Gospel Story Finder

Riptide “‘He needs a hug,’ Zach’s father said, ‘and then he needs a name.’” Zach named the puppy Riptide after the current so strong when it runs out to sea that the sandbars crumble. Riptide became a self-appointed lifeguard on the beach. The officer didn’t want him there—until the riptide came when the human lifeguards couldn’t save all the swimmers being dragged out to sea. … Based on a true story.Frances Ward Weller4–8 years

Armando and Claudia Galíndez of the Estrella Ward, México City México Churubusco Stake, are examples. A lawyer, he also owns a company that offers employee training to businesses. Sister Galíndez, trained in tourism management, works with him in his company. Successful in Mexico, Brother Galíndez resists the lure of greater prosperity to the north. Though he might be able to establish a business in the United States, he chooses to stay in Mexico to help build up the Church. He says he wants to help fulfill President Spencer W. Kimball’s dream of the roles of members in Mexican society (see “President Kimball’s Dream,” p. 36).

Even before their marriage, Armando and Claudia made gospel-centered goals for themselves and their family. Brother Galíndez uses a number of gospel-based principles in the training he offers, including this one: “The only thing we need to do to move from ordinary to extraordinary is to understand who we are.”

As in other areas of the world, there are members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Mexico who drift away weeks or years after baptism, some never to return. Yet priesthood leaders who have followed President Gordon B. Hinckley’s counsel—making sure that every member has a friend, a responsibility in the Church, and spiritual nourishment with the word of God—say it is very effective in reaching out and bringing back many who are not enjoying the blessings of full activity. And some members return on their own when a spiritual whisper or insight reminds them of how much the gospel has to offer.

Yolanda Elsie Díaz de Vega of the Jardines Ward, Guadalajara México Reforma Stake, recalls staying up late to study the gospel with her husband after they were baptized in 1979: “It was as though we hungered for the scriptures.” But after seven months as a member of the Church, she felt that she was criticized unfairly by an older member and that she could not go to the next meeting. For four years the Vegas did not go to church—until concern for the blessings their family was missing led them back.

The Vegas have been active for many years now, sharing strength with their family, their ward, and their neighbors. There have been great blessings in learning how to be a better couple and in serving others, Brother Vega says. The gospel “changed our way of thinking, our way of living.” Their children have grown up learning and living the gospel, and now grandchildren are enjoying the same spiritual opportunities through Church activity. “I’m proud of our children because we’ve never had to worry about people knowing we are members of the Church,” Sister Vega says. Their four children respond that they live the way they do because of parental example.

Eleven-year-old Samuel Briones of the Primavera Ward, Guadalajara México Moctezuma Stake, helped interest his schoolteacher in the gospel by inviting her to the open house for the Guadalajara temple. After her visit, she began meeting with the missionaries. The man who taught karate to Samuel and his 12-year-old brother, José Julio, became interested in the gospel because of his association with the two boys; he was baptized and now serves as stake executive secretary.

“Many are looking for the truth, but they don’t know where it is,” says the boys’ father, also José Julio. It is easy to share beliefs with people when we, as members, are attentive enough to the Holy Ghost to know their need, Brother Briones says. His wife, Josefina, learned that the seeds we plant may take time to sprout, then grow quickly. She had shared her beliefs with one couple who seemed ready to listen but declined her invitations to attend Church meetings because of conflicts in their schedule. When they finally were able to attend with her, even she was surprised at how readily and quickly they accepted the gospel.

Mauro Gil of Mérida, who served as president of the México Torreón Mission from 1999 to 2002, says the example of members is probably the major factor in the reception missionaries receive. Reflecting on the influence of exemplary members, he says, “I think the gospel is going to make a greater nation of Mexico.” He has witnessed steady progress in the lives of members in the Yucatán Peninsula over the past 20 years not only spiritually but also temporally as they have obeyed principles of the gospel, including the law of tithing.

The temples in Mexico, he says, are just one visible symbol of the blossoming and growth among members. “They are going to bless the lives of people. They are going to bless our children.”

Caleb waved goodbye to Mom. He and his brother and sister were going to spend a whole week at his aunt’s house. It wasn’t too far from where Caleb’s family lived in the Philippines, but it still felt like an adventure. They were going to have so much fun!
They all got in the car. Dad drove them to their aunt’s house. Caleb ran to give his aunt and his cousin a big hug.
“I missed you!” he said.
His aunt smiled. “I’ve missed you too! Come on, I made some treats for you.”
For two days, Caleb played with his siblings and cousin all day long. They played video games. They drew pictures. They ran outside. But on the third day, Caleb didn’t feel well. His body felt weak and achy.
“You must be tired from playing so much,” his aunt said. She gave him a glass of water. Caleb went to bed early.
When he woke up, he felt even worse. He could hardly move! A rash had spread all over his legs. His aunt was worried. She called Mom.
Soon Mom and Dad picked Caleb up and took him to the hospital. The doctor did some tests. He told them that Caleb had a sickness called dengue fever. It sounded scary.
“It’s good that you brought him in,” the doctor said. “He needs to stay here for a while so we can watch him.”
A nurse took them to a room with three other sick children. Mom helped Caleb get into his bed. She hugged him tightly and said a prayer. Then Mom and Dad left.
Caleb was scared. He began to sing a Primary song to help him feel better.
“Heavenly Father, are you really there?” he sang. “And do you hear and answer every child’s prayer?”
The other children listened. “What was that song?” a boy asked.
“I learned it in Primary,” Caleb said. “It makes me feel brave. It reminds me that Heavenly Father is always there for me.”
“Will you please sing it again?” a girl asked. “It’s beautiful.”
As Caleb sang the song again, his fears went away.
“What’s Primary?” asked the other girl. Caleb told them all about church and Primary. He shared his testimony of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.
Caleb sang Primary songs to the other kids every day until he went home. He also shared scripture stories. It made him feel better, and he knew it helped them too. He was glad he could share the gospel, even in the hospital.
This story took place in the Philippines.

I’m from France, but my sister and I spent a year in the eastern United States as exchange students. During that time, we met lots of people, but the one who left the biggest impression on me was a girl named Destiny. She became one of my best friends. We did all kinds of things together, during school and after school, and with my sister. Destiny was always happy. That was the thing I liked most about her.

Then one day I saw her in a troubled mood I had never seen her in before. I asked her what was wrong. She said she didn’t want to talk about it. Then I noticed a paper in her hand. I took it and read it.

Someone had written unbelievably mean things to her. The anonymous note said she was ugly, that no one liked her, that she didn’t have any purpose for being alive, and that she ought to go and kill herself. I would never have believed someone like her could be attacked like that. It affected me deeply to know the pain she was going through.

From then on, I made an even bigger effort to be Destiny’s friend—not just to spend time with her, but to always be there for her, and especially to be sincere. I explained to her that she is a daughter of God, blessed with a divine nature, worthy of admiration and capable of great things.

It’s difficult to try to love yourself when others treat you badly and criticize you. As I befriended Destiny, I learned that sometimes the best way to help others is just to love them and to help them know who they truly are.

At the end of the year, when I had to return to France, Destiny told me something I will always treasure. “Emma,” she said, “you saved me. Before you came, I wanted to kill myself. But then you and your sister helped me a lot, just by caring. Today I love myself, and I love you.”

Remember that laughter goes a long way. I was fond of telling my children about a championship football game where one team was down seven points with less than a minute and a half to go. A serious error left the team with very little hope of being able to score. As the quarterback huddled with his teammates, he said, “Well, guys, we’ve got them right where we want them.” The team laughed, and feeling relaxed, they went to work. Play after play found the quarterback with a grin on his face. With 10 seconds left in the game, the team scored and won the trophy.

Allow me to share this afternoon with you one of the most precious things to me—the story of how I myself was found.
Just before I turned 15, I was invited by my uncle Manuel Bustos to spend some time with him and his family here in the United States. This would be a great opportunity for me to learn some English. My uncle had converted to the Church many years before, and he had a great missionary spirit. That is probably why my mother, without my knowing, spoke with him and said she would agree to the invitation on one condition: that he did not try to convince me to become a member of his Church. We were Catholics, and we had been for generations, and there was no reason to change. My uncle was in complete agreement and kept his word to the point that he didn’t want to answer even simple questions about the Church.
Of course, what my uncle and his sweet wife, Marjorie, could not avoid was being who they were.
I was assigned a room that contained a large library of books. I could see that in this library there were roughly 200 copies of the Book of Mormon in different languages, 20 of them in Spanish.
One day, out of curiosity, I took down a copy of the Book of Mormon in Spanish.
It was one of those copies with a sky-blue soft cover, with the figure of the angel Moroni on the front. When I opened it, on the first page there was written the following promise: “And when ye shall receive these things, I would exhort you that ye would ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost.”
And then it added: “And by the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things.”
It is difficult to explain the impact that these scriptures had on my mind and heart. To be honest, I was not looking for “the truth.” I was just a teenager, happy with his life, enjoying this new culture.
Nevertheless, with that promise in mind, I secretly began reading the book. As I read more, I understood that if I really wanted to get anything from this, I had better start to pray. And we all know what happens when you decide not only to read but also to pray about the Book of Mormon. Well, that is just what happened to me. It was something so special and so unique—yes, just the same as what has happened to millions of others around the world. I came to know by the power of the Holy Ghost that the Book of Mormon was true.
I then went to my uncle to explain to him what had happened and that I was ready to be baptized. My uncle could not contain his astonishment. He got into his car, drove to the airport, and returned back with my plane ticket to fly back home, with a note addressed to my mother that simply stated, “I had nothing to do with this!”
In a way he was right. I had been found directly by the power of the Book of Mormon.

I can honestly say that I’ve never really had a father. Although he is still alive, I have never had the opportunity to get to know him.
My memories of my father are restricted to his coming home unexpectedly one night, after we had not seen him for some time, and my mother crying. All I really remember about my father is his absence.
My feelings towards my father gradually turned into utter confusion and dismay when his behavior caused my mother a near breakdown. I was in the hospital one day trying to comfort her, and my father came to see me. By that time, he was living with another woman. Somehow I found enough courage to ask him if he would consider coming back to live with his family. He simply laughed nervously and said, “No, it is too late.”
There is a tremendous emotional handicap that comes with the absence of a father. Although my mother showered all her love on me, I could not help feeling betrayed.
I could not live with such a feeling forever. The first change occurred when I joined the Church. As a member, I realized I had to find it in my heart to forgive my father. But my sentiments were still shrouded in ambivalence. Forgive him of what specifically? I never hated him or wished him ill. But I was still angry. I felt sorry for him and distressed at the choices he had made. My mother, although not a member of the Church, asked me to include him in my prayers and ask that the Lord might take care of him. I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.
As I learned more about the gospel, it seemed to make matters worse. When I learned the importance of the priesthood, the blessings that come when it is exercised properly in faith, it made me sad. Why didn’t I have a responsible priesthood holder in my family to go to in times of trouble?
But a change was already in progress. I began to see the world and the people in it in a completely different light. I shunned bad habits and tried to live the way the Lord wanted me to. I found great comfort in prayer. For I now finally realized I had someone in whom I could confide all my problems, my joys and little triumphs. It was a feeling that completely overwhelmed me, made me feel important. I knew He was listening.
I realized that I did indeed have a Father, that I literally was His son in the spirit. It filled my heart to know that there was someone willing to lend a helping hand to sustain and encourage me. I was given a great gift—the feeling of belonging. I was not alone. I knew the world to be literally filled with my brothers and sisters, all sharing a common Father. Sometimes I would sit in a bus or a tram, look at the people in front of me, and think, I know something wonderful and long to share it with you. We are related.
What the Lord gave me was strength, peace, and fulfillment. He made me see why a concept like forgiveness is truly all-encompassing and powerful. To think that the Lord had forgiven me of my sins and transgressions at my baptism. And by sincere repentance I can still be forgiven. It was clear that I did not deserve this privilege if I did not find it in my heart to forgive my father. I learned that in spite of his habits and conduct, I should honor him and try to find a way to help him instead of silently condemning him.
It’s been a long, hard climb, and I cannot say that I still do not long for the physical presence of my earthly father. But I know now that he needs help. And through prayer, work, and example, someday I may be able to help him truly realize that he, too, is a son of God.

“The things I remember about Grandpa were the great stories he would make up and tell to my sister and me as we sat at his feet. They were long adventure stories—real whoppers—almost like science fiction. My sister and I were always part of the tales.
“In one of his stories we were all riding in a car in the desert and discovered a big underground cave. In the back of the cave we found all kinds of jewels and valuable treasures. There was lots of food there for us to eat. The water in the bottom of the cave was boiling hot, but luckily we discovered a speedboat that kept us safe from the heat of the water. We all got into the boat and rode down the river. In his stories like this one, we always found a giant or two or something else exciting. Often we fought these giants and we always won, my grandpa, my sister, and I. We could listen for hours to these exciting stories. There was no television where we lived, but we certainly didn’t miss it.

I started taking the discussions from the missionaries, and in June 1992 I was baptized and confirmed. I will never forget that very special day. Before entering the waters of baptism I could feel a great weight, as if I were walking with feet of lead. But when I came out of the water, I felt like I was flying in the air. And when the missionaries placed their hands on my head and gave me the gift of the Holy Ghost, a warm feeling entered my body, and I was filled with a peace I had never felt before. The tears began to roll down my cheeks. To my surprise I realized I was crying not from pain or sadness but for the great joy and peace in my heart.

For example, after John and Maria Linford joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Gravely, England, in 1842, John became president of the local branch. Relatives and friends, however, did not share the joy the Linfords found in the Restoration. If they could not persuade John to give up his new religion, then they would “starve him to it” by boycotting his shoemaking business.

In 1856 the Perpetual Emigrating Fund gave John and Maria an opportunity to immigrate to the Salt Lake Valley. They sailed to New York with three of their sons. From there they traveled to Iowa City, Iowa, from which they left in July 1856 with the ill-fated James G. Willie handcart company.

Early on October 21, near the banks of the Sweetwater River in Wyoming, John spoke his last words.

“I am glad we came,” he told Maria when she asked him if he was sorry they had left England. “I shall not live to reach Salt Lake, but you and the boys will, and I do not regret all we have gone through if our boys can grow up and raise their families in Zion.”1

As we embrace the challenge and blessing of building Zion in our families, branches, wards, stakes, and communities, we look with John and Maria Linford toward the day when our children and grandchildren “can grow up and raise their families in Zion” among every nation, kindred, and tongue.

When I was visiting a friend once, I realized the journal’s potential for encouraging spiritual and emotional growth. After hours of discussion with a philosophy student who wanted to argue about the gospel, I wrote a long entry about my beliefs. Putting it on paper was like testifying. That night, as I wrote, I realized how open and honest I was with my journal—probably more candid than I was with any friend.
Writing out my ideas gave me a chance to analyze them. Sometimes, in writing, I realized that my attitudes were based on selfishness or faulty judgement. Other times I was glad to realize that my ideas were good.
Sometimes I found myself laughing out loud at my reactions to the traumas of each day. Once on a bad day I wrote “PHOOEY” in letters 15 spaces high. It helped.
I started titling each entry. One of my favorite titles—and favorite entries—came when I was trying to develop greater faith. That title was “Doubt Creeps in and Janet fights Back.” Some titles reflect a calmer attitude. One in Janet 3, “Days and Nights and Things I Love,” leads into a paragraph I love to reread:
“I love nights that are chilly and clear, when I can see the stars and talk aloud under them. And I love early mornings, being up, being alive, and being outside on a day that is only starting. I love new beginnings that are just getting organized. And clean sheets, clean nightgown, clean body, clean hair, and a reason to be happy. I love the world when my soul brims with hope.”
My soul doesn’t always brim with hope. Sometimes it brims with frustration. When that’s the case, I can look back to the rejuvenating entry I wrote that September night. I can find encouragement from another entry, written soon after that one: “When I can understand what I’m going through, I find that endurance becomes easier.”
Not every entry is profound or even interesting. But each, in its own way, traces my daily conversion to the gospel, my struggles with myself, and my delight with the discovery of living “… for the Lord gives unto the faithful line upon line, precept upon precept to try you and prove you herewith.” (see D&C 98:12). Each helps the others assume clearer perspective. Not only does each entry reflect my life, but it affects and becomes part of my life.
It was during Janet 4, when my best friend moved, that I wrote: “I hurt too much to write.” And it was during Janet 5, after I had written a thoughtless letter that hurt a friend, that I wrote in my journal: “Through the many confusing voices that ring through my mind, one calming voice pervades and tells me the whole matter will be of no consequence.” After writing about that “calming voice,” I listened to it more carefully. The “voice” was right; when I later asked the friend to forgive me, he said he already had.
One day, when I felt that life was cruel to me, I started what has become a tradition. I wrote an entry titled “Things I Am Thankful For.” It amazed me that day, as it still does, how varied and plentiful are my blessings, and how obscure and sometimes even humorous are my trials.
Through moves from one side of the United States to the other, through vacations, at each peak and plateau, the volumes of my journal have been a constant friend, on a bookshelf or in a suitcase along with my copies of the scriptures. They have become a vehicle for working out personal challenges of each day.
I thought, at the beginning of the journal keeping, that I would neatly record my most profound thoughts, making them more accessible when I had to give sacrament meeting talks. Once or twice I have used a journal for that, but that is only part of the full benefit. The journal isn’t a reference book about my life, nor does it map my life. It isn’t a status chart; it’s a dynamic artwork, though it is rough.
The Janet series is vigorously continuing in its 15th volume. Some volumes span a year, and others a few months. I am the only person who has read all of them, and I may keep it that way—for a few decades, at least. The volumes have graduated from inexpensive notebooks to actual hardback books with blank pages.

After joining the Church, her daily life was surrounded by home, school and Church activities. A few years after joining the Church, her father had a massive stroke which left half of his body paralyzed and he lost his voice of speech.
This incident did not allow Sabita and her sister to have much freedom in life anymore. They had many dreams but were obliged to work for the family while their mother attended to their father’s needs and the household, not forgetting their two little brothers who were still attending school.
Sometime after this incident, their branch president approached both sisters and asked if they would be willing to serve missions for the Church. They couldn’t readily say yes because of their circumstances. As they went home, they discussed with each other regarding this opportunity. Usha offered to stay home and work for the family to allow Sabita to serve a mission.
She was very happy for what her sister had said, but was also worried, thinking that Usha would be alone to meet the family expenses with her meagre salary. Their mother was not happy with this. As the news spread to their relatives, one of their first questions was, “What’s in it for you?
As Sabita was struggling to decide what to do, she happened to receive the answer through one of her regular institute classes. Her teacher quoted President Thomas S. Monson (1927–2018), “Do your duty; that is best; Leave unto the Lord the rest!”1
Sabita immediately decided to leave home to serve the Lord as a full-time missionary and was called to serve in the India Bangalore Mission in 2002. She said, “My family was taken care of. Miracles happened. The one and a half years that I served the Lord selflessly has been a lifetime experience of mine.”

During stressful times, should missionary work go on? The Saints in Sierra Leone have a tradition. They continue to share the gospel no matter what.

"Rather than bemoaning our lot or remaining stagnant, we were encouraged to rally the Saints by calling branch missionaries to replace the full-time missionaries," explained President Bai Seasy of the Kossoh Town District. "We had no time to feel sorry for ourselves; we had the work of salvation to do. We paired returned missionaries with prospective missionaries and organized them into zones."

"Each branch mission leader was authorized to have a phone card for proselyting purposes. They must account for its usage, but it has helped the branch missionaries remain in contact with new investigators and recent converts alike, and staying in touch has made a huge difference," said Brian Robbin-Taylor, another special assistant to the mission president.

"We have ‘phone lessons’ with investigators and new converts," he continued. "That supplements weekly missionary lessons held at church. We have adapted to the needs of members and investigators who otherwise might have no contact, due either to quarantine restrictions or apprehensions about getting the disease."

Today convert baptisms in Sierra Leone are only slightly lower than when full-time missionaries were there, many less-active members have returned to activity, and growth of the Church is steady.

I am so thankful to my Father in heaven for causing you to send my daughter’s New Era to me by mistake. I read it before sending it on to her, and I was so thrilled with it that I ordered a subscription for myself. It’s nicer to get a magazine new, and I want to keep my copies as treasures of beauty and truth, especially the May issue. I have been trying to learn how to gain greater spiritual growth through reading, praying about, and pondering the scriptures. I have wondered how to gain a greater testimony of the gospel even though through the power of the Holy Ghost I already have a strong testimony of the Book of Mormon and of the fact that God lives. The importance of pondering was explained at BYU Education Week, but I didn’t know how to go about it, and then my prayers were answered with a wrong address. It has also helped the five boys I have left at home. I will read different stories at family prayer time and try to get them to read some. I read the story of “Stephen” over and over to help me when I am discouraged. I wish that I could receive all the New Eras that have been published and read every one because I know I’ve missed many wonderful lessons for my life.
Dolores KelseyDeclo, Idaho

Walls. Fences. Barriers. Unfortunately, many of us seem to build them in one form or another. Afraid of being hurt, we put up iron bars for protection. Afraid of being laughed at, we build a barricade that no one gets inside. Worst of all may be the walls of intolerance, built with bricks of ignorance, cemented with the mortar of fear. Understanding comes only when such walls are torn away. Love and peace come only when, brick by brick, the walls come down.
Latter-day Saint youth in the Belfast Northern Ireland Stake know a lot about walls. In a country torn for centuries by unrest and terrorism, they are in the delicate position of being on neither side of the conflict—both religious and political—between Catholics and Protestants. But they deal with the barriers just the same. Listen to three young women from the Cavehill Ward:
Sharon Goodall tells a common story: “My schoolmates always want to know if I’m Catholic or Protestant. I tell them I’m neither; I’m Mormon. ‘Fine,’ they say. ‘Are you a Catholic Mormon or a Protestant Mormon?’ It almost sounds like a joke, until you have to live it. You try to get along with everybody, but there’s constant pressure to pick a side.”
Debra Boyd explains that a lot of people outside of Northern Ireland have no idea what it’s truly like to live here. “It’s rare that you would see something like a bombing. I’ve lived here all my life, and I haven’t seen any at all. Life goes on pretty much as normal, although you have security checks on public buses, and sometimes there’s a tailback (traffic jam) when there’s an incident. But it’s more of an inconvenience than a threat to your life.”
Along with six other Latter-day Saints, Debra attends the Hazelwood Integrated College in Belfast, a school where the student body is about 50 percent Catholic and 50 percent Protestant. “I’m fairly new at the school, and at the start they would say, ‘Oh, she’s one of them mad Mormons,’ and they would tease me,” Debra says. “But now, they’re asking questions, like why I don’t take tea or coffee. They’re kind of interested in it more.”
Debbie Sloan, who attends the same school, is popular with her classmates. “At an integrated school, the effort is to help us all get along anyway,” she explains. “They know I’m Mormon. My close friends know my dad is a bishop, that we spend lots of time at our church. I just talk about it the way it is, and they accept me for what I am.”
Claire and Sandra Hoey of Craigavon are members of the Portadown Ward. They talk about the walls that missionaries helped tumble for their family.
“The missionaries had been coming to our parents for a long time,” Sandra says. “But I never paid any attention. Then one night I was upstairs and started listening. I got more interested in what they were saying. I decided it was time to see what it was all about.”
The discussions became more and more serious. The parents were baptized. An older brother was baptized. Then Sandra, then Claire.
After the baptisms, a friend “noticed that since I’ve joined the Church I’ve been happier,” Claire says. “She wanted to find out what it was that was making me happy.” Now the friend is taking the discussions in the Hoeys’ home. “I can remember asking the same questions, praying to resolve the same doubts,” Claire says. “It helps when I can tell her I’ve been through the same thing and gained my own testimony.”
At the Lisburn Ward, Rachael Edwards, Karen Edwards, and David Schmidt say being fully involved in seminary helps break barriers, too.
“Before I started seminary and I’d explain to my friends what my religion was, they’d have a lot of questions, and I couldn’t answer them well,” Rachael says. “Now, having taken seminary, I feel more confidence whenever I talk to people about the Church.”
“There are 13 students in our seminary class,” Karen explains. “It’s the largest in Ireland. We have home study; then we meet with our teacher, Sister Susanna Thompson, on Tuesday nights. At school, everyone has what we call R.E. (religious education) classes. The R.E. schoolwork helps me with seminary, and seminary helps us have a different viewpoint, more depth than what we get at school. So they balance each other.”
“There’s a lot of videos and anti-Mormon literature that go around to the other churches,” Karen says. “It’s hard because what they hear has been severely twisted, and they really need to start from the basics.”
“A lot of my friends didn’t think we read the Bible,” Rachael says. “So I was really glad I could show them my seminary scriptures. They think it’s just their churches that have Bible study. They’re surprised to find we Mormons have our own study classes as well.”
“We change people’s views,” David says. “Like our teacher said, ‘So, you’re a Mormon. That means you’re not totally Christian?’ And I said, ‘Well, we are actually.’ We talked about it and got that all cleared up.”
David also tells of inviting friends and family to meetings. “Last year when my family was getting baptized, my mother invited our granny and our aunts all to church, and they came along and said they quite enjoyed it. They thought it interesting that we didn’t have just clergy up there, but had everyday people bearing their testimonies. And my friends enjoy our church.”
Rachael, Karen, and David tell story after story—the teacher who wanted a floor plan of an LDS chapel to compare it with other churches, and the exams where Mormons had to explain that they do get baptized in a font, which for other churches is a tiny basin holding water for sprinkling.
But it’s Karen who sums up the overall experience. “There’s lots of opposition here,” she says. “But if we make them aware of the Church, maybe eventually they’ll understand the Church. And that can only do good.”
Talk to the young Latter-day Saints in Northern Ireland long enough, and you’ll find that the youth are doing what Karen says.
Sara Magee of Portadown will talk about standards: “Most of my friends, if someone offered me a cigarette or a drink, they’d say, ‘Nope, Sara, you’re not allowed.’” Karen Weir of Portadown will tell you how having the London Temple reopened and the Preston Temple under construction has made a lot of people curious about the Church. Simon Noble of the Holywood Road Ward describes a stake play that was a missionary play, too. “It was all about the plan of salvation, and we invited non-LDS friends to come and learn about what we believe,” Simon says.
Debra Boyd, of the Cavehill Ward, will join the conversation again to talk about her bishop, Ronald Sloan, and how he has shown her that a bishop can be a great ally in living a worthy life. And Debra will tell of the joy she felt when her friend Leigh-Ann Kelly (and her family) were baptized. “We were crying our eyes out,” Debra says. “That scripture that talks about bringing one soul into heaven? You know that one? It’s really true” (see D&C 18:15–16).
Through the center of Belfast runs a thick scar, a no-man’s-land as ugly as a war zone. Its red bars, brick, barbed wire, and yellow barricades mark the dividing line between two parts of the city. For many, it is a symbol of a hopeless situation, its barriers a monument of mistrust and misunderstanding.
But young Latter-day Saints don’t dwell on such a reminder of despair. They look to a day when the Savior will come, when every knee will bow and every tongue confess that he is Lord, whose right it is to reign. In that day, if not before, all walls will tumble down. And when they do, they’ll be replaced by hope, love, peace, and understanding.

For sisters Kimberly and Kristen Sylva (left, inset) of Black Mountain, North Carolina, sharing the gospel comes naturally. During high school, both of these sisters brought their best friend into the Church.
Kimberly and her best friend, Kara Dillow, had a lot in common academically as the top two students in their class. But after Kara’s baptism, the two grew to have even more in common—testimony, Church, seminary, and youth activities.
Kristen introduced the gospel to her best friend, Lance Dome. Lance is now a missionary himself, serving in the Belgium Brussels Mission. (That’s Kara and Lance in the larger photo.)

But getting a foothold on the island did not come easily. The earlier effort to place missionaries was met with resistance and threats of danger. “Simmering anti-French sentiment by native Corsicans was increasing in the early 1990s,” Brother Thatcher said.
The native Corsicans showed their displeasure of outsiders by making homemade bombs to destroy foreign businesses and property. “It was not uncommon,” said then-Elder Darin Dewsnup, “to hear multiple explosions every day in the city. We were not French, but we were not Corsican either.”
The missionaries were warned of the dangers, and when a bomb exploded in their neighborhood, the four missionaries on the island were withdrawn to another part of the mission in mainland France.
“Our missionaries were no longer on the island,” Brother Thatcher said, saying this setback was an opportunity to learn and grow.
To better understand heaven’s purposes, the missionaries committed to study the life and ministry of the Savior to better learn His ways. They studied His acts of service and compassion, which included feeding and healing and loving. They concluded that service was important in gaining the confidence of the people and serving in the Lord’s way.
With a renewed focus to serve, three missionaries were sent to reopen work on Corsica in March 1992. This time, they were sent to the island’s second-largest city, Bastia. There they resolved to meet people in a natural manner instead of knocking on doors, which sometimes had caused fear among residents.
“Our prayers were answered. We realized service could demonstrate our sincerity to the community and soften the hearts of people who resisted outsiders,” Brother Thatcher said.
The new missionaries introduced themselves to residents by offering to help any way they could. They weeded family gardens, fixed cars, and in the case of the mayor, painted his weathered hotel. They often made friends, and their efforts were appreciated. They were nearly always asked to sit down to a glass of “limonata” (lemonade) and to “tell us about your church,” Brother Thatcher said. Soon, “our fortunes dramatically changed.”
An early referral led to the baptism of the Lota family, which then led to another referral. When missionaries entered the home of the referral, the mother of the family, who had been praying to know truth, “fell to her knees and wept in gratitude to the Lord for answering her prayers.”

Harold B. Lee was a busy man. He was a city commissioner, stake president, husband, and father of two little girls.
It was early morning on the day before Christmas. President Lee had been up all night, helping city crews snowplow the streets. Now he was on his way home to change clothes before going to his office.
He saw a small boy by the side of the road. The boy had no coat, no gloves, and no overshoes. President Lee stopped the car and offered the boy a ride into town.
As they road along, the man and boy began to talk. President Lee asked the boy if he was ready for Christmas.
He was shocked when the boy replied that there would be no Christmas at his house. His father had just died, and the family had no money. Before President Lee dropped the boy off in town, he asked him his name and address.
That Christmas Eve, as Harold B. Lee and the bishops in his stake delivered gifts to needy families, he remembered the young boy. He asked one of the bishops to take some Christmas boxes to the boy’s family.

Mrs. Kaufman, my German teacher, was late as usual. Normally I wouldn’t care, but I was particularly frustrated with grammar and needed the extra instruction time. Another 10 minutes passed. I was annoyed when she finally appeared. Several students had already left, assuming class was cancelled.
When the bell rang for break, Mrs. Kaufman apologized, saying that class would be cut short. She would postpone the upcoming exam another week to give us time to study. Relieved, I began to pack up my books when another classmate asked, “Mrs. Kaufman, is everything all right?” Mrs. Kaufman choked back tears as she explained that her father had just passed away. I felt horrible. Mrs. Kaufman was dealing with something on a spiritual level and I hadn’t even noticed.
That night I thought of Mrs. Kaufman and her father. As I read my scriptures, I felt peace knowing that Heavenly Father had a plan. I wondered how sad I would be if I didn’t know about the plan of salvation. I could feel the Spirit prompting me to share the peace I felt with Mrs. Kaufman and give her a copy of the Book of Mormon.
I tried to ignore the prompting. I was afraid to give Mrs. Kaufman a Book of Mormon because she was my teacher. But I decided to move forward anyway. I found a German copy of the Book of Mormon and also wrote Mrs. Kaufman a letter bearing my testimony. I wrapped them up and placed them in my backpack to give to her.
When I got to class the next day, I squirmed uncomfortably. I thought of the wrapped German copy of the Book of Mormon in my backpack. I couldn’t focus as I thought about whether I should give it to her. I prayed for confidence. At the end of class, I placed the parcel into her hands. I stammered my condolences and began sharing my testimony. As I spoke, I felt the Spirit, and the words came easier. I saw tears in Mrs. Kaufman’s eyes as she listened. When she unwrapped the gift and read the words “Das Buch Mormon: Ein weiterer Zeuge für Jesus Christus,” she smiled and asked me if this was a book from my church. I nodded. She promised she would read it.
The following Thursday she told me that the Book of Mormon had given her comfort. I was glad I had listened to the promptings of the Holy Ghost and that I was able to give Mrs. Kaufman some peace by sharing my testimony with her. Now when I pick up my German copy of the Book of Mormon, I think about Mrs. Kaufman and feel grateful for Heavenly Father’s plan of salvation.

—Lisa, a high school sophomore, tells about the time the quarterback of the football team asked her to the homecoming dance.
“I couldn’t believe my luck,” she said. “One of the most high-profile guys in the school had asked me to the most prestigious dance of the year.”
Her enthusiasm dampened, though, when after the dance her date started driving down a lonely road she realized led to Lover’s Lane. Quarterback or no quarterback, she had decided long ago that “parking” was something she would not do.
To avoid embarrassment, she began talking about how this particular road reminded her of a friend’s experience. The police had caught her friend and a date parking up there, and had taken them to the police station.
“Of course, anyone who is silly enough to park deserves what they get,” she laughed. Without speaking, her date turned the car around, and a few minutes later they were sitting in her living room eating pie with her parents.