Gospel Story Finder

The first lesson I would like to share with you is the importance of choosing to act and not react to change. To illustrate this principle I would like to share a story about my grandmother. For President Gordon B. Hinckley taught, "It is good to look to the past togain appreciation for the present and perspective for the future."
Lettie, a fun-loving and talented girl, grew up in Bluff, Utah during the late 1800's. Since she had a strong desire to learn and loved music, she saved her money and went to Brigham Young Academy. A journal entry indicates one morning she went to devotional and saw "an earnest, clean looking young man" who had recently returned from his mission. To make a long story short - she married this young man in 1902 and together they began a new life in a small town in southeastern Colorado.
James and Lettie bought a rubber-tired buggy soon after they got married. Lettie felt confident driving the horse drawn buggy and enjoyed taking the children on outings. However, the early 1900's was a period of great change in the transportation industry. The Model-T Ford was new on the market and began replacing the buggies as a means of transportation. When James bought a Model T, Lettie was cautious about learning how to drive it but gradually gained confidence.
One day, she decided to visit her husband in the fields and loaded the children in the back seat of the car and started off. All went well until she came to the ditch. Automatically she reacted by shouting out Whoa, pulled back on the steering wheel, and pushed her foot down - on the gas pedal. They jumped the ditch. The children bounced high and yelled out in delight but Lettie was shaken. It was not quite what she was expecting. Fortunately no one was hurt.
Many times our natural response to change is to react based on our past experiences. This can lead to bumpy transitions. Sometimes when I am faced with change and things do not go very smoothly I think about Lettie, my grandmother, and how she must have felt as she tried to learn how to drive the Model-T Ford. She may have wondered why she needed to learn how to drive a car because she was very proficient at driving the buggy. If only she could see the transportation we have now.

Harold B. Lee came next. This was a man I loved. During the short tenure of his presidency, I traveled in Europe with him on two different occasions. Those were wonderful days when we talked together. I was his junior companion on those journeys, and he spoke out of his great heart about many things. He warned against the neglect of families. He told us that the greatest work any of us would ever do would be within the walls of our own homes. He told us to survey large fields and cultivate small ones. In so saying, he wanted us to get the great, broad picture of this work and then with faithfulness take care of our own individual responsibility in it. He had come out of humble circumstances and carried in his heart a great sensitivity for the poor. He was the first managing director of the welfare program as it was established in 1936, and taught its principles across the Church. He extended to me a call to serve as a stake president and set me apart in that office. I still remember some of the things he said in that blessing. Said he: “Be sensitive to the promptings of the Spirit. Be slow to censure and quick to encourage.” I commend that counsel to each of you. It came from a living prophet of God.

A few months before my eighth birthday, my mom and I were cleaning out my bedroom. We noticed how much stuff I had that I didn’t really use, and my mom asked me where I would put the new things I was going to get for my birthday. After talking about it, I said, “I don’t need gifts for my birthday. Let’s find someone who doesn’t have anything and give him or her the gifts.”
On my birthday, I invited my friends over for a party. I asked that instead of bringing a gift for me, they bring one for a seven-year-old girl who was living in a homeless shelter. A fire at the shelter had burned all of her belongings. During the party we took our gifts to the girl. Because of a death in the family, she wasn’t at the shelter, so we left the gifts on her bed. It was sad to see how little this family had. We all left feeling very grateful for what we have. When my mom asked me later how I thought the party had gone, I said, “It was fun. We did something good today.”

In July 1987, Brother Fujitake closed his business, and he and Junko entered the Japan Tokyo South Mission, becoming the only native-Japanese couple serving in Japan.
Using a rather unusual approach, the Fujitakes were instrumental in twenty baptisms and the reactivation of twenty less-active members. They gained entrance to people’s homes by offering to sharpen the family’s kitchen knives for free. Once he sharpened their knives and made friends with them, Brother Fujitake would return to re-sharpen knives or make toys for the children, and Sister Fujitake would knit sweaters for members of the family. As the Fujitakes worked in the homes, they would introduce the gospel to the families.
With this combination of friendship and service, many people have been touched by the Spirit and have learned about the Church. Wherever they would be transferred, Brother Fujitake would repair or improve their apartment, mending broken doors or windows or installing shelves, counters, or clothes hangers. At the same time, Sister Fujitake would provide some kind of service, such as making caramel candies and packaging them cleverly.
Buddhism is the dominant religion in Japan, and because Yukio and Junko knew it well, they were able to understand the people they taught. The Fujitakes also shared their insights and their teaching skills with missionaries in their mission. They were so successful that leaders of all the stakes in the mission desired that the Fujitakes labor in their areas.
Now home from their full-time mission, Brother Fujitake serves as president of the Okayama Yamaguchi District mission, and Sister Fujitake is the district Relief Society president.

Cara put down her pencil and stared at the piece of paper on her desk. It was blank except for her name and a big eraser smudge. “What should I write?” she thought.
Across the aisle, her friend Lily was writing busily. Cara put her head down and rested it on her arm.
Now in today’s lesson, Mrs. Schmidt had told the class that God, Jesus, and the Holy Ghost are all one person. Cara thought about how Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ appeared to Joseph Smith in the Sacred Grove. She knew that They were two separate people and that each had a body. She was glad she knew that for sure, even before talking to Mom or Dad about it.
But then Mrs. Schmidt had said, “Class, please take out a piece of paper and write about what we have been talking about.”
That’s when Cara got a worried feeling in her stomach. She wanted to do the assignment the way her teacher wanted her to. Could she be brave enough to write what she knew was true?
With her head down on her desk, Cara began to say a silent prayer. “Please, dear Heavenly Father, what should I do?”
Almost at once, Cara began to feel calm and peaceful inside. The Holy Ghost whispered that if she wrote what was in her heart, everything would be OK.
Cara lifted her head, picked up her pencil, and began to write.
Heavenly Father and Jesus are two separate people. They have bodies of flesh and bone like we do. The Holy Ghost is a Spirit who can speak to us in our hearts.
After writing a few more sentences, Cara put her pencil down. She didn’t know what Mrs. Schmidt would think of what she had written, but she felt happy that she had been able to tell her teacher something important and true.

In the four months after my mother died, I tried to cope with the loss as best I could, but I often felt alone and helpless. Our extended family all lived out of state and had already done a lot anyway. With obligations at school and home and other activities, I felt overwhelmed. My life had been turned upside down.
While in this preoccupied state of mind, I received a call from my Beehive adviser. She asked if the Beehives could come and clean our house. I quickly agreed, not needing to look around to know that help was needed.
At seven the next evening, my smiling classmates and Beehive leaders knocked on the door. What a sight! They were armed with cleanser, rags, brooms, brownies, music, and happy attitudes. We got to work, and for that moment all of my problems were forgotten.
A little later, our Young Women president appeared behind me and asked if we had any gardening clippers. Where had she come from? Then I took a step outside. Priests were mowing the front lawn while the Laurels were fixing up the bushes and flowers. It was as if I had entered a dream world where all I needed to do was open a door and people were there to do whatever was needed.
Several Laurels came up and hugged me. I guess I hadn’t been dreaming after all. I could clearly see the love of Christ radiating in everyone that night, and I realized how precious the gospel was to me. I didn’t just belong to a ward but to a much larger family who could be there when I needed them.
I realized the goodness of Church members who were so willing to give their time to serve others. I felt fortunate to be friends with such youth. Allowing me to partake of their kindness was the greatest gift they could have given me. It made me think of the scripture in Matthew 7:20, “Wherefore by their fruits ye shall know them.” [Matt. 7:20]
In the next months my family received many more acts of kindness from neighbors and ward members, but I’ve never forgotten that one evening when, instead of doing something more fun, the young men and women did extra chores out of the goodness of their hearts.

I once met a British dancer while traveling on a train in Finland. We were both happy to be speaking English, and as we chatted we asked each other questions: What are you doing in Finland? What do you believe? Learning of my beliefs, she asked, “You don’t smoke or drink? You don’t believe in premarital sex?” And throughout our conversation, she kept coming back to this subject, intrigued. “I suppose if you dated men who felt the same way, it would work out,” she said. And then later: “Are there any men who feel the same way?” She started off disdainful and ended up wistful. She was hungry for something she heard in our doctrine.

I am an American exchange student in Bateman’s Bay, Australia. I am the only Latter-day Saint in the town, and the nearest branch is 100 miles away, so I don’t get to church very often. I wrote to my mother and told her how much I miss the Church, and to help me out, someone is sending me the New Era every month. I love the New Era. It’s brought me so much closer to the Church, even though I’m the only member for miles. The New Era has motivated me to start reading the Book of Mormon, and I can hardly wait to get home and participate in the Young Women activities.
Lisa MatsonBateman’s Bay, Australia

I have been doing some reflection on how I ended up at BYU–Hawaii as a young man in the pre-historic era of 1988. If you had told my younger self that he would leave Tonga for Hawaii, he would not have believed it. Like many of you, I realized early that education was key to a better life. My goal was to do well in school and attend university in New Zealand. When I was in middle school, I attended a devotional where the speaker taught about the power of fasting. I felt inspired to apply this principle in my life even though I did not fully understand it. I committed to fast regularly outside of first Sundays to make my dream of attending a university in New Zealand a reality.

Growing up with little, fasting felt like a big sacrifice, but I kept at it and worked hard in school. I was certain God would answer my prayers. However, after high school, I failed my entrance exams and was rejected by every school I applied to. I was shocked and could not understand why God had not blessed me in the way I wanted after all my efforts and sacrifices.

For two years, I drifted without direction. Then, BYU–Hawaii recruiters visited the hotel I worked at in Tonga. Despite not knowing me or my transcripts, they were inspired to invite me to attend BYU–Hawaii. Being stubborn, I initially refused, but they returned and invited me again, and I am forever grateful they did.

Looking back, I realized these recruiters were God’s response to my prayers. I was so focused on New Zealand that I forgot to focus on what God wanted for me. By bringing me to BYU–Hawaii, God forever altered the trajectory of my life. The blessings that He had in store for me were much greater than the ones I had imagined for myself.

President Thomas S. Monson tells of a Sunday School teacher from his youth, Lucy Gertsch. One Sunday, partway through a lesson about selfless service, Sister Gertsch invited her students to give their class party fund to the family of one of their classmates whose mother had passed away. President Monson said that in giving that invitation to action, Sister Gertsch had “closed the manual and opened our eyes and our ears and our hearts to the glory of God” (“Examples of Great Teachers” [worldwide leadership training meeting, Feb. 10, 2007], Liahona, June 2007, 76; Ensign, June 2007, 108). Sister Gertsch had clearly used the manual to prepare her lesson, but when inspiration came, she closed the manual and invited her students to live the gospel principle she was teaching.

In the spring of 1998, Carol and I were able to combine a business trip with a family vacation and bring our four children, along with my recently widowed mother-in-law, to Hawaii for a few days.
The night before our flight to Hawaii, our four-month-old son, Jonathon, was diagnosed with a double ear infection, and we were told that he could not travel for at least three to four days. The decision was made for Carol to stay home with Jonathon, while I would make the trip with the rest of the family.
My first indication that this was not the trip I had envisioned occurred soon after our arrival. Walking down a moonlit, palm-lined path, with a view of the ocean in front of us, I turned to comment on the beauty of the island, and in that romantic moment, rather than seeing Carol, I found myself looking into the eyes of my mother-in-law—whom, I may add, I love dearly. It just wasn’t what I had anticipated. Nor had Carol expected to spend her vacation at home alone with our sick infant son.
There will be times in our lives when we find ourselves on an unexpected path, facing circumstances much more severe than a disrupted vacation. How do we respond when events, often out of our control, alter the life we had planned or hoped for?
On June 6, 1944, Hyrum Shumway, a young second lieutenant in the United States Army, went ashore at Omaha Beach as part of the D-day invasion. He made it safely through the landing, but on July 27, as part of the Allied advance, he was severely injured by an exploding anti-tank mine. In an instant, his life and future medical career had been dramatically impacted. Following multiple surgeries, which helped him recover from most of his serious injuries, Brother Shumway never did regain his sight. How would he respond?
Following three years in a rehabilitation hospital, he returned home to Lovell, Wyoming. He knew that his dream of becoming a medical doctor was no longer possible, but he was determined to move ahead, get married, and support a family.
He eventually found work in Baltimore, Maryland, as a rehab counselor and employment specialist for the blind. In his own rehabilitation process, he had learned that the blind are capable of much more than he had realized, and during his eight years in this position, he placed more blind people into employment than any other counselor in the nation.
Now confident in his ability to provide for a family, Hyrum proposed to his sweetheart by telling her, “If you will read the mail, sort the socks, and drive the car, I can do the rest.” They were soon sealed in the Salt Lake Temple and ultimately blessed with eight children.
In 1954 the Shumways returned to Wyoming, where Brother Shumway worked for 32 years as the State Director of Education for the Deaf and Blind. During that time, he served for seven years as bishop of the Cheyenne First Ward and, later, 17 years as stake patriarch. Following his retirement, Brother and Sister Shumway also served as a senior couple in the London England South Mission.
Hyrum Shumway passed away in March 2011, leaving behind a legacy of faith and trust in the Lord, even under trying conditions, to his large posterity of children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.
Hyrum Shumway’s life may have been changed by war, but he never doubted his divine nature and eternal potential. Like him, we are spirit sons and daughters of God, and we “accepted His plan by which [we] could obtain a physical body and gain earthly experience to progress toward perfection and ultimately realize [our] divine destiny as heirs of eternal life.” No amount of change, trial, or opposition can alter that eternal course—only our choices, as we exercise our agency.
The changes, and resulting challenges, that we encounter in mortality come in a variety of shapes and sizes and impact each of us in unique ways. Like you, I have witnessed friends and family face challenges caused by:
The death of a loved one.
A bitter divorce.
Perhaps never having the opportunity to marry.
A serious illness or injury.
And even natural disasters, as we have recently witnessed around the world.
And the list goes on. Although each “change” may be unique to our individual circumstances, there is a common element in the resulting trial or challenge—hope and peace are always available through the atoning sacrifice of Jesus Christ. The Atonement of Jesus Christ provides the ultimate corrective and healing measures to every wounded body, damaged spirit, and broken heart.
He knows, in a way that no one else can understand, what it is that we need, individually, in order to move forward in the midst of change. Unlike friends and loved ones, the Savior not only sympathizes with us, but He can empathize perfectly because He has been where we are. In addition to paying the price and suffering for our sins, Jesus Christ also walked every path, dealt with every challenge, faced every hurt—physical, emotional, or spiritual—that we will ever encounter in mortality.
President Boyd K. Packer taught: “The mercy and grace of Jesus Christ are not limited to those who commit sins … , but they encompass the promise of everlasting peace to all who will accept and follow Him. … His mercy is the mighty healer, even to the wounded innocent.”
In this mortal experience, we cannot control all that happens to us, but we have absolute control over how we respond to the changes in our lives. This does not imply that the challenges and trials we face are of no consequence and easily handled or dealt with. It does not imply that we will be free from pain or heartache. But it does mean that there is cause for hope and that due to the Atonement of Jesus Christ, we can move forward and find better days—even days full of joy, light, and happiness.
In Mosiah we read the account of Alma, the ex-priest of King Noah, and his people, who, “having been warned of the Lord … [,] departed into the wilderness before the armies of king Noah.” After eight days, “they came to … a very beautiful and pleasant land” where “they pitched their tents, and began to till the ground, and began to build buildings.”
Their situation looked promising. They had accepted the gospel of Jesus Christ. They had been baptized as a covenant that they would serve the Lord and keep His commandments. And “they did multiply and prosper exceedingly in the land.”
However, their circumstances would soon change. “An army of the Lamanites was in the borders of the land.” Alma and his people were soon placed in bondage, and “so great were their afflictions that they began to cry mightily to God.” In addition, they were even commanded by their captors to stop praying, otherwise, “whosoever should be found calling upon God should be put to death.” Alma and his people had done nothing to deserve their new condition. How would they respond?
Rather than blame God, they turned to Him and “did pour out their hearts to him.” In response to their faith and silent prayers, the Lord responded: “Be of good comfort. … I will … ease the burdens which are put upon your shoulders, that even you cannot feel them upon your backs.” Soon after, “the Lord did strengthen them that they could bear up their burdens with ease, and they did submit cheerfully and with patience to all the will of the Lord.” Although not yet delivered from bondage, by turning to the Lord, and not from the Lord, they were blessed according to their needs and according to the Lord’s wisdom.
Elder Dallin H. Oaks has taught: “Healing blessings come in many ways, each suited to our individual needs, as known to Him who loves us best. Sometimes a ‘healing’ cures our illness or lifts our burden. But sometimes we are ‘healed’ by being given strength or understanding or patience to bear the burdens placed upon us.”
Ultimately, “so great was their faith and their patience” that Alma and his people were delivered by the Lord, as will we, “and they gave thanks,” “for they were in bondage, and none could deliver them except it were the Lord their God.”
The sad irony is that, too often, those most in need turn away from their one perfect source of help—our Savior, Jesus Christ. A familiar scriptural account of the brazen serpent teaches us that we have a choice when faced with challenges. After many of the children of Israel were bitten by “fiery flying serpents,” “a type was raised up … that whosoever would look … might live. [But it was a choice.] And many did look and live.
“… But there were many who were so hardened that they would not look, therefore they perished.”
Like the ancient Israelites, we are also invited and encouraged to look to the Savior and live—for His yoke is easy and His burden is light, even when ours may be heavy.
Alma the Younger taught this sacred truth when he said, “I do know that whosoever shall put their trust in God shall be supported in their trials, and their troubles, and their afflictions, and shall be lifted up at the last day.”
In these latter days, the Lord has provided us with numerous resources, our “brazen serpents,” all of which are designed to help us look to Christ and place our trust in Him. Dealing with the challenges of life is not about ignoring reality but rather where we choose to focus and the foundation upon which we choose to build.
These resources include, but are not limited to:
Regular study of the scriptures and the teachings of living prophets.
Frequent, sincere prayer and fasting.
Worthily partaking of the sacrament.
Regular temple attendance.
Priesthood blessings.
Wise counseling through trained professionals.
And even medication, when properly prescribed and used as authorized.
Whatever change in life’s circumstance may come our way, and whatever unexpected path we may have to travel, how we respond is a choice. Turning to the Savior and grasping His outstretched arm is always our best option.
Elder Richard G. Scott taught this eternal truth: “True enduring happiness with the accompanying strength, courage, and capacity to overcome the most challenging difficulties comes from a life centered in Jesus Christ. … There is no guarantee of overnight results, but there is absolute assurance that, in the Lord’s time, solutions will come, peace will prevail, and emptiness will be filled.”
To these truths I share my witness. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

One pleasant summer morning in 1986 when my wife, Siou Chin, was preparing to leave for a class, I felt an impression clearly telling me to give her a ride to the bus stop. She had been taking classes at a school for teachers, and the bus stop was seven miles (11 km) away. I didn’t pay much attention to the feeling. Having joined the Church not even one year earlier, I had little idea what the voice of the Holy Ghost felt like.
When Siou Chin was about to leave for the bus stop on her motorcycle, the same feeling came to me again, now more strongly than before, telling me that something would happen if I didn’t give her a ride. I made the terrible mistake of again ignoring the voice.
Ten minutes later, the phone rang. I was so scared I couldn’t answer it. It kept on ringing. Finally I picked it up, and the voice on the line said, “Your wife is in the hospital! Please come immediately.”
When I arrived at the hospital, I recalled the warning and deeply regretted that I hadn’t listened to the Holy Ghost. Siou Chin was in critical condition. She was unconscious. And on top of it all, she was nine months pregnant. A doctor recommended that I send her to a larger hospital in Kaohsiung that had better equipment. After weighing my options I had the impression that I should send her to that hospital without further delay. On the way to the hospital I pleaded with Heavenly Father not only for forgiveness but also that He would save my wife’s life.
An hour and 20 minutes later we arrived at the other hospital. The doctor in the emergency room ordered a CT scan, and after looking at the images, he told me Siou Chin had a skull fracture. I then found out there was no bed available in the hospital. All day long there was nothing I could do but pray for help. At 6:00 that evening I met the sister of a former classmate. She worked at the hospital, and with her help we were finally able to find an empty bed on the ninth floor. Siou Chin was still unconscious and in critical condition.
At 10:00 p.m. it dawned on me that I should ask the missionaries to give my wife a blessing. The missionaries in our branch called the elders in Kaohsiung, and 20 minutes later they arrived. But the doctor refused to allow them into my wife’s room because she had gone into labor, even though she was still in a coma. So I asked the elders to give me a blessing instead of my wife, which they did in a conference room where we would be undisturbed.
By 11:00 p.m. my wife still hadn’t delivered the baby, so the doctor decided to move her to the eighth floor for a cesarean section. Then a miracle happened. Ten minutes after they moved her, she delivered the baby. The delivery went smoothly, and when the nurse handed me the baby, I couldn’t believe my eyes. His features were exactly like the image I had seen in my prayers every night.
Seven days after our son’s birth, Siou Chin finally regained consciousness. But her mind wasn’t clear, and she suffered headaches. Her primary physician recommended that we transfer her to a university hospital for brain surgery. I was overwhelmed and prayed for guidance. After less than three minutes of pondering, I told the doctor I had decided to transfer her to another medical center, even though it meant we would have to pay all the expenses because that center was not eligible for medical coverage. This time I understood that I was being prompted by the Holy Ghost, and I was sure this decision was right.
We checked my wife into the medical center. A medical team that tours Taiwan to investigate unusual cases happened to be visiting this center. A brain surgeon who had just received special training in the United States was with the team that day. After looking at all the information, this doctor announced that my wife didn’t need surgery. He said her situation should improve within one week. I was so relieved to hear those words. I am grateful to the doctor, but most of all, I thank my Heavenly Father who directed me to make the right decision.
Just as the doctor predicted, Siou Chin was better in a week. Even the doctor marveled at how quick her recovery was. I know that with the doctors’ medical skill and with Heavenly Father’s blessings, my wife was able to miraculously survive and is now fully recovered. Our son is now serving full-time in the Taiwan Taichung Mission.

Many lives have been blessed by the success of the Philippines Area’s “I Will Go, I Will Serve: 4600” initiative. Aside from the inspired vision of the Area Presidency, the support of the local priesthood leaders and the efforts of youth leaders, the miraculous success of the campaign was also boosted by the catchy theme song performed by Loredel “Daday” Ducena-Baluyot.
Composing the popular anthem with her husband Justin was a labor of love. After the first Area Presidency fireside premiered on Facebook on May 16, 2021, Daday and Justin felt the spirit and were inspired to write the song. After a few weeks, they presented the song to the Church area production team and offered its use to help sustain the momentum of the campaign. The song was reviewed and approved, and by July they were recording it with some help from Brio Divinagracia on the arrangement and background vocals. The song was officially launched during the follow-up Area Presidency fireside on November 21, 2021.
Aside from the 2021 youth theme song “A Great Work,” Daday’s “I Will Go, I Will Serve,” became popular after being part of youth, YSA, and FSY conferences all over the country. It was also listened to and sung along with the 2022 youth theme song “Trust in the Lord.” Recently, the couple rewrote the song as part of the November 20, 2022 Area Presidency fireside launching a heightened and more comprehensive “Come Unto Christ: I Will Go, I Will Serve” initiative.
“We were so honored when the Area Presidency requested that we rework the song so it can still be part of the relaunched campaign,” shares self-taught musician Justin. “He immediately took a leave from work and we spent an entire weekend brainstorming and working together on the song,” discloses Daday.
April 2020 MTC batchmates, the couple drew from their mission experiences when they first wrote the song. Justin served under the Philippines Bacolod Mission while Daday labored in the Philippines Urdaneta Mission. Upon returning from her mission, Daday was tapped to represent the country in the 2021 Youth Music Festival and eventually became a host of the monthly online program “Hear Him through Music.” They got reacquainted when Justin arrived home from his mission, and the whirlwind romance led to their wedding at the Manila Temple on February 3, 2022.
On working on the song again, they expressed gratitude for the emphasis placed on the temple because it is their favorite place. “As a young couple facing many of life’s challenges, the temple is our safe haven where we receive strength and guidance,” says Justin. “I agree,” adds Daday. “We live far from the temple, but we are always excited to go there and feel the Spirit of the Lord.”
With their love for each other strengthened by their love for music, missionary work, the temple, and the Lord, the Daday and Justin consider themselves very lucky to have found each other along their journey on the covenant path.

President Marion G. Romney was talking about the work which involved our parents. The other day we heard a story in our council meeting that I saw raise the ire of the brethren. It was all righteous ire because of the things that had happened. A father who had been very careful in his investments and in his service had saved hundreds of thousands of dollars for his sweet little wife who had helped him to gather it. But unfortunately he died first and was laid away. His wife became a little older, and somewhat senile. She was put in a rest home. The money went to the children’s bank accounts, and she went on suffering. Maybe she didn’t fully understand all the suffering that came to her; but maybe she did. With inadequate clothes and with inadequate treatment and training, the poor woman is still living in a rest home. As far as we know her children never see her.
It must be a little bit difficult to visit a mother who gave her life for her children, who spent many, many years rearing and training and saving for them. It must be very difficult for them to show their interest when she is in a position where she needs some comfort from those whom she has loved.

Years ago, my family attended a Stake Conference in South Carolina where Elder Neal A. Maxwell was the visiting General Authority. The sessions were wonderful, and the Spirit very strong. Just before Elder Maxwell spoke in the final general session, we sang “How Great Thou Art,” an old evangelical hymn in our current hymnal that is a favorite of saints in the South. The Spirit was especially strong during the singing, and many individuals, including me, shed tears. At the conclusion of Elder Maxwell’s address, he gave the assembled congregation an Apostolic blessing in which he promised us that when we would hear the hymn we had sung, we would remember the feelings of the Spirit that we had experienced that day. I don’t know about others, but it has been so for me, if I pray and claim the blessing that was given me. Such events don’t happen frequently, but many of us have had precious occasions when we’ve interacted with the Spirit. If we pray and seek to remember these occasions, their significance is renewed in our lives.

“There was a boy named Ike,” Grandpa began. “He took delight in pushing people around. He wasn’t much bigger than me, but he had a meanness that made him scary. If he had put notches in the hitching post in front of the mercantile store for every kid he beat up, he would have needed a second post for want of room!
“I didn’t know at the time that he was being mistreated at home. All I knew was that he had it in for me. Like you, I tried to stay clear of him. But the harder I tried, the more he singled me out.”
Grandpa reached into his overalls and pulled out a pocket watch. “Your great-grandpa gave this to me,” he said, “and I treasured it. Then one day Ike stole it from me at school. He told me about it that afternoon when he saw me in the mercantile buying a candy stick—which he also took and ate right in front of me.”
Melody’s eyes were big. “How did you get the watch back, Grandpa?”
“Ike said that he had left it in the hills, just inside an abandoned mine called Yellow Spur. He said that he was curious to see if I wanted it badly enough to go up there after it. What he didn’t tell me was that at night the place crawled with scorpions.”
Melody grew tense as Grandpa continued. “I didn’t want to tell your great-grandpa about the missing watch—he had prized it so. Besides, I often hiked in the hills. But never after dark. Anyway, to make a long story short, I found the watch just inside the mine. It was right at my feet—along with a dozen scorpions! I didn’t know yet that Ike was hiding on a rock just outside and above the cave. I guess he was going to wait for me to get stung by one of those scorpions, and then take the watch back.”
“What happened, Grandpa?”
“I heard a yell, and the next thing I knew, Ike came tumbling off the rock and landed at my feet. He had been stung by a scorpion himself. And before I could help him up, he was stung by another one.”
“You tried to help him? Weren’t you afraid of getting stung too?”
“I was indeed, Pumpkin, but I remembered what my father said about our deeds being recorded in heaven. Besides, I felt sorry for him. So I helped him down the hill to our place, and my folks doctored him up. He was pretty sick from those bites, but he was back on his feet by morning.”
Grandpa leaned forward, his eyes shining. “The next day after school it rained, and I was getting soaked clear through. To my surprise, I felt something warm being dropped over my head.” Grandpa touched the poncho he was wearing. “It was this poncho, Melody. And to my total disbelief, it was Ike who was placing it on me. He gave me his poncho, the one he always wore as if it was his most treasured possession. He didn’t say anything. He just stared at me awhile and then went on his way. I never saw him again. His family moved somewhere after that. But I’ll never forget the look he gave me. And to this day I don’t know if the wetness on his face was all rainwater.”

One evening I watched my daughters’ reactions as a beautiful friend visiting in our home told the story of meeting her husband. Her eyes sparkled as she explained that if she had disobeyed her father as she had been tempted to on that occasion, she would not have been present to meet the man she later married. Like thirsty sponges my daughters drank in her words. The story made a great impression on them. If I had tried to explain the same principle, they might have labeled it “preachy.” But my friend’s enthusiasm, spirit, and love made the experience memorable and helpful.

He recalls one young family he contacted. “I baptized the wife and worked with the husband in the Scouting program,” he says. “I wrote in my journal that I felt someday the husband would join the Church.”
Twenty years later Elder Winkel received a telephone call from two sister missionaries in Amarillo, Texas. They had met the couple, who had immigrated to the United States and now had five children. The wife was no longer active, they said, but she remembered the name “Elder Winkel,” and one of the sister missionaries had tracked him down. “They wanted me to call this couple and bear my testimony to them after they heard the first discussion, and I did that,” says Elder Winkel. “We were all thrilled to have a reunion over the telephone.” A few weeks later he flew to Amarillo and baptized the husband and children.

Bishop Frías and his wife have been members since their youth. But for others, baptized later in life, Church service quickly becomes a concentrated course in leadership.
Ernesto Merchán, a member of the Church since 1988, is a counselor in the bishopric of his ward and previously served as elders quorum president. He tries very hard to keep his baptismal covenants because “the Lord told us, in the scriptures, to be a light to others.” (See Matt. 5:16.) Brother Merchán hopes that some of his relatives will see the light of the gospel.
His wife saw it, after two years of watching his growth in the Church and feeling the love Church members extended to her. Just one year after her own baptism, Carmen Merchán was called as ward Relief Society president. Her lack of experience and the poverty among members in her area are not daunting, she says, so long as she can feel the Lord’s help in her calling. If nothing else, she adds, “I can love them” as the Savior taught.
“Here in Ecuador, as in other countries, the Lord is the same,” Ernesto Merchán says. “The gospel is the same. We are one family.”

Everyone in the mission knew about Madame Dupont. Her husband, President Dupont, was the branch president of one of the smallest branches in France. He had labored faithfully for years to establish The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in his hometown. In all that time, however, his wife had opposed his membership in the Church. She didn’t like his “folly.” She wouldn’t listen to his testimony. And she wouldn’t allow missionaries in her house—not even in her courtyard!
The day I arrived in town as a brand-new senior companion, my missionary companion, Elder Granville, informed me that the branch president’s wife was just getting up and around after a short sickness.
“Great,” I said, “let’s take her some flowers to wish her well. Maybe it will help to fellowship her.”
“You don’t know Sister Dupont,” he said. (We called her sister anyway even though she wasn’t a member.) “She’ll probably just snarl.”
I couldn’t believe anyone would refuse flowers after an illness. I was wrong.
I held the bouquet while Elder Granville knocked timidly at the gate.
“She’ll never hear you if you don’t knock louder than that!” I said, and I rapped on the wood. A small, gray-haired woman in her 60s peered at us through the window. I knocked again, and the front door of the house opened. “Go away!” the lady said.
“But we have something to give you,” I replied.
“If it’s for my husband, just leave it at the gate,” she said.
“Let’s go,” Elder Granville whispered.
“We have something for you,” I said again, trying hard not to sound like I was yelling.
She opened the door and walked toward us from the house.
“Oh no!” Elder Granville whispered, pulling at my coat.
By now the short little woman was nearly up to us.
“What could you possibly have for me?” she said.
“Flowers,” I said, “Flowers to wish you—”
“Don’t like flowers,” she interrupted. “Never did.”
“But—”
“Don’t like flowers. Don’t like missionaries either. Now leave me alone.”
“But there must be something you like,” I said, almost in desperation.
“Yes,” she said, “I like fruit. Fresh fruit. Never get enough of that around here. Now thanks for bringing the flowers, but I really don’t want them.”
And she turned around and walked back to the house.
“Au revoir,” I shouted after her. “Ayez une bonne journée!” It wasn’t the most authentic French, but I did want her to have a good day.
“Brother, were you ever lucky,” Elder Granville sighed as we walked away. “When Elder Stokeley and I said hello to her one day, she slammed the gate in our face.”
I handed him the bouquet of flowers.
“Let’s go tracting,” I said.
The next day was preparation day, and we were shopping at the market near our apartment. It was then that I saw the basket of apples.
“Hey, Elder Granville,” I said, “I’ve got an idea.”
I picked up the basket and started toward the check-out stand. Visions of a month of apple crisp at every meal must have danced through Elder Granville’s mind.
“We can’t eat that many apples!” he said.
“They’re not for us. They’re for Sister Dupont.”
That left him speechless. For a moment.
“Elder Romney, you’re the craziest senior companion I’ve ever had!”
“I’m only your second companion since the Missionary Training Center.”
“Well, you’re still the craziest senior I’ve ever had.”
By now the clerk was wondering what two Americans were doing arguing in English about a bushel of fruit. I set it on the counter.
“Nous prendrons toute la corbeillée,” I said.
“You’ll take the entire basketful,” the clerk repeated (in French, of course). “Trés bien, monsieur.” Then, in an effort to be friendly, “Vous devez beaucoup aimer des pommes.” (“You surely must love apples.”)
“They’re not for us, they’re for a friend,” I said.
“For a friend.” The clerk tried hard not to be amazed. “Trés bien, monsieur.”
“The whole bushel!” Elder Granville moaned. “And we could have spent the grocery money for yogurt!” He picked up the rest of the groceries, and we headed for the door.
We did eat some of the apples. We even made some apple crisp and a pie. But most of the fruit went to Soeur (Sister) Dupont. We never delivered the apples in person. Each day we would leave one, with a note attached, in her mailbox. Sometimes the note would simply say, “Ayez une bonne journée.” Sometimes it would say, “Bon rétablissement!” (“Get well soon!”) One day I even tried to translate “An apple a day keeps the doctor away” into French. I’m sure “Une pomme tous les jours vous protégera contre les maladies” lost something in the translation, but once again the wish was sincere. By the end of the month, when the apples started to shrivel, we would cut paper into the shape of an apple, write a note on the paper, and leave that inside the mailbox instead.
All this time Elder Granville kept telling me I was crazy. And all this time we never heard a word from Sister Dupont. At church President Dupont was as cordial and friendly as usual, but he never said a word about the apples.
We were having a dish of soup for lunch one day when we heard a knock at the door. I stepped from the kitchen into the hallway to answer it. I couldn’t believe it when I opened the latch and neither could Elder Granville. There stood Sister Dupont, with our latest apple message in her hand.
“What’s the deal with all these apples?” she said. “Who do you think I am, Eve?”
“We just wanted to let you know we care,” I said.
“I thank you,” she managed. And she actually tried to smile. “But please, I’ve had enough apples for awhile.” She pulled her black shawl more tightly around her head. I was about to invite her inside when she turned to go.
“Oh, by the way,” she said when she reached the top of the stairway, “my husband says I should invite you for dinner on Sunday night.”
“Dinner?” Elder Granville gasped from somewhere behind me. “With Sister Dupont?” I thought he was going to faint. But as soon as the door closed, we both whooped for joy.
Sister Dupont was a marvelous cook. There’s no cuisine like French cuisine, and it’s even better when it’s homemade. That first Sunday evening we mostly ate well and offered compliments. We also watched hope glimmer in Brother Dupont’s eyes. It had been a long, long time since he’d had missionaries in his home. This was the first time since his baptism some 17 years before. We returned for dinner the following Sunday, and the next, and the next. Through bits and pieces of the conversation, we patched together the Duponts’ story.
Before he met the missionaries, Brother Dupont said, he had been like a wanderer in a drought-ravaged land. Then suddenly he stumbled into a lake of water. The gospel was rich and refreshing to him, and he could not drink his fill. In his exuberance to immerse himself in his new-found treasure, he could not understand why others did not want to savor the same message. This lack of communication spilled into his marriage. His wife didn’t understand what had changed her husband.
As we ate, she told us of the war years, when he was bedridden. She had managed to find food for both of them, even during shortages. She had nursed him daily. Even after the war, he had required her constant care for several years before he gained the strength to walk. Then he had spent more years training and rehabilitating himself while she supported the family. No sooner had he started working again than two Americans began talking religion with him. Then he joined their church—he was the only member in town, and they baptized him in the river—and more and more of his life belonged to his church, not to her. She felt deprived, then embarrassed, when parishioners laughed at her, the wife of the town fanatic.
President Dupont repeated over and over again that the Church was true, that he knew it was true, and that he would do whatever he could to share it with his wife. “But,” he said, “she just won’t listen.”
“Can’t you see?” I said one night after they had been sharp with each other. “What you’re really saying is that you love each other. Sister Dupont, all these years you’ve been asking your husband to spend more time with you. That’s important and it’s right. And President Dupont, all you want to do is share with your wife the thing that’s most precious to you. Right?”
He nodded yes. I turned to Sister Dupont.
“Can’t you see that he wants to share the gospel with you because he loves you?”
She didn’t say anything, but you could tell she was thinking. We excused ourselves quietly and went home.
Elder Granville’s prayer that night was straightforward and concerned.
“Please, Heavenly Father, help the Duponts to understand each other. They’re both good people.”
“Amen,” I said. And it sounded so good that I said it again in a whisper.
We had teaching appointments elsewhere for the next two weeks, and then we had to go to Bordeaux for district conference. Although we stopped to see President Dupont on branch business a couple of times, it was almost a month before we were asked back to the Duponts’ home. President Dupont delivered the invitation.
“You won’t believe it,” he said. “My wife’s been reading Church books! and she’s asking questions, good, honest questions. I try to answer them, but I get too pushy. She really wants to talk to you again.” If we hadn’t had another teaching appointment, we might have rushed over right then.
“C’est incroyable!” Sister Dupont said the next time we all sat in the kitchen. “It’s incredible. Or it’s stupid! A 14-year-old boy can’t talk to God. And the Bible. It’s complete. Why should we need any more scriptures than we already have? And the priesthood. My husband’s never been to divinity school. Why should he be able to hold the priesthood?”
Good questions, all right. How could we handle this? I could imagine Elder Granville thinking this was more like the Sister Dupont of old. Maybe the niceness had been too good to last.
“Sister Dupont,” Elder Granville’s calm voice interrupted my thoughts, “we can answer all those questions for you. But we can’t answer them all at the same time. We have a series of discussions that will answer them one at a time. Would you be interested in listening to those discussions?”
She said yes.
How about that! I said to myself. There’s hope for this junior companion yet!
I wouldn’t exactly say that Sister Dupont became a golden investigator. But she did become our friend. She listened intently to the first discussion. She even joined us as her husband kneeled in prayer. And she invited us to dinner again the following Sunday. It was while we were finishing a serving of the thin mashed potatoes the French call purée that Elder Granville told Sister Dupont a story.
“Did you ever hear about the missionary who was eating dinner and asked his companion to pass the butter? The butter was right in front of him, but he couldn’t see it because it was so close.”
“What?”
“Simple. It’s like you and the gospel. All these years your husband has had it right here in front of you, but you couldn’t see it because it was so close. You keep asking where the butter is when it’s right in front of your plate.”
It may not have been the strongest analogy, but Elder Granville was trying. When we got home that night, he brought me a copy of the Book of Mormon.
“Why don’t you sign this with me?” he said, turning to a dedication on the flyleaf. “It’s for Sister Dupont.”
I looked at what he’d written.
“Voici le beurre,” it said. “Here is the butter.”
During the next two months Sister Dupont read the book—at least, she read more than half of it. And she had two more discussions, and prayed, and was talking to her husband more and more. And he was seeming happier and happier all the time. That’s when my transfer letter came.
I was moving north to Brittany where I would finish my mission. Elder Granville would be getting his third senior missionary companion. The letter had been delayed by postal strikes. I would have to catch the first train in the morning.
“I don’t know if I’m ready to leave, Elder Granville,” I said. “We’ve been working so well here. The branch president’s happy and excited again, and the members are working with him. We’ve got some inactive members coming out to church and a couple of solid investigators. The Marcellas family is getting ready for baptism. I guess I’ll just have to leave it up to you.”
A knock at the door.
“President Dupont!” Elder Granville greeted the visitor. “Come in, come in.”
President Dupont looked at me.
“I heard about the transfer,” he said. “I know you’re leaving tomorrow. My wife wants you to come say good-bye.”
There was a lot of packing and farewelling to take care of, but I knew I had to visit his wife.
“Of course we’ll be by,” I said.
The living room was dark. The wallpaper, however, was a bright combination of browns, yellows, and tans. Sister Dupont was seated on the orange couch, a tray of cookies and hot chocolate before her.
“Hello, elders,” she said. “Have a seat. What’s this about Elder Romney leaving?”
“I’m afraid that’s right. Tomorrow morning.”
“That means there will be a new missionary here, too.”
“That’s right. Elder Taylor. He’s from New York.”
“I guess I’ll have to get to know him, too.”
I could see the smile on President Dupont’s face.
“I hope you will,” I said.
“Will you write to us?”
“Of course I’ll keep in touch,” I promised. “Trust me.”
“If you can’t trust the elders, who can you trust?” she said.
I thought I might cry.
I did keep in touch, especially five months later when I got home from my mission. It was hard, and President Dupont wrote to me more than I wrote to him. But we did exchange photos (I still have a nice picture of the Duponts with their grandchildren on vacation on the Spanish coast), and Christmas cards, and news of our families. Whatever I sent, even a postcard, I always got letters back, scrawled out in President Dupont’s longhand. He would let me know when he heard from one of the elders, especially from Elder Granville. He always included greetings from his wife, but I never received anything written personally by her. Other missionaries told me that she remained friendly and supported her husband, but she never joined the Church. Every once in a while I would write to her personally and bear my testimony to her through the mail.
I’ve been home for several years now, and this week I received an unusual letter from France. The address was strange, the handwriting unfamiliar. I opened it before I got to my desk.
“Dear Elder Romney” it began. “I’ve wanted to write to you many times over the years, but I always figured my husband kept us in contact with you. Now my husband is gone. I wanted to let you know so that you could tell the other missionaries. He loved them all so much. Let them know the Church members held a funeral for him.
“I remember much of what you both told me about life after death. Perhaps my husband is there waiting for me, as you said he would be. I never did understand all you tried to tell me, all that he wanted to share with me, but I know you both believed it was true. I’m living with my daughter and her family now. Please write to me if you will.”
You know I will, Sister Dupont. You know I will.