Gospel Story Finder

Luisa Fernanda Espinosa Sachica, a young Colombian woman, had come to the church meeting at the invitation of a young man who worked with her at a bank.

The little ward in Bogota, the nation’s capital, did not really impress her favorably. The Church members were nice, but Luisa just didn’t like the meetings. They were too long, she thought, and there didn’t appear to be anything of interest for people of her age.

But, during Relief Society, the teacher used the June 1987 Liahona, the Church’s Spanish-language magazine. On the cover was a picture of the Savior teaching in the synagogue. In the painting, the Savior had a glow about him that attracted Luisa’s attention. Not wanting to stay, she left the building following Relief Society, but she thought to herself, "I want a copy of that magazine."

Later that week, Luisa was on a crowded bus in Bogota and, as she was getting off, she noticed a copy of that same issue of the Liahona on the dashboard of the bus. She thought that it was quite a coincidence. The next day, as she was shopping, she saw behind the counter another copy of the magazine. She began to think that it was more than a coincidence. She wanted to ask the store clerk about the magazine but couldn’t find the courage to do so.

Then, at the end of the week, while she was working in the bank, a man carrying a copy of the magazine approached her teller’s window. She just had to ask him about getting a copy for herself. "I can’t understand what it is about that magazine," she explained. "It seems to follow me around." The man smiled and gave her his copy.

She took the magazine home and read it all the way through. The First Presidency Message, by President Ezra Taft Benson, was "Valiant in the Testimony of Jesus," and it described Joseph Smith and the First Vision. The more Luisa read, the more her interest grew.

She told some friends, who were members of the Church, that she wanted to meet the missionaries. Before the first discussion was finished, "She bore her testimony to us that the Joseph Smith story was true," said Elder Doug Fulsome, one of the missionaries who taught her. Luisa was eager to hear the rest of the discussions and was soon baptized.

"If the Lord wants someone to be baptized," said Elder Fulsome, "he finds a way. Even if he makes a copy of the Church magazines ‘follow’ them."

Joseph and Hyrum Smith’s martyrdom shocked every Latter-day Saint, including the youth of the Church.
One hundred and fifty years ago this month on June 27, 1844, Joseph and Hyrum Smith were murdered by a mob of angry men. The events of that tragic afternoon at Carthage, Illinois, have usually been seen through the eyes of adults. Yet there were many young men and women who knew the Prophet and the patriarch and who felt great grief at their passing. While we don’t have a great deal of information about young people who were affected by the deaths of their leaders, a few records do give us a view of the martyrdom through teenage eyes.
Fifteen-year-old Mary Ann Phelps told of being asked to help the Prophet. “When [Joseph] found he had to go to Carthage [to meet with Thomas Ford, governor of Illinois], he wanted a man by the name of Rosecrantz, who was well acquainted with the governor, to go with him.”
At the time, Mr. Rosecrantz’s wife was ill. The Prophet thought that if someone could be found to take care of her, Mr. Rosecrantz would be more likely to make the trip. He asked Mary to stay with Mrs. Rosecrantz.
“I went to stay with Mrs. Rosecrantz,” Mary recalled. “As [the Prophet and Hyrum] were going, they called at the gate with their company of about twenty men, and Joseph Smith asked me if I would bring them out a drink of water.” Mary took them a glass and a pitcher. Joseph leaned over and said to her, “Lord bless you.”1
Another young person, William Hamilton, met Joseph and Hyrum when, on their first night in Carthage, they stayed at his father’s inn. They arrived at the Hamilton House hotel five minutes before midnight on June 24. Early the next morning, the Smith brothers voluntarily surrendered to a constable. After a court hearing during the day, they met with Governor Ford. During the interview a justice of the peace appeared with a paper from a judge authorizing the jailing of Joseph and Hyrum Smith until they could be tried for treason—which was a change from the original charge of rioting.
Despite protests from their attorneys, Joseph and Hyrum were hurried off to Carthage jail, only a few blocks away. Several friends and associates were allowed to stay with the Prophet and the patriarch that evening. On the next day, June 26, the treason hearing was held. No witnesses appeared, so Joseph and Hyrum were required to stay in jail until another hearing could be held, this one scheduled for June 29. But the conspiracy to murder the Prophet and his brother was already in motion.
On June 27, 1844, William stood as lookout on the roof of the county courthouse. It was hot and humid. Sometime near five o’clock, William noticed a group of about 100 men with blackened faces going toward the jail. He hurried to report the movement, but it was already too late. The soldiers assigned to protect the prisoners were outnumbered by the mob. They stormed the jail, rushed up the stairs, and fired shot after shot after shot. Then a yell that the Mormons were coming caught everyone’s attention, and the mob fled.
William went into the jail, where he saw the body of Hyrum Smith. Outside the jail, the Prophet Joseph also lay dead in a pool of blood. John Taylor was severely wounded. Willard Richards was only grazed on his ear by a bullet.2
Fourteen-year-old Eliza Clayton also entered the jail. The doors were still open. She said it looked “as though the people had left in great haste.” When she went upstairs, she saw “some Church books on the table and the portraits of Joseph’s and Hyrum’s families on the fireplace mantel.” But when she saw the “blood in pools on the floor and spattered on the walls,” Eliza started to cry.3
Fifteen-year-old Henry Sanderson was one of the first in Nauvoo to hear the tragic news, “when a runner went past our house shouting that the Prophet was killed.” Henry recalled how “sad a blow” it was to him and his family.4
The news spread quickly. At Hyrum’s home on Water Street, not far from Joseph and Emma’s home, George D. Grant knocked at the door and delivered the sad tale to the family.
“The news flew like wild-fire through the house, and the anguish and sorrow … can be easier felt than described. But that will never be forgotten by those who were called to go through it,” recalled Mary Ann Smith, one of Hyrum’s children.5
On the morning of June 28, the bodies of Joseph and Hyrum were gently placed on two different wagons, covered with branches to shade them from the hot summer sun. William Hamilton and his father Artois accompanied Samuel Smith and Willard Richards to Nauvoo with the bodies of the slain Church leaders.
They left Carthage about 8:00 A.M. and arrived in Nauvoo about 3:00 P.M., where they were met by a great assemblage. When the bodies were returned to Nauvoo, they were washed and dressed. Then family and friends were ushered in to see them.
When young Joseph Smith III entered the room, he dropped upon his knees, laid his cheek against his father’s, and kissed him. He was heard saying, “Oh, my father, my father!” Other children of the Prophet and the patriarch crowded around to see their slain fathers. It was an almost unbearable scene.6
On the following day, June 29, the bodies lay in state in the Mansion House while thousands of Saints silently filed past the coffins, grateful but sobered to see their beloved leaders one last time. Mary Ann Phelps’s father took her to the Mansion House early in the morning, before the bodies were prepared for the public viewing.
“I went down, saw them, and laid my hand on Joseph’s forehead,” she said. “The sheet that was around him was stained with blood. Still he looked very natural.”7

Our vacation was ending. Over waffles that morning, we planned how to make the most of our time at the hotel before enduring the five-hour drive home. My husband decided to take our three young daughters for a final escapade in the pool. I would take advantage of a treadmill in the workout room.
The treadmill I chose faced a wall-sized window overlooking the swimming pool. Shortly I saw a family, my family, make their way to the pool. Towels, shoes, and T-shirts flew everywhere as the girls excitedly prepared to jump into the water. Normally I would be following behind them, gathering up clothes and shoes and, quite honestly, being a bit annoyed by it all. Instead, I saw this family from the outside looking in, as though the giant window before me was a movie screen. As my feet pounded a rhythm on the rotating belt beneath, I watched.
I saw how happy everyone was, laughing and playing together, and I thought about the times I had become discouraged by the petty arguments that inevitably arise in a family, by the uneasy feeling that, despite my best effort, I was failing to teach my children to love each other. But as I watched, I saw people who were happy together. I discovered that I wasn’t failing to teach them to love one another; I was just failing to notice that they could.
I watched one of the girls jumping from the pool’s edge over and over again into her daddy’s arms. I thought about all the big jumps she would make throughout her life and hoped she would trust Heavenly Father to catch her each time. I knew that with each jump she was learning to trust and that being part of our family was a safe way to learn that trust.
Another daughter sought to perfect a swimming skill. I saw how her family’s encouragement kept her trying. There would be times in her life when she would need that same support in the face of more difficult challenges.
And then I watched as our third daughter was accidentally bumped into the pool. Upset and angry, she sputtered her way out of the water and into a chair. Immediately her family noticed she was missing. I watched each one lovingly encourage her to rejoin them. She eventually did, and I thought of her future, of all the times she would be hurt and feel like giving up. I hoped she would always find in the love of her family the strength to endure.
Suddenly, the realization hit me: our families can be a key to our ability to learn, understand, and live the gospel. Nephi noted that “by small means the Lord can bring about great things” (1 Nephi 16:29). And so it is with families. Yes, parents struggle. But every effort to teach and train and love, no matter how small, matters.
My little movie drew to a close. As I turned off the treadmill and watched my family gather their clothes, I felt renewed determination to keep going, to keep doing all the little things that I sometimes worry don’t make a difference.

After I earned my black belt in tae kwan do, I went to a special ceremony for all the new black belts. Before it started, my instructor told us what we would do during the ceremony, which included drinking tea. I knew Heavenly Father said not to drink tea. I explained to my instructor why I could not drink tea. He let me drink water instead. My mother said she was proud of me for honoring my baptismal covenants and sharing my beliefs. I know following Heavenly Father’s commandments will always make me happy.
Joseph R., age 10, Texas, USA

I invited a friend to a New Year’s Eve party at the church. She isn’t a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints but has a good impression of it. When she showed up, she was drunk. She started having a panic attack and opened up to me about difficulties she and her family were dealing with. I knew I needed to help her.
I took her to my dad. I asked him if he would give her a priesthood blessing. I told her a little about blessings, and she said she would like one. After the blessing, she stopped crying and was even smiling!
After this experience, she asked me some questions about the priesthood. Together with another friend, I shared how the gospel has blessed us and our families.
It felt good sharing the gospel with my friend. To me, a disciple of Jesus Christ tries to be like Jesus Christ and do the things He did, especially when we notice someone going through a hard time.

One day at school, I was in a hurry to get to my math class, and my locker wouldn’t open. I hadn’t had any trouble opening my locker all year, so I was surprised I couldn’t open it. Right then the hall monitor walked by and opened my locker. I got my books and realized that if I walked into my math class, I would be tardy, so I went to find the hall monitor. She gave me a back-to-class pass. Just as I turned the corner, there was a girl in the hall sobbing because some girls had pulled a mean prank. I didn’t know her very well, but I gave her a hug, and she hugged back. I was amazed that the only time my locker jammed was that one day when a girl could use a hug. I think it is amazing that the Lord puts you in certain situations to help others.

This story about the Aaronic Priesthood begins with a young woman, 16-year-old Lauren DellAquila of the Cary Second Ward, Apex North Carolina Stake. Lauren hadn’t come to Church for years. She had never been baptized and confirmed, “but I just knew in my heart that the Church was true.”
She also knew David Christison, 16, and Andrew Hill, 15, who attend the same school, are Latter-day Saints. “I’m in marching band with David and had a couple of classes with Andrew last year,” she says. And she knew they stood by their beliefs. “It meant a lot to see their example, because most teens at our school don’t have values like they do,” Lauren explains.
Then one day after band, some other classmates were making unkind comments about the Church. Lauren told them if they really wanted to know the truth, they shouldn’t repeat rumors; they should find out for themselves. Afterward, David thanked her and asked how she knew so much about the Church. “She said that when she was really young she went to Church, but then her parents divorced and she stopped coming,” David says. “So I invited her to come again.”
“People had tried to get me to come back before, but for one reason or another it had never happened,” Lauren explains. “But when I told David and Andrew that I did want to try again, they were excited. I started coming to meetings, and they introduced me to the bishop, the missionaries, and the young women in the ward. They helped me feel at home.”
Soon Lauren was baptized and confirmed, and today she’s a happy, confident Laurel who recently gave a sacrament meeting talk about the importance of the priesthood. “If the gospel had not been restored,” she says, “I wouldn’t have seen two young men honoring their priesthood. And I wouldn’t have had the opportunities I have had to make covenants and to draw close to the Savior.”

Much of my early testimony was formed through music. I adored bouncing up in “Jesus Wants Me For A Sunbeam”. I popped along to “Popcorn Popping”. I could perform “Book of Mormon Stories” in my sleep. But it wasn’t just fun. I distinctly remember learning “Love Is Spoken Here”, and becoming emotional as we sang it in Primary. Music hadn’t affected me like that before—I didn’t understand how I could be crying whilst being happy. It wasn’t just the lyrics—the melody itself, the voices of all my friends—it shocked me.
I realised that these songs had power. As I’ve gotten older, I still often turn to these songs when I’m in need. The second verse of “How Firm A Foundation” has been my companion through any scary experience, even if it was just venturing downstairs in the middle of the night for a glass of water.
“Fear not, I am with thee; oh, be not dismayed, / For I am thy God and will still give thee aid.”1
Singing these lines has always brought me comfort. I truly feel Heavenly Father’s presence in those moments. The effect wouldn’t be the same if I just spoke the words—the act of singing aloud, a musical prayer, brings me the most comfort.
As an adult, music still plays a part in my testimony. I was lucky enough to see a concert of Rob Gardner’s Lamb of God a few years ago, as my sister Lauren was part of the choir. Individual performers, a choir, and an orchestra come together to recount the Saviour’s last days on earth. In the song “Gethsemane”, a narrator tells of the Saviour entering the garden of Gethsemane. The choir sings in Aramaic as the music swells. Of course, the effect of this cannot be accurately portrayed in writing—it is absolutely beautiful and brought me to tears. Now, when I think of Him, suffering so much in that garden, I hear that music. He suffered for us, out of the purest love. It is beautiful and mournful, awe inspiring and heartbreaking. “Gethsemane” helped me tap into those emotions at a slightly deeper level, as I tried to empathise with what our dear Saviour went through.
Music is another tool we can use to help strengthen our faith. It helps us to understand things in a different way, and sometimes in a deeper way. I feel spiritually enriched when I am able to listen to such music—for a brief moment, I am able to truly cast other things aside and just reflect on the gospel. It’s a blessing that I often forget I can use.
In October 1936, President J. Reuben Clark stated “We get nearer to the Lord through music than perhaps through any other thing except prayer.”2
As I teach my daughter those same Primary hymns I enjoyed years ago, I am happy to know that they can be a guide and a comfort to her. They certainly have for me. I am truly grateful for all the ways Heavenly Father has provided to bring us closer to Him, and to feel His presence in our daily lives.

“One cow in our team was very intelligent. In fact, she was so bright that she used to hide in the willows to keep from being yoked up but when father found her and yoked her she was a good worker and a good milker. She got very lame at one time and could scarcely travel. My parents were very much worried, having already lost one. They were afraid they could not keep up with the company, and so Mother said she would make a poultice and put it on as soon as the cow laid down for the night. She made a very large one that covered all over the lame hip. Well, the next morning, when father went to get the cows up he called out, ‘Why, Mother, you have poulticed the wrong hip.’ Mother said, ‘Never mind. It’s all right. It has gone clear through.’ And sure enough she [the cow] limped very little that day, and was soon as well as ever. I know there was a great deal of faith mixed up with that poultice.”

The next time we caught some tadpoles, we made sure we took the fighting fish out of the aquarium. Then the tadpoles lived just fine. One morning when we woke up, however, they were all gone; and in their places were some tiny toads. We rushed into Mom and Dad’s bedroom to tell them. They could hardly believe that the tadpoles had changed so fast.

When the toads grew bigger, we let them live in our flower beds. They slept during the day and came out at night to catch insects on our lawn. In the winter they buried themselves in the ground and hibernated.

Doe Kaku at the time of her conversion to the Church and today with her husband, Anthony.
Thirty years ago in Ghana, a young college student named Doe stepped inside an LDS meetinghouse for the first time. A friend had invited Doe to come with her, and Doe was curious to know what the Church was like.
The people there were so nice and warm that she couldn’t help but wonder, “What kind of church is this?”
Doe felt so impressed that she decided to learn more about the Church and its people, who were filled with so much joy. But as soon as she began doing so, well-meaning family and friends began to oppose her at every turn. They said terrible things about the Church and did all they could to dissuade her.
But Doe had received a testimony.
She had faith, and she loved the gospel, which was filling her life with joy. And so, she entered the waters of baptism.
Afterward, she immersed herself in study and prayer. She fasted and sought the influence of the Holy Ghost in her life. As a result, Doe’s testimony and faith grew stronger and deeper. Eventually she decided to serve a full-time mission for the Lord.
After returning from her mission, she dated and married a returned missionary—the very one who had baptized her years earlier—and they were later sealed in the Johannesburg South Africa Temple.
Many years have passed since Doe Kaku first experienced the joy of the gospel of Jesus Christ. During that time, life has not always been sweet for her. She has endured her share of heartbreak and despair, including the loss of two children—the deep grief of those experiences still weighs heavily upon her heart.
But she and her husband, Anthony, have striven to draw close to each other and to their beloved Heavenly Father, whom they love with all their heart.
Today, 30 years after she entered the waters of baptism, Sister Kaku recently completed another full-time mission—this time together with her husband, who served as a mission president in Nigeria.
Those who know Sister Kaku say there is something special about her. She glows. It’s hard to spend time with her without feeling happier yourself.
Her testimony is certain: “I know that the Savior sees me as His daughter and friend (see Mosiah 5:7; Ether 3:14),” she says. “And I am learning and trying so hard to be His friend too—not only by what I say but also by what I do.”
Sister Kaku’s story is similar to that of many others. She had a desire to know the truth, she paid the price to gain spiritual light, she demonstrated her love for God and her fellowman, and along the way she experienced hardships and sorrow.
But no matter the opposition, no matter the sorrow, she kept moving forward in faith. And just as important, she kept her joy. She found a way not only to endure the hardships of life but also to thrive despite them!
Her story is similar to yours and mine.

Because of my father’s experience, he was very anxious for me to have a good education. When I’d say, “But I don’t want to go to school,” he’d say, “Then I’ll go in your place. Do you think the teacher would mind? I wonder if I can fit into the seat at your desk?”

That always made me laugh because I think it would have frightened my teacher to see a grown man coming to school, and I knew he couldn’t fit into the small seat at my desk. So I would go to school.

Sometimes I’d complain, “My teacher makes me work too hard.” Then Dad would just smile and mess up my hair and say, “I doubt it.” (I’m not sure, but the way he smiled always made me feel as though he wanted that teacher to make me work hard. I never could understand why, for I thought the only good thing about school were the recesses.)

Later when I had graduated from high school, served a mission, and completed my courses in college, I went on to earn a Ph.D. from a school in New England. (Ph.D. just means you are a doctor that doesn’t give shots or fix broken legs. In fact, I’m not sure Ph.Ds can fix much of anything.)

When I received my diploma I wanted my father to have it. He had never received a graduation diploma from any school and I thought he deserved this one. I told him that although my name was on it, the diploma should really be awarded to him. I told him they probably just made a mistake in the printing. That made him laugh and then it made him cry. I wasn’t sure then why it made him cry—but I know now.

My father died last year, and now he is getting more of the education that he always wanted when he was a little boy. And me? Well, my wife and I have children of our own in school. And when they say, “But I don’t want to go to school,” I say, “Then I’ll go in your place. Do you think the teacher would mind? I wonder if I can fit into the seat at your desk?” And when they say, “My teacher makes me work too hard,” I just smile and mess up their hair and say, “I doubt it.”

Fathers, I guess, are like that. In His own special way, I think Heavenly Father is like that too.

Have a good year in school and learn all you can. It is going to be important to you for a long, long time. In fact, it will be important forever.

Budgeting and financial management need not be overly complicated or time-consuming. The story is told of an immigrant father who kept his accounts payable in a shoe box, his accounts receivable on a spindle, and his cash in the cash register.
“I don’t see how you can run your business this way,” said his son. “How do you know what your profit is?”
“Son,” replied the businessman, “when I got off the boat, I had only the pants I was wearing. Today your sister is an art teacher, your brother is a doctor, and you’re an accountant. I have a car, a home, and a good business. Everything is paid for. So you add it all up, subtract the pants, and there’s my profit.”

When we returned to Utah in 2000 after our mission in Chile, we found our oldest daughter dating a young man named McKell, a lively returned missionary who was also involved in theater programs at Brigham Young University. He was a frequent visitor in our home, and we came to like him.

That fall our daughter was awakened one Sunday morning to hear some terrible news. Her friend McKell had been visiting a cousin along the Oregon coast, and the two of them were far out on a pier when a storm came up suddenly and swept them off into the water. His cousin was battered among some rocks and was rushed off to a hospital, where he struggled for his life. McKell was apparently swept away by the undertow, and his body was not recovered. Eight days later, the very day of a memorial service for him, his body washed up onto the shore and could finally have a proper burial.

McKell was a good young man, just twenty-five years old. I don’t believe he knew that he would be leaving the earth that day.

We ought to remember we don’t dictate to God the timing of His answers to us and the content of what comes in response to our prayers. I learned this when I was about 16. I was in the pageant at Hill Cumorah. I lived in New Jersey at the time, and they had some of the youth from New Jersey and New York as participants. I thought I had a deep belief in the Prophet Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon and felt that they were true and that the First Vision was as he described it. I thought, “This is the perfect chance. I’ll go to the Sacred Grove one night after the performance and get the final confirmation I need there.”

So I did. I went there late one night. It was a beautiful summer evening. Nobody else was there—perfectly reverent and peaceful. And I prayed. I didn’t ask for anything specific. I just said, “Can I have some confirmation of my belief?” Really I wanted a testimony of my feeling about the Prophet and the Book of Mormon.

Nothing happened. I prayed a long time—I’m sure more than an hour. Nothing. I was really disappointed. I said, “What did I do wrong? Why didn’t the Lord answer me? Wasn’t it the perfect place, the perfect time? What should I have done that I didn’t do?”

Later, what I was looking for came, but it was at home in a quiet moment when I was reading the Book of Mormon. That witness from the Holy Ghost flooded over me, and I knew. I knew I knew. And when I looked back on the experience, I said, “Why didn’t He answer my prayer then? Why was it later?” I learned two important lessons from that:

First, you don’t have to be any place special for the Lord to answer your prayer. You don’t have to make a pilgrimage to Palmyra or Jerusalem or anything like that. He knows where you are. He knows your name. He can answer you right here, right now, any moment.

And second, you don’t dictate to God. You just don’t tell Him what and when. That comes according to His will and His timing and His wisdom. He loves us; He knows what’s best for us, and our job is to be open. Our job is always to be willing and ready to receive. Then He knows what’s best and when to answer us and how to answer us. So, after all is said and done, we still have to live by faith.

Early in the morning today I went to the municipality offices in Dombo Tombo, and while we were in line a woman dropped a $20 note on the ground. I saw it fall and told her about it. She picked it up and said, “Thank you.”
Many of the other people in line said to me, “You are stupid. You are foolish. Why didn’t you take the money and buy your own things?”
But I said, “No, I shall never do that because I am a child of God.”
When the others calmed down, an older man who was standing behind me said quietly, “Do you go to church? It seems as if you are a good girl.”
And I said, “Yes, I go to church.”
And he said, “What is the name of your church?”
I said, “It is called The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. If you want to, you can come to the Dombo Tombo Hall on Tuesday nights at 5:30 P.M. or on Sunday at half past ten and I will meet you there.”
And the man said, “Oh, yes! I will come!”
So I am very happy about what I did today.

As the youngest in a family of eleven, one of my responsibilities as a boy was to herd cows. I not only took care of my family’s cows, but I would gather all the cows in the neighborhood and take them to graze up in the hills or along the dirt roads nearby.
Sometimes the cows would disappear from where they were supposed to graze. If I did not watch them carefully, they would follow a forbidden path and get into trouble. They might even stray into some farmer’s field. If they ate too much lucerne, they would bloat or become terribly sick and need immediate care.
On one occasion while I was working in the garden, the cows disappeared. When I walked up the road to look for them, I discovered that the entire herd was gone. I came back and got Jimmy, my pony, and rode all over the valley trying to find the cows. But there was no sign of them!
It seemed only a few minutes since they were grazing contentedly by the side of the road, and I could not understand how they could disappear in such a short time. I was really worried.
In my distress I got off my pony and onto my knees to pray. I asked Heavenly Father to help me find the cows. Then as I was about to climb back onto Jimmy, I noticed some faint cow tracks in the sand. I decided to follow them.
The tracks led me for several miles along a side road that crossed some high hills. As I approached the hills, I saw the cows hidden in a small enclosed area a short distance from the road. Not one of the cows was missing, and I happily drove them back home. Someone must have driven a large herd of cows along the road. Our cows joined with the others and then somehow became separated from the large herd.
I knew the Lord had heard and answered my prayer because I went directly to the place where the cows were.
From this and many similar experiences, I learned as a young boy that Heavenly Father loves me and that He hears and answers my prayers. This knowledge has been a guiding star to me, not only through childhood and young manhood, but throughout my life.
That star has become brighter and brighter until it has become a beacon of light to guide me along the strait and narrow way. I know this path will bring peace and happiness in this life and lead us to our goal of eternal life.

We had a wonderful experience as part of our humanitarian projects.
Brother Eric Graffe, who assists us with our projects, told us about a drinking water problem on the island of Tahaa. We quickly set up a video conference with Madame Patricia Amaru, mayor of Tahaa.
To our astonishment, she began with a prayer. We then asked her what their priority needs are. With tears in her eyes, she confided: “You must be the answer to my prayers, because just yesterday we had an urgent problem. And I’m powerless to solve it.”
She went on to explain that the drinking water distribution network is outdated, making it difficult to supply water to a large part of the island.
So we headed off to Tahaa to see what was needed. As water is one of the priorities of humanitarian projects, we decided to put together a dossier that we would submit to the branch president. If successful, this substantial project will bless the lives of over 2,000 people.
Once we had finished visiting the facilities, Madame Amaru regretted leaving us, as she had to attend a meeting “with a young man from your church who is going on a mission”.
It was in fact a vigil during which the future missionary was to open his call letter. We asked her if it’s a member of her family. “No!” she replied. “But I go wherever I’m invited.”
“Then we’ll be delighted to accompany you!”
When we arrived, we found a branch filled with love for this young future missionary who had lost his mother a year earlier. What’s more, he’s the first missionary from this branch . . . in 40 years!
The branch president asked to the mayor and her husband to address a word. They both gave “parent” advice, encouraging him to be obedient and respectful, to remain humble, and especially not to stay there (Salt Lake City Mission) after the mission.
Before we left, we learned that this couple, who are very close to the people of their community, had recently attended the dedication of the meetinghouse. What’s more, during the seven-month construction period, they welcomed the entire branch into their home (not the municipality’s premises, but their own) for Sunday meetings!
It was with hearts overflowing with love and gratitude for such generous and humble people that we set sail again to leave them.
Unquestionably, we declare that our Heavenly Father watches over His children tenderly, that He sent us to Tahaa to serve them, and that the Church is the means by which this might be done.

Don’t look now, but there are three boys flying through the air on a magic bench. They’re wearing wild clothes, hats, and boots, and they’re singing beautiful music. The people on the ground below are also dressed in colorful costumes—one of them looks like a bird—and they’re singing a plea for help. The words to the boys’ song in response seem enchanted. All problems are resolved.
Does this sound like some bizarre dream caused by a hot fudge, french fry sundae right before bedtime? It’s not. It’s all in a day’s work for professional opera singers Steven Wilkin, Andrew Grose, and Jeffrey Perry, the deacons who recently starred as the “genies” in the Utah Opera Company’s version of Mozart’s The Magic Flute.
At 13, the three boys have been singing professionally for several years. Their performances have taken them all over the country and even to different parts of the world. They’re making friends and developing talents at a remarkable rate. As far as after-school jobs go, “it beats a paper route,” says Jeff.
When you hear the three boy sopranos sing, whether they’re harmonizing together, performing in front of huge crowds in Japan as Steven and Andrew have done, or crooning country-western tunes as Jeff does in a restaurant on Thursday nights, you think you’ve been transported to heaven and are listening to the angels themselves. Their voices are high and clear, and although they work hard and practice incessantly, it’s obvious that a certain degree of their talent is a divine gift.
Steven discovered he had a gift when he was about three, singing and talking in Primary. Andrew’s talent was discovered by his third-grade teacher when she cast him in the class production of Hansel and Gretel. Jeff discovered he was talented only a few years ago, when his friends heard him sing along perfectly with Whitney Houston’s recording of “The Star Spangled Banner.” Voice lessons would be a good thing here, decided the boys and their parents. Training helps, but without the “something extra” they were born with, they would never be where they are today.
Each was also blessed with the ability to sing on stage in front of thousands of people without being nervous or afraid. These boys have always been amazingly poised, getting leads in major productions like Oliver and Amahl and the Night Visitors almost the first time they tried out. “Prayer helps a lot,” says Andrew. “And Dad’s blessings that I’ll perform to the best of my abilities help too,” adds Steven.
Now before you get jealous and start wondering why God didn’t bless you with a talent like that, consider the fact that there are some drawbacks to being a gifted boy soprano. All the blessings in the world won’t make these three boys comfortable singing in front of their own wards.
“The older boys and the deacons quorum tease you about singing high,” says Steven. “I like to collect fast offerings and to pass the sacrament with them, but when it comes to singing, it’s easier to be on stage in front of thousands of people you’ll never see again than to have to sing in front of a room full of people who really know you.”
Because of his high, clear voice, Andrew couldn’t even get a part in his own school musical. “They were doing Guys and Dolls, and the drama teacher said the only part they had for my voice would have been the female lead, which I obviously couldn’t play. Some of the kids at school went around saying, ‘I got a singing part without even taking a lesson, and Andrew, who has had all this training, doesn’t even get to be on stage.’ It worked out okay though. I got to be stage manager, and it was fun to watch everyone else perform without any pressure on me.”
The pressure. That’s something else these boys are forced to deal with, and at a very young age they’re learning some amazing things. Steven was ecstatic about landing the lead role in a professional production of Amahl and the Night Visitors, until he heard his understudy sing. His voice was like silver. “Oh Mom!” Steven said, with tears in his eyes, “He’s so much better than I am! He should have my part.” It was then explained to Steven that the boy who was singing had grown too big for the lead, and Steven’s part was secure.
Steven decided right then and there that he would be very nice to his understudy and treat him without jealousy or malice. Steven knew how that felt, because he’d been treated poorly as an understudy before. This decision turned out to be better than Steven ever expected. His understudy in Amahl was Andrew, and now they’re the closest of friends.
It’s a good thing these boys have learned how to make friends at all times and in all places. When they’re involved in a production, there isn’t a lot of “hang time.” While most guys their ages are playing Nintendo and hanging out with their friends, Jeff, Andrew, and Steven are busy learning Italian, Latin, German, Japanese, taking dance and voice lessons, and attending rehearsals. Those activities, plus Scouting and deacons quorum duties, and a few sports like baseball, skiing, and basketball, take up almost all their time. That doesn’t leave many minutes for just being with friends.
“Sometimes I wish I had more time for that,” says Steven, wistfully. “But I’ve become good friends with the other guys in the productions, and we hang out at the rehearsals. We’ll rollerblade when we’re not on stage, and stuff like that. It’s pretty fun.”
That’s all fine for now, you might say, but what happens as they start growing up? “The Dreaded Voice Change,” as Andrew calls it, has been looming darkly on the horizon ever since these boys discovered they could sing soprano.
How will they deal with it? Their beautiful voices have been earning them money and attention, and all that could easily change in a week. They each handle it in their own way. Steven’s voice has already changed, but because he was rehearsing so hard for The Magic Flute while it was happening, he can still reach the high notes and sound as good as ever. Andrew is hoping to develop his new, deeper voice as well as he developed his boy soprano voice. Jeff can’t wait for his voice to go lower. He’d rather be a professional baseball player or a doctor in the long run anyway.
In the meantime, these boys do what they can to turn around and bless others with the talents they’ve been given. You’ll often find Andrew entertaining large groups at nursing homes. “I love singing for older people,” he says. Steven has performed in a number of charity concerts to raise money for the homeless and terminally ill children, and Jeff has used his voice to help his grandparents do missionary work. All three boys sing often at missionary farewells, funerals, and in other Church programs.
While all three boys love the feeling they get when they sing before an audience, their lives don’t necessarily revolve around their singing careers. If you catch them after a Saturday night performance when the audience is roaring and they’ve just taken three curtain calls, you might ask them, “Now that you’ve won the hearts of thousands and your voices are critically acclaimed, what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to pass the sacrament!” these three deacons would tell you. What else would they do on a Sunday?

My awakening to these unique verses played an important role in my first assignment as an Area Seventy. I was a bit nervous being the companion of an Apostle, Elder Quentin L. Cook, at a stake conference. As I walked into the stake president’s office for the initial meeting that weekend, I noticed a pair of tattered-looking, bronzed shoes on the credenza behind his desk, accompanied by a scripture ending in an exclamation point. As I read it, I felt the Lord was aware of my study, had answered my prayers, and that He knew exactly what I needed to soothe my anxious heart.
I asked the stake president to tell me the story of the shoes.
He said:
“These are shoes of a young convert to the Church whose family situation was strained, yet he was determined to serve a successful mission and did so in Guatemala. Upon his return I met with him to extend an honorable release and saw his shoes were worn out. This young man had given his all to the Lord without much, if any, family support.
“He noticed I was staring at his shoes and asked me, ‘President, is anything wrong?’
“I responded, ‘No, Elder, everything is right! Can I have those shoes?’”
The stake president continued: “My respect and love for this returning missionary was overwhelming! I wanted to memorialize the experience, so I had his shoes bronzed. It is a reminder to me when I walk into this office of the effort we all must give regardless of our circumstances. The verse was from Isaiah: ‘How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings, that publisheth peace; that bringeth good tidings of good, that publisheth salvation; that saith unto Zion, Thy God reigneth!’ (Isaiah 52:7).”