Gospel Story Finder

It was Christmastime, and the three young Rogers girls, LeOla, Ruby, and Alice, were excited. Not because of any special gift they were expecting to receive, but because of the one gift they were planning to give.
Christmastime was always exciting in Snowflake, Arizona, but this year needed some extra cheer. Grandma Rogers had died a short time earlier, and Grandpa Locy—we all called Grandpa Rogers by his middle name—was sad and lonely.
A kind and gentle man, he loved every child in the town, and they loved him in return. He always had an encouraging word to give, or a piece of candy to share with any child who asked for one. In fact, he was affectionately known as “Candy Man.” Whenever the neighborhood children saw him, they ran to him. He was always cheerful—until this year, anyway.
Grandpa’s sadness settled on everyone. Something had to be done! How could anyone be cheerful when Grandpa Locy was so unhappy? A family council was called. For several nights the girls and their parents discussed the problem. Finally they came up with an exciting plan.
“Let’s not have any gifts this year!” LeOla exclaimed. “Instead, let’s give something extra special to Grandpa to make him happy.”
“What if we helped him do something nice for the children in town with the money we save?” Ruby suggested. “We could make a Santa suit for him, and on Christmas Eve, he could pass out the candy and toys we’ll buy for him to give to the children.”
Alice, the youngest of the three girls, added, “I want to help pick out all the toys and candy!”
LeOla, Ruby, and Alice spent the next few days poring over the Sears and Roebuck catalog, ordering lots of candy, and sorting through every small toy that the children might enjoy. They made one list for the girls and another for the boys. Their mother’s job was to make the Santa suit for Grandpa. She was an excellent seamstress, and it was soon ready. Father’s part was to put an ad in the Snowflake Herald: “Attention all children eight years old and under: Come to the Rogers’s place on Christmas Eve to see Santa and receive a gift.”
The day the gifts arrived was the day the work really began. The Rogers girls and their best friends became a squad of gift wrappers. Paper and ribbons flew as each gift was adorned in bright Christmas array, and candy bags were filled. What fun it was! Best of all, the family could see that their plan was working—Grandpa was pleased that he had been asked to dress as Santa and pass out gifts.
Each year, the Rogers family festooned a huge blue spruce with hundreds of colored lights. The festive tree was on one side of the front yard and across the street from the Social Hall. The three girls particularly enjoyed lighting it each night. All the Christmas programs and dances in the area were held in the hall, and the family hoped that their lighted tree added to everyone’s Christmas spirit.
Long evenings were spent making decorations for the old tree. Mother popped corn, and the girls strung it into long strands. They also made great chains of colored paper. These were hung carefully around the tree’s boughs after the lights had been put on. LeOla, Ruby, and Alice took turns decorating and then redecorating the tree until it was just right. They made sure each limb was trimmed perfectly before Father turned on the lights.
At last Christmas Eve day arrived. A feathery snow began to fall, blanketing everything in fresh, bright white. The Rogers girls thought the tree looked even more beautiful than before as its colored lights reflected in the snow.
After supper, LeOla looked out the window. It was only five o’clock, and the street was filled with people! There was a line of fathers with children on their shoulders, and mothers with their arms filled with toddlers, all waiting for a chance to see Santa. Others milled around, just enjoying the sights. It stopped snowing, and the stars began to peep out from behind the clouds. Upstairs, behind the snow-topped rails of an uncovered porch, carolers began to sing. Below them, Leon and Thalia Kartchnew were strumming along on their guitars.
At last Grandpa, dressed in his bright red suit, came out of the house and stood behind the snow-laden picket fence under the tree. The soft strains of the Christmas carols drifted down over the crowd, and a feeling of peace and quiet sifted among the people.
As each child came up to Santa, he handed him or her a gift. There were bracelets, lockets, or dolls for the girls. For the boys, a top or some marbles. Each child was also given a sack of candy and nuts.
LeOla could not recall seeing so many smiling faces before. All the children were happy—except one.
A young boy burst into tears of great disappointment when he saw his gift. “But Santa,” he sobbed, “I wrote you for a pocketknife!”
“Santa” knew that the young lad’s father had died several years before and that his mother was quite poor and probably couldn’t afford the gift he wanted so badly. Putting his hand on the boy’s shoulder, he whispered, “I will leave it in your stocking tonight!”
Although it was quite late when the last visitor left, Grandpa Locy changed his clothes, put on his heavy winter coat, and trudged out into the now-bitter night air. He crunched a path through the snow to the town’s only general store. By the time he arrived, the storekeeper and his family were already in bed.
Grandpa Locy knocked on the door until the sleepy-eyed storekeeper opened the door and let him in to make his purchase. Then he headed for the boy’s home on the far side of town. Though he had smiled many times in the past few days, his biggest smile came as he thought of the little boy’s happiness upon finding the pocketknife in his stocking.
The next morning, there were no gifts waiting under the tree for LeOla, Ruby, or Alice. There were no new dolls, no tea sets, and no frilly new dresses. There was, however, one gift for the entire family—Grandpa Locy’s smile! And many, many years later, when the Rogers girls were grandmas, they would remember and tell their own grandchildren about the very best Christmas that they ever had!

Usually Jennifer loved library time at school, but today she was confused about something the librarian said. Mrs. Miller said that books like biographies and science books are nonfiction, while adventure stories and fairy tales are fiction. Jennifer had never thought about the difference between fiction and nonfiction.
“But shouldn’t writing something that isn’t true be illegal?” Jennifer’s classmate Adam asked.
Mrs. Miller smiled. “No, Adam. We have lots of books that aren’t true that we all love—like all your favorite novels and storybooks.”
After school, Jennifer was still puzzled. She knew that a lot of the stories and fairy tales she loved were make-believe, but it was still fun to pretend they were real. As Jennifer thought about fiction and nonfiction books, she wondered where the Book of Mormon would be shelved. Was it really true, or was it just a nice story that was fun to believe was true?
Jennifer thought a lot about the Book of Mormon over the next several days. She spent a lot of time reading it too. If people could invent enough stories to fill up the large fiction section of the library, was it also possible that someone could have made up the Book of Mormon? Jennifer wasn’t sure how she ever would know the truth.
When Sunday came, Jennifer was still worried about whether or not the Book of Mormon was a true book. She was worried that she was even asking the question. Everyone else at church seemed to know the Book of Mormon was true. How could they feel so certain when she felt so unsure?
During the sacrament, Jennifer said a silent prayer. It felt good to pray. Jennifer felt warm inside. She felt like Heavenly Father was telling her it was OK that she wanted to know about what was true.
As Jennifer took the sacrament, she started thinking about her baptism. She thought about how happy she had felt. She thought about how taking the sacrament renewed her promise to Heavenly Father to keep His commandments. She thought about how the feelings in her heart let her know that Jesus lives, even though she had never seen Him.
Then Jennifer began thinking about the Prophet Joseph Smith, and she had that same warm, peaceful feeling. It was the same way she felt as she read the Book of Mormon. She knew that Heavenly Father was telling her through the Holy Ghost that the Book of Mormon was true and that Joseph Smith was a prophet.
Sacrament meeting went on as usual that day, but Jennifer felt different. She felt grateful that Heavenly Father was willing to answer her questions, and that she knew for herself that the Book of Mormon was true.

Some of you know the true story Corrie Ten Boom, a Dutch woman of deep Christian faith, who, with her family during World War II was imprisoned by Nazi leaders for hiding helpless Jews in their home in Holland. Her family suffered intensely from torture and humiliation inflicted by their captors. Her beloved sister Betsy died in captivity. Betsy especially was a light of faith, hope, and charity that transcended the sorrows they experienced and most of all hatred toward their captors.

Corrie survives the ordeal and in a climactic moment after the war she actually encounters one of her Nazi guards who had been so brutal and mocking. They meet at a church service in Germany where Corrie had testified of Christ's charity, mercy, and forgiveness. The former guard, apparently not recognizing her from the prison camp days, walks up to her and thanks her for her message and says, "I am so grateful, Frauline, for your message, to think, as you say, [Christ] has washed away my sins." He held out his hand which Corrie hesitated to take. Memories of his cruelty flooded her mind and especially her sister's suffering and death. She cannot shake the hand of the man who had so mistreated them. In desperation she prays in her heart "Jesus…I cannot forgive him, give me your forgiveness." What follows, brother and sisters, is a great moment for all time. In her words:

"As I took his hand the most incredible thing happened. From my shoulder along my arm and through my hand a current seemed to pass from me to him, while into my heart sprang a love for this stranger that almost overwhelmed me.
And so I discovered that it is not on our forgiveness anymore and on our goodness that the world's healing hinges, but on [Christ's]. When he tells us to love our enemies, he gives, along with the command, the love itself" (The Hiding Place).

Thus, the Fourth principle is that God prepares us to face our trials. I want to share with you how I learned and can testify of the goodness of God and the reality of our Savior's great atoning sacrifice on our behalf and how this carried me through a very difficult time in my life. It is really easy to be obedient when things are going well in the calm between the storms that represent the trials in our lives.

I distinctly recall one such moment of calm. It was a beautiful sunny fall afternoon and I was driving past our local golf course on the way to the grocery store. Our last child had recently been born, a daughter after four very active sons. At that moment I felt the love of Heaven so profoundly and felt blessed beyond description. It seemed nothing could go wrong; life was very, very good. As I reflect on that moment today I am grateful for the tender mercy of that moment and the pause it gave me to appreciate the goodness of a loving Heavenly Father. And the strength it gave me to face the approaching storm.

From the very beginning our four sons have given us a run for our money. They were and are as active and adventurous as you can imagine, it is all I have known and I have loved every minute of it. However; active and adventurous, for our family, go hand in hand with emergency rooms and urgent care centers, sometimes including a trip to each on the same day with the same son. A tetanus shot and glue in the afternoon at the urgent care center for laceration and surgery to repair a digital nerve at the emergency room in the evening. It was an interesting moment when the nurse asked when this son had received his last tetanus shot and I responded; four hours ago.

When the urgent care opened in our community I may have been the only one thinking how much it would save us in emergency room costs. During, what we call our ER phase, we kept a running tally on how many days, weeks and finally months we were ER free. Before we stopped keeping track, the longest time between visits was four months. During this time we accumulated countless stitches, staples, broken arms, skull fractures, surgeries, hospitalizations, disease diagnoses, ambulance rides, and life flights.

Going to the ER became so routine that I knew when superglue could be used at home in lieu of stitches. In addition, as it turns out, being on a first name basis with the ER nurses and doctors can be valuable. To this day, my husband and I employ a sophisticated system to determine who "gets" to take the injured child to the emergency room. It is called Rock, Paper, Scissors. Loser goes. I can tell you that I win more than I lose.

Because of these experiences we learned to navigate traumatic situations with our children, listen to the promptings of the spirit, witness miracles through the power of the priesthood, and embrace the life we have with our children.I tell you this because these experiences helped form my foundation for what was to come. On February 15, 2005, around 4:00 in the afternoon I received a phone call from a dear friend. She said to me; Kristie, I hate to be the bearer of bad news; your husband and boys have been in an accident by our home. You need to come right away. I immediately prayed for the safety of my husband Eric, and our sons Jake and Tyson, who were all in the car. At that time Jake was 15, Tyson 12, Cody 9, Kade 7, and our daughter, Katelyn, was 5 months old.

Prior to the phone call, I had taken our youngest son to a friend's house and our daughter was still in her car seat asleep. I put her in the car along with our 9 year-old son and drove the 2 short miles from our home to the scene of the accident.

As you drive south on this country road there is a small hill that blocks your view of the upcoming intersection. As we came over the hill we saw numerous emergency vehicles. I was quickly diverted to the ambulance that had our son, Tyson, in it. He, I was told, was the most critical. As soon as I got in the ambulance, I saw that our good friend, a paramedic, was working on him. I was relieved because of my confidence in his abilities. I knew Tyson needed a priesthood blessing and made arrangements for a family member to meet us at the hospital. I was allowed to ride in the ambulance with Tyson, and dear friends stepped in to care for our younger children. It's interesting what you remember at times like this; I remember being handed things from Tyson's pockets, notes from friends, his watch, and thinking these are such ordinary things for a time like this, but I needed them with me.

When we arrived at the hospital, as you can imagine it was a scene of ordered chaos; I was again relieved to see doctors I knew from previous visits and that I had confidence in working on Eric, Jake, and Tyson. At some point in this chaos they were each given a priesthood blessing. Jake had been unconscious but was awake and concerned about Tyson and Eric. He sustained a broken bone on the top of his foot and a concussion. Eric was concerned about Jake and Tyson, but had significant injures that included three crushed vertebrae, a broken clavicle, a sternum that was cracked in six places, and a hip contusion. The injuries to his chest and back caused him a great deal of pain and impaired his breathing.

Tyson's injuries were critical. He was intubated on arrival at the hospital, and rushed for a CT scan. During the CT scan he coded. Our good friend, the same paramedic, started CPR and was able to get his heart beating again. I was grateful to be able to be by his side while other family members attended to Eric and Jake.

The CT showed that Tyson had sustained a shattered spleen, multiple liver lacerations, and bone fractures. He was immediately taken into surgery. His spleen was removed and his liver was packed in an attempt to stop the bleeding. It was determined he should be life-flighted to Primary Children's Hospital in Salt Lake City, Utah. A priesthood blessing was administered before Tyson left. Arrangements were made and we were soon in Salt Lake City. Again, he was immediately taken into surgery. During the second surgery he coded multiple times and was resuscitated. I was able to be with him when he was brought into the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit. Tyson was given a priesthood blessing and had the best medical care that was available; including IV's, blood transfusions, platelets and clotting factors. None of this was able to stop the bleeding. His internal bleeding was so severe that it was impossible for the medical team to replace the blood he was losing.

My husband was not able to accompany me to Salt Lake because his injuries were so significant. It was very difficult for him and for me to be separated. A family member stayed with him during the night and I will be forever grateful that they were there with him when I called to tell him that Tyson had died in the early morning hours; eleven hours and two surgeries after the accident.

I can tell you that this is not what I prayed for. As I was en route to Salt Lake City I remember thinking everything would be alright but I didn't know what side of "alright" I was going to be on. I of course, prayed for Tyson to be healed. I really wanted him to be able to show his friends the super cool scars he would have from the surgeries.

Elder Oaks taught, "We do all that we can for the healing of a loved one, and then we trust in the Lord for the outcome." Our faith must be in the Lord and submit to His will and not what we think the outcome should be.

I do not have the eternal perspective that our Father has; however, I trust him. There is great comfort in the words of Mormon found in Mormon chapter 5 verse 23, "know ye not that ye are in the hands of God?" and Doctrine and Covenants section 42 verse 48 "he that hath faith in me to be healed, and is not appointed unto death, shall be healed". We do not know why Tyson's life on this earth was a short 12 and a half years but if we trust in God, we do not need to know everything.

I was amazed out how quickly friends and family responded when they heard about the accident. In the Kimball Building on the second floor there is a plaque with a quote from President Kimball. It reads, "God does notice us, and he watches over us. But it is usually through another person that he meets our needs." I testify that this is true.

God poured out many tender mercies upon me and my family in preparing us for this trial; I had experience with hospitals, doctors, and paramedics. I knew Tyson had received excellent medical care. I was able to talk to Tyson in the ambulance before he lost consciousness, family and friends quickly surrounded us, my younger brother was in medical school at the University of Utah; he along with other family members and friends were with Tyson when he arrived. His medical knowledge was a great comfort to me. Family and friends took care of Eric, Jake, Cody and Kade while I rushed to be with Tyson. Arrangements were made so I could fly to Salt Lake and be with Tyson and arrive shortly after he died.

After Tyson died, kindness was again extended to our family when this same individual arranged for my husband and sons to fly to Salt Lake to be with me and Katelyn. Looking back I am still humbled by the sacrifices family, friends, and others made on our behalf.

I preached a sermon in Quitman, Georgia, when I was mission president in that area, on the eternal duration of the marriage covenant and the family unit. I quoted from Rulon Howe’s graph, where he listed all of the main churches and their answers to these important questions, and not one of them believed in the eternal duration of the marriage covenant and the family unit. At the close of that meeting, as I stood at the door to shake hands with the people as they went out, a man came up and introduced himself to me as a Baptist minister. I asked, “Did I misquote you here tonight?”

“No, Mr. Richards, but just as you say, we don’t all believe all the things our churches preach.”

I said, “And you don’t believe them either. Why don’t you go back and teach your people the truth? They’ll take it from you, and they’re not ready to take it from the Mormon elders yet.”

He said, “I’ll see you again.” That was all I got from him that night.

The next time I went there, about four months later, I walked up to that little church and there stood that same minister. As I shook hands with him I said, “I’d certainly be interested to know what you thought of my last sermon here.”

He replied, “I’ve been thinking about it ever since, and I believe every word you said. Only I’d like to have heard the rest of it.”

You know that one never can finish talking about these marvelous truths that the Lord has restored. There was a man occupying the pulpit that believed every word I said, yet he could not tell his people.

Subject: Elizabeth
Age: 20 years
Event: Meeting Kara at the airport
Elizabeth had taken the flight from Minneapolis to Salt Lake City on her return to college. She had walked slowly past the car rental agency three times, carefully studying the features of the attractive girl at the counter. Finally she approached the girl.
“Excuse me, are you Kara?”
“Lisa?” the girl cried. “Is that you?”
They threw their arms around each other, both chattering excitedly.
“What are you doing here?” Elizabeth asked.
“I was transferred from our L.A. office six months ago. Look, I’ve got a break coming. Let’s go get something to eat so we can talk.”
They sat at a small table and talked, filling each other in on their lives since they had last been together.
“I lost track of you after you left town,” Elizabeth said. “My bishop said you never talked with him.”
“Oh, I changed my mind and just had the problem fixed,” Kara said lightly.
“Oh,” Elizabeth said, trying not to betray her disappointment.
“I guess you’re shocked, but it’s quite common these days.”
“But why did you suddenly leave town after that?” Elizabeth asked.
“I had to get away,” Kara said, pursing her lips nervously, “and so I ran away.”
“But where did you live? What did you do?”
Kara shook her head slowly. “You don’t want to hear about that.” She took a final drag on her cigarette and exhaled slowly. “But look, I’m all squared away now. I’m into group therapy, and it’s really helped me get rid of all my guilt feelings about everything. What a relief not to feel guilty about anything! But I guess you know about that, because you’ve never done anything to feel guilty about.”
A few minutes later, Elizabeth asked, “What happened to Larry Hill?”
“Last I heard he was working as a DJ in a disco in California.”
“I guess that makes him one of the real men, doesn’t it?” Elizabeth said. “He always needed that assurance.”
“I’ve heard he’s still running around just like he did in high school,” Kara added. “I guess I am, too, for that matter. I’m just not ready to settle down.”

All summer long, before her family moved into their new house, Sadie had wondered about her new neighbors. She had imagined a girl her age who loved to climb trees. But soon after they moved in, Sadie learned that there was no little girl next door. Just the Ludwigs.
Early that fall a big snowstorm came. Sadie and her sister bundled up and went outside. After playing in the snow for a while, Sadie noticed that no one had walked in the snow in the Ludwigs’ yard. Wouldn’t it be nice to make a snow angel in that clean snow?
That afternoon, the phone rang. Mom came into Sadie’s room. “Sadie, did you play in the Ludwigs’ snow this morning?”
“Yes,” she said softly.
“Sadie, Mr. Ludwig is from a country where children must never play in someone else’s yard without permission. He is very angry at the mess you made.”
“I didn’t mean to be naughty,” Sadie said.
“I know you didn’t,” Mom said. “But we need to think about how other people might feel about the things we do.”
“The girls at school say that everyone hates the Ludwigs because they are so mean,” Sadie said. “They say that Mr. Ludwig yells at everyone.”
“Well, if that’s how people talk about them, it sounds as if the Ludwigs need some kindness,” Mom said. “And it seems to me that we could show them some.”
Mom and Sadie made cookies and took them next door. Sadie tried to be brave, but Mr. Ludwig was frowning.
“I’m sorry for making a mess of your snow,” Sadie said. “I won’t do it again.”
“Make sure you don’t,” Mr. Ludwig said. Then he slammed the door.
“At least he took the cookies,” Mom said.
As Christmas drew near, the girls got excited about their tradition of leaving a small treat or gift on someone’s doorstep the 12 days before Christmas.
“Have you girls thought of someone who might appreciate some kindness?” Dad asked. “Someone who might need some extra cheer?”
Sadie thought of the Ludwigs. Probably no one would give them anything because Mr. Ludwig was so mean.
“What about the Ludwigs?” Sadie asked slowly.
“I think that’s a great idea,” Dad said.
Every night the girls took turns ringing the doorbell and hiding while Mr. Ludwig opened the door and took the treat inside. He answered the door more quickly each night. Sometimes Sadie was sure she saw him peeking out between the curtains when she was sneaking up his sidewalk.
On Christmas Eve, the doorbell rang. Dad opened the door and there stood Mr. Ludwig holding a large box.
“I am so grateful for your Christmas treats,” he said. “My wife is sick and doesn’t get out of bed. But I have told her about you. She likes to sew, and she made some things for you. Have a good Christmas.” Mr. Ludwig set down the box and left.
The girls gathered around as Dad opened the box. It was filled with colorful packages. Mom unwrapped towels and napkins with lace around the edges. Then she pulled out a package for each of the girls. They opened them to find beautiful handmade dolls.
“I didn’t know Mrs. Ludwig was sick in bed,” Sadie said. “I didn’t know she was making dolls for us.”
“Neither did I,” Mom said. “But we knew they needed some kindness.”

Some years ago, in my earliest days as a General Authority, I was given an opportunity to accompany and observe President M. Russell Ballard as he officiated at a sealing in the Salt Lake Temple. President Ballard knew the groom’s family. The couple being sealed appeared to be in their late thirties, and one or both had been previously married.

Before we went into the sealing room, President Ballard told me not to expect many words from him, saying, “It is hard to offer more truth or eloquence than the words of the ordinance themselves.”

During the sealing, President Ballard shared a single scripture: “But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.”27

As President Ballard recited this scripture, the groom became visibly emotional. Tears began to run down his cheeks. Following the sealing, as the company began to reverently express their love to the couple and file out of the sealing room, a man quietly came to me and informed me he was the groom’s best friend. In a whisper, he asked if I had noticed the groom’s emotion.

As I nodded, the man continued: “Will you please let President Ballard know that for reasons I don’t have time to tell you, the scripture he recited has been instrumental in the groom’s long and difficult return to faith and worthiness to be in the temple today? To hear President Ballard quote that scripture was a confirmation from heaven that God is pleased with him.”

As President Ballard and I walked from the sealing room, I told him of my conversation. He stopped, thought for a moment, and, smiling softly, said, “I had not planned to use that scripture. Now I know why it came to me.”

Ken Bradford, 15, of Santa Fe, New Mexico, really made a difference by standing up for what he knew was right.
Ken had won two gold medals in wrestling and his coach told him he had an excellent chance of taking first place in his division at the state meet.
When Ken found out that part of the meet would be held on the Sabbath, he told his coach he would not be able to participate in the Sunday matches. Ken came in first in the Saturday matches, but he received the second-place medal in the meet because he did not finish the competition.
The following Monday, Ken’s coach said that he would change the rules so future tournaments would not be held on Sunday.

Wilford Fischer served as a marine in World War II. His assignment was to find enemy targets and radio their position for naval bombardment. When I first met Brother Fischer, he was somewhat frail with age. As the interview progressed, his eyes brightened and his countenance changed as he bore witness of how the Spirit had blessed him during the battle of Saipan.

Brother Fischer related that “one by one we knocked out the enemy artillery except for one large 16-inch gun.” During this time Wilford felt an impression to move his men from their location in the trees. He ordered his men into an open spot on the hill. They complained because it was so hot in the jungle sun. Nevertheless Wilford persisted, and they obeyed. As soon as they settled in their new location, Japanese mortar shells began to fall on their former position in the shade below. Wilford’s patrol would have all died had they not moved. With tears in his eyes, Wilford shook his head and testified, “If I had not listened to the Spirit that day, it would have cost all of our lives. I am so grateful for the Spirit that helped me that day to save the lives of those wonderful young men.”

Sungja’s next oldest brother, Cho Yong Hyun, had listened to the missionaries with his siblings. Their parents were busy running the family restaurant, and Joong Hyun, the second son, was frequently charged with caring for his younger brothers and sisters. His siblings all learned to love him and trust his judgment. “I really respected my older brother, so when he first introduced the gospel to me, I could accept it,” Yong Hyun says.
But Yong Hyun’s conversion was not based on his brother’s testimony alone; he received his own strong witness of the truth, and once a member, he dedicated himself to serving faithfully.
That dedication led him, while he was a college student, to want to serve a mission—a choice his father opposed. But Yong Hyun won his father’s consent by promising to be a better student when he returned, and he kept that promise.
Father and son would clash over the Church again some years later when Yong Hyun was offered a position with the Church Educational System. He was doing well in his job with an oil refining firm at the time, but he accepted the Church position and has served as CES coordinator in the Gwangju area of southern Korea since 1986. His father opposed the change, considering it unwise for his son to leave a good position with a prestigious firm to work for a relatively unknown church that had started in America. His father said later that he had cried bitterly over Yong Hyun’s decision and had come close to disowning him. Fortunately, the rift was healed.

When I was in high school, my mom would place the New Era so that when I came home from school, I would be sure to see it. I usually glanced at the cover and that was it. My freshman year of college my mom started sending me the New Era every month. At first I would just put it on the coffee table hoping to impress someone. Now in my sophomore year, I anxiously await the arrival of the New Era. I really appreciate the uplifting articles and the inspirational musical numbers. Now I don’t have to use the New Era to impress anyone but myself.
Heidi SmithEllensburg, Washington

In a stake conference in Campinas, Brazil, I enjoyed a soul-restoring experience of listening to the gifted, able, and charming president of the stake Relief Society, Sister Vilma Figuereda. She told of the great excitement and personal revelation she received regarding the truthfulness of the Church when she first heard its message from the missionaries. She was literally twice born, with energy, conviction, and a desire to tell all of her acquaintances and others of the healing and sanctifying message of the gospel. She walked over so many cobblestones and on so many sidewalks that she would wear out a pair of shoes each month. Her husband, at that time not a member of the Church but concerned about the many demands upon the limited resources of the family, asked her, “Couldn’t the Church at least buy you a pair of shoes?” The soles of her shoes were worn thin, but the inner soul of her being was fully restored.

This is a question that my father taught me to carefully consider years ago. As I was growing up, my parents assigned me chores around the house and paid me an allowance for that work. I often used that money, a little over 50 cents a week, to go to the movies. Back then a movie ticket cost 25 cents for an 11-year-old. This left me with 25 cents to spend on candy bars, which cost 5 cents apiece. A movie with five candy bars! It couldn’t get much better than that.

All was well until I turned 12. Standing in line one afternoon, I realized that the ticket price for a 12-year-old was 35 cents, and that meant two less candy bars. Not quite prepared to make that sacrifice, I reasoned to myself, “You look the same as you did a week ago.” I then stepped up and asked for the 25-cent ticket. The cashier did not blink, and I bought my regular five candy bars instead of three.

Elated by my accomplishment, I later rushed home to tell my dad about my big coup. As I poured out the details, he said nothing. When I finished, he simply looked at me and said, “Son, would you sell your soul for a nickel?” His words pierced my 12-year-old heart. It is a lesson I have never forgotten.

by Janet Sorensen
The young members of the Church in Sao Paulo, Brazil, know how to celebrate holidays. One of the biggest holidays in Brazil is Carnaval, a three-day celebration where parades and dancing take place at all hours of the day and night. It is a time when anything goes, and morals seem to be quickly forgotten.
But the LDS youth of Sao Paulo have a better way to celebrate. Every year during Carnaval, the members plan a youth conference away from the city, so the youth can enjoy three days of recreation, learning, and spiritual activities.
Last year they went to the original Sao Paulo stake center (there are now 11 stakes there). It is located at a complex outside of the city, along with the temple and the missionary training center. The group stayed in dormitories, and though they could see the skyscrapers of the city, they were far from the drunken parties and wild people.
For Independence Day, these youth chose sites within their stake boundaries that needed to be cleaned up. All worked together to plant trees, repair curbs, and generally clean the areas. On another Independence Day, they planted more than 400 trees that were donated by the city government. It seemed an impossible task, but they finished the project in half a day because everyone helped.
These Brazilian youth know the best way to celebrate: put the teachings of the gospel into action and let the joy shine through.

A Primary teacher told me about a powerful experience with his class of 11-year-old boys. One of them, whom I’ll call Jimmy, was an uncooperative loner in class. One Sunday the teacher was inspired to put aside his lesson and tell why he loved Jimmy. He spoke of his gratitude and his belief in this young man. Then the teacher asked the class members to tell Jimmy something they appreciated about him. As class members, one by one, told Jimmy why he was special to them, the boy lowered his head and tears began to roll down his face. This teacher and class built a bridge to Jimmy’s lonely heart. Simple love, honestly expressed, gives hope and value to others. I call this “repairing the breach or the gap.”

When the Church first came to Ghana in 1978, the government didn’t really understand it and its practices. That led to a lot of rumors. As the Church grew over the next 10 years, so did the rumors. I remember hearing people say that the United States was sending men to spy on our government. That, combined with all the anti-Mormon literature being circulated, made the government very suspicious.
On June 14, 1989, the government closed our Church buildings, sent the missionaries home, and outlawed all official Church activities. We call this time “the freeze.” But as an 18-year-old girl, all I knew was that one day it was announced that we couldn’t go to church anymore. There were even soldiers guarding the buildings to make sure we stayed away.
Since we could no longer meet in our chapels, we got permission from Church leaders to have sacrament meetings in our homes. If you didn’t have a priesthood holder in your home, you were encouraged to go to a home that did have one. It was a confusing time but also a very special one. We shared our testimonies, and it brought us closer together.
Those who stayed in the Church and worshipped together during the freeze created stronger bonds. We became real brothers and sisters. Even now, when we have all traveled separate ways, if something happens to someone else, we all hear about it. We feel like we are pioneers.

The patriarchal order runs from Abraham to Isaac and to Jacob. Through the line of the priesthood, it continues in our own day and time. Through the ages, blessings and promises were given from the fathers to their faithful sons. A modern example of this is taken from the life of Elder John B. Dickson of the Seventy. He recalls:
“When it was time for me to go on a mission, I was very excited to serve the Lord. Just before I was to leave, however, I found out that I had bone cancer. The chance of living long enough to serve a mission wasn’t very high. I had faith that the Lord would provide a way if He wanted me to go. My father gave me a blessing in which I was told that I would serve my mission in Mexico, serve in the Church all my life, and have a family. My right arm had to be amputated above the elbow, but my life was spared, and the promises I was given have all been fulfilled.
“Some would think that losing an arm would be a terrible burden, but it has been one of the greatest blessings in my life. I learned that it is very important to have challenges and to face up to them.”
Elder Dickson had always been right-handed, and now he had to learn to do everything left-handed. One struggle was learning how to tie his ties. He said: “One Sunday morning when I was in my bedroom with my tie in my hand, I thought, How am I going to tie this? I thought about getting a clip-on tie. I thought about asking Mom to help me. But I couldn’t take her with me on my mission just to tie my ties. So I decided I had to learn how to do it myself. I finally figured it out by using my teeth. I still do it that way, even after having tied it thousands of times.”

Two and a half years after my baptism in Buenos Aires, Argentina, the words of one of the elders who had taught me still resounded in my ears: “I know you’re a missionary.” I also remembered the powerful answer I had when I prayed to know if the feeling that had pierced my heart was really true. At age 20, I knew I should be preparing for a mission.
But how could I be a missionary? I was nothing like the angelic young men who had taught me the gospel. And how could I leave my job? Where would I live after I came home? It had been very difficult to find the place I had, even though it was just a little room at the back of someone’s house.
On my way home one evening, these feelings and doubts again came to mind. When I got home, I tried to make a decision. I decided to kneel down and offer a prayer for help. As I did so, I had a strong impression that I should go see Leandro, a friend who had been a great strength to me in sad times.
But the thought of waking him up at midnight caused me to resist the idea. I knew he got up early to go to work, and I didn’t dare knock on his door at that hour. I struggled against the thought but continued to feel the impression to go see him. Still, I chose to ignore it.
Instead, I decided to walk around the block for some fresh air. When I remembered that I had left my door open, however, I started back home. As I entered, I saw Leandro sitting in my room. The Spirit fell upon me, and I felt breathless. With a voice somewhat choking with emotion, I asked him, “What are you doing here?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I just felt I should come to see you.”
I told him about the doubts I’d been having about a mission. He bore his testimony to me and encouraged me. Then he helped me fill out my mission papers, which I took to my bishop the next morning. Two months later I received my call to the Argentina Salta Mission.
I know my friend was an instrument in the hands of the Lord that night, and with all my heart I know that Heavenly Father listens to and answers prayers that are uttered with a sincere heart and with real intent.

One afternoon in early 1988, while I was working in my office at the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah, a missionary couple unexpectedly visited me. Their name tags identified them as Roman and Hella Smith.
Sister Smith said she had seen my name on the door and felt impressed to talk to me. She inquired whether I knew anything about a missionary named Ott who had gone to Germany many years ago and died there. I thought immediately of my great-uncle Joseph. I told her his name and briefly reviewed the circumstances of his death in Germany.
Sister Smith hesitated briefly. Then, with growing excitement, she told me the story of Maria Strauch: her visits to the cemetery, the light that seemed to shine on Joseph’s tombstone, and the conversion of Maria and her family. Then Hella Smith told me that she was the granddaughter of Maria Strauch. Her mother, Ghemela Strauch Ulpts, was the thirteenth child of Herman and Maria Strauch. Born and raised in Dresden, Hella left East Germany in 1955 and eventually came to the United States with her widowed mother and her brother Henry. Now she and her husband were returning to Germany as missionaries.
When our two stories came together that day, Sister Smith and I sat quietly, savoring the sweet feeling that had settled over us. “Brother Ott,” she said, “It appears that your great-uncle Joseph was a successful missionary after all.”