Gospel Story Finder

Jane Manning James was tired of walking, but she refused to stop.
Her eldest son, Sylvester, was big enough to walk next to the wagon. But baby Silas, who had been born along the trail, still needed to be carried. It was 1847, and the James family would soon be among the first pioneers to arrive in the valley of the Great Salt Lake.
Jane was no stranger to long journeys.
Four years earlier, her family had left their home in an eastern city to join the Saints in Nauvoo, on the edge of the western frontier. The trip should have taken just a few days by river. But because many Black people were slaves in the United States at the time, Jane’s family frequently had to show papers proving their freedom. And some places had strict laws preventing people of color from traveling through the area—including charging up to $500 per person for passage.
Perhaps because of this outrageous fee or perhaps because of other prejudices, the riverboat crew refused to take Jane and her family members any farther. Undeterred, they left behind many of their possessions and set out on foot with whatever they could carry.
Jane’s family walked for more than 800 miles (1,287 km). They walked through humid days and pitch-black nights. Once they trudged through a forest, sleeping under the open sky. When they awoke, their clothes were white with frost.
“We walked until our shoes were worn out, and our feet became sore and cracked open and bled,” Jane recollected. “… We asked God the Eternal Father to heal our feet and our prayers were answered.”1
While enduring this hard journey, Jane sang hymns with her parents and siblings, praising God. Finally, after nearly three months of walking, they arrived in Nauvoo. Years later, when faithful Saints left to cross the plains, Jane was among the first pioneers to start walking the trail.

Then there’s the hop and pop. On a trainee’s first five jumps his parachute is opened by a static line—a 15-foot cord of strong nylon webbing attached to the plane—but, if the student has progressed favorably and acquired the necessary confidence, his sixth jump is a “hop and pop,” or “jump and pull,” one in which he is allowed to open his own parachute for the first time as soon as he exits the aircraft.
One jumper recalls his first hop and pop. “You say to yourself ‘This is it. You’re on your own this time.’ I was afraid I wouldn’t find the ripcord.”
“What was your feeling?”
“One of imminent doom. I said to myself ‘This could ruin the whole day.’”

One of the first converts in Ghana was Dr. Emmanuel Abu Kissi. For most of his life he had struggled to find spiritual fulfillment. “I had read the Bible several times and expected something more than what the churches were doing. I felt that the churches were empty, although Christianity wasn’t. I made up my mind that there must be something more than what they were teaching us, but I hadn’t found it yet.” After completing medical school, Dr. Kissi continued to study the Bible, desiring to find a church that would satisfy his idea of what one should be like.

Then he went to England on a medical scholarship. During his second year there, health problems forced his wife to quit her nursing job and remain at home for many months. He was surprised when his wife, Elizabeth, called one day to say that she was ready to return to work. She explained that she had met two young men who shared with her the word of God. During the discussion, Sister Kissi had asked them to give her a blessing. “They came and anointed her,” Dr. Kissi explains. “She said that in the presence of the anointing she felt something like an electrical movement in her, from head to toe. And when they finished, she was cured instantly.”

Dr. Kissi read the Book of Mormon, Jesus the Christ, and A Marvelous Work and a Wonder. He strongly identified with the Prophet Joseph Smith’s testimony. “I realized that Joseph Smith had had the same problem that I had. The First Vision was very good for me. I put myself in his place and found myself enjoying every bit of his experience. It wasn’t difficult for me to understand him.”

After their baptisms, the Kissis returned to Ghana, where Dr. Kissi served in the mission presidency. The Kissis also founded the Deseret Hospital in Accra. In 1992, when the first two stakes were created in Ghana, Brother Kissi was called as a regional representative.

One Saturday morning many years ago, my brothers and sisters and I scurried around the house, doing our chores early. We were excited because Dad had promised to take the family for a ride in the five-year-old station wagon he had recently bought. We had wanted him to get a newer vehicle, but he said a newer car would be too expensive. Besides, he said, the one we bought was heavier and would be safer in an accident. That was an important factor for Mom, who had recently been in a terrible head-on collision and had almost died.
Once we had finished preparing everything, we all piled into the car—Mom, Dad, and seven children, including an infant son. Since we were going out for a Saturday-afternoon drive, we didn’t pack a lunch or take anything to drink.
We made our way out to the highway and headed north. It was hot, and we had no air-conditioning. The vista around us was the bleak, open desert, with scattered desert plants, an occasional outcropping of rock or a telephone pole, and the low mountain ranges on the horizon. Despite the heat and barren scenery, we were content to be on a fun family outing.
The mood of contentment was broken, however, by a whimper from my mother. The memory of her accident was still fresh, and the sight of oncoming cars frightened her terribly. Dad decided for her sake to get off the highway. “Here we are,” he said in a cheery voice as he turned onto a dirt road that followed a row of huge power lines. Leaving a cloud of dust behind us, the car whistled down the old road. To my 13-year-old mind this was all great fun.
Enjoying the ride, none of us children noticed the troubled look that came to Dad’s face. But my mother knew something was wrong. “What is it, Anthony?” she asked.
“Well,” he answered, “it’s probably nothing, but that sand out there looks treacherous. We had better head back.” With that, he found a wide spot on top of a little hill and turned the car around.
We started back down the small incline and headed up the next little hill—and then it happened. The car sank in soft sand. Several of us got out and pushed as hard as we could, but it would not move forward. We managed to back it up onto some solid ground so Dad could get a run at the sandy area and try to drive through it. His repeated attempts at this failed, however, especially since he had to be careful not to back up too far into another sandy place. Each attempt moved the car a little ahead, but then it would sink even deeper into the soft, powdery sand.
The little children started to cry now. “We’re thirsty, Mom.” As the hot afternoon sun beat down, we could see heat waves coming up off the sand, distorting the view of the mountains on the horizon.
Then we heard in the distance a faint sound coming toward us. The drone of a single-engine aircraft grew louder and louder as it approached. “Oh, we are saved!” I cried as I saw the airplane. “Let’s all wave him down!” Frantically we waved our arms. This was the airplane that inspected power lines, and the pilot was flying so low we could see him leaning out the window. He was returning, with a vigorous wave of his own, what he must have thought was a greeting from us. As the plane flew off and the sound of its engine faded softly away, we knew we were on our own.
The situation was growing desperate. We had no food or water, my mother was struggling with a now hysterical baby, the four girls were crying, and even my brother and I began to doubt our chances of getting home safely.
Dad called us together and said, “We have only one thing left to do. Let’s ask Heavenly Father for help.” We all knelt in the burning sand and bowed our heads as Dad poured out his heart in behalf of the entire family. He explained our situation to the Lord in detail, including all of the things we had done to free ourselves, and then he pleaded for help.
After the prayer we stood, and Dad said, “Let’s try it one more time.” He had all of us stay out of the car while he backed it up to make one more run. The engine roared as Dad took off as fast as he could. The car hit the sand, but this time it kept going as if it were floating. Dad drove to the top of the next hill and stopped on solid, rocky ground. We all cheered and ran toward the car.
When we reached it, Dad was sitting at the wheel, shaking and sobbing, something I had never seen him do before. When we asked him what the matter was, he looked up and said that it seemed to him as if the car had been lifted and carried over the sand by an unseen power.
We rode home quietly as the bright orange colors of the setting sun shone in the western sky. No one spoke, as if not to disturb the reverent feeling that lingered among us in the car. While I recognize that answers to prayers come in various forms and are not always dramatic, I am grateful to Heavenly Father for the blessings of that day.

Ninth President of the Church
David O. McKay’s witness of the truthfulness of the gospel came during his mission to Scotland. He attended a priesthood meeting where “everybody felt the rich outpouring of the spirit of the Lord.” He later recalled: “Never before had I experienced such an emotion. It was a manifestation for which as a doubting youth I had secretly prayed most earnestly on hillside and in meadow. It was an assurance to me that sincere prayer is answered ‘sometime, somewhere.’” It was during this same conference that Elder McKay’s mission president told him, “If you will keep the faith you will yet sit in the leading [councils] of the Church” (“Two Significant Statements,” Deseret News, 27 October 1934, 8).

A letter which I received from a proud father tells of an experience with his then five-year-old son and the boy’s love for the President of the Church and desire to emulate the President’s example. The father wrote:
“When Christopher was five years old, he would get ready for church on Sundays mostly by himself. On one particular Sunday, he decided that he wanted to wear a suit and tie, which to that point he had never done. He scoured the closet on his own for a hand-me-down tie and produced a rather used clip-on one that he didn’t need to create a knot for. He attached the tie to his white shirt, then capped it off with the small navy jacket that had hung for years in the boys’ closet.
“On his own, he went into the bathroom and painstakingly combed his blonde hair to perfection. About that time, I came into the bathroom to finish getting ready myself. I found Christopher beaming at himself in the mirror. Without taking his eyes off his reflection, he proclaimed proudly, ‘Look, Papa—Christopher B. Hinckley!’” And Father realized that a boy had been watching the prophet of the Lord.

Dressed in 19th century clothing, pushing and pulling handcarts, leaving home comforts and technology behind, a group of teenagers in Tasmania recently took part in a trek.
The purpose of the activity—organised by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints—was to help each young person feel—even in small measure—what the early pioneers of their faith experienced when they travelled across the plains of North America.
A trek reminds members of the sacrifices and lessons learned by the Church’s 19th century converts as they travelled from America’s Midwest to the Salt Lake Valley. For these youth, it also helped them remember the history of the Church in Tasmania.
In 1854 the first members of the Church in Tasmania were baptized in a small creek in Glen Huon. During the trek the group stopped at the creek to acknowledge the sacrifices made by those who came before them.
Rachael Sayers, one of the trek organisers, described the experience this way: “Imagine this scenario: Over 80 teenagers gather together for four days, all having a desire to work together in groups that are not of their choice, walking over widely varied terrain, through mud and puddles, up and down rocky, slippery hills, working in unity, serving each other, giving their time, sweat, and energy, sharing their faith and testimonies, and without a comfortable place to sleep, without jealousies, without murmurings, without conflicts. Sounds hard to imagine, doesn’t it?”
One young participant, Emma, said, “I have a deeper appreciation for the strength of youth and what they can achieve when they are united and pushed out of their comfort zone.”
Preparations for the trek began six months in advance, and the number of hours dedicated in service for the youth was inspiring.
Tim Jack, a Church leader in the Hobart area, said, “It was wonderful to see it all come together, especially in the months leading up to the event.”
Youth walked uphill for long stretches and gave each other encouragement and were willing to step in and take their turn pushing or pulling the load to give each other a break.
Isabel, one of the youth participants, said, “I enjoyed just being with youth, as a whole group, and going through a challenge together. It was difficult, but it gave me a new experience, and it brought me closer to feeling the Spirit and knowing that we can do anything through Christ.”
Another organiser, Steve King, said, “It is difficult to describe the energy and teamwork that shone forth as the youth and leaders became one in purpose and moved out as a body to take on the arduous journey.”
Many times the group would stop to allow the handcarts to catch up, and a request would be made for those who were willing and able to help others. The youth did not have to be asked twice. They would jump at the chance to serve, to walk back up a rocky incline or back down a steep section of trail to help the lagging handcarts.
According to one youth leader, small miracles are not unusual on trek, as it is designed to build faith through sacrifice, courage, and sheer hard work. Those who participated in the Tasmania trek learned who they really are. They are modern-day pioneers facing challenges with determination, faith, and love.

“I met a couple in Rennes, France, who had been members for several years. The story of how both of them gained testimonies by reading the Book of Mormon showed me the importance of the scriptures in the conversion process.

“Missionaries stopped by the Segaud home one day while tracting and left a Book of Mormon with Sister Segaud, the only one home. She put the book away with some other books and forgot about it.

“Brother Segaud had a growing interest in the Bible at that time, and spent many hours discussing it with one of his neighbors, who belonged to a Protestant church. Brother Segaud didn’t belong to any church because he believed all the churches differed greatly from the Bible.

“Several years passed, and once again missionaries knocked on the door of the Segaud home. This time Brother Segaud was there, and they talked with him and his wife about the holy scriptures and a book called the Book of Mormon. Sister Segaud said she thought she had that book somewhere around the house and disappeared in search of it. She returned a few minutes later with the book.

“The missionaries asked how they got the book. Brother Segaud said he had never seen it before. Sister Segaud explained that two young men had given it to her a few years ago, but she hadn’t even looked at it.

“The missionaries explained the book and its origins and asked the couple to read it. Brother Segaud said he’d like to read a book like that, but Sister Segaud wasn’t interested.

“Brother Segaud read the Book of Mormon and received the missionary discussions. He accepted the challenge to be baptized, but he wanted to wait for his wife. She was not so willing to accept the message the missionaries brought. She avoided the meetings with them and often hid the book from her husband. Still he never stopped hoping.

“He left the Book of Mormon in places where she could easily see it. He left it open to passages she might be interested in. But she never touched it. He continued to study the Book of Mormon, and he shared with her his thoughts and feelings about what he learned.

“Slowly, as the months passed by, her curiosity grew. She began to read a few sentences. Then she’d shut the book and put it away—away out of her thoughts. But her desire to know what the book said continued to grow.

“She began to read it secretly, and soon she was discussing it with her husband. Finally she wanted the missionaries to come and teach her the gospel.

“One year after Brother Segaud had accepted the challenge to be baptized, he and his wife entered the waters of baptism and became members of the Church. Now years later, they still bear powerful testimony of how the Book of Mormon changed their lives.”

A single friend of ours who lives alone broke her shoulder and needed help. Word soon spread throughout her ward, and ward members brought dinners by the dozen so that she had to tell them to stop because her refrigerator was overflowing. One of them was a nearly blind sister who crossed a busy street with a hot dinner on a tray. Another sister volunteered to help clean her apartment. Seeing our friend’s reluctance, she countered, “How else can I show you that I love you?” Another sister who helped with grocery shopping saw the bright side of our friend’s accident as she pointed out, “This opportunity has brought us close to each other again!” These sisters all had the vision of the work the Savior had in mind for them to do.

President Gordon B. Hinckley mentioned in a talk that he sometimes wished “every girl had access to a sewing machine and training in how to use it. She could then make her own attractive clothing” (“Stay on the High Road,” Ensign, May 2004, 114).
The Young Women of the Hayden Lake Idaho Stake decided to take the prophet’s words to heart and started sewing. Every ward organized the resources, expertise, and time to help each young woman complete a sewing project. Most of the girls made skirts, but some chose to sew capris, aprons, quilts, sweats, even pajamas.
Before this year’s Young Women meeting, the stake held a fashion show where the girls showed off their projects and talked about the experience. Bethany Wise, a Mia Maid in the Hayden Lake First Ward, said her favorite thing about the project was learning she could do something she’d never done before. “Having my grandma and mom help me was really fun,” she said.

One important teacher was my neighbor, Mrs. Carey. I was a young boy when World War II was raging, and every day after school she taught me about the war and the countries that were involved in it. Mrs. Carey took me through the war day by day—in Europe, city by city; in the Pacific, island by island—explaining what was happening. In the process, I learned about history and geography. My interest in other countries was sparked during the hours I spent in her home.

I remember working with my brother and sisters Mary Jayne and Lou-Ann in my father’s wholesale meat store. We went there early every Saturday morning to take the cellophane wrappings off hot dogs. It wasn’t pleasant work, and we didn’t always enjoy it. Sometimes I begrudged the fact that I had to get up early and work while my friends were sleeping in or playing. But I learned how to work, and I soon learned to make work fun.
We all played the piano in my family, and some of our favorite pieces were songs from Broadway musicals. Everyone had the words memorized, and we spent most of our Saturday mornings singing. I can still remember the words to the songs of every musical that Rodgers and Hammerstein ever wrote. We sang the lyrics to Oklahoma, South Pacific, and Carousel as we skinned the hot dogs. And we truly had fun. We still love to sing together. It brings back wonderful memories.

For the family history experience, the two organizers, Liz Seymer and Asti Liang, borrowed some real-life family histories from stake members. They wrote the stories, leaving out some important details but leaving in clues to help uncover these facts. From the clues given them, the girls had to figure out where they needed to go for more information. Around the cultural hall were tables and resource people. One had census records. Another represented cemetery headstones. Others represented the Church’s Family History Library and computerized records. If the girls asked the right question of the person in charge of the table, they were rewarded with the correct answer. But if they didn’t know the correct question to ask, they didn’t get an answer, just as in real life. They had to retreat and do a little more figuring.
Mounted on easels to one side were the photographs of the families the girls were researching, as if they were just waiting to be found. Hilary Ekstron of the sixth ward said, “Our group had to go to five different places just to find out one thing. But it was really interesting.” It was surprising how quickly the girls became involved in their “mystery” family as they were introduced to certain types of records and how information is recorded.

“Mom!” Lizzie shouted. “Max keeps tickling me! Even when I told him not to.”
“I do not!” Max shouted back. “I only tickled her a little bit. And she was poking me!”
“Kids!” Mom called down the hall. “I thought we were going to build a blanket fort. Stop fighting and come help.”
Lizzie darted away and ran to the family room. But Max was still grumpy.
Why is Lizzie such a tattletale? he wondered as he dragged his feet. Tickling’s fun, isn’t it? Besides, Lizzie always pokes me, and I don’t like that either.
When Max got to the family room, Mom had already pulled out a pile of blankets. He reached for his favorite yellow one, but Lizzie grabbed it first.
He yanked it out of her hands. “That’s mine!”
“Give it back!” Lizzie snatched up a pillow and hit him on the arm.
“Stop!” yelled Max. But Lizzie just whacked him on the other arm.
“Whoa, whoa, kids!” said Mom. “This isn’t how we build a fort.” She sat down on a couch cushion on the floor and pulled Max and Lizzie down next to her. “Let’s all take a deep breath.”
Max looked behind Mom and glared at Lizzie. Then he took a sort-of deep breath.
Mom put her arms around Max and Lizzie. “If someone’s doing something you don’t like and they don’t stop, how does that make you feel?”
“Not good,” said Lizzie quietly.
“Yeah,” said Mom. “Poking and tickling and pillow fights are only fun when everyone’s having fun. We respect each other by stopping when we’re asked to stop.”
“But it’s just tickling,” said Max.
“Well, it might just be tickling to you. But it might really bother Lizzie,” said Mom. “Heavenly Father gave us each amazing bodies to take care of and protect. And that means it’s OK to say ‘stop!’”
“So no more poking?” Lizzie asked.
“I hate being poked!” Max said to Mom. “What if we made a new family rule? When someone doesn’t want to be touched and says ‘stop,’ we stop right away.”
“That’s an excellent idea,” Mom said. “What do you think, Lizzie?”
Lizzie smiled. “I like it, especially if that means no tickling too.”
“Good,” said Mom. “If someone’s touching you, and you don’t like it, you can tell them no.”
“Even if you are the one bothering us?” Max grinned.
“Yup. Even if it’s me or Dad or Lizzie or a friend—stop means stop. And if they don’t listen and touch you anyway, you can tell me or Dad right away.”
“But isn’t that tattling?” Lizzie asked.
“It’s not tattling,” Mom said. “And you should tell even if the other person says not to.”
“Does this mean I don’t have to hug Aunt Mindy when she comes?” Lizzie asked. “She hugs too tight, and I don’t like it.”
Mom smiled. “Yeah, Mindy’s hugs are pretty strong. You can just wave goodbye instead and say ‘no thank you’ if she wants to hug. It’s OK. There are people I don’t like to hug either.”
Max made his eyes look big and sad. “Does that mean you don’t like hugging us?”
Mom just laughed and pulled Lizzie and Max into a big hug. “No, silly, you are my very favorite people to hug. Now let’s finish our fort!”
They stood the couch cushions up to make walls. Then they pulled over the kitchen chairs and draped blankets across them. Lizzie and Max crawled inside and pushed another cushion into the entrance to make a door.
Lizzie smiled and reached out to poke Max.
“Stop,” Max said, and Lizzie’s finger stopped right in front of him. He grinned and stuck his finger out, ready to poke her back. “OK. Now go.”

The Mia Maids of the Bluffdale Eighth Ward in Bluffdale, Utah, decided to make a hands-on sign of their commitment to living virtuous lives. After some memorable lessons and discussions on the topic of virtue, each one of the girls traced her handprint on the flag and wrote inside it what they were committing to do to be virtuous. These were some of the promises printed on the flag:
“I promise to keep clean thoughts and to have friends that don’t promote bad things.”—Sierra Hirschi
“I promise to watch clean things so my thoughts will be clean.” —Erica Wilcox
“I promise to keep myself temple worthy and clean so someday I can be sealed for time and all eternity.”—Katelyn Pitchford
“I promise to keep the music I listen to clean.”—Karley Newbold
“I promise not to date until I am 16.”—McKayla Hill
The virtue flag now hangs in the bishop’s office so every time the girls are in his office they are reminded of their commitments.

1 Once upon a time there lived a dinosaur. He was a brontosaur and his name was Ben. Ben was sad and went all around the lake wishing he had something to do.
2 One day he saw a pretty girl dinosaur. She was a brontosaur too. He was surprised!
3 He shyly nodded his head. “What is your name?” he asked politely.
“My name is Sabrina,” she said.
4 Tyrannosaurus Rex was king of the meat-eating dinosaurs because he was the biggest. He was mean and often ate other dinosaurs.
One day he started to attack Sabrina while she was eating leaves off a tree. She had not seen him.
5 Ben liked Sabrina so he quickly ran up to Rex and shouted loudly, “Ha-a-a-a-a-a-a-h!”
6 Then he yelled to Sabrina, “Run fast to the water!”
7 Ben surprised Rex so much that he tripped and fell over a cliff into a mud puddle! Rex didn’t bother Ben or Sabrina ever again.
Sabrina said, “You’re so brave! Will you marry me?”
8 Ben became shy again, bowed his head and said, “A-a-um, I—I g—guess sooo!”
And they lived happily ever after together by the lake.

Sister June Beharrell of Shrewsbury Ward, Newcastle-under-Lyme England Stake, was named in the 2021 New Year’s Honours List and awarded the British Empire Medal for “services to charities”.
The medal was presented at Shrewsbury Castle on 18 May 2021 by the lord lieutenant of Shropshire, on behalf of Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth ll. (About 300 British Empire Medals are presented every year after considering nominations made by members of the public, who hope to bring recognition to the outstanding service of individuals in their communities.)
After her husband, Gordon, was diagnosed with cancer and died, and following his fundraising efforts, Sister Beharrell and her family continued collecting for the Lingen Davies cancer charity, Severn Hospice (Shropshire), and other charities. Of Gordon she said, “He shouldn’t have been going to the Shrewsbury Market entrance hall to collect money at all, but he told me that if something was going to happen to him, at least he’d be doing something worthwhile”.
In 2009, shortly after Bro Beharrell’s passing, June records. “I was lying in bed feeling sorry for myself, but instead of shedding tears, I thought, ‘I am going to the market on Saturday, and I am going to collect for the Severn Hospice just as Gordon would have done.’”
From 2009, June continued to collect donations in Shrewsbury Market by sitting in the hall entrance from 9 am until 2:30 pm almost every Friday and Saturday, whatever the weather or temperature. In the winter, when the cold wind would blow through the entrance, June would take a rug to keep warm. In 2020, amidst the COVID-19 national lockdown, June was not able to collect in the market, so her family helped her set up an online fundraising account which proved very successful.
Now that things have been returning to normal, June has returned to the market to continue collecting donations. Kate Gittins, Shrewsbury’s market hall manager said: “The market’s customers love her; for some, she has become their confidante, for others, particularly those visiting the market for the first time, she provides a warm welcome with her charming smile and generosity of spirit.” The Shropshire Star reported that “her fundraising over the years has helped to fund the general running costs of the hospice and enhanced the care of thousands of people over the years.”
Professor Derek Willis, medical director at Severn Hospice says, “We need specialised mattresses, we need specialised beds, we need hoists to be able to move people, and to make sure their basic care is provided for. It’s such important work. It’s through the incredible generosity of people like June that we can do that. What a legacy! What an amazing thing to be known for.”
This humble and amazing 81-year-old sister has been taken a little by surprise by the attention. She has been contacted by the media and been interviewed live on BBC Radio Shropshire. When the email came in December 2020 officially notifying her of the British Empire Medal, she thought it was a scam, and had to ask one of her sons to check it out for her.
But this is not June’s only experience with celebrity status. In 2020 she was nominated for a civic award by the mayor of Shrewsbury for charitable services, which recognises those who have gone above and beyond. She received a certificate for being nominated. June has also received a long service award from the Severn Hospice. In 2013, June was invited to attend a royal garden party at Buckingham Palace in recognition of her charitable work.
June insists, “It’s the donors that deserve the credit” and “the members of my family who have all supported me”. She continues, “After Gordon’s death the family took over the collection and we are all in it together, my sons and grandchildren”. This has been a family affair: son Adam, helping with transport to and from Shrewsbury Market, and with collections; daughter-in-laws help with the safe depositing of donations; son Mathew running a full marathon to raise money in the UK and his brother John, cycling from London to Paris (via a ferry) to raise money; 9-year-old grandson Josh creating his My Marathon Challenge, which became known around the county of Shropshire, running a mile a day around the school sports field for 26 consecutive days, raising over £1,000.
Including the efforts started by Bro Gordon Beharrell who initially had raised over £130,000 for the Lingden Davis and Severn Hospice, the family collectively have raised over £211,000 for various charities. It has been hard to get clarity about the amounts raised by the family, as their focus has always been on the service given and not the amount raised.
June admits, “Service has always been part of my life. It’s in my blood”. She started to serve as she engaged in civic youth programmes when she was a young girl, starting as a Brownie, then on to being a Guide, and then a Ranger. As an adult, June has also been very active in the Church since her baptism in 1964, having had many opportunities to serve her fellow members through callings in Primary and Young Women. She has also served as a ministering sister throughout her Church membership. She was released in 2020 as the ward Relief Society president, at age 81!
About collecting for charity, June records; “It’s taught me a lot, sitting in the market. It’s taught me empathy, it’s given me the opportunity to serve, to show love and compassion to people. I love it because I see people who are kind. It’s all about caring, just like the Saviour. It doesn’t matter what colour you are, what religion you are. … when I’m collecting, people very often tell me when they have problems in their family. I’ve held people’s hands and cried with them.”
Through June’s service she has been an unwitting but natural missionary. She quietly explains about some who share that they, or other family members, are struggling with health or other issues. “They have known I am a member of the Church and have asked me if I would say a prayer for them.” When appropriate, she even asks some regular donors if they would like the names of their loved ones who are ill to be put on the Church’s temple prayer roll, which they enthusiastically agree too!
She says, “I have a testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ. It’s all about caring for others, just like the Saviour—seeking people out and helping them. And that’s what we do as a church. We’ve all got the opportunity sometimes in our lives to give love and friendship to other people, and I think I am very fortunate to do that.”

Jonathan Remengesau also is grateful for the blessing of a new wheelchair. Diabetes had caused his leg to be amputated in 2002. When his old wheelchair finally stopped functioning, he looked around for a new one. He was dismayed at the high cost of a new wheelchair—usually more than U.S. $700—a cost he knew he could not afford on his limited income. The plywood seat on his old chair was chafing his legs and causing painful sores. He finally gave up hope and decided to avoid leaving home. He rejoiced when he heard that he was qualified to receive a free wheelchair.

“This is the first time that anyone has really helped me like this,” he said as he sat in his new chair.

Another example of a true disciple of Jesus Christ is a dear friend of ours in Côte d’Ivoire in West Africa. This wonderful, faithful sister suffered terrible emotional, and even some physical, abuse from her husband over a sustained period of time, and eventually they divorced. She never wavered in her faith and goodness, but because of his cruelty to her, she was deeply hurt for a long time. In her own words, she describes what happened:
“Though I said I forgave him, I always slept with a wound; I spent my days with that wound. It was like a burn in my heart. Many times I prayed to the Lord to take it away from me, but it hurt so bad that I strongly believed I was going to spend the rest of my life with it. It hurt more than when I lost my mom at a young age; it hurt more than when I lost my dad and even my son. It seemed to expand and cover my heart, giving me the impression I was going to even die at any time.
“Some other times I asked myself what the Savior would have done in my situation, and I would rather say, ‘This is too much, Lord.’
“Then one morning I looked for the pain that comes from all this in my heart and went deeper, looking for it in my soul. It was nowhere to be found. My mind quickly passed to review all the reasons I [had] to feel hurt, but I did not feel the pain. I waited the whole day to see if I was going to feel the pain in my heart; I did not feel it. Then I knelt down and thanked God for making the atoning sacrifice of the Lord work for me.”6
This sister is now happily sealed to a wonderful, faithful man who loves her deeply.

Beep! Beep! Beep! Trevan woke up and turned off his alarm clock. Eight days until my baptism, he thought. That meant his interview with the bishop would be soon. But what if I’m not ready?
That night the missionaries came over for dinner. Taco night was Trevan’s favorite, but it was always more fun with the missionaries. They could even play a game of scripture charades after dinner—as long as Trevan and his sister listened to the lesson first.
“Tonight we have a message about baptism,” Sister Carlisle said.
Trevan jumped in his seat. “I’m getting baptized next week!”
“That’s great!” Sister Carlisle gave him a high five. “Are you excited?”
“I guess so, but I’m kind of worried about talking to the bishop,” Trevan said. “What if I don’t know the answers?”
“It’s OK to be nervous,” Sister Kemp said. “But I bet you know more than you think. Why do you think it’s important to be baptized?”
Trevan wasn’t sure. “To be obedient?”
“Right!” said Sister Kemp. She held up a picture of Jesus. “Baptism is so important that Jesus was baptized, even though He never sinned. When we’re baptized, we make covenants, or promises, with Heavenly Father.”
“Do you know what promises you’ll be making?” asked Sister Carlisle.
“I think so!” said Trevan. “We learned this at home evening last week, right Mom?”
Mom nodded. “We can remember our covenants by remembering the word ‘take.’ Can you remember what the letters stand for?”
Trevan looked at his sister Cassidy for help. “T stands for taking His name upon us,” she said. “A, always remembering Him.”
“I know the next one!” said Trevan. “K is for keeping the commandments.”
“You got it,” said Mom. “And E is for enduring to the end.”
“That means following Jesus my whole life. And repenting when I make mistakes,” Trevan said.
“Awesome!” said Sister Carlisle. “And when we keep those promises, do you know what Heavenly Father promises to give us in return?”
“Uh, blessings?” Trevan asked.
“That’s right,” Dad said. “Heavenly Father promises to forgive us when we repent. He also promises that the Holy Ghost will guide us.”
Trevan nodded. It was starting to make more sense.
Sister Carlisle pulled out a notebook. “If you’re nervous about the questions the bishop will ask you, we can go over them together.” She turned a few pages and read the first question. “Do you have faith in and a testimony of the Savior Jesus Christ?”
“Yeah,” said Trevan. He relaxed as Sister Carlisle read the other questions. “Those are easy,” he said when she finished.
“They are,” Sister Carlisle said. “But it’s still important for the bishop to ask them. He wants to make sure you feel ready to make covenants with Heavenly Father.”
At the end of the lesson, Sister Kemp shared her testimony. “I know Heavenly Father loves us because He hears and answers our prayers.”
“I know that too!” said Trevan. “This morning I prayed that Heavenly Father would help me know if I’m ready to be baptized.”
“And how do you feel now?” Sister Kemp asked.
“I don’t feel so worried anymore,” Trevan said. “I feel ready!”