Gospel Story Finder

As a young man I had an important decision to make. Congressman Milton H. Welling offered me an appointment to the United States Naval Academy at Annapolis, Maryland. This was an outstanding opportunity for a fine education and experience. After careful and prayerful consideration, I declined the appointment and accepted a call to go on a mission. This was a decision that required some sacrifice and greatly affected my life. However, while on my mission I wrote my parents from Boston, Massachusetts, “From my mission I have gained much. … I wouldn’t trade the last two years for anything. They have been wonderful in bringing a realization of life in its true sense.” Yes, my sacrifice, if it could be called that, was bringing forth the blessings of heaven.

Way back in 1969, I was in South America. I flew from Argentina to Santiago, Chile. The Andes mountains were dry. There was no snow. The grass was burned. Chile was in the midst of a devastating drought.

The people pleaded for help in bringing moisture.

We dedicated two new buildings on that visit. In each of those dedicatory services we pleaded with the Lord for rain upon the land. I have the testimony of many who were in those meetings that the heavens were opened and the rains fell with such abundance that the people asked the Lord to shut them off.

One of Willis’s naval assignments was aboard a minesweeper operating off the east coast of the United States. As far as he knew, there were no other Church members among the crew.

When the ship put into port at New Bern, North Carolina, for repairs, Willis looked up the address of the local branch and attended services. He found out that the next Saturday there would be a Gold and Green Ball. Excited at the prospect of going to a dance, Willis asked two of his shipmates, Kenneth Kinzel and John Archer, to go with him. The two liked the idea of going to a social function where there would be some single girls, so they accepted the invitation.

They attended the dance and thoroughly enjoyed themselves. Ken was particularly impressed that they had such an enjoyable time without drinking and without the other activities usually associated with “hitting the beach.” He wanted to know more about a church that would sponsor that kind of activity and asked Willis how he could learn more. Willis contacted the missionaries. They taught Ken and John, and in a few weeks both were baptized. Soon afterward, their ship left port for Charleston, South Carolina.

Nathan stretched, yawned, and opened his eyes. He hadn’t even gotten out of bed yet. Why was he so happy? Then he remembered. Mom had told him that they were going to do something really special as soon as his older brother and sister had left for school. Nathan got dressed as fast as he could so that he wouldn’t miss a minute.
He ran out to the kitchen. Mom smiled at him. “You’re all ready to go! Great!”
“Where are we going?” Nathan was so excited that he could hardly stand it. “Ice skating? Shopping? To the zoo?”
“We’re going someplace much more important,” Mom said. “We’re going to the family history center.”
“Family history center?” Nathan flopped down into a chair. “You said you were going to take me someplace special today. You go to the family history center every week. What’s so special about it?”
“It’s time for you to find out!”
Thirty minutes later, Mom unlocked a door at the stake center, and they walked in. Nathan had never seen anything like this before. The room was just like many he’d seen in their ward building, but this one was filled with machines, cabinets, and bookcases.
“This is our stake family history center,” Mom said as she started turning on computers. “I do a little of our own family history on Wednesdays, but mostly I help other people do theirs. People depend on me to have the center open so that they can find their ancestors. Then they can get the temple work done for them.”
“You mean this is what happens before Tim and Sherry do baptisms for the dead at the temple?”
“That’s right, Nate. Before anyone can be baptized for a person, someone has to find out who that person is.”
“How do they do that?”
“If you have a little patience, it’s not hard,” Mom said. “Would you like to find someone who needs to be baptized?”
“I guess so.”
“I was hoping that you’d say that,” Mom said. “I’m on the trail of finding your great-great-grandpa Oskar Pederson. He came to America from Sweden.” Mom took out a microfilm and threaded it in the reader. After a few turns of the handle, a chart appeared with old-fashioned writing on it.
“Do I have to read this?” Nathan frowned.
“You don’t have to read all the words. See this number here? That’s the birth year. Grandpa Pederson was born in 1885. Now, just look down this column until you see 1885. Whenever you do, look over here and see if the name is Oskar.”
Nathan nodded. “I think I can do that. Can I try to find him all by myself?”
“OK, Nate. Good luck.”
Nathan started slowly turning the microfilm wheel, looking at one page after another. Some other people came and started working on the computers. Mom went from one to the other and helped them. Every so often she came back to Nathan. “How are you doing? Are you tired yet?”
“No, I’m still looking.”
About an hour later, Nathan shouted, “Mom, I found him!”
Mom hurried over and looked at the bright page on the reader. “You’re right,” she said softly. “There he is. And look, Nathan, you not only found him, you found his mom and dad. They’re your great-great-great-grandparents!”
“Wow!” Nathan touched the names on the reader with his finger. “Does this mean that you and Dad and Tim and Sherry can be baptized for these people?”
“That’s right, Nate,” Mom said. “You’ve just pushed our family tree back another generation. These people were lost until you found them! I’m sure that they’re really happy right now.”
“This is neat, Mom! Can I come with you the next time I don’t have school?”
“Nathan!” Mom pretended to be shocked. “You mean this is better than skating?”
“Much better than skating,” Nathan said. And he meant it.

As I came into the kitchen, my big brother Matt was saying to Mom, “I think just you, Dad, me, and Abby should be in on it. I don’t think he can keep a secret.” He was talking about me! “I can too keep a secret!” I said.
Mom smiled. “On Monday nights, the Family Night Phantom secretly leaves treats on people’s doorsteps. How would you like us to become the Phantom?”
“What a great idea!” I wanted to go right then, but Mom said that we had to wait until Monday.
Tonight we decided to deliver cookies and notes from the “Phantom” to two new families in our ward, the Kennedys and the Jensens. With Mom at the wheel to make a quick getaway, Dad and Abby did the ringing and running at the Kennedys’. Then it was my turn. Matt and I walked quietly up to the Jensens’ porch, laid the cookies down, rang the doorbell, and ran. The Phantom was a success!
For this week’s adventure, Mom said, “Why don’t you each choose a family?” I wanted to phantom my best friend, Kyle Stephens.
During the family home evening lesson, Abby talked about how Jesus helps lonely people. That made me think.
“Mom, do you think Sister Hart would like chocolate cupcakes?” She was an older lady in the ward who lived alone.
“I’m sure that she would, Jeremy. Why?”
“I changed my mind. Let’s leave the treat at her house instead.”
We had a great time phantoming. Sister Hart almost caught me! I was at the edge of her driveway when I heard the door open, so I dove behind the hedge. I heard her say, “How nice! What a wonderful treat.”
Later that week, Matt said that his friends thought that the Phantom was the Bennetts.
“Well,” Dad said, “I think that puts the Bennetts on the top of our list to phantom next week!”
I came home from school on Monday to the wonderful smell of homemade bread, our Phantom treat for the week. “Who should we phantom tonight, besides the Bennetts?” Mom asked me.
I had been thinking about it all day. “The Barneses are moving and are probably busy packing. And Sister Bradley has been sick, so her family could use a treat.”
Mom gave me a kiss and said, “You’re really something. Tonight it’ll be bread for the three Bs!”
A few days later, Dad came home from a meeting at church. He had seen a note on the ward bulletin board marked FAMILY NIGHT PHANTOM. It read: “Thanks for the bread. We didn’t have a family home evening dessert planned, so it came in handy. Keep up the good work. From the Barneses.” Mom said that we had to secretly remove the note and put it in our family scrapbook.
During dinner on Sunday, Mom told us that after church Sister Simpson and Sister Bennett had discussed the Phantom. They wanted to get “revenge,” but on whom?
On Monday, I had news of my own. “Tyler Bennett asked me who I thought the Phantom was. It was hard not to smile! Then he said his family is going out tonight armed with 10 loaves of banana bread.”
“We can’t match that, but I do think it’s time to phantom ourselves,” Mom said.
“Great idea,” Matt agreed. “If the Phantom visits us, no one will suspect us!”
That night I delivered popcorn balls to my own door. We were sitting in the kitchen munching away when the doorbell rang. Matt opened the door to find a plate of cookies on the porch and not a person in sight! “Are you sure Tyler said that his family was delivering banana bread?” Mom asked.
We decided to hurry and finish phantoming before we ran into other Phantoms. We chose Bishop Stephens’s family (including Kyle!) and the Garcias.
Back at home, we began our family home evening lesson. Mom asked us to name activities that draw a family closer. Dad said, “Family prayer.” Abby thought of scripture reading. Matt mentioned camping together during the summer. “Don’t forget the Family Night Phantom,” I said. “That has brought us closer.”
“I think you’re right, Jeremy,” Dad agreed.
“So serving together brings a family closer,” Mom concluded.
Our night wasn’t over. When we were almost settled into bed, the doorbell rang—for the third time! We all ran for the door. On the porch was a loaf of banana bread. What a night!
No one has accused us of being the Phantom, so I think our secret is still safe. Tonight we have brownies, ready for delivery to three more unsuspecting ward families. The Family Night Phantom rides again!
“Loving service anonymously given may be unknown to man—but the gift and the giver are known to God.”President Thomas S. Monson, First Counselor in the First Presidency, “‘Anonymous,’” Ensign, May 1983, 57.

Emily the story detective kept searching. She heard stories about her mom, who was born in a house instead of a hospital, and about Tony the pony that Uncle Josh used to ride—when he could stay on! Tony liked to scrape Josh off by running under a tree branch. She found out about the time when Great-Grandad Ernest went to the store to get fresh brown bread. The baker wrapped the bread in paper so that Grandad could carry it home. On the way, he got so hungry that he poked a little hole in the crust and ate the soft insides. “Mother was sure surprised to have hollow bread,” Grandad said, chuckling.

After a particularly hard day, I asked my husband to give me a blessing. During the blessing I was reminded that I am a daughter of God, that He is aware of me and my needs, and that my son is a son of God. Brad was God’s son first, and my husband and I have a partnership with God in Brad’s behalf. I realized that I had not been using all the tools that the partnership provides for me. My husband and I had researched and discovered many resources to help us, but we forgot the most significant one: prayer.
I began to pray daily about how I could help Brad. When he was having an emotional meltdown, I would say a quick prayer for inspiration before approaching him. As I relied on God for my support and for inspiration for my son, I got a glimpse of what I could be and what I could do for him. I strived to follow Alma’s words: “And this is my glory, that perhaps I may be an instrument in the hands of God” (Alma 29:9).
The changes were immediate. I was flooded with ideas and ways to help Brad. I used family home evening as a tool and prayed for ideas about what to teach. I also read the scriptures with more intent and recognized the great parenting advice they contain. I began to be filled with hope and comfort.
As I continued to put into practice the idea that my husband and I are partners with God in parenting our children and using the tools that He has given us, I began to rely on God more and more. I realized that my knowledge of parenting could only go so far, but a loving Heavenly Father, who knows all things and loves my son more than I do, could help me become a better and stronger mother. And though I still sometimes falter, I know where to look for help. I understand now that some trials may not have a time limit on them, but if I keep my eye on eternity, God will help me.

Bodyboarding has been my greatest passion since I discovered it. It is my outlet, my decompression. From the outset, I always wanted to excel in it.
To get to the highest level, I practiced tirelessly, surfing all day whenever possible. I focused on my goal to become the best drop-knee rider in Tahiti. I won the title two or three times in that category at the Tahiti Taapuna Master surfing tournament as well as at other tournaments.
When I started, the competitions gave me a thrill, and I wanted to show everyone how good I was. Soon, I started getting offers from local and overseas sponsors.
Tournament finals are always held on Sunday, and I often had arguments with my wife about competing on the Lord’s day. She was right. Surfing was taking over too much of my life, but I didn’t want to lose my sponsors. Sponsors allowed me access to top-end, professional surfing equipment, which is expensive. I had to make a choice.
My wife and children motivate me to be an example of faith. They help me determine what I want to become. And of course, my personal faith, the upbringing I received from my parents and leaders, the example of others who have made sacrifices to honor the Sabbath, and the impressions I received from the Spirit also helped me to make my decision. I decided to give priority to my responsibilities as a husband, father, and member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
When I decided to devote myself entirely to the Lord on Sunday, I explained to my sponsors why I no longer surf in the finals on Sunday. I told them that my spiritual and family life takes precedence.
They supported me in my choice. In return, out of respect for Sunday, they asked me to do photo shoots and surf videos on other days of the week. My friends in the circuit also know and respect my religious beliefs and often ask me to pray for them.
I’ve qualified for the finals of the Taapuna Master every year since I turned pro, but I stopped competing on Sunday after winning the title in 2006. I still compete, but now, when they call my name for the finals on Sunday, everyone knows I won’t be there.

Moeaki began art while attending Liahona High School in Nuku’alofa, Tonga. He once placed third in a Danish international art competition, and later gained a bachelor of fine arts from BYU-Idaho in the United States. He has been teaching art for the last nine years at his alma mater, Liahona High School.
Moe works in oil, acrylic and watercolour and describes his art as abstract expressionism. He is most interested in drawing things that are “beyond the veil.”
“I had some near-death experiences when I was a child, which have influenced me. When my father was a mission president, he asked me to do a drawing of the plan of salvation as a missionary tool. . . . It really fired my imagination to think about what it is like beyond the veil.”
His selected work is a tapa collage and acrylic on cardboard entitled, “All Are Alike unto Christ.” A unique feature of this piece is that it includes a strip of tapa cloth.
“Tapa is a very important part of Tongan culture. Newborn babies are wrapped in it, brides and grooms wear it on their wedding day and caskets are draped with it at funerals. It literally is the fabric of our lives,” Moeaki says. “To me, it is an actual veil between this life and the spirit world so it’s important that it is included in my art.”
In his painting, tapa separates our mortal life and a heavenly existence. Beyond that veil, ministering angels are depicted eager to reach out and bless those in times of great need.
“All are alike unto God. . . . We all long for peace, love, and comfort,” Moeaki says, “we all feel that we are being ministered to by the Saviour and His angels in times of need.”

I went through a time when I began to wonder if the Church was really the only true church on the earth. My friends all seemed to believe that their churches were true, and they are good people with high standards.

I set a goal to gain a testimony. I knew it would take time. I prayed, studied the scriptures, and made sure I attended all my Church meetings and activities. I really listened and asked questions, and I thought about all my parents had taught me. After I truly understood the gospel, I began to learn more about my friends’ churches. As I talked with my friends, I realized how fulfilling the gospel is in my life. As I shared with them my beliefs, I realized that I did know that the Church is true. A feeling came over me that was so great.

Don’t ever give up. A desire to gain a testimony is a sign that you are building one already. “And they did pray for that which they most desired … that the Holy Ghost should be given unto them” (3 Ne. 19:9).
Kerianna Copeland, 14Franklin, Pennsylvania

My first experience with the Lord’s protecting care came when I was only three years old. My aunt and uncle had a farm north of Idaho Falls, and my grandfather and our family usually visited them there every summer. Their mailbox was located on the main highway about a half mile from the farm home. On a beautiful summer morning, Grandpa, Mother, and I went for a walk to get the mail. Along the side of the highway was an irrigation ditch full of water. I wanted to throw rocks into the water to see it splash, but as I bent over to pick one up, I lost my balance and fell into the water. My mother screamed, and, just as I was about to disappear into the culvert going under the road, my grandfather was able to grab me by the suspenders of my coveralls and pull me to safety. Once into the culvert, I surely would have drowned before coming out the other side. Yes, mother had prayed that morning for the Lord’s kind and protecting care to be with us, and her prayers were answered.

Kent and Colleen Ockey were definitely different from other families I had met while selling photography. Not only were they genuinely friendly to me, but they showed great love to each other as well. I remember how happy they seemed, how comfortable and at peace I felt in their home even though I couldn’t find an ashtray. These people seemed completely out of step with others I had encountered in my work.
On a side table in their living room, I noticed a large copy of the Book of Mormon. I had read a few chapters of it earlier in my life, and now it attracted my attention again. The Ockey’s answered my questions freely, and invited me back. They introduced me to the missionaries. I began studying, praying, and searching. Twenty-three days later, I was baptized. I finally felt that I was in step, and I’ve tried to keep in step with the Lord and the guidance from his appointed leaders ever since.

Laurie learned this by trying to be more Christlike in her relationship with her husband. She had a need for order; her husband did not. She shed many tears after she repeatedly criticized her husband for his casual and not very tidy ways. However, Laurie realized that her feelings and actions were not in line with the Savior’s example. Rather than condemning her husband, she determined to work on her own attitude. She thought of how Christ would have handled such situations, and planned how she would react to her husband’s next offense. With a Christlike attitude, she found there was no room for fault-finding. She ceased to react unpleasantly. Though it took weeks before her husband’s untidiness no longer bothered her, she found that while she waited for her husband to come home each day, she found herself planning to listen to him, to join him in a few quiet moments, and to help him relax from the tensions of the day.

These actions did not decrease her need for order. But as she learned to deal with the problem cheerfully, this approach became second nature. As much as she wanted it, her husband never did improve enough to be considered tidy. But after a while it did not matter much, because she found that her ability to control her temper was enormously satisfying, far more than having all his socks in the dresser drawer. She had, in fact, come a long way toward achieving emotional integrity.

Changing habits of nineteen or twenty years’ standing requires a careful persuasion of spirit, a restructured schedule of activities, and a conviction that the new habits will prove more valuable and effective than the old ones. A missionary, newly called, faces the necessity of revising his more worldly tendencies and arranging his life on a spiritual plane. His spirit is willing, and he knows that the main thing is to preach the gospel of Jesus Christ; but how does he make daily preparation to accomplish that goal?
The answers are provided in a five-day program of transition at the Missionary Home in Salt Lake City, Utah. Under the supervision of President and Sister J. Murray Rawson, elders and sisters exchange their individual touches of hesitance, reluctance, and fear, for conviction and confidence. They begin on
Registration is from 9:00 A.M. to 12:00 noon. A sister missionary walks bravely into the room marked “Missionaries—Register Here.” She reports her name, pays a fee to cover meals, and is given a short briefing by a member of the mission presidency as well as written instructions relative to her future for the next eighteen months and instructions to attend her first meeting at 2:00 P.M. Now she somehow wrestles her suitcases upstairs—“Missionaries Only” territory. In her room are seven bunk beds with pink bedspreads, several closets, some mirrors, and another sister lying on one of the beds. She sits up.
“Is that all you brought? Oh no! I’ve overpacked!”
Downstairs two mothers wait, watching missionaries form small groups, shake hands, and ask, “Where are you going?”
Both mothers are smiling; they’re also keeping score.
“Look! There’s another lady missionary there.”
“That’s two we’ve seen.”
By the wall map of mission divisions a father points for his two children.
“Do you want to see where Richard is going?”
Then it’s two o’clock and time for the first meeting and the first rule of missionary life: Missionary time is five minutes early.
The hunt for assigned seats causes some confusion, but soon the missionaries get themselves properly distributed. Seated in front of the sisters are the missionary couples going into the field. One woman confides to the sister next to her, “Look at these clean looking kids. I call them kids. My husband says I will have to get used to calling them elders. You know, it’s exciting to watch them change.”
The meeting begins. “Elders and sisters …” Each meeting is opened and concluded with a song and a prayer. Today’s meeting begins with a welcome from the mission presidency. The group learns that the present group of missionaries represents twenty-seven states of the United States plus Australia and Canada.
Next, Sister Rawson speaks on housekeeping, personal habits, and grooming. Little-known facts of ministerial grooming emerge. The missionaries learn that they can remove grass stains with rubbing alcohol and ballpoint pen marks with hair spray. Then there are talks from the counselors in the mission presidency, President Rees and President Broberg.
After dinner the group is introduced to the missionary discussions, and then President Rawson talks to them about spirituality.
The missionaries then spend a half hour in temple preparation. A more serious mood settles upon them with a deeper realization of their relationship as missionaries to the plan of salvation.
Next comes an introduction to discussion memorization by the teaching director. A few mumbles follow his announcement of the “easy way” to do it.
“I think I have a congenital memorization inadequacy.”
“How about me? I almost failed Primary because I couldn’t memorize the Articles of Faith.”
But then the teaching director concludes his remarks with the fact that sixty percent of the previous group memorized all discussions while still in the Missionary Home and adds his testimony.
“Looks like it’s not impossible after all, doesn’t it?”
Ten-thirty is bedtime. There is a long line of sinks in the women’s dormitory, each equipped with a sister missionary.
“… because the Lord wants me here, that’s why.”
“My goal is to go through every temple in the world.”
“Everyone told me I’d probably be called to some place close, and now just think, Southern Italy. Wow!”
“If someone could just take my make-up case, it would take care of my six excess pounds of luggage.”
“My boyfriend said he’d wait for me, but …”
Back in their bedrooms the sisters kneel together in prayer and know the comfort of feeling their spirits united in a mutual goal: to teach the gospel of Jesus Christ. An exchange of good-nights closes the day, except for a whispered, “The top bunk? I’ve never slept in a bunk bed before.” The light goes out, because in a shorter time than could be possible it’s
“Elders and sisters, it’s 6:15. All hands on deck!” President Rawson’s voice comes through the intercom, and missionaries in various stages of alertness arise and turn to make their beds.
Breakfast is at 6:30 in the new Church Office Building, where all meals are served during the five-day stay in the Missionary Home. The elders extend the sisters the courtesy of allowing them to be first in line at the cafeteria.
“I’m glad the Church doesn’t practice women’s lib!”
“Is there a rule against perfume?”
During breakfast the sisters make the acquaintance of a sister missionary whose family is all grown and married and whose husband is dead. She has been called to the Alabama-Florida Mission and speaks proudly of her children, all of whom graduated from college and were married in the temple.
“The Lord has been so good to me; I could not possibly refuse this call.”
Following breakfast the missionaries meet in the Visitor’s Center for a tour. The Tabernacle Choir broadcast then provides a half hour of enjoyment and relaxation prior to the first classes.
At 10:15 the sisters meet with the wives of the mission presidency for orientation and a question and answer session. The rest of the morning is spent discussing goals, self-improvement, and how to get organized.
After lunch it’s discussion study again. All the teachers are returned missionaries who have been called and set apart to this position. Each has completed a three-month training course.
Sunday morning the teaching staff for the sister missionaries gathers in the dormitory study area for a meeting to review the results of the previous week, check weak points, and assign study groups of six to ten sisters. The supervisor encourages her staff to maintain their enthusiasm and love for the sisters and to stimulate them to strive to reach the goals they have set. A member of the teaching staff reflects on her appreciation for this special calling with the comment:
“Sunday is the best day of the week!”
Sacrament meeting concludes with the testimonies of recent converts and Lamanite missionaries. A convert of one year bears his testimony to a congregation quiet in contemplation and reverence.
There are a few minutes between dinner and the evening classes, so the sisters use the dormitory to discuss mission rules, passports, bicycles, the language, hometowns, and expected conduct.
“We should exercise for a few minutes every day.”
“Let’s run in place; it’s good for your heart.”
“You mean all that walking isn’t going to do anything for our hearts?”
Then it’s back to the discussions again. The sisters approach memorization of the discussions with a concept of key-wording to establish a broad outline of thought patterns and content rather than the mechanical memorization of words, phrases, and sentences.
The legendary Mr. Brown becomes Sister Brown as the sisters pair off to tackle the first discussion.
“I think I make a better Mr. Brown than Elder Jones.” They memorize the first two discussions on Sunday.
Then, after straining their memories for two hours on the discussions, the missionaries strain them again with a class on how to remember names. Finally, it’s time for family prayer, and the day closes in the same peace of spirit with which the missionaries plan to meet
The temple session begins at 6:45, so the sisters get up at 6:15. The automatic protests at the early hour are brief and overshadowed by a low-voiced exchange of reasons for wanting to be part of this aspect of the Lord’s work.
“Every time I open my eyes it hurts.”
“… share something beautiful …”
“… an overwhelming desire to serve the Lord.”
“… feeling of peace as I signed the final papers in the bishop’s office.”
Between the two temple sessions that they attend, the missionaries meet with President Lee in the temple, where he answers any questions they may have about the endowment ceremony and the temple.
A late lunch is followed by a return to the classrooms, where the elders and sisters learn about door approaches and the use of the Book of Mormon in proselyting.
After dinner they memorize discussions three and four.
Two and a half days after their first apprehensive and impatient hours in the Missionary Home, the missionaries begin to feel a sense of purpose and belonging caused by tangible actions as well as their strong desires and aspirations. With this positive assurance they face
The day begins for the sisters with a morning prayer and song, and then a trip to the mailbox. A disconsolate elder stares at his empty box.
“I guess nobody loves me.”
“Sure they do. They were just glad to get rid of you.”
“Yeah! My brother was wearing my clothes even before I left.”
Most of the day Tuesday is spent learning about some important practical matters such as companion relationships, investigator relationships, health problems, auto safety, mission organization, and the daily work schedule.
Sandwiched in between these subjects is a unique little class taught by a member of the mission presidency. It is called “Listening.” In it the missionaries are taught how to listen perceptively and compassionately to others.
After dinner the missionaries memorize discussions five, six, and seven. Actually they have spent every spare minute all day long in concentrated study of the discussions. The time is only a few minutes snatched here and there, but it’s enough for most to get the job done.
It’s been a long day, but time seems to go faster each day. Lights out at 10:30, and more quickly than ever it’s
Today is the last day in the Missionary Home. This evening many of the elders and sisters will leave in buses for the language training missions at Ricks College and BYU. Others will leave on Thursday morning flights for their mission fields.
Everyone looks forward to Wednesday morning, not because it’s their last but because that’s the day the General Authorities speak to them. These leaders bear moving witness of the divine mission of Joseph Smith, of the importance of modern apostles and prophets, of the truth of the gospel, and of the divinity of Christ. They also explain the order of Church government in priesthood correlation, and advise the missionaries regarding their personal conduct. The morning passes far too quickly.
After lunch there is a testimony meeting. It ends with the elders and sisters singing “God Be with You” with some tears but mostly a sense of hope and enthusiasm and minds and hearts filled with words to remember.
“Smile, elders and sisters! These are glad tidings!”
“If you want to have a certain quality, act as if you already had that quality.”
“I told the brethren that the Book of Mormon was the most correct of any book on earth and the keystone of our religion, and a man would get nearer to God by abiding by its precepts than by any other book.”—Joseph Smith
“The gospel makes bad men good and good men better; it changes human nature.”—David O. McKay
Each missionary takes from the Missionary Home his suitcases, packages, “mission library,” and two special gifts: the gospel and the chance to share it, and the knowledge that he is prepared to succeed.

When Elder Widtsoe was released as president of the mission in 1934, I started correspondence with Elder Joseph F. Merrill, who succeeded him. He arranged to send me the Millennial Star, which I received until 1940 when World War II interrupted the subscription.
In January 1937, Elder Richard R. Lyman, successor to President Merrill, wrote that he and Elder Hugh B. Brown would be in Rome on a certain day. I could meet them there and be baptized. However, the letter was delayed because of war conditions, and I did not receive it in time.
From then until 1949, I was cut off from all news of the Church, but I remained a faithful follower and preached the gospel of the dispensation of the fulness of times. I had copies of the standard works, and I translated chapters into Italian and sent them to acquaintances with the greeting, “Good day. The morning breaks—Jehovah speaks!”
On February 13, 1949, I sent a letter to Elder Widtsoe at Church headquarters in Salt Lake City. Elder Widtsoe answered my letter on October 3, 1950, explaining that he had been in Norway. I sent him a long letter in reply in which I asked him to help me to be quickly baptized, because I felt that I had proven myself to be a faithful son and servant of God, observing the laws and commandments of his kingdom. Elder Widtsoe asked President Samuel E. Bringhurst of the Swiss-Austrian Mission to go to Sicily to baptize me.
On January 18, 1951, President Bringhurst arrived on the island and baptized me at Imerese. Apparently, this was the first baptism performed in Sicily. Then, on April 28, 1956, I entered the temple at Bern, Switzerland, and received my endowment. At last, to be in the presence of my Heavenly Father! I felt that God’s promise had been fully fulfilled—the day had come indeed when the source of the book was known to me and I was able to enjoy the effects of my faith.

I remember the first time I encountered the Americans. We came through a dense pine forest, and we had to go across the street. We opened the branches and all of a sudden a huge tank was right in front, and the gun was aimed at us.
I was scared. I had never seen an American tank or an American. The top of the tank opened, and an American came out. Russian prisoners who had been freed by the Americans were sitting on top. They saw that we were shaking. The American asked me where we came from and where we wanted to go. I told him we wanted to go home. “No way,” he said. “You just jump on here, and we’ll take you along. At the next stop we’ll put you on a truck that will take you to a camp.”

The Russian soldiers seated on the tank made me think of a possible solution to our dilemma. During the war the feeling of love I had learned all my life in church was in my heart. I didn’t hate anyone. I thought about being my brother’s keeper.

The Russian soldiers imprisoned in our camp weren’t treated well. They went without much to eat and we had plenty, so we asked them to clean our mess kits, and they consented. We left food in them all the time just to feed them.

My commanding officer noticed, and he called me in. “What do you do with your mess kits?”
“The Russians clean them for us,” I replied.
“I checked and there was food in them.”
“We cannot eat it all. That’s why we leave it in there.”
“You know that’s strictly forbidden. I could report you and you would be in trouble. Don’t do it again,” he said, and patted me on the shoulder.

One of the Russians to whom we had given the food wrote me a note. He told me that whenever we lost the war or I needed help from the Russians to show them this note.

I had put it in my pocket, and at the moment that we were confronted with that tank I remembered it. I pulled it out and gave it to the Russians. They read it and then all of a sudden said, “Friend! Friend!” in German and talked to the American, telling him that I had given food to the Russians. He said, “I hear you have been good to the Russians. Instead of us taking you along, just go ahead.”

Amelia did as much flying as she could in those early days of aviation, and in 1928 she was invited to become the first woman to cross the Atlantic Ocean in an airplane. She was only a passenger then, but in 1932 she decided to cross the Atlantic again—this time as the first woman pilot to fly across it!
On the evening of Friday, May 20, 1932, she took off from Harbour Grace, Newfoundland. Early in the flight the altimeter, which measures the distance an airplane is above the ground or water, stopped working. It was a very dark night, and clouds blocked out the light of the moon. A lightning storm arose. Visability was poor, and Amelia couldn’t see how high above the water she was. She decided to try flying above the clouds where she would have moonlight and be safely away from the storm and the ocean. However, as she climbed through the cloud layer, ice formed on the plane’s wings. The extra weight caused the plane to go into a spinning dive. As the plane came closer to the surface of the water, the ice melted from the wings and Amelia was able to pull the plane out of the spin. But she had been close enough to the ocean to see the whitecaps on the waves.
Later during the same flight Amelia noticed flames trailing from a broken weld in the manifold of her engine. If the flames caused the manifold to weaken and break apart, the airplane might crash. Amelia could have turned back to Harbour Grace, but “there was nothing to do about it … ,” she said. “So it seemed sensible to keep going.” Although the flames never ceased and the manifold rattled steadily, Amelia made it to Ireland. She landed there in a pasture rather than continuing on to Paris as she had planned.

Following in their dad’s fleet footsteps, David and Stuart Deacon are two of the top runners in England. And they both hope to run in the Olympics someday.
The goal is not too farfetched. David, a recently returned missionary, currently in police training, ran the 100 meters in the U.K. open championships with the top runners in the nation.
Stuart will have to wait a bit longer, though. He has clocked exceptional times in the 1,500 meters but has put his running career on hold to serve in the Belgium Brussels Mission.
“I feel that keeping the Word of Wisdom has been one of the major factors to our success in athletics,” says David.
Stuart agrees, and said, after winning numerous events at the Church All British Championships, “I was still recovering from mumps, and I’m convinced that because of obedience to the Word of Wisdom, my body was able to respond well to the priesthood blessing I received.”

In order to finish the temple, the prophet Wilford Woodruff asked everyone to make special contributions to the temple fund. Even young children were encouraged to give whatever they could. Many children worked on holidays and gave all their earnings to the temple fund. Other children asked to do extra chores around the house in order to earn some money to give.
During this time, one young Primary boy was trying to earn enough money to buy something for himself. He found work at a neighbor’s farm. After working very hard, he was paid twenty-five cents—a lot of money in those days—for his efforts. He “clutched the coin and ran home” excitedly to show his father how much he had earned. “Pa, look what I have!” he proudly announced. “The next time you go to Provo,” he continued, “I can get a new pair of jeans with this money.”
His father reminded him of the prophet’s request for funds for the temple. “President Wilford Woodruff needs ten cents of this quarter for the Salt Lake Temple. Here, I’ll give you fifteen cents for the coin, and we’ll go together to give the dime to our bishop, who will send it to Salt Lake City.” The boy gladly took the money to the bishop so that he, too, could help build the temple.

The unique qualities possessed by these men and women whom I have mentioned can be of invaluable assistance to us as we face the problems and the trials which lie ahead. May I illustrate by mentioning the experience of the Pollard family of Oakland, California.

A few years ago, as Elder Taavili Joseph Samuel Pollard was traveling to the mission office on the last day of his mission in Zimbabwe, the mission car he was driving somehow spun out of control and hit a tree. A passerby was able to rescue Elder Pollard’s companion, but Elder Pollard, who was unconscious, was trapped in the car, which burst into flames. Elder Pollard perished. His mother had passed away eight years earlier; hence, his father was rearing the family alone. A brother was serving in the West Indies Mission.

When the news of Elder Pollard’s death reached his father, this humble man—who had already lost his wife—called the son serving in the West Indies to let him know of his brother’s death. Over that long-distance telephone line, Brother Pollard and his son, no doubt grief stricken and heartsick, sang together “I Am a Child of God.” Before concluding the call, the father offered a prayer to Heavenly Father, thanking Him for His blessings and seeking His divine comfort.

Brother Pollard later commented that he knew his family would be all right, for they have strong testimonies of the gospel and of the plan of salvation.