Gospel Story Finder

Born in Ixelles, Belgium, 5 October 1935, Charles Didier recalls that his father, Andre, a Belgian Army officer, was captured at the beginning of World War II. After escaping, he stayed hidden and saw his family only during occasional surprise visits. Elder Didier looks back on a time after his own ninth birthday:
“Because the secret police were looking for him [his father], we were searched—and barely escaped. We went to where he was hiding in Antwerp Province, and from there to live with my great-grandmother in Flanders.” Then Belgium was liberated. “I vividly remember the soldiers trying to get away on bicycles, the airplanes coming, the shooting, and the Allied troops coming into the village.”

I would like to tell you about some of the miracles that occurred in Andre’s quorum in Mochudi. As I share this example, watch for principles that strengthen every priesthood quorum that applies them.
After Andre was baptized, he accompanied the missionaries as they taught four other young men, who were also baptized. Now there were five young men. They began strengthening each other and the branch.
A sixth young man, Thuso, was baptized. Thuso shared the gospel with three of his friends, and soon there were nine.
Disciples of Jesus Christ are often gathered this way—a few at a time, as invited by their friends. Anciently, when Andrew found the Savior, he went quickly to his brother Simon and “brought him to Jesus.” Similarly, soon after Philip became a follower of Christ, he invited his friend Nathanael to “come and see.”
In Mochudi, a 10th young man soon joined the Church. The missionaries found the 11th. And the 12th young man was baptized after seeing the gospel’s effect on his friends.
Members of the Mochudi Branch were thrilled. These young men “were converted unto the Lord, and … united unto the church.”
The Book of Mormon played a significant role in their conversion. Thuso remembers, “I began reading the Book of Mormon … every time I was free, at home, at school, everywhere.”
Oratile was drawn to the gospel because of the example of his friends. He explains: “[They] seemed to change in the snap of a finger. … I thought it had … to do with the little … book they started carrying around … school. I could see what good men they had become. … [I] wanted to change too.”
All 12 young men were gathered and baptized within two years of each other. Each was the only member of the Church in his family. But they were supported by their Church family, including President Rakwela, their branch president; Elder and Sister Taylor, a senior missionary couple; and other branch members.
Brother Junior, a quorum leader, invited the young men to his home on Sunday afternoons and mentored them. The young men studied the scriptures together and held regular home evenings.
Brother Junior took them to visit members, people being taught by the missionaries, and anyone else who needed a visit. All 12 young men piled into the back of Brother Junior’s truck. He dropped them off at homes in companionships of two or three and picked them up later.
Even though the young men were just learning about the gospel and didn’t feel they knew much, Brother Junior told them to share one or two things they did know with the people they visited. These young priesthood holders taught, prayed, and helped watch over the Church. They fulfilled their priesthood responsibilities and experienced the joy of serving.
Andre said, “We played together, laughed together, cried together, and became a brotherhood.” In fact, they call themselves “the Band of Brothers.”
Together they set a goal that they would all serve missions. Since they were the only Church members in their families, they had many obstacles to overcome, but they helped each other through them.
One by one, the young men received mission calls. Those who left first wrote letters home to those still preparing, sharing experiences and encouraging them to serve. Eleven of the young men served missions.
These young men shared the gospel with their families. Mothers, sisters, brothers, friends, as well as people they taught on their missions, were converted and baptized. Miracles occurred and countless lives were blessed.
It has been almost 10 years since the Mochudi Band of Brothers started their journey together, and they are still a band of brothers.
Katlego said, “We may be separated by distance but we are still there for each other.”

Growing up without a father, I was fortunate to have wonderful Church and Scouting leaders as role models. One of these was my father’s cousin, Israel Bennion. He was the stake patriarch, and when I was seven, he paid us a visit that helped me look forward with courage and hope during those hard years.
Each of us children, scrubbed clean and dressed in our Sunday best, waited in turn for this dignified man to place his hands on our heads and give us our patriarchal blessings. Mine was only 263 words long, but it has been a guide to me my whole life. It helped me begin to realize that I was literally a son of God and that He knew who I was and what I was doing. If I lived the right way, He would help me. It sustained me when I was in the Navy in World War II. It inspired me on my mission. Throughout my life it helped me chart a course that included honesty and high moral standards.

“You look just like my brother Matthew did when he was eleven,” Aunt Emily said.
In spite of himself, Matt was curious. “I do?”
Aunt Emily’s lined face crinkled into a smile. “He had the same stubborn chin, the same blue eyes, and the same freckles.”
Matt scowled. “Did he hate them too?”
Her smile deepened. “He sure did—at first.”
Intrigued, Matt sat down at the kitchen table. He said “thanks” when his mother placed four peanut butter cookies in front of him, but he was more interested in what Aunt Emily had to say. “He didn’t always hate them?”
She shook her head. “No, he didn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because they helped him get the lead in the school play. He tried out for the part of Tom Sawyer and got it because of his freckles.”
“But I don’t want to be Tom Sawyer,” Matt said.
“What do you want to do?”
“I want to be a professional ball player or president of a company or something.”
Aunt Emily shoved a package toward him. “Here.”
Eagerly Matt unwrapped the brown paper, then stared in disappointment at an old leather-bound book. “What’s this?”
“It’s your great-grandfather’s journal. He started keeping it when he was just about your age.”
Matt opened it. Pasted inside the front cover was an old-fashioned photograph of a young boy. Even the faded tones of the picture couldn’t hide the freckles scattered across his face. “This is my great-grandfather?” Matt asked.
Aunt Emily nodded. “Does he look familiar?”
Matt didn’t answer. His own face stared back at him.
That evening, he excused himself after dinner and went upstairs to his room. He started flipping through the journal. He stopped at an entry dated June 15, 1911: “Worked in the fields today. It was hot! Earned $1.50.”
Matt kept reading. His eyes drooped, but he couldn’t put the book down.
“Aunt Emily, do you have any more of my great-grandfather’s journals?” he asked the next morning.
“I sure do. I had a feeling that you might be interested in them.” She motioned to him to follow her to the bedroom, where she opened her suitcase. Inside were eight journals—seven brown and one black. She picked up the black one and handed it to Matt. “This one is very special,” she said.
Matt looked inside. The pages were blank. “It’s empty.”
She smiled. “I know. You get to fill them.”
He wanted to look through the other journals right away, but he had to hurry off to school. After gulping his juice, he folded a piece of toast and jammed it into a napkin and ran to catch the bus.
His fifth grade teacher assigned a report due the next day. “Choose someone you admire and tell us about him.”
The other kids started talking about whom they would choose. Josh chose Abraham Lincoln. Sam picked Thomas Edison. Mary chose Babe Didrikson Zaharias. Matt frowned. All the good names seemed to be taken. But by that evening, Matt knew whom he was going to give his report on.
As he stood before the class the following day, he rubbed his wet palms against his jeans and took a deep breath. “My great-grandfather was never president. He never invented anything. He never even finished school. But he was a great man. When he was twelve, his father died. So he dropped out of school to help support his family. He hoed beets for only a dollar-fifty a day. When he was nineteen, he went on a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”
By the end of his report, Matt was flushed. “I’m proud that I look like my great-grandfather. I hope I can be the kind of man he was.”
The class applauded.
After school, Matt hurried to spend more time talking with Aunt Emily about his great-grandfather Matthew. He also wanted to write in his own journal about his class report. Before going to bed, he looked in the mirror. His customary scowl had been replaced by a smile as he studied his freckles. He decided he didn’t mind them so much, after all.

There was a time, however, when it appeared that the Church had a very limited future in Ghana. It is impossible to tell the story of Latter-day Saints in this country without explaining what has come to be known as “the Freeze.”
In June 1989 the government banned all public worship, proselyting, and other activities of the Church. Members believe the ban was motivated by widely distributed misinformation about the Church.
In Abomosu, civilian authorities and soldiers escorted President Stephen Abu to the meetinghouse, where everything in the building was inventoried, the keys were confiscated, and he was warned that members were forbidden to use both that property and the Church farm outside the village. Priesthood leaders in other areas of Ghana had similar experiences.
Worship in the home was not expressly forbidden, and members began holding services on a family basis. “But you could not sing loudly, or you would be picked up,” President Abu recalls. He was among those who were jailed or punished after being accused of violating the ban. Some members were evicted by landlords. Despite the risk, however, priesthood leaders continued in their roles as shepherds, quietly visiting individuals and families to lend them strength.
In November 1990, apparently satisfied that Latter-day Saints could contribute to their society, the government lifted the ban. Joyously, Ghanaian members spread the news from home to home. Young Ghanaian missionaries serving in their own country had been honorably released at the beginning of the Freeze, but except for a few who had married or were out of the country, they eagerly returned to finish their missions.
Many members now look back on that period as a blessing that strengthened their faith and brought new spiritual opportunities. John Buah, who has served as a counselor to two mission presidents, notes that “after the Freeze, good people wanted to know more about the Church.” Curious to find out if things they had heard were true, they asked LDS friends or neighbors—and accepted the resulting invitations to learn about the gospel. Many of these people were baptized.

“If only Dagmar weren’t so aggressive,” thought Lars. “Then I could relate to her better.” He and his wife had been feeling distant from each other, and Lars wanted to feel again the oneness he and Dagmar had felt when they were first married.
Lars felt that maintaining a close relationship with his wife would be possible only if Dagmar changed. But then it occurred to him that perhaps he needed to do some changing himself. “What could I do to be united with Dagmar?” he thought. That question led to another: “What manner of man ought I to be?” (see 3 Ne. 27:27).
The question would not leave his mind. He remembered, for instance, how concerned Dagmar had been last Saturday about preparing for a Primary meeting. He had been grumpy, thinking that she would make them late for their son’s soccer game. Throughout the afternoon, his tension had grown, and at the same time, he had been jealous of how many hours she was spending in preparation for the meeting.
But now, while he read the scriptures with the companionship of the Spirit, the event began to look different. What manner of man had he been? Had he been helpful, supportive, or willing to sustain her in her calling? The evidence was against him.
It was becoming clear to him that his accusations against his wife had been expressions of his own selfishness. He wondered how he could have been so blind. Her support and sacrifice for him condemned him even further. That same Saturday he had become upset, Dagmar had risen early to type a report for him for his office.
The scriptures describe Lars’s situation clearly: “If we say that we have fellowship with [Christ], and walk in darkness, we lie, and do not the truth.” (1 Jn. 1:6.)
As Lars began to repent of fault-finding, and as he asked the Lord for help, he received further promptings from the Spirit. He saw what he had earlier refused to see: his own need for spiritual refinement. The Holy Ghost was showing him how to have fellowship with his wife rather than how to change her.
When we seek to be obedient to the Lord, the fellowship we seek with our marriage partners becomes easier to obtain. The spirit will teach us what manner of men and women we ought to be.
But what kind of answers, if any, can we expect to receive if we approach the Lord having already judged our spouse to be aggresive or unrighteous or insensitive? Is it possible to get clear answers when praying with such resentments? The truth is, so long as we retain jealousy or resentment or anger or any other un-Christlike feeling, we resist spiritual guidance.

Justin knew he’d seen that guy across the room before this party. But where? He thought about it most of the evening but couldn’t remember. Then it came back. He was passing the sacrament that time I went to church. Could it have been almost two years ago?
“Hey, you’re a Mormon, aren’t you?” The voice interrupted Jared’s thoughts.
“Yeah,” said Jared. “Are you?”
“Well, I was baptized by the missionaries four years ago, but I haven’t gone to church in a long time.”
“Well, it’s good to know there’s another member in our school. I’m Jared McInelly.”
“I’m Justin McKinley. Hey, with a last name like McInelly, I bet our lockers are close.”
And so it went. The two found they had a lot in common. Their lockers, arranged alphabetically, were in the same hall, they both played football, and they ended up living in the same ward boundaries.
Jared thought a lot of Justin and wondered how he could interest him in attending church again. He decided the youth activities would be the way to go. So one day after practice, he gave it his best shot.
“Hey, Justin, our stake is planning a youth conference next Saturday. There will be workshops in the morning and afternoon, a great lunch, and a dance that night. Why don’t you come and check it out? I could pick you up.”
“Well, I guess I could try it. I probably won’t stay for the dance, though.”
“All right,” Jared said. “We’ll come by about 9:30.”
Jared thought about Justin and the youth conference all week. Would the classes appeal to him? Would he feel accepted? Would the kids be friendly to him, and would he feel the Spirit?
Jared had talked to his teachers quorum adviser, Brother Gunnel, about how they could help reactivate Justin. He knew his leader would be coming to the conference, so he called him about Justin.
“That’s great news, Jared. How about if I pick you both up, and then we can visit on the way?”
Right on schedule they picked up Justin. He seemed to really enjoy the classes. Over lunch he said, “This reminds me of how I used to feel when the missionaries taught us. Those guys were the greatest. I’ve always wanted to be like them.”
After lunch, Brother Gunnel approached the two.
“So, Justin, are you planning on coming back to the dance tonight?”
“Well, I’d like to, but I don’t have a tie, and they said ties were required.”
“A tie?” Brother Gunnel asked. “I have a ton of ties. What color do you want?”
“Pink.”
“Pink? No problem.”
It was true. Brother Gunnel did have a lot of ties in a lot of colors—just not pink. And although pink may seem an odd choice, it was very popular at the time. But a great leader wasn’t going to let that barrier keep Justin from the dance. And if a pink tie could make Justin feel like all the rest of the kids, then he would get a pink tie. A quick consultation with the Young Women president gave Brother Gunnel directions to the nearest mall and a store that was bound to carry a pink tie.
Before the end of afternoon classes, Brother Gunnel was back at the stake center clutching his prize.
“Here you go, Justin. Will this do?”
“Hey, thanks, Brother Gunnel. It’s the perfect color.”
“Great. Have fun tonight.”
It just so happened that Jared was planning on wearing his pink necktie that night too. The girls did a good job of fellowshipping Justin at the dance, and he had a great time. From then on, he came to youth activities and then to Sunday meetings. His parents came, too, sporadically at first, then every week.
Jared and Justin became best friends.
And the pink tie? It went to all the stake dances—just in case someone needed it.

In the summer of 2011, I had the privilege of meeting Josh Larson at the Philmont Scout Ranch in New Mexico, USA. A few months later, Josh was helping his father clean out a warehouse. Without warning, a chain transporting a 1,480 pound (670 kg) beam suddenly snapped, dropping the beam onto Josh, crushing him from his neck to his legs. Miraculously, Josh’s father was able to move the beam off his son’s body. He performed CPR until emergency personnel arrived to transport Josh, who was still not breathing, to the hospital.
Josh spent days in critical condition. Doctors worked fervently to repair his cracked skull, shattered sinuses, and other severe injuries. After numerous operations, Josh was eventually stabilized. He then began the long, slow road to recovery.
Today Josh still experiences many of the effects of his accident. He has a damaged eye, is partially deaf in one ear, and has a metal plate in his head. Yet he chooses to look at his ordeal as a blessing. He knows that he owes his life and his recovery to Heavenly Father and the support of those around him. Gratitude fills his heart.
Josh’s recovery has been long and slow. He still experiences many of the effects of his accident but considers the accident to be more of a blessing than a trial.
At a recent conference for youth, Josh talked about the prayers and fasting offered by family, friends, neighbors, and ward and stake leaders: “I am counting my blessings. Prayers have been answered. I think this has been more of a blessing than a trial. I love all you guys.”

Recently I participated in a pioneer trek with young men and young women in our ward. Each morning I asked myself, “What is my sacrifice? How do I come after them?”
On the second day of the trek we had pulled our handcarts eight miles (13 km) when we came to a place on the trail called “the women’s pull.” Men and women were separated, and the men were sent ahead up a hill. As we started to pull our handcarts, I looked up to see our priesthood brethren, young and old, lining both sides of the trail, hats off in respect for the women.
The path was easy at first, but soon we were in deep sand, and the hill grew steep. I had my head down and was pushing with all my might when I felt a tug on the cart and looked up to see Lexi, one of our young women and my neighbor. She had pulled her handcart to the top and, seeing our need for help, ran back. When we reached the top, I wanted so much to run back to help those following me, but I was breathing heavily and my heart was pounding so hard, the words heart attack entered my mind more than once! I watched with gratitude as other young women dropped their handcarts and ran to help.
When everyone reached the top, we took some time to record feelings in our journals. I wrote: “I didn’t prepare well enough physically so didn’t have the strength to help those following me. I may never need to pull a handcart again, but I never want to let my sisters down spiritually, never!”
It was a sacred experience that awakened me spiritually to my duties to my family and others. Throughout our journey I reflected on what I had learned.
Lining both sides of the trail were faithful, obedient, covenant-keeping men. Their priesthood power—the power God uses to bless all His children—lifted, strengthened, and supported us. They were a reminder that we are never alone. We can have this power with us always as we keep our covenants.

“A friend shared that in sacrament meeting she had the idea to get her patriarchal blessing. The Sunday after, the same idea came to my mind, but I didn’t feel worthy. So I worked on my worthiness until I was able to receive my blessing. At a youth camp, I shared my testimony about patriarchal blessings, which inspired a friend to receive his blessing. Then this whole story inspired my brother to prepare to receive his!”
Theodor W., Switzerland, received blessing at 17

I continue with an experience I heard from a valued associate, which I share with his permission. After the death of his beloved wife and the mother of his children, a father remarried. Some grown children strongly objected to the remarriage and sought the counsel of a close relative who was a respected Church leader. After hearing the reasons for their objections, which focused on conditions and relationships in the spirit world or in the kingdoms of glory that follow the Final Judgment, this leader said: “You are worried about the wrong things. You should be worried about whether you will get to those places. Concentrate on that. If you get there, all of it will be more wonderful than you can imagine.”

This story happened in the USA.
“Dad, can I get baptized when I am eight?” Keaton asked.
Dad looked up from the game they were playing. “It’s a big choice. Would it be better to wait until you’re 18?”
Keaton thought about it. “But I’m almost eight now. And 18 is so far away!”
Dad was quiet for a moment. He moved his game piece. “Why do you want to be baptized?”
“I love Jesus,” Keaton said. “And I want to follow Him.”
“That is a great reason to be baptized,” Dad said. He smiled. “I will support you if that’s what you choose. Whether you are eight or 18.”
Keaton wrapped his arms around Dad. “Thanks!”
Dad wasn’t a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. But he still went to church with Keaton and Mom sometimes. And when Keaton gave talks or sang with the other Primary kids in sacrament meeting, Dad always came.
After their game ended, Keaton found Mom in the kitchen.
“Dad said I can be baptized when I am eight,” he said.
Mom grinned. “That’s so exciting! Have you thought about who you want to baptize you?”
Keaton set plates on the table. “Do you think Grandpa can?” Grandpa and Grandma were serving a mission in another city.
“We can ask,” Mom said.
After dinner, Keaton video called Grandpa and Grandma on Mom’s phone. After a few rings, their smiling faces filled the screen.
“Hi, Grandma! Hi Grandpa!” Keaton said. “Guess what? I’m going to be baptized for my birthday this year.”
“That’s wonderful!” Grandma said.
“Will you baptize me, Grandpa?” Keaton asked.
Grandpa’s smile got even bigger. “I would love to.”
When his baptism day came, Keaton was ready. Mom and Dad drove him to a small chapel near where Grandpa and Grandma were serving their mission.
Keaton and Grandpa were dressed in white clothes. They sat together while everyone sang. Then Mom said a prayer.
Next, Dad gave a talk. “When you are baptized, you promise to follow Jesus Christ and keep His commandments. He taught us to love one another. Love is the best way to live,” he said.
Keaton looked at the picture of Jesus Dad was holding.
“When we love others, it makes them feel cared for. It also helps us to be happy and have peace.” Dad looked straight at Keaton. “I’m proud of you today for promising to follow Jesus Christ. I hope your baptism always reminds you to love God and love others.”
Keaton gave Dad a big hug. Then he followed Grandpa into the small font. Keaton put one hand on Grandpa’s arm and the other in Grandpa’s hand. Grandpa said the words for the baptismal prayer. Then he helped lower Keaton into the water.
When Keaton came out of the water, he smiled. He did it! He had followed Jesus Christ. Soon, he would also be confirmed and receive the gift of the Holy Ghost. Then he would be a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Keaton was excited to keep his promise to remember Jesus and keep His commandments.
Keaton followed Jesus Christ’s example by being baptized! What’s one way you follow the Savior’s example?
Illustration by Alyssa Tallent

Like some of you, I know what it is to face disappointment and youthful humiliation. As a boy, I played team softball in elementary and junior high school. Two captains were chosen, and then they, in turn, selected the players they desired on their respective teams. Of course, the best players were chosen first, then second, and third. To be selected fourth or fifth was not too bad, but to be chosen last and relegated to a remote position in the outfield was downright awful. I know; I was there.
How I hoped the ball would never be hit in my direction, for surely I would drop it, runners would score, and teammates would laugh.
As though it were just yesterday, I remember the very moment when all that changed in my life. The game started out as I have described: I was chosen last. I made my sorrowful way to the deep pocket of right field and watched as the other team filled the bases with runners. Two batters then went down on strikes. Suddenly, the next batter hit a mighty drive. I even heard him say, “This will be a home run.” That was humiliating, since the ball was coming in my direction. Was it beyond my reach? I raced for the spot where I thought the ball would drop, uttered a prayer while running, and stretched forth my cupped hands. I surprised myself. I caught the ball! My team won the game.
This one experience bolstered my confidence, inspired my desire to practice, and led me from that last-to-be-chosen place to become a real contributor to the team.
We can experience that burst of confidence. We can feel that pride of performance. A three-word formula will help us: Never give up.

Freda was glad to be home. It was good to be with her family again. She had been away to a special school for a while so she could learn how to read braille and take care of herself without bumping into things. She had also learned that the only way she was different from other people was that she could not see.
Still, Freda found it difficult to adjust to another school. She had books printed in braille so she could learn along with the other students. But she wanted to join in some of the other activities, particularly the art contest the teacher had announced at school today.
Freda couldn’t paint a picture. She didn’t even know what blue looked like, though people had tried to tell her. The sky could be blue, red, orange, or yellow, for all she knew.
After arriving home from school Freda went into her room, sat in her rocking chair, and tried to think of something she could make for the contest. Her cat Fluffy jumped onto her lap and cuddled down to have his ears rubbed. As Freda rocked and petted Fluffy, she began to feel sad because she couldn’t see to paint a picture.
Then an idea started running through Freda’s mind. Suddenly she stopped rocking and began to laugh.
Fluffy, who had been purring contentedly, sat up in alarm and nudged Freda with his paws to remind her to pet him some more. “Not now, Fluffy,” Freda said putting him on the floor and hurrying into the kitchen.
“Mother, could you buy me some clay so I can make a statue for the art show?” she asked excitedly.
“That’s great idea, dear. I’ll buy the clay tomorrow,” her mother promised.
The next afternoon Freda’s mother gave her a box and told her, “You add water to the clay until it’s the right consistency to mold, then you can model whatever you want. When you’re finished, we’ll put it in the oven so it will harden like stone.”
Freda covered the table with newspapers and started to work. When she had the basic shape completed, she called Fluffy, who hopped into her lap. She petted the cat, molded the clay, and then she petted him some more.
Fluffy loved it and purred happily. He didn’t remember when he had been petted so much.
Day after day, Freda went to her room after school and worked on her statute. At last she was satisfied. Freda picked Fluffy up, hugged him, and said, “Thank you for being such a good model.” Then she carried her statute into the kitchen and placed it on a cookie sheet so her mother could put it into the oven to bake.
“It’s beautiful,” her mother told her when she took the statue out of the oven.
“I can hardly wait till it’s cool so I can see it, too,” Freda commented.
Then they both laughed—to Freda, “seeing” meant touching.
The next morning she ran her fingers all over the statue before carefully wrapping her entry in tissue paper to carry to school.
The judges for the art show studied the entries and then placed ribbons on the winners. In each grade there was a red ribbon for first place, a blue one for second place, and a white one for third place. A red, white, and blue ribbon would be awarded for the best entry in the whole school.
Finally, it was time for Freda’s class to go to the auditorium to see the display. Freda was happy that she had been able to enter the contest.
Everyone agreed with the judges’ choice of Freda’s clay cat as the top award.
“That cat looks almost real,” one boy said, admiring Freda’s statue. “You want to reach out and pet him.”
Freda smiled. She was glad Fluffy looked to others the same way he looked to her fingertips.

During the final months of our mission last year, we experienced an event that taught once again this profound principle that each of us is known and loved by God.

Elder Neal A. Maxwell was coming to New York City for some Church business, and we were informed that he would also like to have a mission conference. We were so pleased to have this opportunity to hear from one of the Lord’s chosen servants. I was asked to select one of our missionaries to provide the opening prayer for the meeting. I might have randomly picked one of the missionaries to pray, but felt to ponder and prayerfully select one whom the Lord would have me ask. In going through the missionary roster, a name boldly stood out to me: Elder Joseph Appiah of Accra, Ghana. He was the one I felt the Lord wanted to pray at the meeting.

Prior to the mission conference, I was having a regularly scheduled interview with Elder Appiah and told him of the prompting that I had received for him to pray. With amazement and humility in his eyes, he began to weep deeply. Somewhat surprised by his reaction, I started to tell him that it was all right and he wouldn’t have to pray, when he informed me he would love to offer the prayer, that his emotion was caused by the love he has for Elder Maxwell. He told me that this Apostle is very special to the Saints in Ghana and to his own family. Elder Maxwell had called his father to be the district president in Accra and had sealed his mother and father in the Salt Lake Temple.

Now, I didn’t know any of what I just related about this missionary or his family, but the Lord did and inspired a mission president on behalf of one missionary to provide a lifelong memory and testimony-building experience.

At the meeting, Elder Appiah offered a wonderful prayer and made a humble contribution to a meeting where Elder Maxwell taught the missionaries of the attributes of Jesus Christ. All who were there will never forget the feelings of love they experienced for their Savior.

Not too long ago I was in Santa Fe Springs, California, for the dedication of a fountain the city had commissioned me to create to celebrate the young people of their community.
I designed a series of five images of children and placed them on pedestals from 12 to 20 feet in height. Titled “Soaring Dreams,” the sculptures are of children surging forward in gestures of exhilaration and celebration of the simple joy of life (which is not usually hard for kids to do).
On the evening after the unveiling, it was a highlight of my life to stand in the middle of the fountain with my shoes and socks off, surrounded with billows of frothing water on all sides.
I looked up and saw the bronze children soaring above me. At the same time, real children reveled in the water all around me, not knowing I was the artist. In that moment, art and reality merged for a moment, and I will never forget the wonder of it.
The foremost figure of the “Soaring Dreams” fountain is of a young child in a blanket reaching forward for a ball. The blanket trails behind him like the tail of a shooting star. The ball is almost like an Earth.
Many times, while working on that particular piece, I thought of the lines of William Wordsworth’s great poem “Ode on Intimations of Immortality” and realized the power of art to help us recognize who we really are:
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home.
Another of the figures is of a girl playing dress up. With a crown on her head and dressed up in one of her mother’s old dresses, she surges forward with a long strand of beads trailing at her side like a field of stars.
It is only through using their imaginations that children are able to understand what it might be like to be a mother or father. Through playing house, they take on the mantle of understanding.
We are all very much the same way.
It is just as difficult for us to comprehend that loving eternal parents watch over us in our earthly struggles. By imagining our own eternal nature, we are able to grow into an understanding of eternal worth and to sense our true nature as children of God.

“Congratulations, José,” Bishop García said. He handed me my new temple recommend.
“Thank you!” I said. I shook his hand and walked out of the office, staring down at the white paper. I could go to the temple to do baptisms!
My abuelos (grandparents) were waiting in the hall. My parents didn’t come to church very often, so I usually went to church with Abuela and Abuelo. They both gave me a hug.
“Are you excited for your first temple trip next week?” Abuelo asked as we walked out of the building.
“Yes!” I said. But I couldn’t help noticing a funny, fluttery feeling in my stomach.
“It will be so nice to go together as a family,” Abuela said with a big smile.
I smiled back, but the funny feeling didn’t go away.
As the day of the temple trip got closer, I got more nervous. I finally talked to Abuela about it.
She was chopping vegetables in the kitchen, but she stopped when I came in. “What’s wrong?” she asked, wiping her hands on a towel. “You look worried.”
I sighed and sat down at the table. “I’m really excited to go to the temple. But I’m also nervous.”
Abuela nodded, like she understood how I felt. “You don’t need to worry. People will be there to help you every step of the way.”
As she spoke, I felt a warm, comforting feeling from my head to my toes. I knew it would be a special day.
Soon the day of our temple trip came. I put on my Sunday clothes and combed my hair. Abuela came into my room.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Excited! I can’t wait to go to the temple.”
Abuela sat on the end of my bed and pulled a piece of paper from her pocket.
“This is a temple ordinance card,” she said. “It’s for my brother. He was very special to me. But he died before he could be baptized. Would you be baptized for him in the temple today?”
Abuela held out the paper to me. I read the name: Ramon Rodriguez. I could tell Abuela loved her brother, and I was glad she trusted me to get baptized for him.
“Of course, Abuela. Thanks!” I carefully put the card in my pocket.
While riding the bus to the Santo Domingo Temple, Abuela told about when she went to the temple for the first time with Abuelo. Back then, they had to go all the way to Peru because there wasn’t a temple in the Dominican Republic.
An hour later, we arrived at the temple. Bishop García was there too. My eyes widened as we walked up to the building. It was so beautiful! I paused to read the words above the doors: Holiness to the Lord: The House of the Lord.
As I walked through the doors, I knew I was entering a special space. All my worries seemed to melt away. Everything was quiet and calm.
After changing into white clothes, I stood in the baptismal font with Bishop García. I listened carefully as he said the words of the baptismal prayer. When he said Ramon’s name, a peaceful feeling filled my body.
Bishop García lowered me into the water. When I came up, I was smiling. I couldn’t wait to do this again!

Dexter likes helping his mom bake—especially cookies. He also collects rocks, runs cross-country, and plays soccer at recess—even when the playground snow is deep. Quinlan, on the other hand, spent many recesses creating a play for his third-grade classmates to perform. Still, the brothers prefer doing things together. One snowy winter they built a huge snow fort in the front yard. It had several rooms and snow benches for resting.

These funny boys are serious about choosing the right and serving others. When their grandpa had cancer, they not only prayed for his recovery but also rolled up their sleeves and took care of his garden. They grew corn, cucumbers, broccoli, chili peppers, onions, peas, tomatoes, beets, some odd-looking carrots, and three pumpkins destined to become jack-o’-lanterns. The eggplants died, but nobody minded much, because Grandpa lived.
He has promised the boys that as each of them receives his mission call, he will buy them a 10-foot submarine sandwich to share. Now they can’t see a pickle or a slice of bologna without thinking of missionary work. They are already earning money for their missions by delivering flyers. By the time Dexter and Quinlan leave, their younger brothers, Heath (1) and Bailey (3 months) will be old enough to take over the flyer deliveries.
Looking ahead, Dexter announced one day that by the time Heath was old enough to be baptized, he, Dexter, would be a priest in the Aaronic Priesthood and could baptize his little brother. At this point, Quinlan jumped in and said, “Wait a minute. That means that when Bailey is eight, I’ll be old enough to baptize him!”
Mom laughs. “So Daddy has been bumped from the baptismal schedule.” But then she adds seriously, “I love the fact that at the ages of ten and eight they are already planning to be worthy priesthood holders.”
Quinlan and Dexter are the only Latter-day Saints in their school, but that doesn’t keep them from making good friends there. “They both know how to be loyal friends,” their mom says. Both boys are enthusiastic Scouts too. Dexter is a six-star Cub, and Quinlan has already earned four of his six stars. They have both earned their Religion in Life badges.
The Manns live disciplined lives. Quinlan and Dexter do most of their playing and book writing on Friday night and Saturday because weekdays are carefully scheduled. Homework starts right after dinner and is followed by chores. These include emptying the garbage, helping to tend Heath and Bailey, helping Mom with the laundry, and cleaning their rooms.
The boys attend a French-immersion school in which 75 percent of their class work is in French. French and English are the official languages of Canada, and speaking both will help them get good jobs someday.
Although the Mann family are serious about education and the gospel, they are not overly solemn. They are a laughing, game-playing, camping-out family. North of Winnipeg there are huge lakes and vast forests where they often set up their tent. They celebrate major holidays and family milestones at big dinners with their extended families and others who have been generously “adopted.” On Canada Day (July 1), the children bash away at a piñata filled with candy.
What are the boys most thankful for? They give the same answer: their family. “I feel 100 percent good about them all,” Dexter says. He stops and reconsiders. “Sometimes 99 percent,” he admits. He is an honest boy.
In Canada people often take off their shoes when they enter a home because there is so much wet weather outside. But it could also be a reminder that the home is a sacred place where love and laughter make a refuge from the world, a place where a child might feel equally comfortable reading scriptures or writing funny stories. The Mann home is that kind of place.

There can be certain occupational hazards whenever anyone provides a service. For Jennifer Wang and Chen En Ger, it was changing diapers. “That wasn’t very much fun,” Jennifer said.
Other than diaper duty, though, there were no other complaints from Jennifer, 17, and Chen, 18, who organized a small nursery inside their ward meetinghouse where children could be dropped off while their parents went to the temple. “I felt really happy that I could learn more about service and also about little children,” said Chen. For Jennifer and Chen, both members of the Tao Yuan Second Branch of the Tao Yuan District in Taipei, Taiwan, the baby-sitting was a new experience—one they’re glad they had and that they hope becomes a tradition.
Church members in Taiwan have had a temple in their country since 1984. However, with work and family commitments in this island country, it’s not always easy for the members to attend. That’s why Jennifer and Chen came up with their idea. After getting other Church members to volunteer to baby-sit, the service project was approved.
“As youth, we decided we would do baptisms for the dead in the morning, then go next door to the meetinghouse and baby-sit for members while they went to the temple,” explained Jennifer, a Laurel and seminary class president.
Since children as old as 10 years old were dropped off at the nursery, Jennifer and Chen decided to divide the children into groups by age. Instead of just letting them play with toys and goof off for the four-hour period, they decided to make their nursery a little more educational. Besides showing Church videos and having playtime, Jennifer, Chen, and the rest of the baby-sitters also told Book of Mormon stories and talked about the importance of the temple. Afterward, they had the older children draw pictures of the temple. In the process, they also gained an appreciation for the temple themselves.
“We wanted the time the children spent with us to be a learning experience. We could have watched them for four hours and let them do whatever they wanted, but we wanted to do something more,” said Chen, who has been a member for about three years. “I knew a lot of the kids by face already, but when we baby-sat them it was the first time I had the chance to interact with them.
“I was impressed with the children,” he continued. “Many of the older children were good examples toward the younger ones. They would take care of them and help us as we watched them. Two brothers really stood out to me. One was three and the other was two. They really had unique personalities, and it helped me realize that all these kids are special children from Heavenly Father.”
The chance to serve is what Jennifer remembered most about her experience. She realized that in a lot of cases, without their baby-sitting service, only one parent could go to the temple while the other would stay home with the children. “I saw a lot of parents who were very happy they didn’t have to be concerned about their children. They could go to the temple without worrying, and I think that was important to them,” she said. “Maybe when I get married and I want to go to the temple with my husband, young men and young women from my ward will baby-sit my kids.”
It could happen. Both Jennifer and Chen have proved it can work.

Another event that proved painful was when the Bain Marie had a broken plug. A Bain Marie is a large container filled with water and suspended over a small flame. Pots of various sauces stand in the hot water until they are needed. This way the sauces stay warm, but do not curdle or burn.

“I was working with three French boys when the leak started,” says Peter. “I stuffed my oven cloth over the hole, but the water began seeping through. Desperately I tried to think of the French word for bucket, but couldn’t. The boys stood looking blankly at me. Eventually, when my hand was three quarters burned, one of them found a small saucepan. We had to paddle out of the flooded kitchen.”