Gospel Story Finder

When I was a boy, at Christmastime my mother put out a picture of the Savior knocking at a door. We weren’t members of the Church yet, and I always asked myself, “Why is Jesus knocking on the door? Who is on the other side?”
A few years later I discovered there was no handle on the outside of the door the Savior was knocking on. The person on the inside needed to open the door. Now I know who is on the other side of the door. We are! The Savior is knocking, and we all have to open the door and invite Him to come into our lives.

During Christmastime on my mission, I was undergoing some health problems, and my companion was a new missionary. She was not happy and wanted to go home. We were walking 8 to 10 miles (13–16 km) every day, and both of us had painful blisters.
I soon became depressed and discouraged, believing that I was a bad missionary and that all of my companion’s problems were my fault. We were a miserable pair. I had been so excited about the upcoming holiday, but now I dreaded it. It loomed before me dark, cold, and lonely.
My district leader saw my struggles and offered this advice: “Keep your mind off the pain. Do whatever it takes to give your companion the Christmas spirit.” I trusted my district leader and knew he was right, so I determined that I would try to get the right spirit in both of our hearts.
I remember one dark, cold evening. We were walking down the road, and my companion began to cry. Immediately, I felt as if I had been swallowed by darkness, and I wanted to give up. But I remembered my promise and asked the Lord what I could do to help this sister. The answer that came was unexpected, but I acted promptly. I began to sing Christmas carols as loudly as I could. People kept staring at me, but I felt a strange lightness in my heart that couldn’t be subdued. My companion begged me to stop. But I told her I would not until she joined me. So she did, and we sang several songs. My companion smiled at me and seemed to enjoy the rest of the evening.
That experience was the start of an amazing holiday. It was still hard at times, but whenever the mood began to turn dismal, I threatened to start singing. That always seemed to lighten the mood.
I do not have a great singing voice, and I hate singing in front of people. But that night I was singing at the top of my lungs for all of the Bronx to hear. That Christmas I learned that we celebrate the birth of a Savior who lives today and still works for our salvation. He knows what each of us needs and how to give it to us. I will never forget the Christmas that He let me sing in His personal choir. It changed Christmas for me!
Christie Mobley served in the New York New York North Mission; she is a member of the Snowflake Seventh (YSA) Branch, Snowflake Arizona Stake.

Elder Bangerter of the Seventy spoke about how small and simple things can make a big difference in our lives. His family goes camping each year. They hold a devotional and ask their children and grandchildren to share a message about Jesus Christ. This year, the grandchildren wrote the topics of their messages on stones. Then they buried the stones. This reminded them that following Christ creates a foundation for a happy life.

Years later I read President Joseph F. Smith’s memory of a similar testimony and teaching by his widowed mother. In the April 1900 conference, President Smith shared this memory from his childhood:
“My mother was a widow, with a large family to provide for. One spring when we opened our potato pits she had her boys get a load of the best potatoes, and she took them to the tithing office; potatoes were scarce that season. I was a little boy at the time, and drove the team. When we drove up to the steps of the tithing office, ready to unload the potatoes, one of the clerks came out and said to my mother, ‘Widow Smith, it’s a shame that you should have to pay tithing.’ … He chided my mother for paying her tithing, called her anything but wise or prudent; and said there were others who were strong and able to work that were supported from the tithing office. My mother turned upon him and said: ‘William, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Would you deny me a blessing? If I did not pay my tithing, I should expect the Lord to withhold His blessings from me. I pay my tithing, not only because it is a law of God, but because I expect a blessing by doing it. By keeping this and other laws, I expect to prosper and to be able to provide for my family’” (in Conference Report, Apr. 1900, p. 48).

Nicole Davie and Luwana Qummou of Brisbane, Australia, built a bridge together. It wasn’t a massive stone-and-steel structure like the one that arches over the bay behind them as they stroll the waterfront of Brisbane’s business district; Nicole and Luwana built a bridge of trust and love.
While they were teenagers, Nicole met Luwana at Sunnybank High School. They became good friends and have known each other for five years, including the past two years as university students.
“If the full-time missionaries had come to my door, I’m not sure if I would have listened to them,” Luwana says. “But Nicole was my friend. We had lots of fun at school, and I vaguely remember her talking about the Church. It took years before I felt comfortable asking about her religion.”
That finally happened late in 1993. “The first time we had a spiritual talk, she just wanted to learn more,” Nicole says. “She had a lot of questions and was troubled by some things she’d heard from others. I said a prayer for her that night, and I think the Holy Ghost went to work on her.”
“The next day, as we talked again, everything I’d been upset about didn’t seem to matter anymore,” Luwana says. “I felt the Holy Spirit strongly. I felt calm and happy. I knew I needed to study the Church, so I took the missionary discussions and started reading the Book of Mormon. The feelings got stronger and stronger.”
Friendship became a bridge of trust between Nicole and Luwana, and helped Luwana build a bridge of faith linking her to her Heavenly Father. With that kind of path to understanding, it wasn’t long before Luwana was baptized and became an enthusiastic member of the Church.
Now, as Luwana looks out over the waterfront in Brisbane, she knows she is building more bridges—bridges to eternity. Soon she will be married to a returned missionary in the Sydney Temple, and she thanks Nicole for the knowledge that made that possible.
“We’re best friends,” Luwana says. “To know that she wanted to see me marry a worthy man in the temple, that she wanted me to have that happiness, that’s really wonderful.”

Illustrated by Shauna Mooney Kawasaki
Wow! It’s spring! Look at the beautiful flowers!
Do you think maybe we should thank Somebody for the flowers?
Sure. Thanks for planting the flowers, Mommy.
You’re welcome. Who else should we thank?
Thanks for spading up the flower bed, Daddy.
There’s still Somebody else.
Thanks for not digging up all the flowers, Digger.
You’re teasing Mommy, aren’t you?
And thanks for the beautiful flowers.

In family rooms Brigham Young University football fans paced the floors and smashed their fists against the nearest walls. In department stores they threw their hands into the air and muttered. In apartments they roared like wounded animals. In plush living rooms some sank into their easy chairs and calmly waited for the kill.
Fifty thousand TV sets eyed them coldly. Deluxe console models showed the brilliant red and gold of Arizona State linebackers blowing through the blue and white of BYU in an explosive blitz. Ancient models with snowstorms and horizontal lines revealed a wave of black and white rushing in upon retreating quarterback Gary Sheide, who saw that his wide receiver was covered. Plastic portables flickered as the relentless wave descended and the quarterback disappeared.
One hundred thousand BYU fans groaned. A stadium full of spectators in Tempe, Arizona, sprang—screaming—to their feet. Some in the crowd clapped their hands against their heads. Others clenched their teeth and closed their eyes that bleak November afternoon.
The play had begun late in the game with BYU deep in its own territory and the score BYU Cougars 14, Arizona State Sun Devils 18. Now it would be third down and a day’s journey to the line of scrimmage.
Suddenly the groaning stopped. Hands dropped. Fists unclenched. And mouths plopped open. Bellows of pain burst into shouts of unbelieving joy. True, Gary Sheide was on the ground under a surf of Sun Devils, but the football was in the air. A split second later, running back Jeff Blanc gathered it in for the first down, and BYU was on its way to a touchdown and a victory that kept alive its hopes for a 1974 Western Athletic Conference championship.
It was an impossible pass. There was no time to get rid of the ball and no way to see the receiver over the onrushing wall of bodies. Cougar football coach LaVell Edwards was later to refer to the play as one of the pivotal moments of the season, but it was the sort of thing the young quarterback from Antioch, California, did as a matter of course.

Blessed to be the mother of five children, eight grandchildren and 3 great-grandchildren, 77-year-old Carol Dunkley once enjoyed a life of physically active service and was a keen gardener. Nowadays, Carol, a member of the Townsville First Branch, which is part of the Townsville District in North Queensland, Australia, does what she can to be of service to the Lord because her body has developed some restrictions.
She remembers well the day in 2010 when a neurologist announced her ailment: “You have Parkinson’s.” Having had a hip replacement three years prior, Carol had suspected something was amiss with her hip because she couldn’t walk properly and went to her GP, who referred her to a specialist—so this diagnosis came as a shock.
The disease doesn’t yet have a cure. Initially, Carol had trouble walking; unfortunately, it progressed to instability and mobility uncertainty.
“Thankfully there are medications and surgical procedures that greatly help,” said Carol. She began a course of medications and felt much better. But frustrations became part of her life as she had to rely on others to do for her what she could no longer do herself—like gardening.
“I know that it is not curable. No surgery can fix it. One of the greatest lessons I have learnt is to take each day as it comes. If it is a good day, my prayer of thanks is given. If it has been a bad day – well tomorrow should be better. If things get too bad, I read. It takes me away from my problems and into another world; I know my faith is a great advantage. I am not alone. His help and comfort are always there. There is a lot to be thankful for, even though at times I have to look a bit harder for the blessings,” said Carol.
With physical service at a limit, Carol looked for a way she might still serve the Lord in a meaningful way—she found indexing—and for the past nine years has experienced great joy in helping to gather Israel in this important effort.
Carol’s journey to family history service has been a long time coming. Her father passed away when she was seven, and unfortunately the connection between her mother and her paternal family ceased because of a rift in the family. She does wish she had taken the time to gather information from her living relatives about their experiences and connections when they were still alive.
Married life in England was a struggle and she and her husband made the decision to immigrate to Australia in 1966 as ‘10-pound pommies’—the amount paid to each of them to travel by ship to relocate in Australia. Once settled in their new land, they looked for religion. Almost unbelievably, missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints knocked on their door and were eagerly invited in. As gospel principles and doctrines were taught, they felt familiar to the couple, and they loved learning about the covenants they could make with Heavenly Father.
Carol said: “When we were taught the law of tithing, I was sure we would starve. But with faith we obeyed and opportunities to improve our financial affairs started. A promotion at work for Michael, my husband—and the blessings just kept coming. Tithing is not about money; it is about faith. We were baptized and never looked back. It was one of the best decisions of our lives.
“The gospel opened a whole new world for me. The promise of Elijah—turning the hearts of the children to the fathers, and the [hearts of the] fathers to the children . . . my heart was turned to my ancestors.”
When Carol first searched for her ancestors 50 years ago—it was difficult and expensive, especially when looking for English relatives while she was living in Australia. FamilySearch has been such a blessing to her; no need now to sit and read microfilms to search out her family.
She said, “To date I have indexed 95,614 names and reviewed 19,050, a total of 114,664.
“I mostly index the English records as I am familiar with the names of places and also the English surnames. . . . It has also been amusing—at one stage I was going into some English records and the very early ones turned out to be written in Latin.
“At first, I just sent the batch back! Then I thought, ‘maybe I will take up this challenge.’ So, I reviewed the batches to get the feel of the records. Then I googled the Latin words for ‘birth,’ ‘marriage,’ ‘death,’ ‘mother’ and ‘father,’ which enabled me to complete the indexing, this made me feel quite pleased with myself that I had managed to index some records written in Latin.
“I can remember the thrill I felt when I saw a copy of the original marriage certificate of my grandfather on a microfilm and saw his signature and that of my grandmother. I’m sure that my grandad would never have thought that one day his granddaughter would be sitting at a microfilm reader looking at that same certificate image from faraway Australia.”
A few workshops after Carol’s Sunday meetings have been held and the youth were also invited. Carol finds it amazing to see how confident young people are when using computers. Now, a number of their Church youth make valiant efforts to index, and really enjoy the work.
“Who knows,” said Carol, “when it is my time to move on to the next stage of my eternal journey, I might just meet up with one of those sisters or brothers in the gospel whose name I’ve indexed, and who took the opportunity to accept the gospel ordinances as their name was taken through the temple. What a joy that would be!
“When I index names in FamilySearch, I pray that there may be many who have had the excitement of finding their ancestors on FamilySearch through the efforts of all those volunteers who engage in the indexing work of salvation.”

As was mentioned, Lanett and I recently served in the Samoa Apia Mission where I also served a young full-time mission nearly 40 years ago. I grew up on the island of American Samoa, so when I submitted my mission papers as a young elder, I was hoping and praying that the Lord would take me to a new place of adventure outside of our little dot on the map. Imagine my disappointment when I opened my call and read, “you are hereby called to serve in the Samoa Apia Mission.” Being a young, somewhat self-centered dreamer, I signed the acceptance letter and added a little note that said: “I accept my call to serve in Samoa, but I feel very strongly that I should be serving somewhere outside of Samoa!” Well, the Lord knew what I needed more than I did. Months later, I arrived in Upolu, just an island away that felt completely foreign to me.

The language was far more elite than the Samoan I was accustomed to. I slept on rocks that had to be laid flat every night before putting my mat and mosquito net on top. The food was simple. I walked almost five hours to get to my area, and the ferry rides turned my insides out! If there was ever a time that I needed to lean on the Lord for help, THIS WAS IT!

So, I began to “Trust in the Lord with all my heart; and lean not unto my own understanding.”2 As I acknowledged Him, He directed my path to see this sacred place and its people through the Savior’s eyes. I grew to love this little island and bringing souls unto Christ, mine included. Perhaps the greatest lesson I learned is that YES, it’s important to “go where you want me to go, dear Lord.” But it’s far more important to “be what He wants me to be!”3 This was my test. It wasn’t about where I served. It was about how I served. This mission wasn’t about ME. It was never about ME! It was always about my Savior.

Then, just six months into my mission, I was blessed with a miracle. I received a call from my mission president, President Te’o. “Elder Ho Ching, the Lord is assigning you to a new area. This will be the farthest transfer you’ve ever had. You’re going to America to serve in the New Mexico, Albuquerque Mission!” There were too many local missionaries in Samoa, and the church was transferring some of us out. I was in utter shock! I had almost forgotten what I had prayed and wished for from the beginning. But it wasn’t until I aligned my will with the Lord’s will that the prayer of my heart was answered.

I had just celebrated my eighth birthday and my baptism into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Grandma gave me a CTR ring. It meant a lot to me.
One evening after a big snowstorm, I went to the barn to do my chores. Then I had a friendly snowball fight with my brother. It was getting dark when I saw that my CTR ring wasn’t on my finger anymore. I ran into the house, crying, and told my mother.
My whole family prayed, asking Heavenly Father to help us find my ring. Then we all took lanterns and flashlights and searched everywhere I had been. We couldn’t find it, and we decided that with the snow so deep, it would be weeks before it melted enough for my ring to be seen. But when I went to bed, I was still hoping Heavenly Father would help me find it.
The next morning, Nathan, my older brother, came running into the house, shouting, “I found Natalie’s ring!” We went to see where he had found it. The snow was still everywhere, except where a ray of sunshine had melted it around the ring. It was a miracle! I have a strong testimony of prayer, and I know that Heavenly Father loves me and wants me to know that He does answer my prayers.

As a mission leader in Brazil, I spent a week near the end of 2023 interviewing 60 of our 160 missionaries. One of them, a zone leader, asked to speak to me privately. When we met, he handed me a shoebox and told me his parents had bought an extra pair of shoes for someone in the mission who might need them.
Touched, I thanked him for his parents’ generosity and thoughtfulness. I silently wished, however, that the small shoes, size 8.5, had been a larger, common size worn by most of our missionaries. I was grateful nonetheless and put the shoes in my car.
Two days later, I was interviewing more missionaries, when I invited a smiling missionary into my office. He had arrived just four weeks earlier from Guatemala. When I asked him how he was doing, his smile turned into sobs.
He tearfully spoke of his embarrassment when another missionary had innocently teased him for not buttoning the top button of his shirt. He was a recent convert and had grown up in a single-parent home. His mother barely made enough money to support him and his two siblings. His donated shirts were too small, so he used the knot of his well-worn tie to hide the unbuttoned top button.
I gave him some money a Church member had donated for missionaries who needed clothing and told him to buy new shirts. Then I noticed that his shoes were falling apart. Suddenly, I remembered the shoes in my car! I asked him what size shoe he wore, realizing he had small feet.
“I wear a size 8.5,” he replied.
Tears filled my eyes as I explained that another missionary’s parents had just donated a pair of shoes in his size. We took a picture together and sent it to the zone leader. His father, who coincidentally was also Guatemalan, felt touched that he had helped a missionary from his native country.

He said, “Brethren, I am going to tell you a story. You won’t like it, but it is a great story.”

He then proceeded with his story, and, as he had anticipated, we did not like it.

The story centered around a young man who had a very difficult problem. He did not know what to do, so he visited with his bishop.

The bishop listened carefully and thoughtfully. He asked a few questions to assure that he understood all that was involved. He then confessed that he had no idea what counsel to give but told the young man that he would be meeting with the stake president the next evening and that he would present the matter to him.

The next evening the bishop met with the stake president. He explained the young man’s problem. The stake president listened attentively and asked a few questions to assure he understood all that was involved. He then said, “Bishop, I have no idea what to tell you, but tomorrow I will be meeting with a member of the Quorum of the Twelve. I will present the matter to him.”

The next day, as he met with the member of the Quorum of the Twelve, the stake president raised the matter. The Apostle listened attentively and asked a few questions to assure that he fully understood what was involved. He then said, “President, I have no idea what to tell you, but this afternoon I will be meeting with President McKay. I will ask him.”

That afternoon he met with President McKay and carefully explained the problem. President McKay listened attentively and asked a few questions to assure that he understood all that was involved and then said, “Well, that’s his (meaning the young man’s) problem, isn’t it.”

Such was the story. We thought the ending a little abrupt. We had expected a great line, something we could chisel in stone; instead, we got one of those drab old truths that build character but can’t get the hair on your arms to stand up.

The story brought an end to our question session and with it the realization that our problems were ours and it was for us to solve them. That is why the Lord placed us there.

In December 2004, I was serving as a full-time missionary in Lins, São Paulo, Brazil. The local ward and branch decided to participate in Brazil’s annual “Natal sem Fome” (Christmas without Hunger) program. Teaming up with several other entities—including soldiers from the Brazilian army, mail carriers, and members of other faiths—we passed through several neighborhoods collecting food that would later be given to the needy of the city. We also used this as a great opportunity to give out pass-along cards, or “friendship cards” as we called them. About 2,000 cards were given out.
Many of the members commented on the great feelings they had felt as they served and shared the spirit of Christmas under the hot Brazilian sun. It was an impressive sight to see the soldiers handing out pass-along cards from a church they didn’t even belong to.
One week later we received 127 requests for the Joy to the World Christmas DVD featuring the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. The next week we received 22 more. My companion and I started teaching these people and were able to enter into many homes as a result of this project.
I will never forget the joy and love of that special project, when we helped spread the gospel and bring relief to many families’ hunger. Both spiritual and physical hunger were lessened.
I know that through small and simple things (such as a pass-along card) many great and wonderful things (such as the salvation of the souls of men) come to pass. This experience was evidence that many opportunities surround us during Christmas and other seasons to bring forth this marvelous work and a wonder.

After opening her brownie shop in the fall of 2018, Molly quickly discovered that running a business takes more time than she had imagined. But a principle she remembers from her self-reliance class continues to bless her.
“We discussed how we’re going to have extreme demands on our time, but it will make a difference if we set aside time for the Spirit,” she says. “I have found that to be true. If I am suddenly feeling overwhelmed and stressed, I listen to the scriptures or a general conference talk while I’m working alone in the morning, and it eases my mind and gives me peace.”
That sense of peace, coupled with excited, happy, satisfied customers, keeps Molly going—even after long workdays.

When Damien walked into the park, he heard happy music playing. His grandmother was taking him and his little sister, Adele, to ride his favorite carousel. It had a fun game with rings. Damien was excited to show Adele how to play.
Soon they were in line. The carousel was big and colorful, with lots of carved ponies. Smiling kids sat on the ponies and waved as they rode around and around.
“If you pick a pony on the edge, you can play the ring game!” Damien told Adele. “See the sticks the kids are holding? And see the man with the rings?”
Damien pointed to the worker. He stood near the carousel holding out a ring. As they rode by on the carousel, the children tried to put their stick through the ring to catch it. Each time they caught a ring, the worker held out a new one.
Adele clapped her hands. “I want to catch all the rings!” she said.
At last they reached the front of the line. But there was only one more horse left on the carousel.
“Damien,” Grand-mère said, “why don’t we let Adele take this last spot since she’s never ridden it before? You can ride on the next turn.”
“All right,” Damien muttered. He watched the worker help Adele onto the shiny brown pony. Then the worker handed Adele a stick to catch rings.
The music began, and the carousel started to turn. Damien watched Adele from the side with Grand-mère. But Adele was holding the stick backwards! Instead of holding the stick by the big handle, she held it by the long, skinny end used to catch the rings.
“Adele, turn your stick around!” he yelled. But Adele didn’t seem to hear him over the noise. When she passed the ring, her stick tapped it. But the handle was too big to fit inside the ring.
“Adele, your stick!” Damien tried again. “You won’t be able to catch rings if you hold it like that!”
But Adele didn’t hear him. She just smiled and laughed as the carousel spun. Her stick tapped the ring again and again. She didn’t catch a single one.
Damien groaned. Adele was wasting her turn! If he were on the carousel, he would catch all the rings.
When the ride ended, he ran up to Adele.
“I told you how to hold the stick!” he shouted. “Why didn’t you listen to me? You did it all wrong!”
Adele didn’t yell back at Damien. She didn’t cry. She just stood there and looked small, small, small.
Damien’s heart pounded, and his face felt hot. It made him angry to watch Adele miss all those rings! But it was only her first time. Besides, she’d looked like she was having fun. Until now.
Damien felt terrible. He wished he hadn’t yelled at Adele.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “That wasn’t nice of me.”
Adele looked up.
“How about if I give you some tips for catching rings?” Damien said. “I’ll sit next to you on the carousel and help you.”
Adele nodded her head.
Then Damien turned to Grand-mère. “May we have two tickets so Adele can try again?”
Grand-mère smiled. “Of course.”
This story took place in France.
Illustrations by Violet Lemay

I affirm to you, my young brethren and sisters, that that principle of revelation is a constantly operative principle, and I close with one other experience.
I was organizing a stake in Samoa. There appeared before us in the interviews these wonderful Samoan brethren. One of them, a branch president, stood there—white shirt and tie, lava-lava tied around his waist, barefooted. I told him we were organizing a stake and seeking a stake president and asking his suggestions on men. He said, “Yes, I know. I’ve prayed about this.” And he said, “I ’ve come to know, by the voice of the Spirit, that Bishop Iona will be our new stake president.”

He was right. But I wasn’t anxious to have him make the announcement and so pressed him for another name.

He said, “No, just one name.”

And I said, “Suppose he were not available or not eligible? Won’t you suggest another name?” He stood for a few minutes, and then, looking at me, he said, “Brother Packer, are you asking me to go against the witness of the Spirit?” This wonderful man was possessed of that Spirit, as all of us can be, each of us answering the calls that come.

A few years ago I was privileged to be at an investigator fireside at the Parramatta stake center in Sydney, Australia. The main speaker was a member of the Quorum of the Twelve. The audience was made up of many long-time investigators who had been taught the principles but did not have a testimony sufficient to do anything about it. The member of the Twelve was especially blessed that night as he unfolded the restoration of the gospel in a most powerful way. Step by step, he unfolded the scriptures to those present. The Spirit bore witness that what he was teaching was true. At the meeting’s end, seven of those long-time investigators set their baptismal date.

The night of the dinner, the aroma of fresh-roasted turkey, steaming hot dressing, homemade rolls, and spicy pumpkin pie filled the hall of the stake center. But this time it was the Beehives, Mia Maids, and Laurels, instead of the Relief Society, who were found in the hot kitchen energetically filling plate after plate. And it was the deacons, teachers, and priests who were serving the meal, filling water glasses and clearing empty dishes. It was all a way of saying a big thank you to the senior citizens in the Taylorsville Stake—an appreciation dinner planned, prepared, and presented almost entirely by the Mutual-age youth in the stake.
The idea had originated in a stake youth committee meeting several months before. “We wanted to do a service project, something that would be a challenge and at the same time rewarding,” explained Kelly Jorgensen, stake youth chairman and member of the priests quorum in the Taylorsville Fifth Ward. “Our teachers quorum had given a dinner for the senior citizens in our own ward once, and we wondered if we could do the same thing on a stake basis. Someone mentioned that a lot of older people don’t have any children who come home for the holidays, so we decided to make it a Thanksgiving dinner in appreciation for all they have done for us.”
Two young people from each of the five wards were appointed to the planning committee. They were assisted by Sister Emma Morris, the stake Young Women president. Together they planned the evening and then worked diligently, sacrificing Saturday mornings and weeknights to see that all the details were completed before the night of the dinner. Committees were assigned to arrange for decorations, invitations, centerpieces, transportation, and food. With the exception of roasting the turkeys, the young people prepared most of the meal. One Laurel class adviser held a special pie-making workshop to help her girls in preparing their share of the evening’s desserts.
To help with the invitations, ward clerks provided lists with the names of all the persons over the age of 65. After delivering the invitations, hours and hours were spent calling to determine just how many would be able to come to dinner. A take-out service was planned for those who were not able to leave their homes.
Stake President Melvin M. Hall expressed appreciation for the work of the Mutual by saying, “We think this is a really nice thing our young people have conjured up! Too often we get so caught up in the hustle and bustle of what we do that we forget to look over our shoulders to see who needs us. Too often we forget about our senior citizens.”
The night of the dinner was one of those late autumn, early winter evenings when the air is chilly and the setting sun reveals snow clouds over the mountains. As the guests arrived, usually accompanied by a young member of the priesthood and an adult leader, many buttoned up coats and sweaters and pulled cloaks a little snugger as they walked from the parking lot into the cultural hall.
Inside, the last details were being completed: the water poured, the microphone plugged in, the turkey sampled. The basketball nets in the hall had been decked with balloons and plastic streamers earlier that afternoon, and the turkey centerpieces made from pineapples were sitting on the tables. The entering guests were greeted with friendly smiles and warm handshakes. Those who had volunteered to help were kept busy throughout the dinner as they enthusiastically saw that everyone was served and made to feel welcome.
Midway through the dinner, however, after serving plates and plates of hot food, one hungry young deacon scrunched in the corner against the wall. When asked who he was hiding from, he sheepishly replied, “The food! We can’t eat until everyone is served!”
An added treat at the dinner (following the pumpkin pie) was a musical program. Before introducing the performers, Kelly told the older people, “We’d like to thank you and your generation for all the things you’ve done for us, for building this strong community we live in, and for raising good families.”
The first number on the program was performed by a trio of three young women who sang, “Who Are You?” an original composition by Michelle Nicoulaz and Marty Tyree. They were followed by six young men and women dressed in bluejeans and straw hats, who sang, “Grandma’s Feather Bed,” accompanying themselves on the piano and guitars. A modern dance number, which was choreographed by Michelle, was next, and the Harrison Family trio (piano, clarinet, and flute) completed the program with a medley of patriotic songs.
As the older people chatted with friends before leaving, it was easy to see the gratitude they felt at being remembered. Sister Sue Huggard, an 80-year-old member of the 21st Ward, exclaimed, “That was lovely to honor us old folks—I mean us young folks!” Sister LaVern Jones North of the First Ward added, “It couldn’t have been better. I wish we had a way to thank them.”
But the youth felt they had received all the thanks they needed. As Kelly expressed it, “It’s really great when you can see they are enjoying themselves, laughing with their friends, having a good time! That’s the best thanks of all.”

When I was working in Lambda Delta Sigma, one of our national officers was a single girl named Diane. One of the young college women with whom Diane had been relating had a lot of problems, and she expressed her feelings to me like this: “Well, none of you have any problems. Diane is perfect and she has everything going for her.” As she said those words, I inwardly reflected on Diane’s life. She had lost her sister to cancer, and now her only living relatives were this sister’s two motherless children. Diane’s mother had passed away just a couple of years earlier, and her father had died when she was only a child. So Diane quit her job at the Church Office Building and took care of those preschool children full-time. She lost all her benefits, retirement, seniority—everything—in order to care for them. She mothered those children for a year and a half until her brother-in-law remarried and could again provide nurturing care for them in his own home. I thought, “This girl does not see at all what Diane is going through.” Sometimes we have a tendency to think, “I’m the only one that has a mountain to climb, the only one with a problem.” We need to know that others also have problems and that the purpose of this life is to be tested, to experience both joy and sorrow.

Some years ago an assignment took me to one of the islands of the South Seas to dedicate a newly completed chapel. That evening, as I approached the building with some of the local leaders, we were surprised to notice that the building was completely dark.
As we entered the building and saw all the members sitting in the chapel, we inquired about the absence of lighting. The bishop informed us that earlier in the afternoon the building supervisor had inspected the building to make sure all was in readiness for the dedication. But now, as the time approached to begin the services, for some reason there were no lights, even though lights were aglow in nearby homes. All possibilities for correcting the problem were checked without success, and so the local leaders and I decided to proceed with the dedicatory services.
As the program proceeded, illuminated only by a kerosene lantern in front of the chapel, I felt sure that this would be the first dedication performed in darkness in the history of the Church!
I’m sure all those good brothers and sisters in the congregation joined me with a silent prayer in their hearts to ask the Lord to bless us with light so that the chapel could be dedicated.
One by one the speakers spoke—in the dark. The choir sang beautiful anthems—in the dark. As the concluding speaker, I, too, gave my talk in the dark. Then, as I asked the congregation to unite with me for the dedicatory prayer, the lights in the chapel suddenly flickered on. How grateful we were to the Lord for this special blessing! I was overcome with emotion and felt meek and humble that we had been so blessed, but the illumination of the chapel could not compare with the light of love in our hearts for this great blessing in answer to our prayers.
Yes, the Lord blessed us, even as our faith was tested and as we prayed with hope.