Gospel Story Finder

Being the only member of the Church in my family was not easy. I longed for a way to share all I had learned about the Church with my family but feared they would accuse me of trying to convert them. I struggled with doubts. I knew the Lord wanted me to share the gospel with my family, but for more than a year I was too afraid to suggest that we have family home evening.
Finally, with my heart racing in fear, I asked the Lord for courage and strength to invite my family to have family home evening. To my surprise they said an enthusiastic “Yes!” to the suggestion, and our relationship has never been better.
Through family home evening I have been able to share the gospel and my testimony with everyone from my mother to my three-year-old niece. What a blessing it has been to read the Book of Mormon with them and hear that they believe what they are reading. In addition, the missionaries have been welcomed into our home to assist in our scripture study.
The greatest blessing is that in such a busy time of work, school, and other activities, my family is committed to meeting together every Monday and devoting an hour to learning more about the Lord. Laughing, singing, and kneeling together in family prayer have brought a tremendous sense of peace and love to our home.
Arlene Pryce, Don Valley Ward, Toronto Ontario Stake

For example, the Sydney Australia Hebersham Stake Young Men and Young Women take a turn each month with other churches in the area driving a van in a citywide project called Night Patrol. Two adults and two young people take food and offer comfort to those living on the streets. The teens who have had a chance to work in the Night Patrol van quickly found it was interesting work and are the first to volunteer to go again.

At age 30, Eric James of New Mexico, USA, was diagnosed with a kidney disease. As a young father, he was devastated and wondered if he would be able to provide for his family.

He read in the Book of Mormon that Nephi wondered the same thing when he broke his bow made of fine steel. But after making a bow out of wood, Nephi was again able to feed his family. (See 1 Nephi 16:18–23, 30–32.)

“Nephi’s story filled my soul like a brilliant light,” Eric said. “The health I had enjoyed up until that point was like Nephi’s steel bow. When my health failed, it was like my bow had broken. But I realized that the Lord had blessed me with a wooden bow in the form of a kidney transplant. The transplant would give me the strength to care for my family. This gave me hope. Almost 10 years later, I continue to provide for my family and serve the Lord the best I can.”

Another story that has had a profound impact on my life is the story of Jens and Elsie Nielson. I can share only apart.
I told this story when my oldest son was leaving on his mission over 10 years ago. Somehow thinking we were sacrificing so much, only to discover that what was given in return was far greater
The story is of early saints who sailed to America from Denmark and crossed the plains with the Willie Handcart Company...
Jens, Elsie, their 12 year old son, and a young Mortensen girl, for whom they assumed responsibility to bring to Utah, were left with a handcart, poorly constructed of green lumber, and unfit for the journey. Jens was placed in a camp with four other men with their families who spoke a strange language, English, which Jens could not understand. Jens was made captain of his camp in the Willie handcart company. The company was late starting, and delayed by repeated breakdowns of the poorly constructed handcarts. When finally reaching Wyoming's wind-swept plains, they were caught in a very early and severe winter, with two feet of snow, temperatures to eleven degrees below zero and howling blizzard winds. After consuming their last pound of flour days before, it was here that Jens and Elsie gained a victory over almost certain death through their great physical strength, indomitable courage and unconquerable spirits. Their strength had carried them beyond the endurance of the other four men in their camp who had succumbed to the snow, cold, starvation and exhaustion, and had been buried in shallow graves under the snow. Also buried were Jens' and Elsie's twelve-year old son, Jens, and the Mortensen girl.
The end appeared to be near and certain for Jens. His feet became so frozen he could not walk another step, which caused his right foot to be at a right angle the rest of his life. At this point Jens said to Elsie, "Leave me by the trail in the snow to die, and you go ahead and try to keep up with the company and save your life."
If you believe men have a monopoly on strength and courage, then pay heed to Elsie's immortal words when she said, "Get in the cart and ride, I can't leave you, I can pull the cart." Jens had to suffer the humiliation of riding while Elsie pulled like an ox.
It is not known how far Elsie pulled the cart that day, but in other sources it says the total distance traveled between camps was sixteen miles with some steep slopes! She made it to the next campsite, which turned out to be where the help from Salt Lake reached the Willie Company. For the record, Jens was about 6' 2" and 230 pounds, though likely a little lighter at the time. Elsie was 4' 11' and under a hundred pounds!!!

I had a very long, exhausting day, and I wanted to go home after school to spend some time with my family before I called it an early night. I packed my bag as the final bell rang. I got up and started to walk out of my ROTC class, heading to the other side of the school, where my car was parked. When I went through the door I had an impression to go find my friend Alex. I dismissed it, because I was tired and wanted to go home.
When I was about to walk out of the back door, it was as if someone screamed in my head to stop. A few seconds later, the impression to go talk with Alex came into my mind again. This time I heeded the prompting and headed back to my ROTC class on the other side of the school.
I walked back into my classroom, where my unit was practicing for an upcoming event. I found Alex off in a corner by herself and walked over to talk with her. As we talked, I found out that she was having a very down week. Everything had gone wrong for her. She then told me she had really been down and was having destructive thoughts. We talked for a while, and it started to get late. I made sure she felt better and then left.
The next morning when I came in, I ran into Alex. She wasn’t the sad, down girl she had been yesterday. She was full of love and peace, and she was happy and cheery again. She thanked me for being a friend in a time of need. She then went on to say that if I hadn’t taken that time to talk with her, she might have done something.
I thought back to when I first had ignored the prompting to talk with her. I didn’t listen to it. I could have lost a very dear friend to me that day.
Whenever I get a prompting from the Lord, I always remember this event, and I act immediately, for we are answers to people’s prayers, angels to others, and instruments in the hands of the Lord to work miracles in the lives of others. When the Lord prompts us, we need to act.

In the early ’90s, before Melbourne had a temple, our stake hired a bus once a month to take us to the Sydney Australia Temple.

In preparation, I would ensure my visiting teaching was done. One Tuesday evening before a Friday bus trip, my companion and I visited one sister. As we sat chatting, her husband came into the lounge, and I felt to ask him for a priesthood blessing.

In that blessing, he said that two of the sisters whose work I would do in the Sydney Australia Temple would come and thank me in the celestial kingdom, which of course, was very nice to hear.

The next day, I received a phone call and was told that the bus wasn’t going to the temple on Friday.

I thought, “Oh dear, what am I to do?” I rang my friend, Bev, who always went on the bus, and she confirmed that the bus trip was cancelled.

I suggested that we hire a little bus for a few of us to go, but she didn’t want to do that.

“What about these two sisters?” I thought, recalling the words in the priesthood blessing I’d received. “I have to get to Sydney somehow!”

I worked on Fridays for a lady who owned a home in Ivanhoe for people with special needs. I did a lot of cooking and was responsible for all the meals there, which needed to be served exactly on time. The day before we were meant to bus to the temple, 24 ladies were to have dinner at 5:00 pm. I needed to have them fed and everything cleared away by 5:25pm so that I could get to the travel agency and book my airline ticket to Sydney.

Throughout the day, whenever I had a chance, I kept ringing the travel agent hoping to secure a ticket but to no avail. Anne, the travel agent, said to me at one point, “Give up, Bev.”

Well! That was like waving the red flag at the proverbial bull!

I managed to clear the evening meal and ring the bell and by 5:25 pm, with my bag in hand, I was waiting at the front door ready to leave—then off I went in my car to the travel agency.

Fortunately, another client was booking an overseas trip, so the office was still open when I arrived at 5:35 pm. The agent who assisted me looked at the screen and said, “I don’t think you’re going to find a flight.”

I stood there, smiled, and waited, and then she said, “Hang on. There is still one left.”

I said, “Thank you,” paid for my ticket and raced out to my car to get to the airport as soon as I could.

I knew I was a little late getting to check-in. I apologized to the attendant and asked, “Am I okay?” She had a look, found that the plane was running 20 minutes late, then handed me my ticket and said, “Go to Gate 11.”

From the Sydney Airport, I needed to catch a train to my girlfriend’s house in Epping, which is not far from the temple. When I landed, I thought I might get a taxi to her place instead, but it was 11:00 pm by then and no taxis were available. I had to walk in the dark for nearly two kilometres.

When I finally arrived at her home, I saw there were no lights on I had to carefully make my way down the dark driveway, lugging my suitcase, one step at a time, to knock on the door.

My friend had thought I wasn’t coming because I’d forgotten to tell her about the mayhem I had been through, but all is well that ends well.

I was able to do the work for those two sisters, and I often think of the time when I will greet them in the celestial kingdom of God.

Like most parents-to-be, we anxiously awaited the birth of our first baby. We acquired clothing and furniture and chose two names—one for a boy and one for a girl.
We also chose a special song to sing to our baby throughout the pregnancy. The song we selected was “My Heavenly Father Loves Me” (Children’s Songbook, 228–29). We sang these words often, imagining how wonderful it would be to have a baby in our family:
Whenever I hear the song of a bird
Or look at the blue, blue sky,
Whenever I feel the rain on my face
Or the wind as it rushes by,
Whenever I touch a velvet rose
Or walk by our lilac tree,
I’m glad that I live in this beautiful world
Heav’nly Father created for me.
One morning my wife awoke covered with little red spots. We went to the doctor and learned that those little red spots were rubella. The doctor also gave us the disturbing news that since my wife was in the first trimester of her pregnancy, our baby ran a serious risk of being born deaf, blind, or disabled in other ways.
That night we paid special attention to the second verse of our song:
He gave me my eyes that I might see
The color of butterfly wings.
He gave me my ears that I might hear
The magical sound of things.
He gave me my life, my mind, my heart:
I thank him rev’rently
For all his creations, of which I’m a part.
Yes, I know Heav’nly Father loves me.
We thought about the future and everything that could happen. It was a time of much prayer and fasting to accept the will of our Heavenly Father. We had faith that the Lord would be with us, no matter what happened.
Our daughter, Alice, was born one month early. After her birth an endless array of tests began to determine the effects of the rubella. When nothing was found, someone spoke of a miracle. We, without a doubt, believe it was.
Alice is now seven years old, and she loves to sing her favorite song, “My Heavenly Father Loves Me.” We are eternally grateful, but we are also aware that difficult situations don’t always turn out this well and that trials are part of our mortal probation. But we have learned that if we trust Him we have nothing to fear, for as the song teaches, “I know Heav’nly Father loves me.”

Here is another illustration of the principle of obedience. I had an instructor in the navy, a fine man. He had been a test pilot in the early days of the war. One of his responsibilities was to test a fighter plane that was important to the factory. If they didn’t sell it, they would go bankrupt. It was important to the navy because they needed a quality aircraft to operate off aircraft carriers. In those days there were no electronic on-board instruments. He had to take off and fly the aircraft, the first prototype, and then come back and tell the owners of the factory and the admirals whether it passed the test. They watched him take off and watched him climb. He disappeared and after a long period of time he returned, landed, and climbed out of the aircraft.

All of the engineers, designers, owners, admirals, and navy brass were there, and he said, “As you saw, the aircraft jumped off the ground in less than the required distance.” They all nodded. They have been observing that. He said, “Time to thirty thousand feet was so many minutes and so many seconds.” Everybody ooed and awed at that. He said, “It climbs like a homesick angel.” Tremendous! Everybody was pleased by how fast it arrived at altitude. He said, “Speed at full throttle, straight and level, exceeded the calculations of the engineers by 14 percent.” Everyone was impressed and the engineers were calculating how much that must have been. He said, “Power dive, the wings didn’t come off, nothing bent.” Everybody was wringing their hands out of gratitude that it had passed the test when he said, “But it didn’t pass the test. When I put it through the maneuvers in which a fighter plane has to be able to perform, when I tried to do the snap rolls, the Immelmanns, the loops, the evasive maneuvers, this aircraft would not respond to the controls. It is like a mule that gets the bit in its mouth and wants to go straight. Nothing I could do would make it turn fast enough. You have to go back and make larger, more sensitive control surfaces so that the aircraft will be obedient to the pilot.”

I’ve seen missionaries in the mission field who are super intelligent, charismatic, have great talent and tremendous ability, but failed because they weren’t responsive to the controls. They weren’t quite obedient. They didn’t understand that the rules are first to protect them from Satan and second to bless them with success. There are many interpretations, higher interpretations, of the law of obedience.

Eleven years after her mother’s death, Sonora (now married to John Bruce Dodd) sat in church listening to a Mother’s Day message. It was a wonderful talk about the role of mothers, but she noticed that the word father was never mentioned. When Sonora thought of the sacrifices that her father had made, she felt that it was only fair that fathers be recognized in a like manner. After the meeting she approached the speaker and asked, “Don’t you think that fathers should have a special day of recognition too?” With that question, Sonora Dodd began gaining support for her Father’s Day idea.

In 1872, a baby boy was born to a Shoshone family on the Fort Washakie Reservation in Wyoming. His father, Onda-Bow-Low-See, was a scout for the United States Cavalry, which meant his family often traveled by stagecoach.
One day, while on a bumpy stagecoach, the young boy lost his balance. He fell under a wheel and his leg was severely crushed, causing a deep injury. Knowing his son needed serious attention, Onda-Bow-Low-See turned to his parents: Anka-dewy-itse and his wife, Tza-gah.
The boy and his grandparents set off traveling west through a snowy pass. The boy lay on a horse-pulled sled made of deer hide. As they traveled, his leg swelled and became infected. After a long journey, they arrived at their sacred healing place, Baa-da-see (now Cache Valley, Utah) on the Shoshone “Holy Hill.” The boy was exhausted, and his grandparents set up camp under a teepee, staying by his side and praying for him for several days. Each morning, they awoke hoping the boy would recover.
Then one morning, at dawn, the boy heard a voice calling him: “Arise!” To his amazement, he stood and walked. The pain in his leg was gone. When his grandfather Anka-dewy-itse saw the boy standing alive and well, he gratefully proclaimed, “Our Damma Appa [Heavenly Father] has healed you!” Although healed, the boy had a slight limp and was renamed “Nee-a-ma-ah,” meaning “leaning to one side.”

An interesting story of one such trip concerns the voyage of the ship International, which left Liverpool, England, on 25 February 1853. She carried on board a Latter-day Saint immigrant company of 425, including a number of unbaptized friends and relatives and a crew of 26.
The ship ran into violent storms, delaying the crossing and making it necessary to ration food. In four weeks, only one-third of the distance to New Orleans, Louisiana, had been covered.
Thanks to the faith and prayers of the valiant Saints, a miracle occurred: favorable winds made it possible to make up time lost. The International docked in New Orleans after a 54-day voyage across the Atlantic Ocean.
Christopher Arthur presided over the company of Latter-day Saints aboard the International. In his official report to the British Mission president, President Arthur wrote: “I am glad to inform you, that we have baptized all on board except three persons. … We can number the captain, first and second mates, with eighteen of the crew, most of whom intend going right through to the valley. … The number baptized in all is 48, since we left our native shores” (quoted in William G. Hartley, “Voyage on the Ship International,” New Era, September 1973, 9).

Grisell was very excited to join the Church and loved learning about the gospel, but as we continued teaching Grisell, many challenges came up, as they usually do when someone commits to baptism. Her family opposed her attending church, and she was becoming distressed. I decided to share the same scripture with her that I had shared with Hugo many months prior. Grisell’s downcast face changed to the expression of joy and excitement she had shown when we first met as I read her the promise that she would be able to do anything that was the Lord’s will.

Suddenly I realized that this scripture was not only true for Hugo and Grisell. Just weeks before I had doubted my own ability to do what God had commanded me. As I reflected back on my recent discouragement and my mission up to that point, I knew that the Lord’s promise was true for me as well.

As I was learning from my own true-life experience, I stood alone in my bedroom a few days after the operation, preparing to go to church. I held a tie in my hand and thought, Now what am I going to do with this silly tie? I thought about having my mother help me but soon rejected the idea, knowing she couldn’t go on my mission to tie my ties and otherwise care for me. I simply had to fend for myself. With patience, I tied my tie, and although I used my teeth a little, I learned I could do it and do it well. That day a window was opened to my mind, and I could clearly see that with patience, faith, and determination, I would be able to handle almost any challenge I would face.

About two years ago I read this column in the newspaper:
“Dear Abby:
“I’m sitting here on the plane reading the letter in your column about the son who didn’t want to put his father up temporarily because he felt his father’s visit would be an invasion of his privacy.
“That item caught my eye because I am on my way to visit my son in Omaha for two weeks—at his insistence. I was reluctant to do so initially because I felt I might be interfering with his personal activities.
“I wonder if the son who wrote that letter ever gave a thought to the privacy his father might have forfeited during his son’s time at home?
“There were times during my children’s lives when, given my druthers, I’d have preferred some alternative activity, but now I don’t regret one minute of the time I spent with them. I’m only sorry it couldn’t have been more. Their time at home seems to have been so brief.
“I won’t mail this, of course, since I realize you will receive thousands of more articulate letters on the above. This is just my way of …”
“Dear Abby: My father died suddenly of a heart attack, and this unfinished letter was in his pocket. My wife and I will miss him very much. Sign this—‘A son who really wanted his dad to come.’ William Smzyk, Omaha, Nebr.” (Abigail Van Buren, Deseret News 13 Dec. 1979, p. C7.)

1. Grace was nervous. She was going to sing with her little brother, Ethan, in sacrament meeting.
2. When it was time for Grace and Ethan to sing, Grace looked at Mom. “You can do it, Grace,” Mom whispered.
3. Grace and Ethan walked to the front of the chapel and stood behind the podium so that everyone could see them. Grace saw Dad smiling at her.
4. When the music started, Grace and Ethan sang “Jesus Has Risen.” Grace remembered all of the words and all of the notes.
5. When the song ended, Grace gave Ethan a big hug. Grace felt happy inside.
6. Grace and Ethan walked back to their seats and sat next to Mom and Dad. They were happy too. “That was beautiful,” Dad whispered.
7. Grace smiled. She was glad she and her brother could sing about Jesus.

My father was called to preside over the East German Mission at the outbreak of World War II. At this time, he was also drafted into the German army. He directed the affairs of the mission from the battlefield through his two counselors.
One Sabbath before Christmas, he felt very lonely, stationed in Denmark away from his family, and wanted to worship God in sacrament meeting. He didn’t know whether a Church branch existed in Esbjerg, but he assumed there might be one somewhere in the city. He didn’t speak the language, but, dressed in his full military uniform, he hummed the tune of a favorite hymn as he walked on a city street. He hoped he would attract someone’s attention who could lead him to the Church.
Sure enough, as a little girl passed my father, she asked him in Danish, “Mormon?” and, seeing him nod his head, she led him to the branch meetinghouse.
My father risked his life, realizing that if he were discovered by Nazi officials among enemy people in their worship services, he could face a charge of treason, punishable by death. He also took a risk by surrendering his weapon belt to the branch president at the door and by accepting an invitation to deliver a Christmas message during sacrament meeting in another enemy tongue—English.
A young Danish girl who was a member of the branch wrote to my mother about the strange experience of having an enemy soldier in their midst:
Last night I visited the branch. There was a German there, your husband. Even though many Danish people hate Germans, we learned to love this man. He spoke to the congregation in English, and William Orum Peterson translated. Your husband related how only a month ago, he had lost everything he had, and the mission home had been destroyed. But he was thankful that his wife and children were safe. He then gave testimony of the truthfulness of the Church. It was wonderful to see a man in the uniform we hated speak with so much love for us. He was happy to be among the Saints.

“Our Area Presidency has challenged us to read the Book of Mormon before stake conference. Will you try?” my dad asked me. “I’ll try,” I said reluctantly. I was reluctant because I had recently been in a bicycle accident and had received a serious concussion. I remember the exact date of my accident—27 July 1993—because it was my younger brother Brent’s 12th birthday.
The morning of Brent’s birthday, I did not have a present for him, so I decided to ride my bicycle to a store to find something. The store was not far away, but getting there required riding along a busy state highway. Thinking I would be safer, I rode on a seldom-used sidewalk that ran by some condominiums not far from my home. Toward the bottom of a hill, the sidewalk became uneven and was covered with sand, dirt, and plants. The sidewalk was not easily seen from either the highway or the condos. I headed down the hill, picking up speed as I went, but my trip didn’t take me where I had planned to go. I ended up in the hospital instead.
I have no memory of what happened. All I remember is the pain. I later learned that two teenage boys found me. They contacted a neighbor, who called my mom and the paramedics.
Five days later, I was still delirious. I had more than 40 stitches over one eye and on my chin, and bandages covered other cuts and scrapes. While I was in the hospital and at home, many loving people in our ward visited me and brought me gifts—although I can’t remember most of it.
Later, when I was feeling better, my parents had a speech pathologist test me. The tests showed moderate to severe impairment of my ability to retrieve general information, organize thoughts, and speak intelligently. My mental age had dropped. Although I was nearly 15 years old, I was performing at a 12-year-old level.
One of the most frustrating consequences of the accident was not being able to read. I could see the words, but my mind couldn’t process them. It was almost as if I had forgotten how to read. So my dad’s request that I read the Book of Mormon within a two-month period would be an immense challenge.
That night, I knelt by my bed to pray to Heavenly Father. During my prayer, I felt strongly that if Heavenly Father wanted me to read the Book of Mormon, He would help me. After the prayer, I got up, sat in bed, and opened the Book of Mormon to the first page. I slowly looked at the words in front of me and began: “I, Nephi, having been born of goodly parents …” I was reading! I could actually understand the words! Part of me was totally amazed and excited. Yet part of me wasn’t surprised at all. Somehow I had a complete assurance that I would be able to read the Book of Mormon if it was the Lord’s will and if He was helping me.
After only one month, I finished reading that great book of scripture. The Lord and the Book of Mormon had taught me how to read again. More important, my faith in Heavenly Father increased, as did my testimony of prayer and the scriptures. That faith and testimony sustained me years later as I served as a full-time missionary in the Korea Seoul West Mission.
I’m grateful my dad challenged me to read the Book of Mormon. Because of that challenge, I was able to understand that Heavenly Father can bless us in our trials. I’m also grateful for miracles—not only for the miraculous coming forth of the Book of Mormon and the miraculous Restoration of the gospel, but also for miracles that happen today to people like me.

I have three darling little granddaughters. One is five years old, and the others are three and one. The oldest is Amy Christine, but I call her Love-Love. The second is named Melissa. Her parents call her Missy, but I call her my Dolly. The third little girl whose name is Natalie Ann is so soft and cuddly that I call her Pinky.
Nicknames are fun, but I had an experience recently that caused me to think. Minnie, my wife, held Missy in her arms, gave her a big kiss, and asked, “Who’s my love?” and Missy answered, “Amy.” When it was my turn to give her a squeeze, I held her tight and said, “Who does grandpa love?” And Missy answered, “Your Love-Love.”
“Yes,” I answered and then asked, “and who else does grandpa love?” Missy replied, “Your Love-Bird,” which is an affectionate term I use for my wife. Missy did not think we loved her because we didn’t use love in her name.
After we compared notes, we realized that we had to do something special to let Melissa know that she was loved too. Now I call her my Love-Dolly, and my wife calls her Missy-Love. In the future, as our smallest grows up, we must be also careful to let her know that she isn’t just Pinky. We’ll choose another name for her that includes love so she also will know that she is loved as much as her sisters.
May I return to my granddaughter? Instead of just saying, “How’s my Dolly?” I now say, “How is grandpa’s Love-Dolly?” To hear the cries of joy when grandpa and grandma come to see them is worth waiting and working for. Try something similar with your friends and see if I’m not telling you the truth!

It’s November, but in Nevada it’s still hot. Hot enough that most teenage boys would rather be inside than sweating out a Saturday morning service project.
Why are these young men braving the burning desert sun? It’s not for the free can of soda pop. What began as a project to fill a Duty to God requirement, became a lesson in the joy of service.
For one of their activities, the young men in the Desert Breeze Ward, Las Vegas Nevada Lakes Stake, came to the aid of recent convert, Kyoko Fuller, an 82-year-old widow who speaks mostly Japanese.
The young men cut dried-out fronds from three neglected palm trees behind her house, stripped away the overgrown bark, and hauled off the piles of dead growth.
“How much I pay?” she asked when the young men told her they’d clean up her yard and take care of the palm trees. “Oh no,” she said when they told her it was free. “I pay how much?” They didn’t take any money, but they enjoyed the drinks she offered after they had worked under the desert sun for two hours.
“This was fun,” says Matt Erickson, a teacher. “Kyoko’s great, and it was fun to help her out. The work was kind of hard, but it went fast.”

Other personal and family preparedness projects were also carried out, including one planned to help an inactive family clean up their home, which President Kimball has asked all of us to do.

This eight-member family lived in a little ten-by-twelve-foot one-room home with a dirt floor, two double beds, a small table, and a small kerosene stove. There was neither electricity nor running water.

The branch welfare services committee organized to solve the problem. The Relief Society sisters carried many buckets of water to clean the house. They helped the family take the furniture outside in the sun and remove the accumulations of years.

Home teachers and other priesthood brethren assisted in the repairing of the furniture.

The welfare services missionaries participated by giving lessons on cleanliness and personal hygiene.

Another way the missionaries were of assistance to the branch was through presentations of special lessons, such as baby care, to the Relief Society sisters. They have taught principles and techniques in family health care. The sisters have now learned to make their own clothing and to use sound judgment in shopping.

These activities have increased the sisters’ love for Relief Society, and now, for the first time, regular visiting teaching has become a reality.

The children have also benefitted from the personal and family preparedness projects in Bermejillo. The mothers now make sure the children are well groomed before sending them to Primary.

Older children are developing teaching skills as they help younger children learn the lessons of the gospel.

The missionaries have found that just by being an example to the children they teach them important principles. Children have learned of President Kimball’s counsel about saving money for their missions. They also now spend any of their extra pesos on fruit rather than candy.

Nonmembers have been influenced by the example of members in Bermejillo, and a number have been taught the gospel.

As the branch grew, the rented facilities became too small for them. So President Castañeda obtained permission for the use of this plot of land [slide shown], upon which to build a chapel. Other branches in the mission had met with extreme difficulty in obtaining such permission, but the village officials in Bermejillo were aware of the accomplishments of the branch and were pleased at the prospect of having a chapel built here.

A small, temporary, adobe chapel has been erected on the property and is now serving while the Saints raise their share of the funds for their new meeting place, which they have been authorized to build.

Much of their portion of the money is being earned through branch projects. Every Tuesday and Thursday the Relief Society sisters divide into small groups to make doughnuts and tamales. They then sell them in the parks or door-to-door. One of the sisters reported how difficult it was to sell door-to-door, but she said, “We want our chapel, and we are willing to do whatever it takes to earn enough money.”

To date they have met all their commitments, and the construction of a chapel on this site is scheduled to begin before the end of this year.

What we have just reviewed is a marvelous example of what can take place in any Church unit, regardless of circumstances, when the leaders and members begin to understand fully and live the basic principles of welfare services. In four short years, look what these Saints have accomplished. They have begun to raise gardens and store their produce, paint their homes, plant trees and flowers, build toilet and shower units, clean and fix up the interiors and exteriors of their homes, purify their water, properly prepare their food, and provide more nutritious diets for their children.

Beyond this, the members have extended the hand of fellowship by helping inactive families solve their temporal problems, by friendshipping nonmembers, and by setting a good example of Latter-day Saint living.

The spirituality of this branch has been enhanced through increased member activity, better preparation by class instructors, more effective home and visiting teachers, additional converts to the Church, branch projects, and personal sacrifice. It is interesting to note that there has been more than a tenfold increase in the per capita fast offering donations from this small branch over the past four years.

The principles of love, service, work, self-reliance, consecration, and stewardship are all evident in the accomplishments of the branch in Bermejillo. Indeed, these members are well on their way to establishing the ideal of Zion.

I am persuaded that any ward or stake in the Church can experience the same kind of success as the branch in Bermejillo. It will come as a result of organizing welfare services committees and of teaching and living the basic principles of welfare services. Many wards and stakes have their own resource people to call on, but where local resource people are not available, welfare services missionaries may be called through proper channels to assist Church units in emerging areas where temporal problems are critical.

May each of us catch the vision of welfare services as these Saints have in Bermejillo. By working together we can fully establish the latter-day Zion. That we may do this, I pray in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.