Gospel Story Finder

I want to thank Dan Lindstrom whose fireside talk “My Own Movie” was printed in the April 1979 New Era. When I read it, I was having trouble with the missionary work. In our apartment was a stack of old New Eras, and I found myself reading them from cover to cover. I would rise each day at 5:00 A.M. just to read them. One day I read the article by Brother Lindstrom, and it sank home. I started to question myself, and found I needed some great improvement. Since then I have been very careful in what I do and say. I have given myself to the work, and success is finally coming my way.
Elder Bryan CookFlorida Ft. Lauderdale Mission

Mr. Henry lived alone in a small house. He hardly ever went anywhere and he didn’t talk to many people because he really didn’t have any friends. He thought people didn’t like him. Every day he tended his garden in back of the house and his apple trees in front. Everyone knew that Mr. Henry grew the most beautiful apples in town.
On warm summer evenings Mr. Henry sat on his porch watching people go by. But most of the time no one stopped to visit the lonely man.
In the winter he sat by the fire and thought about the way his mother used to surprise him with treats on holidays. He remembered how happy he was when someone gave him a nice surprise. But now there was no one to give him anything and Mr. Henry was sad.
On Valentine’s Day, however, an idea came to him. The more he thought about it, the more he liked it, so he hurried out to his storehouse. He gathered up some of his juicy red apples, picking out only the best he could find, and put them into sacks. He chose some of the odd-shaped ones that looked almost like big hearts.
Carefully, he rubbed and polished each apple until they all were bright and shiny. Then after dark he took the sacks and left one on the doorstep of every house on the street. On each sack he wrote this message: Happy Valentine’s Day—A Friend.
When the last sack of apples was delivered, Mr. Henry went home with a good feeling inside. “They’ll never know who did it,” he told himself as he climbed into bed. “But that’s the fun of it!” Soon he drifted off to sleep.
Now, a curious thing happened after that night. When people walked by his house they would stop and say, “Hello, Mr. Henry,” or “Nice day, Mr. Henry.” And one Sunday, Mrs. Corey brought him a piece of chocolate cake.
“I wonder how they knew?” Mr. Henry asked himself. “It’s strange how sharing a few apples can change a person’s life.”
When Valentine’s Day came the next year, Mr. Henry took apples to his neighbors again, and the next year, and the next. In fact, he took apples to his friends every year.
Now each fall the children come and help him pick his apples. It is fun for them to pretend they don’t know who leaves apples in sacks at their homes on Valentine’s Day. And Mr. Henry is happy too. Everyone in the whole neighborhood has somehow become his friend.

This story took place in the USA.
The bell rang just as Mr. Nickels wrote their weekly math homework on the board. There were so many problems to solve! This would take forever.
“Turn in your homework on Friday,” Mr. Nickels said. “No excuses.”
Everyone groaned. Derek shoved his math book into his already-full backpack.
Derek’s new school was so different from his old one. Now that he was in sixth grade, he went to a school that was much bigger, with lots more students. The classes were harder, and he had more homework too.
But what worried Derek most of all was the other kids. Some of them seemed so mean! He didn’t want anyone to get mad at him.
Derek slung his backpack over his shoulder and walked into the hall. Kids were everywhere. He kept his eyes down and tried to weave between them without bumping into anyone. Sometimes it seemed like just looking at someone might make them mad.
“How was school today?” Dad asked that night. “Any better?”
“Not really,” Derek said.
Dad set down his book. “You know how you told me that sometimes you worry that someone at school might get mad at you for no reason?”
Derek nodded as he stared at his homework.
“Well, I have an idea,” Dad said. “Try smiling at them.”
What? That wasn’t what Derek expected. “I don’t know,” he said. “That sounds kind of weird.”
“Nothing too weird about smiling,” said Mom.
Dad nodded. “It wouldn’t hurt to try. Keep your head up and try smiling at whoever you see. It’s pretty hard to get mad about a smile.”
Derek thought about Dad’s idea. He prayed about it before bed, and he felt peaceful. OK. He’d try it out.
The next morning, Derek hopped off the bus. A crowd of kids squeezed through the front doors of the school. Derek walked inside with his head down, like normal.
But then Derek remembered Dad’s idea. Just smile, he thought.
With a deep breath, Derek raised his head. An older boy was walking toward him. He was at least one grade above Derek. Maybe two. He wore a sports jersey and walked with big, fast steps.
Derek almost looked away. This was exactly the kind of kid he thought might push him out of the way without warning. But he had promised to try.
So he smiled.
The other boy’s face brightened a little bit. After he passed, Derek stopped walking for a moment. He didn’t feel so nervous now!
Derek smiled at more people on his way to class. Almost all of them smiled back! Dad was right. No one got angry from a smile.
As he walked into the classroom, Derek thought that middle school might not be so scary after all. There was still lots to learn, and he still had some worries. But smiling helped. Maybe his smile could help someone else feel better too.

When I was 17, about ready to graduate from high school as a very average student with some handicaps, as I thought, everything around us came apart one Sunday morning. The next day we were called to the high school auditorium. On the stage was a chair with a small radio. The principal switched on the radio. We then heard the voice of President Franklin Delano Roosevelt as he announced that Pearl Harbor had been bombed. The United States was at war with Japan.

Later that scene was repeated. Again the voice of President Roosevelt, this time announcing that our country was at war with Germany. World War II had exploded across the world.

All at once our future was uncertain. We did not know what was ahead. Would we live to get married and have a family?

By the time we graduated from high school, many of our classmates had marched away to war, some of them never to return. The rest of us were soon to enter the military. We did not know about our future. Would we survive the war? Would there be enough of the world left when we returned?

Against the certainty that I would be drafted, I joined the air force. Soon I was in Santa Ana, California, for preflight training.

I did not then have a firm testimony that the gospel was true, but I knew that my seminary teachers, Abel S. Rich and John P. Lillywhite, knew it was true. I had heard them testify, and I believed them. I thought to myself, “I will lean on their testimonies until I gain one of my own.” And so it was.

I had heard about patriarchal blessings but had not received one. In each stake there is an ordained patriarch who has the spirit of prophecy and the spirit of revelation. He is authorized to give personal and private blessings to those who come recommended by their bishops. I wrote to my bishop for a recommend.

J. Roland Sandstrom was the ordained patriarch living in the Santa Ana stake. He knew nothing about me and had never seen me before, but he gave me my blessing. In it I found answers and instruction.

While patriarchal blessings are very private, I will share a short quote from mine: “You shall be guided through the whisperings of the Holy Spirit and you shall be warned of dangers. If you heed those warnings, our Heavenly Father will bless you so that you might again be united with your loved ones.”

That word if, though small in print, loomed as big as the page. I would be blessed to return from the war if I kept the commandments and if I heeded the promptings of the Holy Ghost. Although that gift had been conferred upon me at baptism, I did not yet know what the Holy Ghost was or how the promptings work.

What I needed to know about the promptings I found in the Book of Mormon. I read that “angels speak by the power of the Holy Ghost; wherefore, they speak the words of Christ. Wherefore, … feast upon the words of Christ; for behold, the words of Christ will tell you all things what ye should do.”

When I was about seven years old, living with my parents in Arabia, a children’s film called Chitty Chitty Bang Bang was released. The film is about a magical car that can drive itself, float on water, and even fly! I knew that back home in England they made a miniature toy car just like Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, and oh, how I wanted one! You could pull a lever, and the toy car’s wings would pop out! My father went on a business trip to England and asked if I wanted him to bring anything back for me, and I told him how very much I would like to have one of those Chitty Chitty Bang Bang cars.

He came back from his trip, and no car appeared. I was very sad and thought he must have forgotten. But about 10 days later was my birthday, and a little package, beautifully wrapped, was waiting for me. With great anticipation, and hardly daring to hope too much, I opened the gift and found my car. I was so happy that I cried. I pulled the lever, and the wings popped out, just like the car in the film! How I thanked my father for this most treasured gift. I played with that car for years and kept it for many more. I think my dad loved giving me that car at least as much as I loved receiving it.

In an area where everybody—even Old Bob—had to hunt to survive, food was getting scarce.
Eleven-year-old Hoagie had not missed a target with his rifle-gun for almost a year. “One bullet is all Hoagie needs!” his younger brother, Ira, boasted.
After a long search, they saw a big rabbit scurry through the brush, but Hoagie could not shoot. When the two boys discovered later that Old Bob had devoured the rabbit, Hoagie was furious. He leveled his gun at the bobcat and learned an important lesson about life and survival.

In family home evenings or in Sunday School, we would practice lines that would help us stand up to peer pressure. I couldn’t wait to use these lines. For example, I imagined hanging out with my friends. Someone would pull out some alcohol and pass it around. The beer can would be handed to me, and all eyes would be looking in my direction. The pressure would mount. I would stand up and say, “No! I am a Mormon, and I don’t drink!” All the kids would be in awe. No amount of their persuasion would convince me. Soon the party would disperse, and someone special in the crowd would tell me I had impressed him so much with my firm stance that he wanted to learn more about my church. Angels would sing praises, and I would be filled with light.

Buddy Conatser and his wife, Marteena Lanae, had been inactive for almost sixteen years, ever since their baptisms when they were eighteen. No one in the Church had been able to talk to them—certainly no missionaries at least until Vern and Wilma Richins of Draper, Utah, came. When Elder and Sister Richins knocked on their door in Jamestown, Tennessee, Buddy started his usual excuses as soon as he realized who they were. But Elder Richins gestured at the deer head on the living room wall and asked, “Brother Conatser, isn’t that a white-tail deer?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Let me look at it. Who mounted that?”
“I did.”
Buddy invited them in, and for the next two hours they never mentioned the Church. But before they left, Brother Conatser agreed to let them offer a prayer.
Sister Richins also asked, “Wouldn’t you like us to teach your three young daughters about the church you belong to?”
“They go to the church down the road here,” he replied. “They don’t need another one.”
But after a little more conversation, Buddy consented. That was Thursday. Friday was the first discussion. Sunday, the whole family was at church. A week later, the family had attended church the second time and had received four of the missionary discussions. The oldest girl asked, “Brother Richins, when are you going to baptize us?”
“When your mother and father want us to.”
“I want you to,” said Buddy. “Since the first discussion, we’ve quit our smoking and we’ve quit our drinking. And we know the Church is true. We’d been hunting for something without knowing we had it all the time.”
Elder Richins baptized the girls that weekend and ordained Buddy Conatser a priest the next Sunday. During the following months, Elder Richins ordained him an elder, and under the direction of the stake president, set him apart as the second counselor in the branch presidency, then as its president. The Richinses also witnessed the Conatsers sealing ceremony in the Washington Temple.

As a child, I woke up early during the week, and Sunday was the only day my mother would let me sleep in—that is, until the Christian congregation next door woke me up with their loud singing, preaching, and even crying at times. It’s silly, but because of my annoyance at being woken up every week, I thought Christians were a bit obnoxious.
I later learned that many members of Christian congregations donated their time and even money to their church. I just couldn’t understand why.
Because of these two observations about the Christian churches in my town in India—combined with the fact that my family and I were not Christian—I had little interest in learning more about Christianity.
During my final year of university, my friend invited me to attend his church with him. I was hesitant but eventually agreed.
As I sat in the meeting, singing hymns and listening to messages about Jesus Christ, I felt something different—I felt peace. I attended for a few more weeks and felt the same way each time. But of course, I was just visiting; I wasn’t interested in actually joining.
Some time after I stopped attending church with my friend, I began feeling like I was lacking something in my life. I missed the peace that I’d felt at church with my friend. I had a strong feeling that I should learn more about Jesus Christ, so I decided to meet with the missionaries from my friend’s church. I didn’t even consider what my family might think.
When I met with the missionaries, my life began to change. I learned about the Restoration and the Book of Mormon, and the missionaries helped answer my many questions.
One day I encountered a scripture that said, “Whatsoever thing ye shall ask in faith, … ye shall receive it” (Enos 1:15), and I knew that I wasn’t alone. I felt like God understood my situation and wanted to comfort me. As I came to recognize God’s love for me, I wanted to become a better person. I wanted to become like the Savior and become a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
But as my testimony grew, I also encountered obstacles. When my mother found out I was considering baptism, she told me that I would need to leave the house and cut off contact with her. And when I shared truths about the Savior on social media, many friends and members of my extended family blocked my messages and stopped talking to me.
I felt like I was being asked to choose between my family and the gospel—a decision that felt impossible. I was sacrificing so much of what I loved to join the Church. But I knew that if anyone understood sacrifice, it was Jesus Christ (see Alma 34:8–16).
And so I kept trying to draw closer to the Savior. I would even leave home in the middle of the night to pray and read the Book of Mormon so I could avoid my family’s disapproval. Through prayer and faith, I eventually decided that no matter what happened, I would choose the gospel. The joy and purpose I found in the gospel was worth everything to me.
Joining the Church has been a huge sacrifice for me. Serving in my callings, paying tithing, and trying to maintain relationships have been challenging at times. But like those Christian congregations in my town who freely gave to their faith, I know that my sacrifices are about so much more than what I give up.
Bishop L. Todd Budge, Second Counselor in the Presiding Bishopric, explained: “When our sacrifices on behalf of others are viewed from the perspective of ‘giving up,’ we may see them as a burden and become discouraged when our sacrifices are not recognized or rewarded. However, when viewed from the perspective of ‘giving to’ the Lord, our sacrifices on behalf of others become gifts, and the joy of generously giving becomes its own reward.”1
Heavenly Father recognizes and blesses us for the sacrifices we make for Him. I have seen this in my life as I’ve gained the love and support of my ward members, felt peace and comfort from the Spirit, and experienced miracles in my life. One miracle is how my parents’ hearts have softened toward me and we have been able to maintain a good relationship.
I now know who Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ are and how much They love each of us. I can feel myself becoming more like the Savior, who is our ultimate example, as I make sacrifices to keep my covenants. As we strive to serve Them in whatever capacity we can, I know we will be guided and experience the many beautiful blessings They have in store for us.

When I got home, I told Grandma all about camp. I told her it was the best Scout camp ever and that it was really fun being Bryant’s buddy. Grandma read Mosiah 2:17 to me. It says, “When ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God.” She said that when I helped Bryant, I was serving God too. I’d never thought of it that way before, but I felt the Spirit tell me that it was true. It’s awesome that I could serve God and help my friend.

Even though John’s eyes were still closed, he knew by the feel of the sun’s sudden warmth on his face that someone had opened his bedroom curtains. Squinting, he saw his mother cranking open the window to let a pine-scented breeze fill his room. Looking to the bed across from his, John saw that Rob had been up for a long time. His bed was already made, and the clothes, laid out the night before, were gone.
John’s attention shifted back to his mother. Standing sideways and looking at the huge blue spruce near the window, Mama looked different. She was wearing a shirt that John had not seen her wear for a long time. But what was really different about her was that she was bigger.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” she said with a smile.
John did not jump up and ask about breakfast as he usually did. Instead, he lay there very still and serious. Although pretty certain that he knew the answer already, John asked, “Mama, are you going to have another baby?”
Mama smiled again and walked over to John’s bed. Sitting down beside him, she ran her fingers through his curly hair. “Yes, Johnny. You will get a new little baby brother or sister sometime in October. Won’t that be fun?”
John did not think that it would be fun. He looked at his brother’s bed. He thought of his sisters’ two beds down the hall. He was not going to give up his bed for a new baby. There was not enough room. “Where is he going to sleep?” he asked.
“Oh, he or she will sleep in Mama and Daddy’s room for a little while,” his mother answered. “And Daddy has been talking about making a new bedroom for you and Rob in the basement. Would you like that?”
John answered, “Maybe.” But the bed was not the real problem.
While John dressed, his mother fixed breakfast. When he arrived at the table, she had spread out six plates and was spooning fluffy yellow scrambled eggs onto them. Daddy’s and Mama’s plates held the most. Then Mama dished up the rest of the eggs equally. As John watched her, he said, “If we have a new baby, there won’t be enough breakfast for everybody.”
“Sure there will,” laughed his mother. “I’ll just add another egg. Of course, by that time, I’ll have to add extra eggs because you and Rob are getting so big.”
“I’m big today,” said John. So his mother put some jam on an extra piece of toast for him. John ate his toast and jam, but he knew that a big-enough breakfast was not the real problem.
After breakfast, John said, “I need you to read me a story.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t read to you now,” said Mama. “It’s time to give the baby her bath. Maybe I can read to you after lunch.”
While Mama was dressing Rebekah, John said, “I need you to get my blocks out of the top of my closet.”
“I’m still taking care of the baby,” said Mama. “Can you find something else to do?”
“There’s nothing to do,” mumbled John. “You spend all of your time with Rebekah. When we get a new baby, it will be even worse.”
Mama said, “It seems like that sometimes, doesn’t it, Johnny. But I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. As soon as I’ve washed the breakfast dishes, I’ll take you all to the park.”
An hour later, John, Mama, Rob, Jenny, and Rebekah were all at the park. John and Rob went exploring in the trees and rocks that were on one side of the park. Jenny played in the sand with Rebekah. Mama read her book for a little while.
Then Jenny and Rebekah wanted to swing. Mama strapped Rebekah inside a little baby’s swing and pushed her with little baby pushes. Mama pushed Jenny in a big swing with big pushes. From the branch of the tree he had climbed, John listened to their laughter, then climbed down and ran to the swings. Soon Rob followed him, and for a while Mama went down the row of swings, pushing Rob, then John, then Jenny, then Rebekah.
Finally Mama laughed and said, “I’m sorry, kids, but I’m just too tired to push anymore.” She took Rebekah out of the baby swing and put her back in the sandbox. Rob and Jenny went to play on the slippery slide.
After John’s swing had come to a stop, he trudged over to where his mother was sitting on their picnic quilt, reading her book. “If you have another baby, I guess you’ll be too tired to swing me anymore, won’t you?”
“Well,” said his mother, “I might get tired faster, but I will always swing you, if you want me to. Of course, you’re six now and know how to pump yourself as high as I can push you. But if you want me to, I will push you until I’m ninety-six and you’re seventy-two, and then I’ll just be too old and you’ll have to get one of your grandchildren to do it.”
Mama went back to reading her book, and John laughed as he thought about Mama being ninety-six and himself seventy-two and sitting in a swing. But even though he laughed, he knew that he still hadn’t solved the real problem.
After lunch, Mama passed out candy bars for them to eat as they walked home. John noticed that there were six candy bars in a box, and he figured that that was just right for a mama and a daddy and two boys and two girls. If a new baby came, he wondered, who would not get a candy bar? Maybe they would have to buy a whole new box for just one silly little baby. But John didn’t say anything because he knew that even candy bars were not the real problem.
After Mama put Rebekah down for her nap, she read Where the Wild Things Are to the bigger children. It was John’s favorite book, but today he hardly listened to the story. He was noticing that Jenny was sitting on Mama’s lap and that he and Rob were on either side of her. That way everyone could see the pictures. When Rebekah was old enough to go without naps and wanted to hear stories, where was she going to sit? There were already too many babies in John’s family. Why did his mother need another one? But again John did not ask the question—there was a bigger question that needed to be answered.
After story time, Jenny and Mama lay on Mama’s bed for a nap. Rob went to a friend’s house. John sat on the top step of the front porch and thought.
A little while later, John heard his mother moving around in the house. She usually got up and did some housework after Jenny fell asleep. But this afternoon Mama came outside and sat by him and put her arm around him. John didn’t look at her because he didn’t want her to see that there were drops of water on his face.
“John,” Mama asked quietly, “is something bothering you?”
“No,” he said. But he knew that Mama would notice that his voice sounded funny.
Mama scooped John up onto her lap. “Are you worried about the new baby, Johnny?”
“No,” he said again. “Not exactly. It’s just that everything is even now. We have three boys, counting Dad, and three girls, counting you, and it’s all even. Another baby will make more boys or more girls.” But John knew that he still had not told Mama the real problem.
“Well,” said Mama, “maybe we will have another baby in a couple of years to make things even. Or maybe you’ll decide when the new baby gets here that it doesn’t really matter if things are even.”
John thought for a minute, then decided to tell Mama the real problem. “You know,” he began, “I bet Rebekah will miss being the one you love the most.”
“Whatever do you mean by that, Johnny?” Mama asked. She looked as serious as John was.
“Well, when Rob was born, you loved him the best. Then I came along, and you loved me the best. When Jenny was born, you loved her best and me second best. And now that you have Rebekah, you love her the best, Jenny second best, me third best, and Rob fourth best. When you have another baby, you won’t love Rebekah the best anymore.” Then a lot of tears came into John’s eyes at once. “But, Mama, Jenny came to our family so fast that I don’t even remember when you loved me the best. I was too little to notice. And now I won’t ever get that chance again!”
John’s mother rocked him on her lap a little until he had settled down. Then she put her hand on his cheek, very gently, and wiped away some tears. She said, “Oh, my little Johnny, you haven’t really been worried about scrambled eggs and swing rides and candy bars at all, have you? You’ve been worried about love.”
John nodded, and Mama gave him a big hug. She said, “You know, honey, love isn’t like scrambled eggs that you dish out and when they’re gone, they’re gone. Love grows and gets bigger the more people there are inside it, like”—she thought a second—“like a special balloon that never pops but just gets bigger and bigger the more air you put into it.”
That night Mama told the children to get their pajamas on but not go to bed yet, because they were all going to do something later. Then, when it got very dark out, Mama and Daddy led them to the treehouse. It wasn’t in a tree anymore, but they still called it that.
When everyone was inside, Mama opened a box and gave everyone a big white candle. John could barely see the outline of Mama’s face as she handed him his candle.
Suddenly John could see Mama’s face very well. Daddy had struck a match and was lighting his candle. He said, “In the beginning, I got my light—my love—from my mama and daddy. Then I met your mama, who had her own light. And when we put them together, we had more light and more love than either of us ever had separately.” Daddy had touched his candle to Mama’s, and the treehouse looked much brighter.
“And then,” Daddy continued, “we shared our love with Rob and John and Jenny and Rebekah. And each time we shared our love, our world grew brighter and happier.” Each time Daddy said a name, he or Mama lit that child’s candle. “Do you see how bright this room is now?”
Then Mama said, “Johnny, look at my candle. Is my flame any smaller because I helped you and Jenny light yours?”
John understood and smiled all over his face—and inside too. “No, it sure isn’t.”
“Then,” said Mama, “what is a new baby going to do for our family?”
“Make it even brighter and happier,” laughed John.
“That’s right,” said Mama. “There will be times when we have to share more of our time and our room, and even more of our scrambled eggs and candy bars than we might want to. But when we share our love, it only gets better.”

This story took place in Guatemala.
“I’m so excited to go to church at the chapel!” Anahí said at breakfast.
Because of the COVID-19 pandemic, Anahí and her family hadn’t been able to go to church in person for almost two years. But today they would finally be able to! Anahí was glad she could see her friends and have the sacrament with their ward again.
Anahí and her family sat down in the chapel. Anahí waved to her friends.
Soon it was time for the sacrament. After the hymn, Anahí folded her arms and bowed her head. She listened to the sacrament prayer. Then she looked at a little picture of Jesus. It helped her remember to be reverent.
A young man brought the tray to their row. But when the tray reached Anahí, it was empty!
Then Anahí looked closer. In the corner of the tray, there was one crumb left. She picked it up and put it in her mouth.
For the rest of the day, Anahí worried. She kept thinking about the tiny piece of bread. All through dinner she worried. She didn’t even eat her ice cream for dessert. She just sat at the table while Mami washed dishes.
Did the sacrament count if I only took a crumb? she thought.
Mami dried her hands on a towel. “Is something wrong, love?”
Anahí shook her head no.
“Well, your melted ice cream makes me think something is bothering you.” Mami smiled and sat down next to Anahí. “What is it?”
Tears filled Anahí’s eyes. “I was excited to take the sacrament today. But when the tray got to me, there was only a crumb of bread left.” She took a big breath. “Did I take the sacrament wrong?”
“No,” Mami said. She hugged Anahí close. “I saw you looking at the little picture of Jesus you carry in your scriptures. What were you thinking about?”
“I was thinking about how Jesus loves me. And about the nail prints in His hands and feet. And all He did for us.”
“Don’t you see?” Mami asked. “That’s why we take the bread and water. To remember the sacrifice Jesus made for us.”
“So the size of the bread doesn’t matter?”
“No. What matters is how you felt as you remembered the Savior,” Mami said. “And even though you just had a tiny piece of bread, Jesus’s love for you is not tiny. He loves you so, so much.”
Anahí smiled. She knew Mami was right. The sacrament could always be a special time to remember Jesus—even with just a tiny piece of bread.

We saw an Ethiopian man who was perhaps 80 years old stumble into the feeding station camp with a desperate, beaten look on his face.
He was obviously starving to death. However, on the way to the feeding station, he had passed a deserted village and had heard the cry of a baby. He searched until he found the baby sitting on the ground next to his dead mother. In spite of this man’s emaciated condition, he picked up the baby and carried him in his arms for 25 miles to the feeding station. The man had a look of glassy-eyed bewilderment, but his first words were not “I’m hungry” or “Help me.” They were “What can be done for this baby I found?”
I feel that the members of our church should be doing all we can to alleviate suffering. I am thrilled with the fact that our full-time missionaries now devote several hours of their week to community service. When followed properly, this program does not detract from the primary goal of missionaries, but enhances that goal.

“I always take the Book of Mormon with me on business trips,” says Pedro, who presides over the Praia Second Branch. Both well educated, he and his wife work at a state-run food-supply and construction company. Once, while on a business trip to the northern island of Santo Antão, Pedro went two and a half hours out of his way to introduce the Book of Mormon to someone who had accidentally dialed the Semedos’ phone number a week earlier.

In a country where the vast majority of the population is under 25 years old, youth and young adults make up a large proportion of Church membership. Evening classes in seminary and institute in each of the major cities help build momentum for the gospel and entourage many youths to prepare for missions. Under the leadership of energetic teachers like Milena Sa Nogueira, more than 400 students have participated in the gospel-study programs since those programs began in January 1993.

“I used to teach my children the gospel,” says Milena, a widow and mother of five who was baptized in May 1992. “Now, my children teach me.” Milena has held family home evening every week since her baptism, and today she serves as District Young Women president in Praia. Early in 1995 she helped organize shipments of food and clothing when a volcano exploded on the island of Fogo and displaced more than 1,000 people.

Because marriage has never been a strong religious or social tradition in Cape Verde, many mothers and fathers who want to join the Church must first get married. For example, Claudimire and Margarida Cardosa, merchants at Praia’s open-air market, lived together for 26 years before their oldest of eight children, 19-year-old KaiuKa, joined the Church. Three other siblings accepted the gospel before Claudimire and Margarida decided to join the Church in June 1993. Before they were baptized, they were joined as a couple in a marriage ceremony at Praia’s civil registry.

In July 1994 President Aníbal Moreira, who is a bank administrator and president of the Praia District, and his wife, Maria do Rosario (Zézá), traveled to the Washington Temple in Washington, D.C., and became the first Cape Verdean couple to be sealed in a temple. Other marriages, too, reflect a strong commitment to the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Citing more than 80 marriages and baptisms similar to the Cardosas’, President Antonio Mascarenhas, president of the Republic of Cape Verde, recently honored the Church for helping strengthen family life. Other government leaders have publicly admired Church members’ emphasis on self-reliance and caring for neighbors. As President Moreira puts it, “In the pages of the history of Cape Verde, historians will speak highly about the Latter-day Saints.”

One young husband decided to find out for himself if the Church were true. He had observed the uplifting changes brought into the lives of his wife and children, who had joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints six years previously. He obtained a copy of the Book of Mormon and began reading. At first he felt nothing, but he continued to read. He remembered that he should pray as he read—that was the counsel the missionaries had given. For the next six evenings he continued to read and to pray. He continued to plead with the Lord to let him know the truths contained in these scriptures.
Two more evenings he continued, and then a deeply spiritual experience began to unfold. He found himself listening as he read. It was as though he were hearing the characters in the story speak rather than verbalizing the printed word himself. He continued to pray and to study. At the close of the tenth evening, he stated that he was now hearing the voices of the characters and feeling the spirit of their messages.
His continued effort brought him near to the Lord in his search for truth; he then received a testimony of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon.

Early one morning while visiting Quito, Ecuador, tour guide and naturalist André Degel was taking a Sunday walk by a Latter-day Saint meetinghouse. The year was 1997, and though he was a member of the Church, he had been less active for years after moving to the Galápagos Islands. André remembered the comforting feelings of being in church and would often intentionally walk by a meetinghouse when he was in Ecuador. He didn’t usually go inside. He just wanted to be near the building. “It made me feel better,” he says, “like I was home.”
On this day sacrament meeting was just beginning. After a moment’s hesitation, André decided to enter. It was a decision that ultimately would alter the destiny of hundreds of lives.
After the meeting the missionaries and members greeted André. He remembers the conversation fondly, especially about how surprised—and excited—they were to discover he was from the Galápagos.
At the time, there was no formal Church organization on the islands. In fact, priesthood leaders in Ecuador weren’t even aware members lived there.
The missionaries didn’t waste any time. They introduced André to the Quito Ecuador Mission president and made sure they had André’s contact information.
Shortly thereafter André returned home to Puerto Ayora, the largest town in the Galápagos, on the island of Santa Cruz. Soon the mission sent him two boxes of Church materials, including manuals for study. But perhaps most important, the mission president had acquired a list of members living on the islands, which André could use to help gather the Saints. A quick review of the list surprised André.
“There were people on the list I knew, but I didn’t know they were members of the Church,” he explains.
Once André had gathered a core group, they began meeting together regularly. At first, there were only four families and friends.
“We would meet often, sometimes daily, mostly at my house,” André says. “We studied the books the mission had sent us and the Bible and the Book of Mormon.”
“It was a beautiful time,” says Araceli Duran. “We were very united. We would gather each week to study.”
“It is something that I will never forget,” says Jeanneth, “because there was such a sense of unity, such a feeling that our Heavenly Father loved us and knew that it was now that we needed to get together.”
They depended on each other, taught each other, and built their faith together. Soon their efforts were recognized, and an official branch was organized in early 1998.

Among the news items of recent date was the report of a burglary, some incidents of which are unusual in the literature of crime. The safety-vault of a wholesale house dealing in jewelry and gems was the object of the attack. From the care and skill with which the two robbers had lain their plans, it was evident that they were adept in their nefarious business.
They contrived to secrete themselves within the building and were locked in when the heavily barred doors were closed for the night. They knew that the great vault of steel and masonry was of the best construction and of the kind guaranteed as burglar-proof; they knew also that it contained treasure of enormous value; and they relied for success on their patience, persistency, and craft, which had been developed through many previous, though lesser, exploits in safe-breaking. Their equipment was complete, comprising of drills, saws, and other tools, tempered to penetrate even the hardened steel of the massive door, through which alone entrance to the vault could be effected. Armed guards were stationed in the corridors of the establishment, and the approaches to the strong room were diligently watched.
Through the long night the thieves labored, drilling and sawing around the lock, whose complicated mechanism could not be manipulated even by one familiar with the combination, before the hour for which the time-control had been set. They had calculated that by persistent work they would have time during the night to break open the safe and secure such of the valuables as they could carry; then they would trust to luck, daring, or force to make their escape. They would not hesitate to kill if they were opposed. Though the difficulties of the undertaking were greater than expected, the skilled criminals succeeded with tools and explosives in reaching the interior of the lock; then they threw back the bolts and forced open the ponderous doors.
What saw they within? Drawers filled with gems, trays of diamonds, rubies, and pearls, think you? Such and more they had confidently expected to find and to secure; but instead they encountered an inner safe, with a door heavier and more resistant than the first, fitted with a mechanical lock of more intricate construction than that at which they had worked so strenuously. The metal of the second door was of such superior quality as to splinter their finely tempered tools; try as they would they could not so much as scratch it. Their misdirected energy was wasted; frustrated were all their infamous plans.

“Meaningful study and preparatory work experience were always at the top of my father’s recommended priorities. He appreciated that extracurricular activities like debate and student government might have a direct connection with some of my important goals. He was less certain about the extensive time I spent participating in football, basketball, baseball, and track. …
“… Our high school football coach informed me that the Stanford football coach wanted to have lunch with Merlin Olsen and me. Those of you who are younger may not know Merlin. He was an incredible all-American tackle on the Logan High School football team where I played quarterback and safety and returned kickoffs and punts. … Merlin was ultimately the third overall pick in the National Football League draft and played in an amazing 14 consecutive Pro Bowls. He was inducted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame in 1982.
“The lunch with the Stanford coach was at the Bluebird restaurant in Logan, Utah. After we shook hands, he never once made eye contact with me. He talked directly to Merlin but ignored me. At the end of the lunch, for the first time, he turned toward me, but he could not remember my name. He then informed Merlin, ‘If you choose Stanford and want to bring your friend with you, he has good enough grades and it could probably be arranged.’ This experience confirmed for me that I should follow my dad’s wise counsel. …
“My intent is not to discourage participation in sports. … When used wisely, they enrich our lives. …
“Our daily conduct and choices should be consistent with our goals.”

I knew the Prophet. While I was nine, I attended a school kept by a Miss Mitchell in his brother Hyrum’s brick office.
I was passing the Prophet’s house one morning when he called me to him and asked what book I read at school. I replied, “The Book of Mormon.” He seemed pleased. Taking me into the house, he then gave me a copy of the Book of Mormon to use at school. It was a gift I greatly prized.
—Jesse N. Smith

I well remember a young couple who started farming in Idaho years ago. They had modest means, but they paid a down payment on 40 acres of raw land. They were going into the raising of fruit—peaches particularly. They had leveled the land, brought out the laterals, planted the trees, and then weeded and irrigated and watched until the time had come when they’d have a harvest. This particular spring the orchard was a sea of blossoms, and it looked as though they were going to have a bounteous harvest. Then one night without warning, there came a frost that wiped out practically the entire crop overnight. Well, young John didn’t go to church the next Sunday, nor the next Sunday, nor the next Sunday. Finally his good old bishop came out to see what was wrong. He found John out in the field, and he said, “John, we haven’t seen you in church for several weeks. What’s the matter? Is anything wrong?” John said, “No, bishop, I’m not coming anymore. Do you think I can worship a God who would let this happen to me?” And then he explained to the bishop what had happened. Of course, the bishop felt sorrowful, too, and he expressed it to John. And as he looked down at the ground for a moment, he said, “John, I’m sure the Lord knows that you can’t produce the best peaches with frost. But I’m also sure he knows that you can’t produce the best men without frost, and the Lord is interested in producing men, not peaches.” Well, John went to church the next Sunday, and another year a harvest came. He later became a bishop in the Church.