Gospel Story Finder

I well remember one trip when Scott, my fourth oldest son, was on the same raft with me and three other fellows. On the first or second day of our trip we capsized (which was very common), and the raft got caught in a backwash and was being pounded by tons of water. I came to the surface and watched for my crew members. I counted them. One boy came up, then another, and then a third—but no Scott. I started to feel real concern when I looked back and forth across the river and couldn’t see him anywhere. Fifteen or 20 seconds is an eternity when you are waiting for your son to come to the surface. It’s the most helpless feeling in the world. Finally I saw Scott come to the surface and heaved a great sigh of relief.

“What took you so long?” I yelled to him.

“My foot got caught in the rope, and I was being pounded around because the boat was caught in the backwash.” Then he said, “But I remembered Duffy’s instruction, reached on my hip, pulled my knife out of the scabbard, cut the rope tangled around my foot, and floated free.” I owe my son’s life to Dale Duffy’s training.

Sarah Henrie, a Laurel from Glenwood, Alberta, Canada, loves puppies. And she should. Breeding miniature schnauzers has proven to be a good source of income for this young entrepreneur.
“When I was ten years old, my parents got me a dog to raise as a job so that I could do reports on it for my home-study schooling. Then we had a litter of puppies, and I’ve been doing this ever since,” says Sarah.
The puppies have given her valuable experience in learning how to run a business efficiently. She also has realized the value of paying tithing on her income.
“I made a Young Women goal to learn how to clip the dogs myself,” says Sarah. “I took a course at the university, and now I can do it on my own. It saves a lot of money.”
But as Sarah’s business has taken off, she’s learned another, more important lesson about her family. Since her business has grown, Sarah has relied on the help of her younger Primary-age sisters, Kate, Leah, Jennifer, and Amy, to keep things running smoothly. She says that if it weren’t for them, she couldn’t run her business. She also says life wouldn’t be much fun without them.
“I have to be a very good example,” she says. “It’s important for me to choose the right.”

It isn’t fair. It just isn’t fair at all! Raymond thought as he saw his brother, Joey, coming out the back door. Why does he always have to hang around me? He walked quickly around the side of the house, hoping that Joey hadn’t seen him. But Joey followed him and said “Hi, Raymond. Want to play?”
“No,” Raymond answered. “Now go back in the house.” The last thing that Raymond needed was a four-year-old brother tagging along. He turned his back on Joey and walked away.
Joey stood and watched as his big brother walked across the front lawn to the sidewalk. He knew that Raymond was looking for his friends so that they could play baseball. Joey followed him at a distance, a little closer when Raymond crossed the street and knocked on Pete’s door. Pete was Raymond’s best friend. Pete came to the door, and the two older boys set off for the ball diamond at the park. Joey followed along. Pete and Raymond reached the park and met three other friends. As they took their positions on the field, Raymond noticed Joey standing quietly by first base. “Joey, you shouldn’t have followed us! Mom will be worried. Now go home!” he hollered in his maddest, big-brother voice.
Joey stood still. “I can’t go home,” he said quietly. “Mom won’t let me cross the street by myself.”
Raymond knew that he would have to take Joey home. He wanted to stay and play ball with his friends, but he knew how worried his mother would be when she couldn’t find Joey. Grabbing Joey’s hand and pulling him along, he muttered something under his breath.
“What?” said Joey. “I didn’t hear you.”
“I said that you are a horrible little pest. Sometimes I wish that you had never been born!”
As soon as the words were out of Raymond’s mouth, he was sorry. He saw Joey’s soft brown eyes fill with shiny tears. Then he remembered his friends playing ball without him, and he pulled harder on Joey’s arm. “Hurry up!” he scolded. “I don’t want to be stuck with you all day!”
They crossed the street to their house, Raymond pulling and Joey crying.
“There,” Raymond said. “Now, go into the house, like I told you.”
Joey wiped his eyes and went up the walk.
Raymond ran back across the street and down to the park. He took his place in the outfield. At last he was rid of the horrible little pest. But he could still hear his own angry words, “I wish that you had never been born!” His stomach felt funny just remembering them.
The ball came his way. He caught it and threw it back to Pete at home plate. “Easy out!” he yelled.
Pete laughed and tossed the ball up to hit it again. Raymond watched the ball as it made an arc to the other side of the field. In his mind, he heard the words echo, … never been born! “I didn’t really mean it,” Raymond muttered softly. He felt that funny feeling in his stomach again and wondered if Joey knew that he hadn’t meant it.
He continued practicing with his friends, but it wasn’t as much fun as he thought that it would be. He felt more and more uncomfortable. Finally he threw Pete’s mitt to him and yelled, “Gotta go.”
“But we were going to play for another hour or so,” Pete said. “How come you have to go?”
“I just have to go,” Raymond said, and he began running toward home, pausing only to check for cars before he crossed the street. Reaching his house, he hurried to the kitchen, where his mother was getting things out to fix dinner. She looked at him and said, “How was practice?”
“OK, I guess.” He wondered why mothers always looked at you as though they knew what you were thinking. Is it my guilty conscience, or does she know the mean things that I said to Joey this morning? “Where’s Joey?” he asked, trying to sound casual.
“In his room, playing, I think.” She sounded as though she didn’t know what had happened, and yet Raymond couldn’t bear to look at her.
He went down the hall to Joey’s room, promising himself that he would play whatever Joey wanted to play. But when he looked into the room, Joey lay curled up on his bed, fast asleep, with his teddy bear in his arms and tearstains on his cheeks.
The things that he had shouted at Joey that morning still echoed in Raymond’s mind as he went to his own room and lay on his bed. He almost wished that he were young enough to have a teddy bear of his own to hug. He wondered what he could do to make things better.
Slipping off the bed and onto his knees, Raymond folded his arms and bowed his head and said, “Heavenly Father, today I said some mean things to Joey. I made him cry. It made me feel bad too. I really didn’t mean what I said. Please help me to know how to make him feel better. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Raymond lay back down on his bed, thinking hard. Finally he knew what he could do. He jumped up, went over to his desk, and searched quickly through the clutter for a pencil and a piece of paper. He drew a picture of a tall boy on one end of the paper. On the other end he drew a picture of a shorter boy. Under the tall boy he wrote Raymond; under the short boy he printed Joey. Each boy was wearing a baseball mitt, and a baseball was in the air between the two boys. When he was finished, he folded the picture and wrote on the outside, “Joey, I love you. Raymond.”
He crept into Joey’s room and laid the note on Joey’s pillow. Then he went back to his own room to wait for Joey to wake up and find the note. Lying there, he whispered a quiet “Thank you” to his Heavenly Father. He felt lighter and happier inside.
In a few minutes Joey walked into his room. “Raymond?” he said in a little voice.
“Hi, pal!” Raymond replied. “I’m sorry I yelled at you before. I didn’t mean what I said. Want to go out in the yard and play catch with me?”
“I thought that you were playing with Pete and the other guys.”
“Well, I was,” said Raymond, “but right now, I want to play ball with my favorite little brother.”

A remarkable example of President Monson’s kindness occurred in 2012. As the beautiful Brigham City Utah Temple was nearing completion, I met with the First Presidency to discuss plans for its dedication. With Brigham City being only one hour north of Salt Lake City, it would have been very easy for President Monson to travel there for the dedication.
Instead, President Monson said, “Brigham City is the hometown of President Boyd K. Packer, this great Apostle who has sat beside me for so many years in the Twelve. I want him to have the honor and blessing of dedicating the temple in his hometown. I will stay away, and I’ll assign President Packer to dedicate the Brigham City Temple. I want it to be his day.”
It was a wonderful day for President Packer and for Sister Packer, who also grew up in Brigham City. I was very touched by President Monson’s kind and magnanimous gesture to his fellow Apostle. We can all be that way. We can share and be kind and think more of those around us.

I grew up to the sound of my older brother practicing his French horn. Day after day, year after year, the sound of his horn emanated from our house. I could even hear it blocks away when I walked home from elementary school.
If challenged, I would surely have contended that my brother was the best French horn player there ever was. Nevertheless, his constant playing embarrassed me sometimes, and once I asked my mother to make him stop. He would even bring his French horn on vacation!
Years later my brother and I found ourselves at a music competition in northern California on the campus of a big university I’d never been to before. While there, my high school madrigal group earned a top ranking, which meant we got to do an encore performance later that day. We were given directions as to where and when to meet, and we all went on our way. Soon I found myself alone, standing in the middle of the campus looking at all the tall buildings. I couldn’t see anyone I knew, but I remembered what my mother had told me to do if I ever got lost: “Stay where you are.”
I stayed but was too shy to ask for directions; besides, I didn’t know where I was going. I couldn’t remember anything we’d been told about where or when to meet. But suddenly the thought occurred to me to ask Heavenly Father for help. I was not a member of the Church at the time, but I had attended church regularly with my Latter-day Saint friends and had been taught that Heavenly Father answers prayers.
So I stood there and silently prayed in my heart. Before I had even said amen, my ears perked up. Far off in the distance, ever so quietly, I heard a familiar sound—a sound I had heard most of my life. As I started walking in the direction of the music, it grew louder. Could it be my brother’s French horn? I was sure of it.
But then other French horns started playing. I hesitated. Did I really think I could tell which of all those horns was my brother’s? Every time I doubted, however, I heard his horn, as if beckoning to me. As I entered a building, climbed the stairs, and got closer to the music, I grew scared. The thought of opening the wrong door to find someone I didn’t know made my face turn red. When I reached the third floor, I listened one more time, made my decision, took a deep breath, and opened the door. There he was!

“And now I’d like to end my talk with my testimony,” the speaker in sacrament meeting was saying. Sarah and her younger sister, Beth, were sitting with their family near the back of the chapel. Dad leaned forward on the bench and eyed a clear warning to both of them. They weren’t being bad or noisy, but Dad knew what was coming—the family was sitting right in front of Brother Smith.
The speaker finished, “In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.” Sarah bit her lip and closed her eyes in anticipation. Then she heard it—everyone in the whole city must have heard it—Brother Smith added his “AMEN!”
Sarah tried not to giggle, but when Beth started to, she couldn’t help it. Dad looked disappointed, and Sarah felt bad. She knew that they shouldn’t giggle in church. “It’s Brother Smith’s fault,” she mouthed to her father while she tried to calm Beth down.
Everyone in the ward said “Amen” after a prayer or talk, but everyone else said it quietly, almost to themselves. Brother Smith belted it out as if he were at a football game.
“He is older,” Dad had explained before. “He doesn’t hear very well.” Sarah knew that some people who are hard of hearing often shout. But still, when Brother Smith said “amen,” she was sure even people driving by could hear it.
After church, when the family was riding home, Sarah expected another lecture from her father about reverence. But he didn’t say anything.
Beth broke her silence, “Sorry I laughed again, Daddy.”
Sarah poked Beth’s leg and frowned at her for bringing it up. But Dad just said, “After lunch I have something I want to show you girls.”
When the family had eaten, Dad took the two girls into his study. “This is something that belonged to your great-grandfather,” he said, pulling a fist-size metal object out of a box.
“What is it?” Sarah asked. “It looks like a clamp.”
“It’s a seal.” Dad pulled out a sheet of typing paper from his desk and placed the paper between the seal’s two round plates. Using both hands, he squeezed the handles together, then released them and pulled the paper out. “See the imprint it leaves on the paper?”
The girls looked at the intricate design and fancy writing embossed on the paper. “Cool!” Sarah exclaimed. “May I try it?”
“Sure.” Dad smiled and got out another sheet of paper. “Great-grandfather was a very important man in the town where he lived. He was a leader, and people trusted him. This seal was his very own; there were no others like it.”
Sarah pushed the handles together this time; then both girls ran their fingertips over the texture that was now left on the paper.
“That’s the way Great-Grandpa sent important messages to others,” Dad told them. “He put his seal on the messages, and the people getting them knew without a doubt that the messages were really from him.
You see, if people got married or did things that needed a witness, Great-Grandpa used his seal. People everywhere knew that if his seal was on something, it was true.”
“Wow!” Beth said.
“That’s awesome!” Sarah added.
Dad looked at them. “You mean you wouldn’t laugh at Great-Grandpa’s seal?”
“No way,” Sarah said. “It’s an important thing.”
“Yeah, no way,” Beth agreed.
Dad smiled. “Now, did you know that the word amen is also a seal?”
Sarah had known that something like this was coming. Dad made a lesson out of everything. She waited for him to continue.
“Well, that’s what it is—our own personal seal that we put on ordinances, testimonies, prayers, and talks. It means that we know we have done or said or heard something true. Saying ‘amen’ is our seal that tells everyone that we agree and approve.
“Now,” he said, easing the tension, “who wants to use Great-Grandpa’s seal on some of her things?”
“I do! I do!” both girls squealed happily.
All that week, Sarah put Great-Grandpa’s seal on the first pages of all her books and everything else she could find. She made special note cards for her friends and even put a seal in her journal.
The following Sunday, Sarah’s family got to church a little late. Dad found a half-empty bench near the back of the chapel, and they sat down just as everyone was bowing his head for the prayer.
In the prayer, Sister Carter said, “We thank thee for this beautiful day.” As Sarah listened carefully, she thought of Great-Grandpa’s seal. Would she put her seal on these words? “We are grateful for this chapel to meet in,” Sister Carter was saying now. Could Sarah witness that these words were true? “And please bless the prophet and the missionaries.” Did Sarah approve? Did she agree? Sister Carter ended her prayer, “In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Picturing herself stamping Great-Grandpa’s seal on Sister Carter’s prayer, Sarah said “amen” right out loud, just as she heard Brother Smith bellow “AMEN!”
Sarah didn’t laugh. Beth didn’t laugh, either. Dad smiled at them approvingly. Sarah moved closer to him and whispered, “‘Amen’ is Brother Smith’s seal, Dad—his BIG seal.”

It is always a joy to read the Liahona (German). An address by President Thomas S. Monson, “‘Be Thou an Example’” in the January 2002 issue, especially appealed to me.
We used to live in Bad Driburg, and as a pensioner I had the opportunity from time to time to pass out mineral water at a local spa. Once a lady there shared with me her belief that everything was going wrong in her life. I tried to encourage her to trust in God.
On a later occasion she told me she had recently seen a TV program about Latter-day Saints. She explained that the people on the program were like I was: friendly, open-minded, courteous, radiating something special. I told her, “I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”
She looked at me in surprise and said, “I would like to know more about your church.”
I learned through this experience to follow this counsel from President Monson’s article:
“1. Fill your mind with truth;
“2. Fill your heart with love;
“3. Fill your life with service” (Liahona, Jan. 2002, 115).Albert ZimmerKaiserslautern Branch, Mannheim Germany Stake

While on my mission, I served in a ward that needed a bishop. Stake leaders were looking for someone who held the Melchizedek Priesthood, paid his tithing, and had a supportive wife. Leaders considered one worthy priesthood holder, but his wife did not say yes to the calling.
Because of that experience, I promised the Lord that I would never get in the way of what He needed my future husband to do. I promised to always support him in his calling. I’m grateful I didn’t know the future. I don’t know what I would have done if––when I was making that promise––the Lord had said, “That’s a great promise to make because I need your husband to die for his country.”
I thought I was going to be a bishop’s wife. Instead, I became the wife of a worthy priesthood holder who answered the call to serve and sacrifice in a way I had not imagined.

I could see the young deacons losing interest as my mission companion talked. He was explaining the importance of doing missionary work at their age—planting seeds with their friends.
One young man finally spoke up, “What can I do? I’m only 13. My friends aren’t interested in the Church, and even if they were, their parents wouldn’t let them join.” My companion persisted with the young men, but my mind drifted back to when I was about 12 years old.
I had a best friend, Chris. We did everything together. But whenever a group of us would gather to do something “crazy,” like throw snowballs at cars or toilet paper a house, Chris would always back out. He said his parents would be mad if they found out.
Then one day I talked Chris into stealing tennis balls from the people on the local courts. He followed me, even helped me gather a handful of balls, then took off with me through a hole in the fence. When we arrived at my house I noticed Chris’s face was white.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“We’ve got to take those balls back,” he blurted out.
“No way, they’re ours now,” I replied, but Chris grabbed them and started to run. I’ve always been faster than Chris, but I couldn’t catch him that day. He ran right to the tennis players and gave every ball back. He said he was sorry and then did something I’d never seen before. He asked them for forgiveness. I just knew we were going to be turned into the police, but the men let him go.
When we got home I had a few questions for my best friend.
“I’m a Mormon,” he said.
“I know. You told me.”
“But I didn’t tell you how important my church is to me.” He went on to explain the standards of honesty he had been taught and how he could not feel right about stealing.
Six weeks later I found myself in a font, full of water, ready to be baptized a Latter-day Saint.
Suddenly I came back to the deacons in front of me. I don’t know if it made much difference to those boys, but I was able to say it was an active young man their age who brought me into the Church. I told them they could and should do missionary work. They could plant seeds with their example, just as Chris had done.

On December 1, 2002, I walked into a bookstore and bought a copy of the Book of Mormon. A brochure about the plan of salvation had been placed inside. On the brochure was written, “Sisters Burgey and Sorensen” and their telephone number. In July 2003, I called this number.
By the summer of 2004, I heard the missionary discussions from Elders Swensen, Vernon, and Gregory. Finally, on August 28, 2006, I was baptized. In the September 2006 Liahona, I read the article “Delayed Harvest,” by Rian W. Jones, which reminded me of the small actions that led to my baptism and confirmation.Nicolai Penchikov, Russia

One day when Tommy was about eight years old, he and his grandfather were sitting on the front-porch swing. An elderly man from England lived on the same street. His name was Robert Dicks, but most of the neighbors just called him “Old Bob.” He was widowed and poor.

Old Bob came over and sat down on the porch swing with Tommy and his grandfather. He said that the small adobe house where he lived was going to be torn down. He had no family, no money, and nowhere to go.

Tommy wondered how his grandfather would respond to the sad story. His grandfather reached into his pocket and pulled out a small leather change purse. He took out a key and put it in Old Bob’s hand. “Mr. Dicks,” he said tenderly, “you can move your things into that empty house of mine next door. It won’t cost you a cent, and you can stay there as long as you like. And remember, nobody is ever going to put you out again.” Tears filled Old Bob’s eyes.

Ugh! I just don’t get this assignment. Why can’t I be more like Abby? She’s so smart. And everyone likes her.
Later …
Abby, are you OK?
I … It’s nothing. I’m fine.
You’re really lucky.
Me? Lucky? But you’re so smart, and you have lots of friends, and …
But not close friends like you do. And you always look so … happy. I wish I could be more like you.
Later, Mandy tells Mom about her day …
I wonder if it’s easier to see the good stuff in other people than in yourself. I think Abby and I both have a lot to be grateful for.

Many faithful Latter-day Saints have been warned by the Spirit when they were faced with injury or possible death. Among these was President Wilford Woodruff, who said:
“When I got back to Winter Quarters from the pioneer journey [1847], President [Brigham Young] said to me, ‘Brother Woodruff, I want you to take your wife and children and go to Boston and stay there until you can gather every Saint of God in New England and Canada and send them up to Zion.’
“I did as he told me. It took me two years to gather up everybody, and I brought up the rear with a company (there were about one hundred of them). We arrived at Pittsburgh one day at sundown. We did not want to stay there, so I went to the first steamboat that was going to leave. I saw the captain and engaged passage for us on that steamer. I had only just done so when the spirit said to me, and that, too, very strongly, ‘Don’t go aboard that steamer, nor your company.’ Of course, I went and spoke to the captain, and told him I had made up my mind to wait.
“Well, that ship started, and had only got five miles down the river when it took fire, and three hundred persons were burned to death or drowned. If I had not obeyed that spirit, and had gone on that steamer with the rest of the company, you can see what the result would have been.”

The children of the Calderón family started a great transition for their family. Jared, age 15, was the first to join the Church, followed a year later by his sister, Angie, 13. Their parents joined the Church three years after Angie’s baptism.
At first this family from Costa Rica had no idea how much the gospel of Jesus Christ would change their lives. They were introduced to the Church by a family member in 2002, and for many months afterward the Calderóns regularly invited the missionaries to their home so they could learn more. As they did so, the family experienced a transformation—a true conversion.
Before the family joined the Church, the Calderóns were concerned that Jared and Angie were having a hard time getting a moral and spiritual education in a world that downplays religion.
The gospel, the Calderóns found, had answers to the problems they were facing. “When we came to understand the gospel and started applying its teachings, that knowledge changed the way we lived,” says Brother Calderón. “We learned who we are and how we can return to our Heavenly Father. Because of what we found, we have lived a richer spiritual life.”
It wasn’t always easy to accept readily what they were learning from the missionaries, but as they tested gospel principles, they gained a testimony of them. “As we learned about gospel standards,” says Sister Calderón, “we tried to stay within the boundaries of worthiness. I gave up drinking coffee. (And I drank plenty of coffee before then!) We made goals as a family to not swear, to speak kindly to each other, and to keep other good principles.
“The main sacrifice we made was our pride,” she continues. “We had to learn to be humble, but as we’ve tried to learn and live with humility, we’ve received many blessings and experienced great progress as individuals, as a couple, and as a family.”
Jared Calderón was the first of his family to join the Church; he was baptized in June 2003. Angie followed in July 2004. Their parents were baptized in April 2007. And finally, shortly after the youngest member of the Calderón family, James, turned eight in 2007, he was baptized.
The family then began preparing for additional covenants and ordinances in the temple. “We knew that baptism was just the first step,” says Sister Calderón. “We set a goal to continue to progress, including going to the temple and being sealed as a family so that we can someday live with our Heavenly Father.”
In preparation for their temple sealing, the whole family spent time praying and fasting. Jared also participated several times in performing baptisms for the dead. Then on May 10, 2008, the family was sealed in the San José Costa Rica Temple.
Jared remembers what he felt that day. “When I entered the sealing room, the Spirit was so powerful. It felt so right to be there with my family,” he says.
His brother, James, recalls having to wait for a long time before he could enter the sealing room, but, he says, it was worth it: “I felt a lot of joy and happiness. I continue to feel happy knowing that I can be with my family forever.”
While the family made many changes in their lives to prepare for temple ordinances, they are finding that the ordinances are, in fact, changing them. For instance, Angie remembers that before their family was sealed, she told her mom that she did not want to be married in the temple. “I didn’t understand the promises then,” she says. “Now I see the bigger picture, and I have a bigger goal. I do want to marry in the temple. I want to have my own family someday and live with them eternally.”
Another change Angie has experienced is having an increased desire to do family history and temple work for her deceased ancestors. She and her mother visit the family history library at their local meetinghouse to research these names. Angie has a great feeling of love for her ancestors. She is always willing to do family history work.
Jared has also noticed an adjustment in himself in the way he treats his family. He explains: “When you go to the temple, you see things more clearly. I have felt the Spirit guide me to treat my parents and siblings better, to maintain a good relationship with them. There have been times where I have felt upset and was convinced that the other person was wrong, but when I remember that we are an eternal family, I realize that it’s not worth it to argue over petty things.
“Besides,” he adds, with a wry smile, “if I am going to live with them forever, I had better get used to them.”
The Calderóns realize that making covenants isn’t enough—it’s also essential to keep them. They are trying to keep reading the scriptures and keep praying together. They go to church and fulfill their callings and support each other. “Those things help us remember what we have promised and bring us lots of blessings, both spiritually and temporally,” says Sister Calderón.
The family has continued and will continue to face challenges in their lives, but covenants have made a huge difference in their perspective. Looking back at the decisions his family has made, Brother Calderón feels great happiness: “As we learned about the gospel and have lived it, we have developed a conviction, a certainty, that this is the gospel of Jesus Christ, and its direction helps us correctly make important decisions. Our family is coming closer to the Savior. We have progressed spiritually, and we’ve never been this happy in our lives.”

A very different experience occurred in a later game in which I was totally committed. At one point I ran with real intent into a contact; immediately I felt some pain in my face. Having been taught by my father that I should never let the opposition know if I was hurt, I continued to play out the game. That night, while trying to eat, I found that I couldn’t bite. The next morning, I went to the hospital, where an X-ray confirmed that my jaw was broken. My mouth was wired shut for the next six weeks.

Lessons were learned from this parable of the fat lip and the broken jaw. Despite my memories of unsatisfied cravings for solid food during the six weeks when I could ingest only liquids, I feel no regrets about my broken jaw because it resulted from my giving my all. But I do have regrets about the fat lip because it symbolized my holding back.

When we came to Copenhagen, Denmark, we waited there until there were about 300 that were going to Utah. Anthon H. Lund, who just before he died was the counselor to President Heber J. Grant, had charge of the company to Utah. We left Copenhagen to go to Hull in England over the North Sea. When we started, the weather was fine and there were the same joyful songs of the Saints as when we left Norway. Some even danced. But soon the mountainous waves began to roll. It was not long before some began to make haste to the side of the ship. Oh, didn’t they feed the fish! I laughed at them and wondered what was the matter with them. I tell you I didn’t laugh long. My turn soon came. But we arrived in Hull safe and sound, and there we boarded the train for Liverpool. We got there in about eight hours’ ride, and there we boarded the steamer Nevada for New York, North America.
It took us 14 days to cross the Atlantic. Some of the way it was very stormy, and I was seasick all the way. But we landed in New York safe and sound. There we boarded the train for Utah. In about four days we arrived in Salt Lake City, July 17, 1872, late in the evening. Before coming to the station the president of our company, Anthon H. Lund, told us that when we arrived at the station, a good many of us would meet relatives and friends, and some of them would take us home with them. But he said, “Do not let any of them take you home with them just then, for you will all be taken to a banquet. Instead, take them with you to the banquet.”
It was then about ten o’clock in the evening. The name of the house I did not know, but it was large enough for all of us to sit down at the tables at once. As far as I can remember, there were about 300 of us. They had all gone in but myself, for I did not think I belonged. I knew I was not a Mormon, though all the rest of them were. As I have told before, I was rather bitter. But Brother Lund came out and saw me a ways off. He came over to me and asked me where my parents were. I said they had gone in but I didn’t belong. He then took me by the arm over to the door and said in Danish, “Please go in. You are welcome.” So, of course, I went in. I tell you it was the best supper I had ever seen, all kinds of good things. When we got through with the meal, it was about midnight, but the tables were still spread and plenty of all kinds of good things on the tables. We were to go and help ourselves. It was all for us.
There was no one who called for us, so we stayed around in that hall till morning. I don’t know just what the rest of them did, but I lay down on a bench by the table and fell asleep. When I awakened, the sun was up and the rest were awake and busy. I didn’t wait for breakfast, for there was still plenty of food on the tables, and we were told that we were welcome to all and to help ourselves. I did so, and I surely had a good breakfast that morning as well as supper the night before.

During World War II, as a teenager I was privileged to serve as president of the teachers quorum. I was asked to learn and then apply the counsel from the Doctrine and Covenants, section 107, verse 86: “The duty of the president over the office of the teachers is to preside over … the teachers, and to sit in council with them, teaching them the duties of their office, as given in the covenants.” I tried my best to live up to this defined duty.
In that quorum was a young man, Fritz Hoerold. He was short in stature but tall on courage. Soon after Fritz turned 17, he enlisted in the United States Navy and was off to training. He then found himself on a large battleship in a number of those bloody engagements in the Pacific. His ship was severely damaged, and many sailors were killed or wounded.
Fritz returned home on leave following such an engagement and came back to our teachers quorum. The quorum adviser invited him to speak to us. My, he looked resplendent in his Navy blues with appropriate war ribbons attached. I remember that I asked Fritz to tell us any thoughts he had for our benefit. After all, we were about the same age. With a wry smile, he responded, “Don’t volunteer for anything!”
I didn’t see Fritz again from that time when we were 17 until, a few years ago, I read a magazine article concerning those same battles at sea. I wondered if Fritz Hoerold were even still alive and if so, if he lived somewhere in Salt Lake City. Through a telephone call I found him and sent the magazine to him. He and his wife expressed to me their thanks. Having learned that Fritz had not as yet been ordained an elder and hence had never been to the temple, I wrote a letter encouraging him to qualify for the blessings of the temple. On two occasions we happened to see one another at restaurants. His dear wife, Joyce, always urged me, “Keep working with this man of mine.” His daughters voiced their approval of their mother’s urging. I kept up my encouragement.
Just a few weeks ago, I saw in the newspaper obituary columns that Joyce, Fritz’s wife, had passed away. How I wished that I had been more successful with my private project to get Fritz to the temple. I noted the time and place of Sister Hoerold’s funeral service, rescheduled other appointments, and went to the service. Immediately upon seeing me, Fritz made a beeline to my side. We both shed a few tears. He asked me to be the final speaker.
When I arose to speak, I looked at Fritz and his family and said, “Fritz, I am here today as the president of the teachers quorum of which you and I were once members.” I proffered how he and his family could become a “forever family” through temple ordinances—ordinances at which I pledged to officiate when that time came.
I concluded my remarks, choking back the tears of emotion, by saying to Fritz in the hearing and view of his family and all in attendance, “Fritz, my dear friend and fellow sailor, you have courage, you have determination. You put your life on the line for your country in a time of peril. Now, Fritz, you must heed the call of the bos’n’s whistle: ‘All aboard—anchors aweigh’—for your journey to exaltation. Joyce is there waiting for you. I know your dear children and grandchildren are praying for you. Fritz, as your teachers quorum president of long ago, I will strive with all my heart and soul to make certain you don’t miss the ship that will carry you and your loved ones to celestial glory.”
I gave to him a Navy salute. Fritz stood and returned the salute.

While serving in the Samoa Mission, Elders Brigham Smoot and Alva Butler were assigned to take the restored gospel to the islands of Tonga. Upon their arrival in 1891, they held an audience with King George Tupou I, who granted them permission to preach the gospel of Jesus Christ. With encouraging prospects, more missionaries were called to the islands and were anxiously engaged in spreading the gospel. Unfortunately, the growth of the Church was not as fruitful in Tonga as in the other Polynesian islands of Tahiti, Hawaii, New Zealand, and Samoa. In 1897 the missionaries were ordered to return to Samoa, and the few converts in Tonga were left without Church leadership for a time.
In 1891, Elders Brigham Smoot and Alva Butler met with King George Tupou I and received permission to preach the gospel among his people.
Meeting the king of Tonga by Clark Kelley Price © IRI
“Know ye not that I, the Lord your God, … remember those who are upon the isles of the sea?” (2 Nephi 29:7).
The Lord did not forget the Saints in the island kingdom of Tonga. In 1907, Elders Heber J. McKay and W. O. Facer arrived in Neiafu, Vava‘u, where they started a branch and a small school. Soon missionary work began to prosper, and several branches and Church schools were established throughout the islands over the next few years.
As in other parts of the world, the Church in Tonga had its share of opposition, but this time the gospel was here to stay. As missionary work flourished, Church leaders were called from among the local Tongan members so that when foreigners were evacuated, as during World War II, the Church could continue to thrive.
As the gospel spread throughout the islands, various Church schools were established. In 1947 the Church leased a large piece of land and began building a new school, Liahona College, now known as Liahona High School.
Dedicated in 1953 by Elder LeGrand Richards (1886–1983) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, it was to become a “guiding light” to all who would enter, and it was to prepare young people to become leaders and to influence others for good. Present also at the dedication was Queen Salote Tupou III, who endorsed the school as an instrument for building a “Christian civilization” that unites people of all walks of life. Since the school’s establishment, thousands of Liahona High School graduates have served as missionaries, Church leaders, and prominent community leaders.
Today there are two Church-sponsored high schools in Tonga: Liahona High School, on the main island of Tongatapu, and Saineha High School, on the island of Vava‘u. There are also five Church-sponsored middle schools: three in Tongatapu, one in ‘Eua, and one in Ha‘apai.
When President David O. McKay (1873–1970) and his wife, Emma Ray, visited Tonga in 1955, the Saints treated them like royalty. This was the first visit of a Church President to the islands. During their short visits to Tongatapu and Vava‘u, they held meetings with the members and felt of their love and devotion as Tongans performed music and dances and gave speeches and feasts. During President McKay’s visit to the Saints in Vava‘u, he was inspired to reveal that he had seen a vision of “a temple on one of these islands, where the members of the Church may go and receive the blessings of the temple of God.” One member recorded the Tongans’ response: “The entire congregation burst into tears.”1
Nearly 30 years later, in August 1983, the Nuku‘alofa Tonga Temple was dedicated by President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008), then a counselor in the First Presidency. I remember as a teenage girl how Latter-day Saints from the outer islands and Tongans from overseas came for the auspicious occasion. I was privileged to attend one of the dedicatory sessions and be part of the choir. I remember the warm feeling I felt when I heard President Hinckley speak, and I knew then that he was called of God. When we sang “Hosanna Anthem,” I understood too how much the Lord loves His children.
The Savior has always remembered the people on the isles of the sea, and on that day President McKay’s prophecy was fulfilled.
Because of the increasing Church growth in Tonga, the temple was closed for about two years for renovation. Among other work, rooms were enlarged, a sealing room was added, and Polynesian motifs were added to walls and ceilings.
At the beginning of 2007, my husband and I were called to produce a cultural celebration for the rededication of the temple. The event was to be held on November 3, a day before the rededication sessions.
Our aim was to involve as many youth as possible from the stakes in Tongatapu and to come up with a presentation that would spiritually prepare the Saints for the temple dedication the next day. The event would be broadcast and televised live to the outer islands as well as to Tongan stakes around the globe, so this was a mighty task.
The production was titled “The Treasure That Lasts.” It consisted of cultural dances from Tonga, Hawaii, Tahiti, New Zealand, Fiji, and Samoa. The story line was that of a couple who, having lost their young child, searched the many Polynesian islands for a treasure that would appease their loss. Although they found gifts at each island, none could soothe their pain. When they returned to Tonga, they were introduced to the gospel by missionaries and learned of “the treasure that lasts”—eternal families and the blessing of someday being reunited with their child who had passed away.
During the week of the rededication, it rained heavily. At our final rehearsal, on November 2, the skies were overcast. I asked the youth to return to their homes and pray for good weather so they would be able to perform for Tonga and for those who would be watching via satellite, especially the prophet. That night it rained hard, and the next morning the weather was still foreboding.
On Saturday evening, 3,000 young people gathered at Teufaiva Stadium to hear from Elder Russell M. Nelson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, who had been sent to rededicate the temple due to President Hinckley’s frail health. I will never forget the performance. Everything fell into place. The weather was perfect, the sound system that had malfunctioned earlier was excellent, and those young men and young women danced their hearts out.
We had witnessed a miracle. Heavenly Father heard the prayers of His children and kept the rain away. At the same time, we were able to set the tone for the temple dedication the next day, reminding members that eternal families are the treasure that lasts and that temples are built to bring such blessings to pass.
Today the Church continues to grow in Tonga, and leadership positions are held by native members. Chapels dot the islands, and the increase of missionaries is hastening the work. The Church schools are firmly established and continue to prepare valiant missionaries, future leaders, and worthy mothers and fathers.
The Saints are no longer required to make that long journey by boat to the main island for general conference. Instead, technology has enabled members to remain within their stakes to watch general conference and the area conferences broadcast from New Zealand.
Amid the turmoil of changes arriving on Tonga’s shores, the Saints continue their legacy of faith. They are a people who were committed to God 175 years ago. They are a people who today continue to dedicate their lives and all that they have to the Lord.

On March 27, 1836, Joseph dedicated the Kirtland Temple. Only two years later he and other faithful followers were forced to flee to Far West, Missouri, because of persecutions.
When the Saints first arrived at Far West, they were accepted by the local citizens. But as their numbers and political influence grew, mobs persecuted the Saints and burned some of their homes. Governor Boggs sent thousands of troops to Far West with instructions to kill all of the Saints if necessary to restore peace. The Saints were forced to give up their guns, and mobs entered Far West and ransacked their homes. The Saints were then told to leave the state before the next spring or be killed.
Meanwhile Joseph and several other Church leaders had been taken prisoner. After spending about six months in various jails without being legally charged with any offense, the guards allowed them to escape. They fled to Quincy, Illinois, where many of the Saints had gone after being driven out of Far West.

Third, we must live courageously in accordance with the light and testimony that we have received. We are promised, “He that receiveth light, and continueth in God, receiveth more light; and that light groweth brighter and brighter until the perfect day.” It takes real effort and sacrifice to live the gospel courageously. For some years temple worship for the Saints who live near Manaus, Brazil, has meant traveling two days in a crowded riverboat on the Amazon River, followed by two days’ travel in buses through the hot tropics to the Recife Temple. Arriving worn out and tired, they would shower, dress appropriately, and immediately begin their temple worship. After several days of service to the Lord, they would make the long, difficult journey home. The words “but as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord” were beautifully reflected by their sacrificing actions.