “All of us are really pretty different from each other, but whenever we get together, no matter what our differences are, we have a great time.”
“We meet in a small house, so we have to be close,” laughs Teri Gibbs, 18. “There’s nowhere else to go. It’s neat because the Laurels are close to the Beehives and the Mia Maids are close to everyone.”
Some of these girls seem to have about as much in common with each other as Christmas and Halloween. What is it that keeps them united? What is it that makes them want to drop whatever they’re doing and gather in the garage?
Sitting in the garage with them, you begin to see. These girls go to at least five different high schools. Most of them are outnumbered about a thousand to one, when it comes to a non-Mormon to Mormon ratio. The garage and the girls there form a sort of shelter—a respite. This is where they meet with others who feel the same way they do, and who never stop encouraging each other in their lives and beliefs.
Try to get them to tell you about themselves, and they’ll talk about their friends.
“Jenny (Snyder) makes all her own clothes and they’re beautiful—she’s going to design costumes for the theater someday.”
“You’ll have to hear how well Heather (Humphreys) plays the piano. She’s really great.”
“All the boys at school respect Teri (Gibbs) so much they say she’s the cookie jar up on the shelf that every one wants but is too high to get to.”
You might think that in a group this tight, it would be a little difficult for a newcomer. But not so. Just ask Amanda Curry, 16, who started attending the branch a few months ago. Amanda is pretty and talented—in many situations, girls would be jealous. But Amanda says they welcomed her with open arms. “The girls accepted me completely,” she said. “They treat me like a sister.”
Maybe that’s why so many non-LDS people in the area are comfortable visiting. Almost every girl has a missionary story to tell.
“I’ve had one friend who has known for a long time that we are Mormons,” said Stephanie Hulings. “But I was really taken aback when she asked if she could come to my youth group with us. I took her to a fireside, and now she comes to almost all the midweek activities.”
“I’m in sixth grade and the only Mormon in my class,” said Carrie Guskiewicz. “I found out that the missionaries are visiting my teacher at school—it makes me realize I have to be a really good example.”
The girls in the branch are great examples to the non-LDS boys they sometimes date. You’ll find a handful of those boys at every baptism, joint activity, fireside, sacrament meeting, and Sunday School lesson. Some even come when the girls who invited them aren’t in attendance. Their appetites may have been whetted by the young women, but once at church, they find there’s a spiritual banquet they’d never anticipated.
It seems the LDS girls greatly outnumber the LDS boys in the area, but that doesn’t bother the girls. “We don’t have any problems with guys who don’t accept our standards,” says Lani Atkinson. “We just don’t date anyone like that.” It’s that simple.
Truly living your religion is not such an unusual thing in this part of Pennsylvania. The Amish people have been here for years, and their religion has changed little. Their horse-drawn buggies, simple, homemade clothes, and avoidance of modern machinery make them stand out. The young women have an affection for them, knowing how difficult it is to avoid the ways of the world.
“As members of the Church, we definitely stand out here. There are just a few other Mormons in our school,” says Stephanie Hulings.
Her sister Heather agrees. “Since we stand out, there’s a lot of peer pressure from others to make us like them. They want us to smoke and drink, and a lot of drugs come out here from Pittsburgh, which is about an hour and a half away. At least, by being so different, though, we have a lot of chances to tell people about our beliefs.”
Other factors that unite these girls in the garage and help them ward off worldly influences? Music is a big one. These girls can sing! You’ll hear them spontaneously harmonizing at any hour of the day or night—while they’re driving to seminary, while they’re weeding the meetinghouse lawn, while they’re doing just about anything.
They look forward to girls’ camp because it means continuous days of nonstop harmonizing. Even those who aren’t musically gifted get a thrill out of being a part of such an angelic chorus. Visitors are mesmerized when these girls start to sing.
But when the music dies down, the talking has stopped, and the investigators have gone home, there is still something that binds these girls together. It would be there whether they met in a garage or in a massive, elegant chapel. For all their varied backgrounds, they have a basic core in common. They’ve all felt the true love of Christ. That love is so wonderful to them they do their best to make it work in their lives, and they want to share it with others.
“We have seen the greatest thing on earth, the love of Christ, light up the face of a lonely, elderly woman as the Young Women brought her dinner and sang to her,” says Teri Gibbs. “We have seen that love lift a frustrated mother’s heart as the Young Women baby-sat her children so she could enjoy a night out. It is through this that I have grown closer to Heavenly Father and to other youth in the Church. We strive to be more like Christ.”
That’s why the girls are so eager to get to the garage. It’s there that they can feel and nurture the love of Christ. In the garage, they help each other recharge their batteries; then they go out and share that energy with everyone else.

Every summer, the Monson family spent two months at the family cabin on the Provo River. Tommy Monson learned to swim in the river’s swift currents. One warm afternoon when Tommy was about 13, he grabbed a big inflated inner tube and floated down the river.
That day a large group of people had gathered at a picnic area by the river to eat and play games. Tommy was about to float through the fastest part of the river when he heard the frantic cries, “Save her! Save her!” A young girl had fallen into the treacherous whirlpools. None of the people on shore could swim to save her.
That’s when Tommy appeared on the scene and saw the girl’s head disappear under the water. Tommy stretched out his hand, grasped the girl by her hair, and then lifted her over the side of the inner tube. Then Tommy paddled to the riverbank. First the family threw their arms around the girl, kissing her and crying. Then they began hugging and kissing Tommy. He felt embarrassed by all the attention, and he quickly returned to his inner tube.
As Tommy continued his float down the river, he was filled with a warm feeling. He realized that he had helped save a life. Heavenly Father had heard the cries, “Save her! Save her!” He made it possible for Tommy to float by at exactly the time he was needed. That day Tommy learned that the sweetest feeling is to realize that God, our Heavenly Father, knows each one of us and allows us to help Him save others.

Daniel ran into his house. He was sad.
“What’s wrong, Daniel?” Mom asked.
“Jake was being mean to kids at recess. I told him to stop,” Daniel said. “He got mad. He called me a name. He said he does not want to be my friend.”
“I’m sorry,” Mom said. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”
Mom and Daniel walked to Mom and Dad’s room.
Mom took a jar of pennies from the shelf. She poured the pennies onto the bed.
Clank! Clank! Clank!
“Pick a penny, Daniel,” Mom said. “You can keep it.”
Daniel picked a very shiny penny.
“Why did you pick that penny?” Mom asked.
“I like that it is shiny,” Daniel said.
“Friends are like pennies,” Mom said. “We should choose friends who make us feel good.”
That night when Daniel went to bed, he prayed to find a friend who would help him choose the right so he could feel good.
Daniel remembered a boy who liked to play basketball at recess. Daniel liked to play basketball too! Maybe they could be friends.
Daniel was happy the next day when he got out of bed.
“How do you feel today?” Mom asked.
“Great!” Daniel said. “I’m going to make a shiny-penny friend!”
At school Daniel played basketball with the boy. He was nice. They had a fun time. Daniel was happy to have a shiny-penny friend.

One day my mother, Linnie P. Gold, related an experience to me that has shaped my life ever since.
She said that after World War II Church members were asked to donate clothing for the destitute people in Germany. My mother was therefore collecting from our drawers and cupboards well-worn discarded clothing that was too good to throw away. Suddenly she heard a voice say, “Is this what you would give to Me?”
“Oh no,” was her immediate cry. And she quickly began gathering the best clothes in the house. As editor of the ward newspaper to be printed the next day, she quickly penned a poetic appeal for clothes. Readers were deeply touched by the appeal and responded in abundance.
I know now why my mother gives so very freely and is always doing things for others. She gives to Him.