Gospel Story Finder

When I was a young mother with four children, my husband was serving as a bishop. It felt wonderful to be part of my idea of an ideal Latter-day Saint family. But my husband died of cancer, and I was left to raise my children alone. I had to return to school, finish a degree, and work. I had to reframe what I perceived an ideal Latter-day Saint family to be. I later married a man with six children, and we became a blended family with ten children. Once again I had to reframe what I thought an ideal LDS family was.

Learning how to grieve and then go on with your life can build strength. When you can acknowledge and work through painful feelings, you develop emotional, spiritual, and psychological skills that can help you in other areas of your life. Your capacity for empathy can grow through a personal acquaintance with grief.

The Young Women in the Hemet Third Ward, Hemet California Stake, used their artistic talents to provide a quiet activity for children waiting to be sealed to their parents in the temple. The girls painted wooden dolls and puzzles for the children to play with.
After their project was completed, the girls were told they could see their toys in use when they went on their next trip to do baptisms for the dead. Now they have other reasons to look forward to going to the temple!

Did you ever have to take care of a grown-up? I’ve done it many times. Every Saturday my sister and I take turns going to my grandmother’s house. Grandma has dementia, which means she forgets a lot. Because her condition has been getting worse, she can’t be left alone. A few years ago, she was taking me to the store. Now I take her. But I don’t mind. I love Grandma, and we still have a lot of fun together.
Today was my turn to be with Grandma. She shuffled into the living room. “How do I look?” she asked. “You didn’t have to help me get dressed today.”
Grandma’s red jacket didn’t really match her bright pink blouse and brown pants, but I was happy she had been able to dress herself. “You always look good to me, Grandma.”
Grandma smiled. “So, where are we walking today?”
“The shoe store. Mom said you need new walking shoes.”
“Oh,” she said. “Can we go to the doughnut store too?”
“Sure,” I said, smiling. Going to the doughnut store was the one thing Grandma never forgot to do.
Half an hour later, Grandma sat patiently as the shoe salesman helped her try on her new shoes. When the salesman went to find a different size, Grandma whispered, “You know, Noreen, I think these shoes are ugly.”
“You’ve never complained about them before, Grandma.”
“Well, they’re not as pretty as those,” she insisted, pointing to a pair of high-heeled shoes on display.
“We are supposed to buy walking shoes,” I reminded her. “You can’t wear high heels to go walking.”
Grandma lowered her eyebrows and scrunched her nose, but she didn’t say anything else.
When the salesman returned, Grandma tried on the shoes, stood up, and walked around. “Ah,” she sighed. “My feet feel wonderful in these shoes.”
“So you like them?” I asked.
“Of course,” she said. “Don’t I always like these shoes?”
Sometimes Grandma contradicts herself. But it doesn’t upset me. I know she can’t help it.
After the salesman boxed up the new shoes, he walked to the cash register. I opened my wallet to find the money Mom had given me. “I’ll go pay now, Grandma. I’ll be right back,” I said.
The salesman was very busy, and I had to wait several minutes before I could pay. When I walked back to Grandma’s seat, she was gone. Her old shoes were still lying on the floor. I quickly scanned the store, but I couldn’t see her. I started feeling very nervous. “Has anyone seen my grandmother?” I yelled.
“A woman with a red jacket walked out the door a few minutes ago,” someone said.
I darted out the door. I hoped I’d find Grandma looking at the pretty shoes in the store window, but she wasn’t there. Just then I saw Grandma walking toward me.
“Grandma!” I cried. “Why didn’t you wait for me? I was so worried!”
“I’m sorry, Noreen. You know, I did the silliest thing! Please don’t be angry, dear.”
“I’m not angry,” I said. “I was just scared.” I sat down on a nearby bench.
Grandma looked off in the distance. “After I got outside, I realized I didn’t have any shoes on,” she explained.
“I’m just glad I found you,” I said.
We went back inside for her shoes. As we walked home, I noticed Grandma’s shoulders were slumped and her head was down. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Everything! I hate all this forgetting business,” she said. “But I just can’t help it.”
“You’re doing all right,” I said. “Everybody forgets now and then.”
“Not like this! Forgetting my shoes, forgetting this, forgetting that!”
“You could be doing much worse, you know. For instance, what do you always put on first, your blouse or your jacket?”
Grandma glanced at me with her bright eyes twinkling. “You’re being silly.”
“No, I’m not! Can you imagine if you put your blouse on top of your jacket?”
“Then I’d really be in bad shape, I guess,” Grandma said as she gave my arm a playful nudge.
“Would you like to go for a walk in the park today?” I asked.
“Sure, but can we go to the doughnut store too?”
“Of course.” I held her hand to cross the street. “Don’t we always?”
Like I said, I don’t mind taking care of Grandma. Sometimes it can get a little interesting. But most of the time, we just enjoy each other’s company.

For instance, one of the hardest rules to follow is to get up in the morning when your mission president directs. Many young men think the best time to sleep is in the morning. I’m grateful to my obedient senior companion, Elder William Grant Bangerter, who would set the alarm clock to get up early. When the alarm went off, it would jangle my nerves. In the winter it was dark, damp, and cold, and we never had any hot water for bathing or showering. He would cheerfully shower in that cold water; I would start to shiver as soon as he got out of the shower. I could not do anything but follow his example, but I have to confess that I was not quite as cheerful because my teeth were chattering.

Do you want to do better in school? How would you like to ace your college entrance exams? Well, then work on your sense of humor and on having fun. That’s what Michael Haycock, a priest in the Lima Ward, Toledo Ohio Stake, says. And Michael knows something about taking tests and doing well in school. As a sophomore in 2004, Michael aced both standardized college entrance exams; he scored a perfect 36 on the ACT and a 1570 on the SAT (just 30 points away from a perfect 1600). He ranks at the top of his class with a 4.17 grade point average. He also says to “Learn to love to learn.”
“With a zany sense of humor, you can have fun with everything from verbs to imaginary numbers,” says Michael. That’s easy for him to say. Maybe it’s just because he’s so smart that things come so easily. After all, he is one of only two sophomores in the entire nation to get a 36 on the ACT out of about 218,000 students. He is the final winner of the Ohio University–sponsored U.S. history contest, in which he competed with 7,400 other entrants for a full-tuition, four-year scholarship. He is the star on the high school quiz bowl team. And he still makes it to early-morning seminary every day.
That’s why it’s so surprising to hear this bit of advice from Michael: “Don’t feel you’re a failure due to others’ successes. I feel this quite a bit. It’s a weakness of mine.” Michael explains that when he hears about the latest 12-year-old neurosurgeon, or the college-attending 13-year-old Nobel Peace Prize nominee, he thinks he should have done just a little more or a little better. “Everyone can do at least one thing another cannot,” Michael adds. “Every child of God is truly unique.”
So what makes Michael Haycock unique? There are lots of things. He certainly doesn’t fit the standard mold of the “brainiac.” When asked if others ever bother him for being a good student, Michael says that has happened on occasion, “but that’s only been at the beginning. When they get to know me they stop.” He plays the trombone in the marching band and the symphonic band. He sings in the school choir and even auditioned for and made it into the all-state choir. He runs cross-country. “My best time for the 5K is 20 minutes, 10 seconds,” Michael says, “which is not spectacular, but it’s not bad either.” This year he improved his time; it’s now 19 minutes, 32 seconds. But what really makes Michael stand out among his peers is that he’s a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
“We have more LDS students in our school than in any other school in the county.” That number translates into nine members of the Church in his high school. Michael says he doesn’t get a chance to interact with them much outside of early-morning seminary, because they don’t have classes together. In fact, even at church, Michael is in a quorum of only four boys, and each of them lives in a different school district. “I can’t say if it’s hard or easy, because I don’t have anything to compare it to,” Michael says.
So Michael’s group of friends is quite diverse. “We have a Baptist, a Lutheran, a Methodist, and Catholics,” he says. What brings them together is years of friendship and similar interests. They all like learning and science fiction and fantasy. Having many friends of other faiths gives Michael a chance to let them know about his beliefs. “We sometimes have religious discussions—pretty much compare beliefs. I’ve gone to my friend’s church recently for Palm Sunday, and she came to general conference with me.”
When he has the chance, Michael likes to get together with other LDS youth. Like when he sang in the choir for the dedication of Church history sites in historic Kirtland. He talks warmly about the three- to four-hour drives to Kirtland for practices. But he remembers most the wonderful experience of the dedication and the fireside the night before where he saw President Gordon B. Hinckley and other General Authorities speak.
“We see these people in general conference. But this was live. And at the end of the dedication everyone got up and spontaneously sang ‘We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet,’” Michael remembers (Hymns, no. 19). “It was surreal almost. It was an amazing feeling throughout the whole dedication. It was neat.”
Living close to some of the Church history sites has helped Michael’s testimony grow stronger. He’s gained respect and admiration for what the early Saints accomplished. He’s had the chance to attend four temple dedications. And he’s come to feel a connection with the Prophet Joseph Smith. “One thing I know is that the Book of Mormon is true,” says Michael. “I’m reading it through my second time. There’s just no way one person could have put down all the wisdom on paper that is in those pages. There’s no way.”
What does the future hold for Michael Haycock? Service. “I’m preparing for college the best I can by taking AP [advanced placement] classes,” says Michael. “After that I’m going to head off to college for a year and then go on a mission. I’ll come back and finish up school.” He says he’s pretty sure he’ll pursue more degrees than just a bachelor’s. Michael has thought about becoming a Spanish professor, but right now he is planning on going into political science, with the hopes of getting into politics. He wants to make a difference in the world.
Michael doesn’t see himself as smarter than everyone else. But sometimes that’s how others look at him. “They see the stereotype of the smart kid, but I try to break that stereotype,” says Michael. And he’s done it. Michael Haycock is not just another smart kid; he’s a smart kid with a strong testimony of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ.
Here are 10 tips Michael says he uses to do his best when studying, preparing for, and taking a test.
Attend class every day and pay attention.
Have a good sense of humor so you can have fun learning.
Develop a good relationship with your teachers.
Do all your assignments, and do them on time.
Ask questions about things you don’t understand.
Review your study material with friends.
Do all review assignments.
Define your own academic identity: don’t let yourself be labeled.
Check your answers on quizzes and tests at least once—twice if you have time.
Learn to love to learn.

Frequently the need of the widow is not one of food or shelter but of feeling a part of ongoing events. Elder H. Bryan Richards of the Seventy once brought to my office a sweet widow whose husband had passed away during a full-time mission they were serving. Elder Richards explained that her financial resources were adequate and that she desired to contribute to the Church’s General Missionary Fund the proceeds of two insurance policies on the life of her departed husband. I could not restrain my tears when she meekly advised me, “This is what I wish to do. It is what my missionary-minded husband would like.”

The gift was received and entered as a most substantial donation to missionary service. I saw the receipt made in her name, but I believe in my heart it was also recorded in heaven. I invited her and Elder Richards to follow me to the unoccupied First Presidency council room in the Church Administration Building. The room is beautiful and peaceful. I asked this sweet widow to sit in the chair usually occupied by our Church President. I felt he would not mind, for I knew his heart.

As she sat ever so humbly in the large leather chair, she gripped each armrest with a hand and declared, “This is one of the happiest days of my life.” It was also such for Elder Richards and for me.

I never travel to work along busy Seventh East in Salt Lake City but what I see in my mind’s eye a thoughtful daughter, afflicted with arthritis and carrying in her hand a plate of warm food to her aged mother who lived across the busy thoroughfare. She has now gone home to that mother who preceded her in passing. But her lesson was not lost on her daughters, who delight their widowed father by cleaning his house each week, inviting him to dinners in their homes, and sharing with him the laughter of good times together, leaving in that widower’s heart a prayer of gratitude for his children, the light of his life. Fathers experience loneliness as well as mothers.

When Brother Patricio Ávila went to the Santiago Chile Temple for the first time, he had an experience that changed his life and eventually blessed the lives of many of us. In the temple, he very distinctly visualized that all of us, the brothers and sisters of his branch, were together with him in that sacred place. We are members of the Obrador Branch of the Mendoza Argentina Stake in western Argentina; the temple in Santiago is the nearest temple.
When he got back home, he couldn’t forget his mental picture of everyone together in the temple. With faith, he told us all about it. Some of the members smiled indulgently or made indifferent comments. But some of us became serious about making our own trip to Santiago.
Under the direction of our branch president, Brother Ávila went to work right away to help us. First he set up meetings, and we discussed our temple goals and started collecting money for the trip. (These early donations became very important later.) Next he helped get temple preparation classes going so that everyone would be spiritually prepared. Thanks to his attention and drive, our enthusiasm grew.
Things slowed down temporarily in the summer when Brother Ávila had to leave town to work. But when he returned in the fall, our momentum returned, too. The classes entered their final phase, and those who were ready had temple recommend interviews with our branch president, Orlando Maris, and with our stake president, Martín Borges. We organized a three-day trip and set a departure date for Thursday, 16 April 1992.
The only obstacle still in our way was the cost of chartering a bus. To meet it, we needed to sell fifty-eight fares—and with only three weeks to go, we had sold only forty-four fares. Unless we sold the remaining fares, the individual cost of each ticket would be higher, and some people wouldn’t be able to go.
But Brother Ávila’s faith didn’t waver. He decided that if we couldn’t fill the bus with branch members, we would invite the rest of Mendoza Stake. So he and Brother Alejandro Suriano visited each of the wards and branches in the stake, leaving a small poster and inviting their members to join us.
What happened next proved to us that signs do follow those who believe. Interested people quickly came forward, and the unsold seats were soon gone. Some of these newcomers did not even live in the stake boundaries. Brother and Sister Freire were from the nearby Godoy Cruz Argentina Stake, and the five members of the Badami family were from Santiago del Estero province—more than 1,000 kilometers away.
As arrangements were finalized, there were three families who had prepared for the trip but could not pay the full cost. Thankfully, the money we had donated at our early meetings settled the balance. Now everything was in order.
On the eve of our journey, the whole group met for a special family home evening at the meetinghouse. Afterwards, those who lived far away remained there all night to be on time for the bus, which came at 5:30 the following morning. Leaving early would give us enough time to get through Chilean customs.
As we traveled, everyone was filled with the spirit of love and brotherhood. Food and juice were divided generously. Each family had stories and testimonies to share, and there were many sessions of hymn singing. We looked out the windows often to admire the magnificent Andes mountains. We passed picturesque towns as our winding road traversed snowy peaks, ravines, and streams. Who could doubt that a divine hand had created this beautiful world?
We crossed the border into Chile, and before long we were making our approach to the temple. How our hearts leaped with joy when we saw the angel Moroni on the temple’s spire! We could almost hear the call of his trumpet. The temple workers were there to welcome us. They had arranged places for us to stay in homes of Chilean Saints, and we immediately went to the homes, bathed, and made ready for the special temple session that had been prepared.
Next came the sublime moment when we actually entered the house of the Lord. It was truly indescribable. Mere words can never express the spirit of that holy place. One must experience it—and that can happen only when a temple recommend is presented with a humble and contrite heart. Only then can the initiatory ordinances, endowments, marriages, family sealings, and baptisms for the dead be performed with the proper spirit.
Now we understood those who had gone before us. They had been right when they said that once we were inside the temple, we would never want to leave. Nevertheless, that wonderful day eventually came to an end. We went to the homes of our Chilean hosts, eager to return in the morning.
Because the following day was the Friday before Easter, a great many people came to the temple from all parts of Chile. Those of our group who were lodged far away did not arrive early enough to get in. We were extremely disappointed, but we made the best of the situation. That evening, we held a beautiful family home evening together, bearing our testimonies and singing hymns. And we made arrangements to attend the first session the next morning.
The Saturday morning session was indeed one of great rejoicing and spirituality as our whole group met in the house of the Lord. We felt that He was happy and pleased with our service as we performed the sacred ordinances again, this time for the dead.
After the session, it was time to return to Argentina. But since the bus had developed a mechanical problem, we had to stay Saturday night in Santiago while it was being repaired. However, even this difficulty turned to our advantage. Again we held a home evening as an entire group—rejoicing in hymns, prayers, and testimony. All of us were as one.
On Sunday our bus, reverberating with the hymns of Zion, finally started for home. Eventually some of us slept, while others remained awake, letting pass through our minds the thoughts of those past few days. We arrived at our own meetinghouse at 2:30 on Sunday afternoon and held our sacrament meeting according to the commandment of the Lord.
How many things we had to tell our brothers and sisters! How we wished that someday they might feel what we had felt!
Brother Ávila’s dream had been fulfilled.
Following are thoughts of some of the members who made the journey to the temple together:
Patricio Ávila: “Miracles do happen! In humility and with great love for our Creator, I give thanks from a full heart for the opportunity that he has given me to be an instrument in his hand—and for the great blessing of visiting his holy temple with a group of his children. May this blessing be poured out upon all the members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. May we always have the strength to do those things that are pleasing in his eyes and never cease to love one another.”
Alba de Caballero: “It was very moving for me to be sealed to my parents and to other members of my family who are dead. Now I know that I have a family waiting for me when I leave this world.”
Maris family: “We felt a great spirit of brotherhood, hospitality, and the pure love of Christ. What incomparable happiness! We invite all of our brothers and sisters to seek these eternal blessings.”
Amalia de Ojeda: “Now I know He loves me!”
Delfín de la Cruz Bello: “I feel blessed to be sealed to my wife and children for the eternities.”
Alejandro Gonzales: “It was a great pleasure to share this edifying experience. I hope it is not the last. Let us combine our testimonies and personal experiences and use them to strengthen the rest of our branch and offer them the same blessings.”
Alberto Lisandrello: “I cherish a new testimony in my heart of the divinity of our Father in Heaven and of His love for his children.”
Edilia Bertolani: “What a profound thing it is that the Lord would permit me to enter into his temple! While we performed the baptisms and sealings for the dead, I could feel their presence and knew that they were happy and grateful that we were helping them to be together for eternity.”
Rojas family: “Thanks to the organizers of this trip, we were able to be sealed as an eternal family!”
José Badami: “It was a beautiful trip. I really felt a good spirit and enjoyed the good humor of all our brothers and sisters. Thank you, Brother Ávila, and those who worked with you, for all that you sacrificed to coordinate and organize this temple trip. The Lord will bless you for it.”

A year and a half after I was called as the second counselor in the bishopric of the Arroyo Hondo Ward of the Santiago Dominican Republic South Stake, a strong flood affected the population of the Brisas del Norte area of Arroyo Hondo Arriba, the southern part of Santiago de los Caballeros in the Dominican Republic. Due to the significant amount of rain that fell during Tropical Storm Olga, poverty and despair surprised this humble community in the early hours of Dec. 12, 2007. Houses were destroyed, along with the furnishings and belongings of those who inhabited them. Crying and despair overwhelmed survivors. The water levels covered most of the houses. Screams and despair took possession of people when they saw themselves practically homeless and with only their sleeping attire on them.
The priesthood brethren of the Arroyo Hondo Ward, headed by its bishop, Luis Gerardo Tejada Villamán, immediately came to the rescue of children and adults. The roofs of the flooded houses were occupied by the inhabitants, who, to save their lives, had climbed on them.
The friendly hand of our Savior Jesus Christ was not long in coming. His priesthood brethren were there helping those most in need. Shortly after the incident, they were transferred to different places to await the resolution of the flooding that had changed their lives.
When the water receded, the repairs to houses, the arrival of clothing, medicine and food filled this community with happiness and joy. They shouted “Thank you, God, thank you very much! Despite our sad situation, you never abandoned us.”
Without thinking about what happened, they did not go down from the roof to get something from their houses, and they did not go back to get their clothes.
Their December became full of light and hope, the birth of our beloved Lord Jesus Christ was celebrated, despite having spent a moment in the dark on December 12, 2007.

Consider the story of Ximena Martinez. A few years ago, Ximena, her sister Micaela, and her brother Gonzalo were living with their divorced mother in Buenos Aires. Ximena was 15 at the time. She had been assigned the responsibility of taking care of the yard, “but I had neglected it,” she explains. “Daniel Garrido, a nice neighbor who lived across the street, offered to help. A few days later he came, accompanied by full-time missionaries. They worked hard and made everything look beautiful. But this was only the beginning. Daniel and his wife, Elisabet, continued to be faithful friends, and the missionaries offered to teach us about the restoration of the gospel. How could we say no?”
That was the beginning of a journey to understanding. After studying with the missionaries, Ximena’s mother was baptized. The children soon followed her example. “I decided to change my life, to have the kind of freedom only Christ can give,” Ximena continues. “More and more, I wanted to live the gospel. But there was something missing—we needed a father and we wanted to be sealed in the temple.
“One day at a Church dance, I talked to a friend named Martin Morresi. He mentioned that his father was a widower. Jokingly I said, ‘Well, my mother needs a husband! We ought to get them to meet.’ We only had one problem—his father lived 2,000 miles away.
“I began to tease my mother that I had found a husband for her. Then, at a stake choir rehearsal, Martin told me, ‘My father is coming to visit Buenos Aires, and he wants to have dinner with your mother!’ I was stunned, but I won’t even tell you my mother’s reaction. However, she accepted. Martin accompanied his father, Ruben, and I accompanied my mother, Susana, and we had a wonderful evening. Ruben Morresi was attentive and respectful. I could see he was upright and faithful, a man of God.”
Three and a half months later, Ruben and Susana were married in the Buenos Aires Argentina Temple. Ximena, Micaela, and Gonzalo Martinez were sealed to them and moved with them to Ushuaia, where they joined Manuel and Micaela Morresi as new brothers and sisters. (Three older children live away from home.)
“Now I live at the end of the world,” says Ximena. “I am working with all my might to help Zion to grow here. I know the Lord’s kingdom will extend to the four corners of the earth, and this is why He has guided us to one of them.”

The Holy Ghost will also help you to do what is right, even when that seems very difficult. I hope you children will never be afraid to stand up for what is right. I still remember an experience I had in primary school. Our primary school included first through seventh grades. When I was about 12 and in my final year of primary school, the head boy, who was supposed to be the school leader, was actually the school’s biggest bully. He and three or four of his pals would go around teasing other kids.
I was new at the school, so one day he tried to intimidate me. When he discovered I would not respond to his intimidation, he gave up and bullied other kids, especially the weaker ones. One day when I saw this happening, I walked over and told him to stop. I said that if he did not stop I would defend the smaller boy. There stood the bully with his three or four friends, surrounding this small, timid boy and myself. It was very scary. I thought they were going to beat me up. To my surprise, the bully withered under my words. He and his friends made some smart remarks and left.
Throughout the rest of the year I continued to defend other boys from these bullies. Others started to do so, too, until the bullies gradually lost all their power and influence. Children, the lesson I learned from this experience is that when we do things for the right reason, even when it is very difficult, the Lord will bless us and help us. He needs courageous people to stand up and defend what is right and reduce the influence of evil. You are never too young to begin doing so. When you stand for what is right, you will discover that good triumphs.

President Hinckley also tells of such a defining moment. When he was first on his mission, he found the work discouraging. I'm sure you have heard the story. He wrote to his father saying he was wasting time and money. His father wrote back:
"Dear Gordon, I have your recent letter. I have only one suggestion: forget yourself and go to work." Earlier that morning my companion and I had read these words of the Lord: "Whosoever will save his life shall lose it; but whosoever shall lose his life for my sake and the gospel's, the same shall save it" (Mark 8:35).
Those words of the Master, followed by my father's letter, went into my very being. I went into our bedroom and got on my knees and made a pledge to the Lord. I covenanted that I would try to forget myself and lose myself in His service.
That July day in 1933 was my day of decision. A new light came into my life and a new joy into my heart. (Friend, June 2006)

A few months into his mission, our youngest son and his missionary companion were completing their study when our son felt a dull pain in his head. He felt very strange; at first he lost control of his left arm; then his tongue went numb. The left side of his face began to droop. He had difficulty speaking. He knew something was wrong. What he didn’t know was that he was in the middle of a massive stroke in three areas of his brain. Fear began to set in as he became partially paralyzed. How quickly a stroke victim receives care can have a dramatic effect on the extent of his healing. His faithful missionary companion acted decisively. After calling 911, he gave him a blessing. Miraculously, the ambulance was only five minutes away.
After our son was rushed to the hospital, the medical personnel quickly assessed the situation and determined they should administer a medicine to our son that could potentially reverse the stroke’s paralyzing effects over time. However, if our son was not having a stroke, the medicine could have severe consequences, such as bleeding in the brain. Our son had to choose. He chose to accept the medication. While full recovery required more operations and many months, our son eventually returned and completed his mission after the effects of the stroke were substantially reversed.
The missionary companion and the medical professionals who helped our stroke-afflicted son in the mission field acted quickly. Our son chose to receive the stroke-reversing medicine. The paralyzing effects of his stroke that could have followed him for the remainder of his mortal life were reversed. Likewise, the faster we repent and bring the Atonement of Jesus Christ into our lives, the sooner we can be healed from the effects of sin.

About halfway through seventh grade, I wanted to be part of the “in” crowd. I started changing just to fit in. I got mad easier, I tried to make a boy I liked think I was someone different from who I really am, and I started hanging out with people who didn’t have the best reputation. At the beginning of the fourth quarter of school, I noticed that I’d changed.
I had a lot of fond memories of the year before: no swearing, no bad influences. I’d had great friends—friends who actually cared about me and were good influences.
I decided to stop trying to change and just be myself, including keeping the commandments. Not long after that decision, when a boy asked me out, I told him, “No, I won’t date until I’m 16.” He asked why, and I responded, “I’m LDS.” He was sort of mad because I turned him down, but I knew I’d done the right thing. It felt good to stand up for my beliefs.
I thought, “If my friends leave me because of who I am, then they’re not really my friends.” I’m now a lot happier, and I know that from now on I’ll choose my friends wisely and be true to myself.

When President George Albert Smith was young, his deceased grandfather George A. Smith appeared to him in a dream and asked, “I would like to know what you have done with my name.” President Smith responded, “I have never done anything with your name of which you need be ashamed.”1
Each week as we partake of the sacrament, we covenant and promise that we are willing to take upon us the name of Christ, always remember Him, and keep His commandments. If we are willing to do so, we are promised that most wonderful blessing—that His Spirit will always be with us.2
Just as President George Albert Smith had to account to his grandfather for what he had done with his name, someday each one of us will have to account to our Savior, Jesus Christ, for what we have done with His name.
The importance of having a good name is spoken of in Proverbs, where we read: “A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and loving favour rather than silver and gold”3 and “The [name] of the just is blessed.”4
As I pondered these scriptures and the importance of having a good name, a flood of memories came into my mind about the good name and legacy my parents left my four brothers, my two sisters, and me. My parents did not have the riches of the world, nor did they have silver or gold. Nine of us lived in a two-bedroom, one-bath home with an enclosed back porch, where my sisters slept. When my parents passed away, my brothers and sisters and I gathered to divide their earthly possessions, which were few in number. My mother left a few dresses, some used furniture, and a few other personal items. My father left some carpenter tools, some old hunting rifles, and little else. The only things of any monetary value were a modest home and a small savings account.
Together we wept openly, giving thanks, knowing they had left us something much more precious than silver or gold. They had given us their love and their time. They had often borne testimony of the truthfulness of the gospel, which we can now read in their precious journals. Not so much by words but more by their example, they had taught us to work hard, to be honest, and to pay a full tithing. They also engendered a desire to further our education, to serve a mission, and most important, to find an eternal companion, be married in the temple, and endure to the end. Truly they left us the legacy of a good name, for which we shall ever be grateful.

Shortly after those early visits, Brother Raubenheimer was called as bishop of the East London Ward, and my family and I moved to Queenstown. With the aid of the missionaries in Queenstown and my family members, I visited each of the outlying branches on a weekly basis for a time, rather than the previous monthly visits.
This continued successfully until violence flared up in the parts of Queenstown inhabited by blacks. Church meetings became disrupted as violence increased. Part of the Sada school was burned, so members were left without a meetinghouse. For safety reasons, missionaries were recalled and visits to the troubled areas only took place as prompted by the Spirit of the Lord.
On one such visit, I traveled with my son Richard to Sada to find that all of the brethren in the branch, along with all the other men in the area, had been forced to attend a political meeting. But we were able to offer some spiritual encouragement to the sisters. We also administered to a sister who had been suffering from severe headaches.
Cimezile was our next destination; we visited Brother Nqunqa, who told us a group of local youths had terrorized several families the night before, breaking into their homes and beating them. The Nqunqa family had knelt in prayer and sought the Lord’s protection. When dawn came that Sabbath day, their home was undisturbed.
On a later visit to Cimezile, Richard and I found Brother Nqunqa very ill. We blessed and passed the sacrament—but not until after he had risen and dressed himself, insisting that he had to have his jacket and tie on to show proper reverence for the sacrament. He wept as he told us that he knew Richard and I would come that Sunday and that the Spirit had witnessed to him all would be well. Before we left, Richard and I blessed Brother Nqunqa through the power of the priesthood.
The next day, I went to Brother Nqunqa’s home to see how he was feeling. His wife, Judith, assured me he had been completely healed—he was down in the fields, attending to his plowing.
One Sunday I felt uncomfortable about going to meet with the members in Sada. I told my wife that I felt I would be letting them down if I did not go. “Ernie,” she replied, “if the Spirit is prompting you not to go, then you must listen to that warning.” I did—and my next visit to Sada proved the wisdom of her counsel. Had I visited that Sunday, I would have been caught up in a riot. Police used tear gas to break up an angry mob, and the Saints were forced to scatter when the gas drifted into the meetinghouse.
The government of the Transkei was able to restore a measure of peace, and regular visits to the Ilinge Branch continued. There was violence, however, in the Queenstown and Ciskei areas. Attendance at sacrament meetings in Sada declined rapidly.
Once again, I felt prompted not to travel to Sada for Sunday meetings. This time I heeded the warning without question. President Gquola told me later how fervently the members in Sada had prayed I would not keep my appointment that day. A group of men, convinced that President Gquola was an informer and I was a government spy, had been waiting to deal with me.
Sadly, I recommended that the stake president close the Sada area until the unrest abated. This was done, and the branch remained unvisited for the next four months. When Brother Brian Schimper and I returned to Sada in order to determine conditions there, we found that the members had weathered the four months well.
It has been a privilege to be associated with the members of the Ilinge, Cimezile, and Sada branches, as well as those of Queenstown, and the faithful missionaries who have given of themselves so freely. They have helped me gain a testimony of the great work that has yet to be accomplished as we labor to share the gospel with the people of Africa.

I was 11 years old when I learned about the Church. From the moment I first entered the meetinghouse, I felt a beautiful spirit. I continued to attend for several months, during which time I turned 12 and started the Personal Progress program in Young Women. Two months later, on August 14, 1994, I was baptized.
It was surprising to the ward members to see a girl of 12 baptized by herself, without her parents. How did this happen? I asked my father if I could be baptized. He replied, “You’re an intelligent young woman, and you will know what decision to make.” I had already made the decision in my heart that I would never again be without the beautiful feeling I had when I heard the true gospel.
During middle school and high school I experienced wonderful and difficult years at the same time, because during adolescence a young person wants support from her parents. It wasn’t easy to be the only member of the Church at home when my parents did things that were at odds with the Church’s teachings. But I remembered what Nephi said, “If ye shall … endure to the end, behold, thus saith the Father: Ye shall have eternal life” (2 Ne. 31:20).
Years later my younger siblings were baptized, but my parents were not. The missionaries talked to them, but they did not want to be baptized. Their decision saddened me, but I knew I had set a good example.
When I was 16 I traveled to the temple in Orlando, Florida, and it was one of the most beautiful experiences of my life. I went by myself and was able to be baptized for my ancestors. Two years later, when I received my Young Womanhood Recognition, my joy could not be contained. I felt that our Heavenly Father was pleased with me.
When President Gordon B. Hinckley visited our beautiful island of Puerto Rico and spoke to the members, I had the privilege of singing in the choir. He urged us to go to the temple on the neighboring island of the Dominican Republic. I did, and in that temple I made a firm decision that I would be married for eternity to a returned missionary.
I reached this goal when I found a worthy priesthood holder who is a returned missionary. We were sealed in the Dominican Republic temple for time and eternity. We now have a baby boy, and I am serving in the stake Young Women presidency. My parents are still not members, but I am pleased with the example I have given them. I try to build on the good in my parents while forgetting their imperfections.
I know I belong to the true Church and that Jesus Christ is my Savior. My dream, which I pray for, is to be sealed someday to my parents and siblings. I love this gospel that has given me so much joy and hope in my life.

I myself have been the beneficiary of the Lord’s tender mercies and witness to his perfect sense of timing. A few years ago, I was struggling to keep my own head above water. I was experiencing some significant health issues that I felt severely limited in my ability to be at my best. It got so bad that I seriously contemplated giving up teaching. I felt that I could not give my students everything they deserved. I vividly remember the moment I nearly gave up. I was at Maverick, putting gas in my car. I was overwhelmed with a feeling of discouragement and despair. I knew I couldn’t continue. At that exact moment, there was a screeching of tires and a car pulled up next to me. The window rolled down and there was one of my students. He said, “Brother Embree! I just wanted to tell you I love your class! You are my favorite teacher!” And then, vroom, he was gone. I was speechless. If that had happened five minutes earlier, or five minutes later, it would not have had the impact that it did. Coming right at that moment, it was a clear message and a tender mercy. I knew I should not quit. I knew I could endure. I knew all would be well.

It wasn’t until a couple of months later that I received a knock on my office door. It was this same student. He said, “Brother Embree, do you remember when I saw you at Maverick?” Oh, yes. I remembered. “Well, I was just sitting in my apartment when I had the strongest feeling that I needed to get up right then and go to Maverick. So I did. And you were there.” I will be forever grateful to someone who was willing to get up right then and do something that made no sense.

When it was announced on Sunday that the young men in my ward were going to do baptisms for the dead, I just thought to myself, Too bad I can’t go. I never gave it another thought because I knew it would be too difficult for me to go. I have cerebral palsy.
After my mom picked me up from school on Tuesday (the day the young men were going to the temple), she said we needed to hurry because the bishop would be picking us up at 5:30 P.M. I didn’t even pay attention because I thought she was talking to my brother, Beau.
Then she said, “Bart, you need to hurry and eat and get showered and into your Sunday clothes.”
I said, “What? I’m going?”
She told me that the bishop didn’t want me to be left out and thought that it would be nice if I went and watched the other boys do baptisms for the dead. I couldn’t believe it. I was going to go to the temple!
As we hurried to get ready, I could hardly quit smiling; just the thought that I could go to the temple made me happy. Rick Hansen, my teachers quorum adviser, drove me to the temple in his nice, new van. My wheelchair fit inside just fine.
The temple was so beautiful. I had heard people say how strong the Spirit of the Holy Ghost is in the temple, and boy, were they right. I sat behind the window looking at the other boys being baptized, wishing I could be baptized too.
Just then Bishop Homer came over to me. “Come on,” he said. “We need to get you dressed.” I wasn’t sure what he meant or where we were going. He took me back to a special dressing room that was for temple workers, and he and Rick tried to figure out how to get the baptismal clothes on me. They did a pretty good job. I looked down at myself and thought it was neat to be dressed in white.
Then the temple worker gave me a card with my name on it. The bishop took me into the baptismal font area where I waited for my turn. As I sat and waited, a special feeling came over me. I kept looking up at the ceiling and thanking my Heavenly Father for this chance that he had given me. I also thought about the people I would be doing the baptisms for. I wondered what they would think about me, a handicapped boy, being baptized for them.
Then my turn came. It was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop. I felt as if all eyes were on me. The bishop scooped me up in his arms and carried me down into the baptismal font. It took both the bishop and Rick to baptize me because of my floppy trunk and stiff limbs. The bishop stopped after completing the ordinance for each name and made sure I was still breathing all right. I did a total of five baptisms. The bishop and Rick then dressed me, and the bishop even combed my hair with his comb. Beau told me that when the bishop pushed me out of the dressing room he had sweat coming down his face. I’m not sure the bishop realized how much work it was going to be to dress me.
As we went over to do the confirmations, I felt warm all over. I thought to myself, How could people not know that the Church is true? I was so grateful my bishop cared enough to give me the chance to be baptized in the temple. It’s so beautiful inside the temple. The powerful feeling inside just makes me feel that I know the Church is true.

The day after that Cindy came to our house to play dolls with me and my sisters, Katie and Shauna. Suddenly Cindy asked, “Janna Lynn, what is the Holy Ghost?”
Her question surprised me so much that I couldn’t think what to say. Katie is two years older than I am, and I looked at her for help, but she didn’t look up. She just went on brushing her doll’s hair.
I guess Cindy figured I didn’t understand her question, because she tried again. “In church yesterday your dad put his hands on your head and said, ‘Receive the Holy Ghost.’ What is the Holy Ghost?”
I got real busy tying a bonnet on my doll. It gave me a minute to think. To me the Holy Ghost simply was, and He didn’t need explaining. But I knew Cindy would insist on an answer. Finally I said, “Well, the gift of the Holy Ghost is really neat.”
“What does the Holy Ghost do?” Cindy asked.
“He’s a spirit person, and we can’t see Him. But He helps people to know the right thing to do.”
“Oh,” she said.
I was glad that she didn’t ask any more questions.

As the years passed, Eduardo married and started a family of his own. By the time most of his five children began to leave home, he still could not read and had little prospect of ever learning how. That changed one day when he chased off several local boys who were heckling two Latter-day Saint missionaries in front of his home. He invited the missionaries in, and before long he and his wife, María, were taking the discussions.
“I had a hard time understanding anything they said because they spoke little Spanish,” Eduardo recalls, “but they showed me a pamphlet that had pictures of the Savior and of the Prophet Joseph Smith in the Sacred Grove. I thought the pictures they showed us and the things they taught us were beautiful.”
Soon those missionaries were replaced by others, including a native Spanish speaker. Eduardo and María, who had lost an infant daughter to death a few years earlier, were touched by the Church film Families Are Forever. They, along with their youngest son, Osvaldo, were soon baptized.
With Eduardo’s baptism in 1987 came a desire to strengthen his testimony by reading the Book of Mormon. “How do I learn to read?” he asked his wife. María told him to look at the letters, put them together in his mind, try to sound out words, and then attempt to read aloud. With practice, she assured him, he would eventually learn to read.
Eduardo, then 45, knew the sounds of many letters, but he had not attempted to read since leaving school nearly four decades before.
With a prayer in his heart, Eduardo sat down one hot summer day in a shady spot in the backyard of his home. “There,” he says, “I determined to make the attempt.”
María says she never would have imagined what happened next. As she worked in the kitchen, she listened off and on as Eduardo attempted to sound out letters and words. “Suddenly I heard him speaking rapidly,” she says. “I listened and realized that he was reading—fluently. Less than half an hour had passed, and he was reading!”
Eduardo was so immersed in his attempt that he hadn’t realized he was reading. But as he read, he recalls, “I felt a fire burning within me.” Frightened and surprised, Eduardo called to his wife, “Mami, what is happening to me?”
“It’s the Spirit of the Lord,” María replied. “You are reading fluently!”
As she recalls the experience, María says, “It was something we can never deny.”
Eduardo adds, “The day I learned to read is also the day I gained my testimony of the Book of Mormon and its power.”
From then on, Eduardo began arising at 4:00 a.m. to read the Book of Mormon before going to work. He then read the Doctrine and Covenants, followed by the Bible. A library now graces the Contreras home, where few books were found before 1987.
As Eduardo’s and María’s gospel knowledge grew, so did their testimonies. When their son Osvaldo died following a traffic accident in 2001, their testimonies—coupled with powerful spiritual experiences during prayer and in the Buenos Aires Argentina Temple, where they and Osvaldo had been sealed—helped them deal with their loss.
“Perhaps some parents would have gone crazy,” Eduardo says, “but we felt a calmness that said, ‘Your son is well.’ Of course we wept. He was a good son, and we miss him. But we have been sealed in the temple, and we know where he is.”
Thanks to tutoring from a member of his ward, Eduardo also learned to write. “Before,” he says, “I couldn’t even sign my name.”
With the light of literacy, Eduardo came to understand the truthfulness of his grandfather’s words.
“We are here on earth so we can progress a little more each day,” he says. By learning to read and write, he adds, he is showing his children and grandchildren that it is never too late to learn, improve, and become what God wants us to become. “Because I can read, I learn something new every day,” he says.
Today Brother Contreras can read anything he wants to read, including the newspapers he once sold as an illiterate child. The scriptures remain his favorite books, especially the Book of Mormon. He has read it cover to cover eight times.
“For me the Book of Mormon was the door,” he says, still grateful for how literacy and the gospel have changed his life. “The Book of Mormon was everything to me. It is everything to me. I feel the Spirit every time I open it to read.”