Gospel Story Finder

He has to laugh a little when he recalls one of his camping experiences as Scoutmaster of the Spring Lake (Utah) Troop. “We enjoyed a very nice overnight camp by the shores of Utah Lake. Our transportation on that occasion was a wagon and two horses provided by a local farmer. Not being a farmer myself, I left the details to the assistant Scoutmaster. The result was fine for the Scouts, but not so good for the horses—we forgot to provide any hay for them!”

In Japan, I grew up learning about things that didn’t make sense to me. So, before I joined the Church, I had questions about the universe and the purpose of life.
When I started taking lessons from missionaries, I felt overwhelmed by questions. I explained that I had searched for answers from so many different sources but never felt settled on what I’d found. They taught me that I could always rely on the Lord to lead me to truth.
Since then, I have always been able to seek answers from Him and follow the Spirit to continue deepening my testimony.

Stephen rolled his cookie dough carefully, trying for just the right thickness for his angel cookies. His mother, with flour on her hands and a smudge of it on her nose, helped his little sister, Carolyn, roll hers out nice and even. Pale, wintry sunlight sifted through the kitchen curtains onto the table.
“What did you say your cousin’s name is?” Stephen asked, remembering the conversation that they’d had last night at family home evening.
“Everene, and she’s really my grandmother’s cousin.”
“That’s a funny name,” Stephen said.
“It’s just old-fashioned,” his mother explained.
“She must be awfully old. Your grandmother is already dead.”
“She is old, almost ninety, but she can still talk and laugh just like you. I’m glad that she’s been moved to a rest home near us. Now you children can get to know her.”
Stephen placed his cookie cutter on the dough and pressed firmly. “Some old people act very strange,” he said, “like Mrs. Anderson down the street. She talks to herself when she works in her roses, and her head always bobs up and down. Will Cousin Everene be like that?”
Mother looked at him and smiled. “When we get old, Stephen, our bodies don’t work as well; they don’t always do what we want them to. But inside we’re still the same person we always were. You’ll be old someday too.”
Stephen looked up at his mother. “I don’t think so,” he said firmly.
His mother laughed. “It doesn’t seem possible to you now, when you’re eight, does it? But unless you die because of an accident or disease, you will be old one day. And,” his mother added, “it seems to me that I’ve heard you talking to yourself when you’re playing alone.”
Stephen smiled sheepishly.
“I like Mrs. Anderson,” Carolyn said. “She gave me a flower once.”
“Will Cousin Everene be deaf like Mrs. Simmons?” Stephen asked. “Will we have to shout?”
“No,” Mother replied. “Her hearing’s not bad. Just don’t mumble or look away when you talk.”
Stephen sat for a minute with his chin in his hands. “We’ve always had just our family on Christmas Eve. It’s kind of special with only the four of us when we read the Christmas story.”
“Don’t you want Cousin Everene to come, Stephen?” his mother asked.
“I’m glad she’s coming,” Carolyn piped up. “I’m going to give her some of these cookies that I’m making.”
“Well, I’m glad too,” Stephen said. “It’s just that sometimes I don’t know what to say to old people.”
“Why not ask her a question?” Mother suggested.
“What kind of a question?”
“Oh, like where she lived as a child or what Christmas was like then. People like to tell things about their lives.”
On Christmas Eve, Stephen and Carolyn knelt on the couch and watched out the window for Dad to bring their special guest.
“They’re here!” Carolyn shouted as the station wagon pulled into the driveway. Dad helped Cousin Everene out of the car. When she stood up, Stephen couldn’t believe how tiny she was. And she was so stooped that her face was toward the ground.
“Is she a dwarf?” Carolyn asked.
“I don’t think so, just small. Mom says that old people sometimes shrink a little.”
“From too much washing?” Carolyn asked.
“Of course not. It’s from … well, just from getting old—like apples that shrivel up after a while.”
“Oh.” Carolyn jumped off the couch and ran to open the door.
Cousin Everene came in leaning on Dad’s arm. She stood for a moment, looking around the brightly decorated room. Stephen ran and plugged in the tree lights, and they glowed softly in the dim afternoon.
“How lovely!” she said. “Let me sit down and enjoy all this.”
Dad took her coat and hung it up while she eased herself onto a straightbacked chair. “I like a chair that I can get out of,” she said. “Now, let me look at you two.”
Stephen and Carolyn went and stood in front of her. Stephen saw that her skin was deeply wrinkled. The skin of her neck hung like a turtle’s, and stiff gray hairs stuck out from her chin. But when Stephen looked into her eyes, they were a soft gray like pussy willows and made her look very kind.
“Stephen and Carolyn …” she said thoughtfully. “Carolyn, you look a lot like my little cousin, Emily, your great-grandmother, did at your age.”
“My great-grandmother was your little cousin?” Carolyn asked.
“That’s right.”
Stephen blurted out, “If you were older, why did Great-Grandma die before you?”
Cousin Everene laughed and put her hand on Stephen’s shoulder. “That’s one of life’s little surprises,” she answered. “We never know how long we’ll live. That’s why it’s important to live every day the best that we can—and enjoy it.”
When dinner was over and the dishes were washed and put away, everyone gathered in the living room around the tree. Mom let the children put on their pajamas and slippers, and they sat on big cushions on the floor. Stephen felt warm and cozy. The fire in the fireplace crackled and hissed behind the glass, and the room glowed with soft light from the lights and the candles and the fire.
When they knelt for family prayer, Cousin Everene stayed on her chair. She said that her knees didn’t obey her anymore but that her heart was kneeling. Then, while Dad read the story of Jesus’ birth, Cousin Everene learned forward in her chair, listening intently, her eyes shining in the firelight. Somehow the story seemed more wonderful to Stephen than he had remembered it.
Afterward, Stephen asked, “What were Christmases like when you were little?”
Cousin Everene learned forward again, smiled, and said, “Well, I’ll tell you about my favorite one. …”
Stephen moved his cushion closer to her chair. He had a feeling that this would be one of the special Christmases that he would tell about when he was old.

Christina was such a girl. When her Primary teacher’s husband died, Christina showed great concern. As soon as she heard the sad news, she went to her teacher and told her not to worry, that she would check in on her every day to make sure that she was all right. And she did. She often took fresh vegetables from the garden to cheer her teacher up, to let her teacher know that she cared. Christina truly comforted one who needed comfort.

Some years ago, Sister Rasband and I were at the Salt Lake Temple for the sealing of one of our daughters. As we stood outside the temple with a younger daughter not yet old enough to attend the ceremony, we spoke of the importance of being sealed in the holy temple of God. As my mother had taught me years before, we said to our daughter, “We want you safely sealed in the temple, and we want you to promise us that when you find your eternal companion, you will make a date with him to be sealed in the temple.” She gave us her word.

She has since stated that our talk and her promise protected her and reminded her “what was most important.” She later made sacred covenants as she was sealed to her husband in the temple.

You know the scripture in 2 Nephi 32:5, where Nephi tells us, “The Holy Ghost … will show unto [us] all things what [we] should do”? I never really understood that statement until I experienced it.
Some friends and I were out on our bikes one afternoon at a place called the “dirt hills.” It was our favorite place to go. We went there almost every day. It was only about a mile from where we lived, so we could ride our bikes there. We could literally spend hours on end at the dirt hills, jumping our bikes. It was great fun.
One time when we were there, my friend Tyler crashed his bike. He and his bike seemed to be OK, so we kept jumping. After about five more minutes, I stopped my bike. Tyler came over and asked what was wrong. I told him I had a really strong feeling that we should leave and go home. I felt kind of weird saying that because we had only been there about 15 minutes. But Tyler told me he felt the same feeling. I knew it was time to go.
As we got closer to home, Tyler kept saying his bike was acting strange. Then it broke into pieces as we reached the corner of the street where we both lived. The pedals fell off and the chain broke.
What would have happened had we not followed the prompting to leave? The Holy Ghost knew it was time to go. He showed us that it was time.
I am so thankful we listened to the Spirit when we did.

Not long ago, I met a couple during a stake conference in Nashville, Tennessee, USA. The wife had been a member of the Church all her life. The husband was not a member.
They came up to me, and the husband said, “I am ready to be baptized.”
I was happy to hear that! I asked him, “What has changed?”
He told me, “When I heard President Nelson’s message in general conference, it touched me so much. I knew then that he was a prophet. I gained a testimony, and now I’m ready to be baptized.”
I also know a woman in Cape Coast, Ghana, who somehow tuned into general conference. She had never heard of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but she became glued to what she saw and heard from prophets, seers, and revelators. Afterward, she looked for the Church. She found a chapel and met the missionaries. Eventually she was baptized. Recently, she sent me pictures of herself at the temple to receive her endowment.
These two instances show how powerful the prophet’s message is to the world! If all would heed his message, the world would be so peaceful. We would all focus on what matters most, including developing a relationship with Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, and building strong, eternal families. We would also be our best selves because we would keep the two great commandments: loving God and loving our neighbor (see Matthew 22:37–39). We would bring forth Zion, a society where love, righteousness, and harmony prevail, reflecting the spirit of discipleship (see Doctrine and Covenants 82:14).
When we follow the prophet, we can be confident that we are doing what God would have us do because the prophet follows—and helps us follow—Jesus Christ. Because of Jesus Christ, everything in life becomes meaningful. “We can feel joy regardless of what is happening—or not happening—in our lives.” By following the prophet, we can truly make the world a better place.

In 2017, after returning from my mission, I embarked on an academic journey fueled by faith and determination. I enrolled in a computer school, dedicating a year to acquiring valuable skills. My resolve grew stronger, leading me to take the university entrance exam. To my delight, I was successfully admitted that same year.
Amidst my academic pursuits, I learned about the Benson Agricultural and Food Scholarship. Despite applying twice, I faced disappointment as there were insufficient funds. However, my fortune changed when I met Karen Melby Teerlink, the missionary couple dedicated to welfare. With their support, I was finally awarded the scholarship.
Since receiving the Benson scholarship, my life has transformed remarkably. At Stella Maris Polytechnic University, I consistently achieved honor roll status, a testament to the comprehensive support provided by the scholarship, covering all fees, including books and other expenses.
The scholarship alleviated my financial struggles, allowing me to focus on my studies. This opportunity enabled me to serve as a student leader, a favorite among students, and a trusted communicator within the administration. I had the privilege to conduct surveys for the Center for Agricultural Research Institute (CARI) on integrated rice and fish farming, and for World Fish under CARI, as well as a survey for Solidaridad on cocoa seeding and plantain suckers. These experiences were invaluable and only possible because of the scholarship.
Today, I am proud to be the first in my family to earn a BS degree. This milestone sets a precedent for my siblings, encouraging them to pursue higher education. Inspired by the scholarship’s impact, I initiated an animal husbandry project, starting with pig raising and planning to expand to other animals like goats and cattle. My vision includes establishing an agribusiness that encompasses the entire value chain process, benefiting end consumers.
Currently, I am pursuing agribusiness studies at BYU-Idaho, an opportunity made possible by the scholarship and the support of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I am immensely grateful for these blessings and the positive changes in my life. The scholarship has not only advanced my education but also instilled a deep sense of responsibility to give back to society with the knowledge and skills I have gained.
My journey is a testament to the power of faith, perseverance, and the profound impact of the Benson Scholarship. I am committed to making a difference in my community and beyond, forever indebted to those who have supported me along the way.

“When I was a girl growing up on a farm in Montana, there weren’t any children living close-by. So, of course, I often felt lonesome. A lady living on the other side of one of our fields became my best friend. Her name was Delfina.
“Whenever I was bored, I would head for Delfina’s one-room home. There wasn’t much furniture in her house, but if I took off my shoes, I could sit on her bed. Then she would share the contents of her jewelry box with me.
“It was the most beautiful jewelry box I had ever seen. In fact, it may have been the only one I had ever seen—shiny ebony, inlaid with mother-of-pearl. To me it whispered of an exciting world I had only read about in books. Its red lacquered interior was filled with tiny trinkets and jewelry.
“One day I went to visit Delfina, but she wasn’t home. I opened her door and went inside anyway. For a while I played with her trinkets. Then instead of putting all the jewelry back into the box, I put some of it into my pocket. When I arrived home, Mom discovered the jewelry. She asked me where I’d gotten it. When I told her I had taken it from Delfina, she said, ‘I know you probably wanted to have something of Delfina’s because she is your friend. If these things are special to you, think how precious they must be to her! Of course, stealing is wrong, no matter whom you steal from. The important thing now is what you’re going to do about it.’
“As I walked back across the field, I looked for every excuse I could find to take more time. Delay as I might, my feet finally took me to her door. Shame and fear overcame me as I knocked.
“When she answered, I looked down at the floor. In a quavering voice I told Delfina what I had done. ‘I’m glad you brought them back,’ she said. ‘They’re keepsakes that belonged to my mother. We all make mistakes. I’m sure you won’t do it again.’
“Then to cheer me up, she fixed my favorite treat of chocolate milk made with corn syrup and cocoa. As I sipped it, I felt as though a heavy load had been lifted from me.”

When I was 10 years old, my family became refugees in a new land. I had always been a good student in school—that is, until we arrived in West Germany. There my educational experience was a significantly different one. The geography we studied in my school was new to me. The history we studied was also very different. Before, I had been learning Russian as a second language; now, it was English. This was hard for me. Indeed, there were moments when I truly believed my tongue simply was not made to speak English.
Because so much of the curriculum was new and strange to me, I fell behind. For the first time in my life, I began to wonder if I was simply not smart enough for school.
Fortunately I had a teacher who taught me to be patient. He taught me that steady and consistent work—patient persistence—would help me to learn.
Over time, difficult subjects became clearer—even English. Slowly I began to see that if I applied myself consistently, I could learn. It didn’t come quickly, but with patience, it did come.

This story happened in El Salvador.

Gerardo roller-skated to the front steps of his house. Mamá’s car was in the driveway. That meant she and his older brother, Alejandro, were back from the doctor. Gerardo pulled off his skates and raced inside.

“Gerardo?” Mamá called. “We’re in here!”

Gerardo walked into the family room. Alejandro was lying on the couch. Mamá sat next to him. She looked worried.

Gerardo was worried too. Last week, they found out that Alejandro had cancer. He was very sick.

But Alejandro sat up and smiled when Gerardo came in. “Hi! Did you have a good day?”

“Yes, but how was the doctor’s?” Gerardo asked.

“He says I’ll have to get surgery,” Alejandro said.

Mamá nodded. “But the best doctors to help him are at the children’s hospital. Since Alejandro is 14, he’s too old to get care there. We’ll have to find somewhere else.”

Gerardo’s stomach tightened. If they couldn’t get help for Alejandro, what would happen? Would Alejandro’s cancer get worse?

Gerardo went to his room. He needed to think.

In Primary, Gerardo learned that Heavenly Father would always hear him. Gerardo knew he could always ask Him for help.

So he knelt by his bed and folded his arms. “Dear Heavenly Father, please help Alejandro,” he prayed. “Please help us find doctors that can do the surgery.”

Soon Mamá called him for dinner. She had made pupusas, Gerardo’s favorite. He took a big bite of the thick, grilled tortilla filled with cheese and beans. But he still felt worried about his brother.

Alejandro only took a few bites of his pupusa. He was frowning and moving very slowly.

Mamá must have noticed too. “Why don’t we watch a Church video?” she asked. They liked watching videos about Jesus Christ when they felt sad.

“OK.” Gerardo cleared the dishes while Mamá got the video ready. Then they all sat down to watch.

In the video, Jesus Christ prayed in a garden by a tree. Gerardo knew this story. It was when Jesus suffered before He died on the cross.

When the video ended, Gerardo felt quiet and peaceful. But he had a question. “Why did Jesus have to hurt so much?” he asked.

Mamá held him and Alejandro close. “Jesus chose to feel the hurt because He loves us. He felt all the pain we go through.”

Gerardo looked at Alejandro. “Does Jesus know what it feels like to have cancer?”

“Yes, He does,” said Mamá. “He knows how hard it is. And because He knows what it feels like, He knows how to help us.”

Gerardo felt warm inside, like he was wrapped in a big blanket. Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ knew and loved his family. They knew how to help Alejandro.

When Gerardo got home from school the next day, he found Mamá packing a bag.

“Good news!” she said. “I talked to the doctor at the children’s hospital. They are going to help Alejandro. He will have surgery tomorrow.”

Gerardo gave Mamá a big hug. “Heavenly Father is helping us! Can we pray and thank Him?”

“Great idea,” said Mamá. “Let’s get Alejandro.”

As they prayed together, Gerardo felt peaceful. Heavenly Father had heard his prayer! Now Alejandro would get the surgery he needed. Gerardo knew Jesus Christ understood what they were going through. And He would always help them through their trials.

When my family and I lived in Las Vegas, Nevada, USA, I served for a time as ward Relief Society president. I thrived on the wonderful associations I had with the good sisters in our ward. I loved planning uplifting activities, conducting Relief Society, attending meetings with ward leaders, and serving families.
I spent a significant amount of time going into homes to visit with sisters. I also ministered to mothers who were exhausted, sick, or simply overwhelmed—sisters who needed comfort, both spiritual and physical. I felt fulfilled and needed outside of my responsibilities as a young mother of six children.
Then my life suddenly changed.
My husband accepted a job promotion in another state. Within a month we packed up and left our home in sunny Las Vegas for a small rental house in cold Casper, Wyoming. The same week that we moved, I found out I was pregnant—with twins!
The night we arrived at our rental home, I became violently ill. I remember lying in bed hardly able to move while I watched my husband manage our children and unload our moving van. That was the beginning of the worst physical challenge of my life. For the next four months, I couldn’t keep a meal down and barely had enough energy to serve my family, care for our children, and—sometimes—make meals.
As my husband adjusted to his new job, I adjusted to our new town and enrolled four of our children in school. Our tiny rental home was cramped, and for several weeks we lived out of boxes. I would send our school children out the door every morning and then spend the day on the couch while my two toddlers played nearby.
One morning after the children had left for school, the doorbell rang. One of my toddlers opened the door, and there stood a sister from our new ward’s Relief Society presidency. She was holding a basket of items and had her own daughter with her. She had come to welcome me to the ward.
I was mortified.
There I was, still in my pajamas, lying on the couch with a bucket beside me. My two partially dressed toddlers were playing on the cluttered floor amidst boxes that still needed to be unpacked.
This wonderful sister came in and set her basket down on a corner of the table. Then she sat in our cluttered living room and visited with me—asking all about me and our family.
As we talked, I felt humbled. Just a month earlier, I had been in her position, visiting people and offering aid. Now the tables had turned. I was flat on my back in a messy house in desperate need of relief. I was lonely, overwhelmed, and dealing with a situation larger than my abilities. I was one of those sisters who needed help. The Lord had quickly and successfully reminded me that I needed Him and the help offered through His servants.
After she left, the sight of her welcome basket on my table gave me relief and light. During the next few weeks, I savored the contents of the basket and was grateful for our budding friendship as she visited again and again, offering help and support during those difficult months. I gained a new appreciation for the hope and relief that one sister can bring to another.
A few months later we bought a home big enough for our growing family. My difficult pregnancy ended with the birth of two beautiful children. And the kind Relief Society sister became my close friend and continues to strengthen and uplift me with her testimony and example. I often reflect on the difficult morning of her first visit and feel grateful that she fulfilled her calling.

Lisa watched as her 16-year-old sister, Michelle, sat on her bed and read the Book of Mormon.
“Aren’t you going to the dance?” Lisa asked. Lisa was 11. It would be three more years before she could go to a stake dance. “I wish I was old enough to go,” she said as she sat down on Michelle’s bed.
Michelle smiled at her. “You bet I’m going! But I want to finish reading before I go,” she said. “I just have a couple of pages left.”
Lisa sat quietly while Michelle read. She knew her sister had looked forward to the stake New Year’s Eve dance for weeks. Michelle had saved her money from her job at the mall and had bought a new dress to wear that night.
Lisa also knew that Michelle had set a goal to finish reading the Book of Mormon by the end of the year. Lisa was reading too, but she wasn’t finished yet.
Michelle looked up and grinned as she closed her scriptures. “Done!” she said. “I finished the whole Book of Mormon! Lisa, do you want to pray with me?” she asked.
Surprised, Lisa nodded. She and Michelle had prayed together for family home evening and family prayer, but never just the two of them.
Lisa listened as her sister prayed. Michelle told Heavenly Father how much she loved the scriptures, the prophet, and Jesus Christ. After the prayer both girls were silent for a long moment.
Lisa finally looked up to see tears on Michelle’s cheeks. “Why are you crying?” she asked.
“I’ve read the Book of Mormon before,” Michelle explained with a smile as she brushed the tears away. “But I never really understood the words on the cover until now—‘Another Testament of Jesus Christ.’ This time I learned that the Book of Mormon really does testify of Jesus Christ.”
Lisa suddenly felt a rush of love for Michelle. “I’m glad you’re my big sister,” she said.
Michelle brushed a hand over Lisa’s hair. “I’m glad you’re my sister too,” she said. “Want to help me do my hair?”
“Sure!” Lisa said. They both brushed Michelle’s long brown hair until it was shiny and smooth.
Michelle kissed Lisa’s cheek, then hurried to get ready for the dance. Lisa picked up the scriptures. She had just set a goal for the year. She was going to finish the Book of Mormon too.

Life has some strange turns. When I was a young man I thought I would serve a mission. I graduated from high school in June 1950. Thousands of miles away, one week after that high school graduation, a North Korean army crossed the 38th parallel, and our country was at war. I was 17 years old, but as a member of the Utah National Guard I was soon under orders to prepare for mobilization and active service. Suddenly, for me and for many other young men of my generation, the full-time mission we had planned was not to be.
Another example: After I served as president of Brigham Young University for nine years, I was released. A few months later the governor of the state of Utah appointed me to a 10-year term on the supreme court of this state. I was then 48 years old. My wife June and I tried to plan the rest of our lives. We wanted to serve the full-time mission neither of us had been privileged to serve. We planned that I would serve 20 years on the state supreme court. Then, at the end of two 10-year terms, when I would be nearly 69 years old, I would retire from the supreme court, and we would submit our missionary papers and serve a mission as a couple.
Four years after we made that plan I was called to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles—something we never dreamed would happen. Realizing then that the Lord had different plans and different timing than we had assumed, I resigned as a justice of the supreme court. But this was not the end of the important differences. When I was 66, my wife June died of cancer. Two years later I married Kristen McMain, the eternal companion who now stands at my side.
How fundamentally different my life is than I had sought to plan! My professional life has changed. My personal life has changed. But the commitment I made to the Lord—to put Him first in my life and to be ready for whatever He would have me do—has carried me through these changes of eternal importance.

A little over a year ago a couple came into my office carrying a little boy. The father said to me, “My wife and I have been fasting for two days, and we’ve brought our little boy up for a blessing. You are the one we’ve been sent to.”
I said, “What’s the matter with him?”
They said he was born blind, deaf, and dumb, no coordination of his muscles, couldn’t even crawl at the age of five years.
I said to myself, “This is it. ‘This kind cometh not out save by fasting and by prayer’ [see Matthew 17:21].” I had implicit faith in the fasting and the prayers of those parents. I blessed that child, and a few weeks later I received a letter: “Brother Cowley, we wish you could see our little boy now. He’s crawling. When we throw a ball across the floor he races after it on his hands and knees. He can see. When we clap our hands over his head he jumps. He can hear.”
Medical science had laid the burden down. God had taken over. …

Not long after my call as a General Authority, I received a letter from an amazing, inspiring young woman. She told a powerful story of love, commitment, and missionary success. I’m fortunate to have contributed in small part to that success.

The letter is from Kendra Beesley Campbell, who was only 15 when the events described began. Let me share a portion of her letter with you:

“I don’t think you will remember me. I am from Columbus, Georgia, and when you were the mission president of the Georgia Atlanta Mission I had a brother leaving for a mission. Because I was at the peak age of peer pressure, my brother was concerned that while he was on his mission preaching the gospel to ’strangers,’ his sister (me) might choose to go the way of the world and lose sight of the purpose of our being here on this earth.

“Well, to assure my brother that I would be a ‘good girl’ while he was away, I made a deal with him that I would ‘go on a mission’ at the same time. Of course mine would only be part-time, but still it would be my ‘mission.’ So I told him that I would baptize one person for every five he baptized, since he would be full-time and I would be part-time. I felt good about this agreement.

“Then I spoke to you. I’m not sure exactly what happened, but you convinced me that I should turn the challenge around—I should baptize five to his one. And for some reason, I accepted your challenge, not knowing what the Lord had in store for me!”

Then Kendra noted that shortly after her brother arrived in the mission field, he and his companion baptized a family of four. That meant she now needed to baptize 20! Kendra said, “I began to work right away. I had the missionaries over every Thursday evening. But I fell short of my goal. Only 11 people were baptized. But at least two of them have served missions, and I can’t count the number of lives that have been touched by the Spirit.”

Eleven people! And two have served missions! And Kendra was only 15 at the time she began “her mission.”

I tracked her down. I found that she had moved to California.

She said my suggestion of turning the one-to-five baptism arrangement around caused her some fear at first, but she began taking the measures necessary to accomplish her revised goal.

Kendra’s missionary vigor helped 11 people join Christ’s true church and acquainted many others with its teachings. And Kendra herself grew tremendously while on her “mission.” She says it was the happiest time of her life because she cared so much about other people.

At the close of one of her letters to me, Kendra expressed joy that her “mission” really hasn’t ever ended. I sustain her in that thought. Though our callings in life may seem to change occasionally, their purposes remain the same—to help each other return to our Father’s presence.

Fasting is not only a source of knowledge, but a means of attaining other spiritual goals as well. The great power of fasting was demonstrated to our family when I was only 16 years old. Mother had become seriously ill. Medical diagnosis revealed that she had cancer. Furthermore, if the malignant cells were not removed she would die. The only chance was an operation that had been performed only rarely before. My father called the family together and asked if my brothers and sisters and I would be willing to pray and fast for mother. Of course we agreed and began an extended period of fasting. During the fast mother was administered to and in the blessing was promised that she would live to raise her children. The operation was a success. When my mother died in 1969, my youngest sister was 20 years old. Truly the power of fasting is remarkable.

This story happened in the USA.
Knock, knock.
Maddie ran to the front door and opened it. She smiled when she saw Brother Clayton. He was their family’s ministering brother.
“Hi, Maddie, I’m here to see your mom and dad,” Brother Clayton said.
Mom joined Maddie by the door. “Thanks for coming. Please come in.”
Brother Clayton followed Mom and Maddie into the living room.
Dad set a chair in the middle of the room. “Brother Clayton is here to give your mom and me a priesthood blessing,” he told Maddie.
“Why?” Maddie asked. She knew that people asked for priesthood blessings if they were sick or starting school. But why did Mom and Dad need a blessing?
“You know how our family has been going through a hard time? Dad and I want Heavenly Father’s help and guidance,” Mom said.
Maddie knew that Mom was often stressed. And Dad was worried about money. It had been very hard on the whole family.
“Priesthood blessings aren’t only for when you are sick,” Dad said. “They can also be for when you need comfort or strength.”
“Can I stay and listen?” Maddie asked.
Mom smiled. “Sure. Can you sit quietly? We want to be reverent so we can feel the Holy Ghost.”
Maddie nodded and sat on the couch. Then she folded her arms and closed her eyes. She listened to Brother Clayton give Dad and Mom each a blessing. She felt warm and hopeful as Brother Clayton said loving words from Heavenly Father.
When they were done, Maddie stood up. “Can I have a blessing too?”
“Of course,” Dad said.
Maddie sat in the chair, and Brother Clayton placed his hands on her head. She felt good inside. But she wondered what words Heavenly Father had for her. She knew the problems her family had were big—too big for her to fix.
“Maddie, your Heavenly Father wants you to know that you have the gift of joy,” Brother Clayton said. “He loves you and wants you to be happy. And He wants you to share your happiness with others.”
Maddie listened carefully. She felt peaceful. She might not be able to make the big problems her family was facing go away. But she could help her family be happy.
When Brother Clayton finished, Maddie jumped up from the chair and gave Mom and Dad a big hug. Then she shook Brother Clayton’s hand. “Thank you,” she said.
Later that night, Maddie sat on her bed. She thought about her priesthood blessing. How could she help her family feel happy? She looked around her room at her picture books, stuffed animals, and art supplies.
Then she had an idea. She grabbed some paper, scissors, and crayons. She began to cut the paper into small squares.
Maddie picked up a red crayon. “You can do this!” she wrote on the first paper. On the next she wrote, “You are loved!” Maddie thought of more happy things to write. She kept going until all the papers were filled with happy words.
When she was done, she put the notes around the house—one by the front door, one by the soap next to the sink, and one by the laundry room.
Over the next few days, she smiled when she saw her family reading the notes.
“Thank you for the notes,” Mom said with a big smile. “They make me happy. And you make me happy too!”
Maddie gave her mom a hug. Heavenly Father was helping her use her gift to help her family.
Cut out this note and leave it for your family to find!
You are loved!
Illustrations by Annie Poon

I too was afraid to let my friends down. But I thought to myself that if I did give in, whom else would I let down? What worked best for me was to make the decision long before the situation came up. I made the commitment to myself that I would say no to drugs and alcohol. After I said no a couple of times, I was more respected for the decision I made. After a while, when someone would ask me again if I wanted a drink, one of my friends would say, “No, Calder doesn’t drink.” It made it easier for me once my friends realized that I wasn’t going to drink.
Elder Calder, 20, Idaho Pocatello Mission

Thirty-four gifted and inspired speakers have preceded me, and now on this autumn day I feel like the last leaf on the tree as I say a few words before President Lee gives his final counsel and blessing. It is not a new experience for me to speak immediately preceding President Lee. I have had that privilege a score of times recently. Each time I have felt like the freshman team before the varsity comes out for the big game.
But I regard this as a great opportunity to add my testimony. I humbly seek the direction of the Holy Spirit as I speak upon a sacred theme.
We have sung in this conference a marvelous hymn, a hymn we have sung in conferences for more than a century: “We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet.” It is distinctive with us. As a people we sing some hymns that have come from other churches, and others sing some of ours. But only we can properly sing, “We thank thee, O God, for a prophet to guide us in these latter days.”
It was written more than a century ago by a man of humble circumstances who lived in Sheffield, England. He worked in the steel mills and was discharged because he joined the Mormon Church. But there burned in his heart a great and fervent testimony; and out of an overflowing spirit of gratitude, he penned these marvelous lines. They have become a grateful expression of appreciation for millions over the earth. I myself have heard them sung in 21 different languages as a reverent prayer of thanksgiving for divine revelation.
How thankful we ought to be, my brethren and sisters, how thankful we are, for a prophet to counsel us in words of divine wisdom as we walk our paths in these complex and difficult times. The solid assurance we carry in our hearts, the conviction that God will make his will known to his children through his recognized servant is the real basis of our faith and activity. We either have a prophet or we have nothing; and having a prophet, we have everything.
Twelve years ago, in company with the mission president from Hong Kong, it was my opportunity to initiate the work in the Philippines. On April 28, 1961, we held a meeting that will never be forgotten by those of us who were present. We had no hall then in which to meet. We made a request of the United States Embassy for permission to meet on the beautiful porch of the marble memorial in the American military cemetery at Fort McKinley on the outskirts of Manila. We convened at 6:30 in the morning. In that hallowed and sacred place, where are remembered the tragedies of war, we commenced the work of teaching the gospel of peace.
We called upon the only native Filipino member we had been able to locate. He recounted a story which I have never forgotten.
When he was a boy he found in a garbage can an old tattered copy of the Reader’s Digest. It contained a condensation of a book giving the story of the Mormon people. It spoke of Joseph Smith and described him as a prophet. The word prophet did something to that boy. Could there actually be a prophet upon the earth? he wondered. The magazine was lost, but concern over the presence of a living prophet never left him during the long, dark years of war and oppression when the Philippines were occupied. Finally the forces of liberation came, and with them the reopening of Clark Air Base. David Lagman found employment there. His supervisor, he learned, was a Mormon, an Air Force officer. He wanted to ask him if he believed in a prophet, but was afraid to do so. Finally, after much inner turmoil, he mustered the courage to inquire.
“Are you a Mormon, sir?” the young man asked. “Yes, I am,” was the forthright reply. “Do you believe in a prophet, do you have a prophet in your church?” came the anxious question.
“We do have a prophet, a living prophet, who presides in this church and who teaches the will of the Lord.”
David asked the officer to tell him more, and out of that teaching came his baptism. He was the first native elder ordained in the Philippines and today serves as president of the Northern Luzon District of the Church, now knowing for himself that there is indeed a living prophet on the earth.
Could any people have a greater blessing than to have standing at their head one who receives and teaches the will of God concerning them? We need not look far in the world to know that “the wisdom of the wise has perished and that the understanding of the prudent has come to naught.” That wisdom for which the world should seek is the wisdom which comes from God. The only understanding that will save the world is divine understanding.
“Surely the Lord God will do nothing, but he revealeth his secret unto his servants the prophets.” (Amos 3:7.)
It was so in the days of Amos and in all the years when holy men of God spake as they were moved upon by the Holy Ghost. (See 2 Pet. 1:21.) Those ancient prophets warned not only of things to come, but more importantly, they became the revealers of truth to people. It was they who pointed the way men should live if they were to be happy and find peace in their lives.
I think today of a young man I know who, as a Christian, trying one church after another, could find none that taught of a prophet. Only among the Jewish people did he find reverent mention of the prophets, and so he accepted and embraced the Jewish religion.
In the summer of 1964, he went to New York City and visited the World’s Fair. He entered the Mormon Pavilion and saw pictures of the prophets of the Old Testament. His heart warmed within him as he heard the missionaries speak with appreciation of these great men of ages past through whom Jehovah revealed his will. Then, as he progressed through the pavilion, he heard of modern prophets—of Joseph Smith who was called a prophet, a seer, and a revelator. Something stirred within him. His spirit responded to the testimony of the missionaries. He was baptized. He served a mission in South America where he had many converts. He returned home and has since become the means of bringing his family and others into the Church. It is heartwarming to hear him testify that Joseph Smith was indeed a prophet of God and that all who have succeeded him have been legal successors in this high and sacred calling.
Could anyone, willing to read without bias the story of Joseph Smith, doubt that he was a great foreteller of events to come? Nearly thirty years before a shot was fired, he foretold the tragic American Civil War and stated that following that, war would be poured out upon all nations. You and I of this generation are witnesses to the fulfillment of those remarkable words.
He foretold that this people, then living in Illinois, would be driven out, would suffer much affliction, and would become a great and mighty people in the midst of the Rocky Mountains. Our presence today in this great Tabernacle on Temple Square in Salt Lake City is evidence of the fulfillment of those marvelous words of prophecy.
It has been so with his successors. On a cold winter day in 1849, when our forebears in this valley were hungry and living on sego roots and thistle tops, while gold was being found in California, Brigham Young stood in the old bowery on this square and spoke prophetic words to those who felt they might leave the hardships of life here to go to greener pastures in California. Among other things, he said:
“We have been kicked out of the frying pan into the fire, out of the fire into the middle of the floor, and here we are and here we will stay. …
“We shall build a city and a temple to the Most High God in this place. We will extend our settlements to the east and the west, to the north and south, and we will build towns and cities by the hundreds, and thousands of saints will gather in from the nations of the earth.
“This will become the great highway of the nations. Kings and emperors and the noble and the wise of the earth will visit us here. …”
How could anyone stand in the Visitors Center to the north of us and witness the hundreds of thousands, yes, the millions, who come each year to visit us, and have any doubt that Brigham Young spoke other than as a prophet? Over the years there has been a veritable parade of notables who have found their way to the office of the First Presidency, there to meet particularly the man whom we sustain as the president of the Church and as the prophet of our day. They include leaders in the governments of the earth, in business and commerce, in education, in the professions. These are among “the noble and the wise of the earth” of whom Brigham Young spoke when we were an outcast people, isolated in a mountain wilderness.
Two weeks ago we were riding a plane from San Francisco to Sydney, Australia. We noted a young man in a nearby seat reading the book Joseph Smith, an American Prophet. When opportunity presented itself, I spoke to him. I told him that I had read the book, that I had known the author, and asked him what his interest was. He said, among other things, that he had an interest in prophets and that this matter of a possible modern prophet had intrigued him. He had picked up the book at the library. We had a lengthy conversation in which I bore my witness that Joseph Smith was indeed a prophet. Not only did he speak of things to come, but more importantly, he was a revealer of eternal truth and a testifier of the divine mission of the Lord Jesus Christ. I am hopeful that that young man, as he continues his studies, will have come into his heart a similar testimony. I feel confident that he will.
I am profoundly grateful, my brethren and sisters, not only for Joseph Smith as the prophet who served as an instrument in the hands of the Almighty in restoring this work, but also for all of those who have followed him. A study of their lives will reveal the manner in which the Lord has chosen them, has refined them, and has molded them to his eternal purposes. Joseph Smith declared on one occasion: “I am like a huge, rough stone rolling down from a high mountain; … with all hell knocking off a corner here and a corner there, and thus I will become a smooth and polished shaft in the quiver of the Almighty.”
He was hated and persecuted. He was driven and imprisoned. He was abused and beaten. And as you read his history, you see the evolution of which he spoke. There developed a power in his life. There came a refinement. There grew a love for others which even overcame his own love for life. The corners of that rough stone were knocked off, and he became a polished shaft in the hand of the Almighty.
It has been so with those who have succeeded him. Through long years of dedicated service, they have been refined and winnowed and chastened and molded for the purposes of the Almighty. Could anyone doubt this after reading the lives of such men as Brigham Young, Wilford Woodruff, and Joseph F. Smith? The Lord subdued their hearts and refined their natures to prepare them for the great and sacred responsibility later thrust upon them. It has been so with him who stands as President of the Church today, our beloved leader, President Harold B. Lee. I hope he will pardon me. I do not wish to embarrass him. But can one who knows something of his life deny the same influences at work? He came out of circumstances that would today be classed as poverty. From firsthand experience he knows the meaning of hard manual labor. He served as a missionary and was rejected by most of those upon whom he called. He sacrificed for an education. He has known serious illness when life seemed to hang by a thread. He has walked through deep and dark valleys of sorrow. Looking back upon the history of his life, it all appears to be part of a pattern, a refining process that he might better understand the trials, the afflictions, the sorrows of others. And yet, with all of this, there is a great buoyancy of spirit that rises above the tragic and the sorrowful and lifts to higher ground all of those he touches and influences.
As one who recently walked with him as a junior companion in the missions of Europe and England, I have seen young people eagerly press about him with tears in their eyes and smiles, sweet and beautiful, upon their faces. I have seen missionaries sit enraptured as he taught from the scriptures, speaking, like the Master, “as one having authority.” I have seen little children sit almost motionless as he spoke their language and led them to understand sacred truths of the sacrament. I have seen elderly men and women weep as he blessed them.
I have seen few things more touching than a strong young man embracing the President and then later with tear-moistened eyes saying, “Never have I been so near to heaven.”