Gospel Story Finder

Becky Roller had cerebral palsy as an infant, and it left one leg twisted. At camp, that was all but forgotten. “It’s one place where everyone treats me as an equal,” she said.

This year Becky’s goal was to complete the fourth-level certificate. “The five-mile hike through the mountains was the biggest challenge,” she admits. “In a marshy spot I fell and couldn’t get up, but my friends came back. They wouldn’t leave me.

With the help of her friends, she made it. It was one more magic moment, and the magic of the moment was love.

I first met Sally Pilobello in the Philippines in 1972 when I was sent there as a health missionary. I learned that she and her husband had lost their first baby when the baby was five months old. Sally had other children, but she now was pregnant with another and asked me, “What can I do to have a healthy Mormon baby?” I thought of her courage and faith as she responded to truth and adopted some new habits and traditions. Soon people in the neighborhood were sharing the news: “Mormon baby is coming!”

On 20 January 1973, Sarah Pilobello was born—a healthy, beautiful “Mormon baby.” Her mother’s pioneer spirit had enabled her to do things she had not done before—to add more truth to what she already knew. Sally used to smile at me and say, “Sister, you can never teach an old dog new tricks.” Then she’d pause and add: “But Sister, I am not a dog!”

In 1984 I received a letter from eleven-year-old Sarah—“Little Melon” to her family and friends: “I’m sorry that I have not written for a long time because every time I’m going to start my letter my playmates are insisting me to play with them. Now I firmly decided to write to you. We are glad that Mommy is doing what the family preparedness program of the welfare missionaries taught them. We now purify our water and have a balanced diet. That is why we grow faster than the other children. The temple is now being made and I hope I’ll see you there. I love you. Little Melon.”

I also received a letter from her mother, my dear friend Sally: “I want to express my gratitude for the things I have learned which are making such a difference in my family. I realize now that some of the things my mother taught me—things her mother taught her—were not correct. But the truths I’m learning will now be taught to my children, and to their children, and to the generations to come. We will not be damned any longer by ignorance. ‘Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free!’ As they say, it is never too late to learn and change. God must love us dearly to allow us to have so much truth.”

For Sam, high school isn’t just about sports. She likes going to school and learning. She confesses she actually likes chemistry, something she won’t say out loud in the halls. And she loves starting her day in seminary. When her friends ask her what time she gets up and they hear her say, “Oh, 4:30 or 5:00,” they’re surprised. But for Sam, early-morning seminary is the best. “There are about eight different high schools in the Fenton Ward, so my Church friends are all spread out. When we get together, it’s fun. We joke and laugh and have a good time. By the time I get to school, I’m wide awake.
“I’m actually trying to bring my school friends and Church friends together,” she says. “At first they were hesitant about meeting, but now my school friends tell me that they like my friends. They like the wholesomeness about us. They just like the things we talk about.”
During one game, Sam looked up into the stands and saw her parents sitting by her Young Women leader with two of her best friends from school and one of her friends from the ward. They were laughing, and Sam remembers being amazed and pleased. “The next day at school, that’s all my friends could talk about—how nice this girl was and how she didn’t use inappropriate language and didn’t talk about vulgar things. I’m glad my Church friends can leave an impression like that. They’ll remember that.”

Ryan threw open the front door. “Mom,” he shouted, racing down the hall to the study, “I struck out three men at practice today, and one of the guys walked home with me.”
Mother looked up and smiled into the brown eyes glowing with enthusiasm. “I knew it wouldn’t take you long to make a friend,” she said. “And if you keep on pitching like that, you’ll soon be the star of the team.”
Ryan grinned, tugging at a strand of hair that had escaped his cap.
“By the way, I made some friends today, too,” Mother continued. “Go wash up. You can help me put a pizza together for dinner while I tell you about them.”
Ryan joined his mother in the kitchen a few moments later and started rolling out a ball of dough.
“While you were at practice, a neighbor, Sister Krein, and her eleven-year-old son, Joey, came to visit me,” Mother said. “They brought us some honey wheat rolls fresh out of the oven.”
“All right!”
“You see—there are advantages to being the new family in town.” Mother paused to enjoy Ryan’s smile before she went on. “After visiting with them, I agreed to let Joey stay with us during the day this summer when Sister Krein can’t be home with him.”
“But you said that he’s eleven! Can’t he stay by himself?”
“No—you see, he was born with Down’s syndrome.”
“You mean he has a mental handicap?”
“Yes. He does some things quite well, but he has to have help doing other things, and he can’t be left alone for very long. He needs more supervision than other children his age.”
“Well, I guess it will be OK,” agreed Ryan, “as long as I don’t have to miss playing baseball with the guys.”
Mother popped the pizza into the oven and set the timer. “I’m sure Joey won’t keep you from ball practice. He loves sports, too, and plays on one of the city teams himself.”
When Ryan answered the door the next morning, Joey was standing on the porch with a baseball cap on his head, a glove on his hand, and a big smile on his face. “Hi,” he said enthusiastically. “I’m Joey.”
“Hi, I’m Ryan. Come on in.”
“Do you want to play ball?” Joey asked, smacking his fist into his glove.
Ryan laughed. “You love baseball as much as I do, don’t you?” he said, picking up a bat and glove. He and Joey headed for the backyard.
“Can I bat?” asked Joey.
“Sure,” said Ryan, “but I think you’ll do better if you hold it a little higher.” He shifted the bat in Joey’s hands, then positioned himself near the back fence. “Swing straight into it,” he called, and made a gentle pitch.
“I can’t believe how patient Joey is,” Ryan told his mother a few days later. “I’ve never seen anyone who keeps trying the way he does.”
Mother smiled. “Joey never seems to want to quit playing, once you two get started. It’s a good thing you both like baseball.”
The boys played together every minute they could spare from practicing with their own teams. Then one afternoon they both realized that Joey was hitting the ball almost every time. “I hit it again!” he shouted, jumping up and down with glee as Ryan thumped him on the back.
He was even more excited the next day. “My team is going to play your team,” he announced.
Ryan pulled his schedule out of his desk drawer, and both boys bent over it.
“See,” said Joey, pointing. “Thursday. Pitch slow, Ryan. I want to get a hit. Please, Ryan, pitch slow—like when we practice.”
What should I do? Ryan wondered to himself after Joey had gone home. I want Joey to get a hit, but I want to help my team win the game too. What will they think of me if I don’t do my best pitching?
Ryan’s anxiety increased as the day of the game approached, but Joey grew more and more excited. “Pitch slow so I can get a hit,” he told Ryan over and over again.
Thursday arrived. Ryan had already struck out two boys and gotten six others on easy ground balls or pop flies, when Joey picked up the bat and ran over to home plate. Ryan glanced at his teammates. He knew they expected Joey to be an easy out.
Ryan was suddenly very hot, and not just from the blistering sun overhead. Pulling off his cap, he took his time wiping the sweat from his forehead. Then he smiled at Joey, wound up, and pitched a slow ball with great care over the plate. Crack! Joey’s bat connected solidly, but Joey was just standing there, exulting.
“Run, Joey, run!” Ryan looked around in wonder as he heard his own teammates take up the cry.
By the time Joey’s foot landed on first base, the whole ballpark was alive with cheering. Joey’s freckled face beamed as players from both teams pelted his back with pats of approval. Ryan thought he had never seen a bigger smile than Joey’s.
Ryan smiled, too, as he thought, There’s more than one way to win!

As he grew older, however, Hal discovered a major difference between himself and his father.
Henry Eyring encouraged his sons to study physics and to prepare for a career in the sciences. Hal dutifully majored in physics at the University of Utah, but one day when he asked his father for help with a complex mathematical problem, it became apparent to Henry that Hal did not share his passion.
“My father was at a blackboard we kept in the basement,” President Eyring recalls. “Suddenly he stopped. ‘Hal,’ he said, ‘we were working at this same kind of problem a week ago. You don’t seem to understand it any better now than you did then. Haven’t you been working on it?’ ”
Hal said he had not. He then admitted to his father that physics was not something he constantly thought about. His father paused a moment and then, in tender words that released his son to pursue his own professional passion, he said, “You ought to find something that you love so much that when you don’t have to think about anything, that’s what you think about.”

After attending a fireside given by our stake patriarch, I was excited to receive my patriarchal blessing.
I found out that to receive my patriarchal blessing, I needed to have an interview with my bishop. I called the executive secretary, and he set the appointment for after Mutual the next week.
The church was nearly empty when I walked down the hall to the bishop’s office. I knocked on the door, and he let me in. We did the “How is school?” conversation; then he asked what he could do for me. He seemed pleased that I wanted to get a patriarchal blessing.
We talked about what a patriarchal blessing is, what it means to receive one, and if I thought I was ready. Then he asked about my personal worthiness. Did I obey the Word of Wisdom, attend my Church meetings, and have a testimony of the gospel? It felt good to honestly and wholeheartedly answer yes to his questions, even though I felt I was far from perfect.
Then the bishop asked a final question, “Is there anything in your past that should have been cleared up with your priesthood leaders but hasn’t been?”
I said no, got my recommend, and left—ready to make my appointment with the patriarch. As I walked down the dark hall, that last question started to weigh on my mind. Was there anything in my past?
A couple of visits I had made to a friend’s house when I was very young came to mind. I had been uncomfortable with some games we played there. I had never done anything similar again. Still, I had wondered several times whether or not those small innocent infractions were something I needed to talk to the bishop about. Since I hadn’t really done anything seriously wrong, I figured I would forget about it. Apparently, I had not forgotten.
If I was going to get only one patriarchal blessing in my life, I didn’t want a cloud hanging over it. So I turned around and headed back to the bishop’s office with my heart in my throat. I didn’t want to be laughed at or have my concerns brushed aside. I forced myself to knock on the bishop’s door again.
I could tell he was surprised to see me. I spilled out the story, much too quickly and without a lot of clarity. He didn’t laugh or brush aside my concerns. Instead, he listened carefully, asked a few questions about then and now, and asked about the repentance I had done privately with the Lord. Then he said, “I think you can go ahead and get your blessing and not worry about this anymore.”
I felt clean and joyful as I walked out of his office the second time. I felt like I could float as I bounced down the hallway. I knew I was clean. I had been cleared by my priesthood leader of an uneasy feeling I had carried for several years.
I carried that feeling of cleanliness with me to the patriarch’s home the evening I received my blessing. As he said his first words, “The Lord is pleased that you chose to keep His commandments as a way of showing your love for Him,” I began to cry. I truly felt the Lord was speaking to me and that my life, as imperfect as it was, was pleasing to Him.
I have learned I can always go to my priesthood leaders if I ever have a question about my worthiness. I have learned how much they want to help. They don’t think badly of me when I am less than perfect, and they don’t think it’s a waste of time to discuss any problem, major or minor. They are almost as happy as we are when we get that wonderful feeling of joy that comes from being forgiven.

And healing came from ministering to others in their loss—be they refugees in Europe, the abused or oppressed, or fellow Church leaders like Elder Paul V. Johnson of the Presidency of the Seventy, who had lost a daughter to cancer two months before joining Elder Kearon in the Europe Area Presidency in 2015.
“He and Sister Kearon were wonderful in helping us in that grieving and healing time,” Elder Johnson says. “They were so sensitive to our situation. I’ve always loved them for that.”

Matt and Margaret (all names have been changed) turned off the television following the concluding session of general conference. The messages had been inspiring, and they had enjoyed the positive atmosphere that had permeated their home that weekend.
Nobody could have been more disappointed than Matt and Margaret were when, less than 24 hours later, they were having a heated argument over whether to save an unexpected bonus Matt had received at work or spend it on school clothes for the older kids. The debate was not resolved, and Matt and Margaret each moved on to other tasks feeling misunderstood.
To create a lasting, happy marriage, couples must learn how to resolve conflicts so that each individual feels understood and decisions are made that involve acceptable compromise.
Scriptures and words of prophets and apostles provide ample cautions about contention. In 3 Nephi we read, “He that hath the spirit of contention is not of me, but is of the devil, who is the father of contention” (3 Nephi 11:29). Elder M. Russell Ballard of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught that Satan “works to drive a wedge of disharmony between a father and a mother. He entices children to be disobedient to their parents. … Satan knows that the surest and most effective way to disrupt the Lord’s work is to diminish the effectiveness of the family and the sanctity of the home.”1
Differences of opinion, habit, or background are inevitable, but we have ample resources to help us know how to cope. Doctrine and instruction taught in Sunday worship and Church publications can help and can be supplemented with quality professional information as needed. Couples can learn methods for dealing with conflict. Inspiration can lead to changing hearts that soften each spouse from the inside.
President Thomas S. Monson cautioned: “Some of our greatest opportunities to demonstrate our love will be within the walls of our own homes. Love should be the very heart of family life, and yet sometimes it is not. There can be too much impatience, too much arguing, too many fights, too many tears.”2
When troubles persist and become destructive to family life, there can be more serious causes of conflict, including immaturity, selfishness, desire to win power struggles, and pride. President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) taught, “I have long felt that the greatest factor in a happy marriage is an anxious concern for the comfort and well-being of one’s companion. In most cases selfishness is the leading factor that causes argument, separation, divorce, and broken hearts.”3
Elder Marvin J. Ashton (1915–94) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles also commented: “When one considers the bad feeling and the unpleasantness caused by contention, it is well to ask, ‘Why do I participate?’ …
“… It is important to recognize that we choose our behavior. At the root of this issue is the age-old problem of pride.”4
Whatever the cause, we need to learn new skills and soften our hearts when problems persist.
There are many causes of conflict, ranging from superficial personal biases to deeper ingrained communication styles. In addition to overcoming selfishness and immaturity, couples will face other common causes of conflict including such factors as the following:
Newlyweds learning to adjust to one another’s styles
Natural differences between men and women
Edginess prompted by exhaustion
Different opinions on how to best raise children or manage finances
Children learning to use agency
Different likes and dislikes
Overreactions to stress
Lack of understanding or skill in resolving conflict
Many marital or family conflicts arise because of uncontrolled anger. If we’re not careful, we can follow an angry incident with constant thinking about how we were wronged. The longer we ruminate the more reasons we can generate to justify our perspective. This brooding can prevent us from calming down, and when a second wave of anger emerges before the first is resolved, hormonal reactions can lead to additional outbursts.
For example, in a counseling session, Marilyn described how frustrating it had been to lie in bed after she and her husband had yelled at each other. “I knew I was in the right,” she said. “I knew he was going to flip on the light and apologize, but he never did. The more I thought about it, the madder I got. When I heard him start to snore, I couldn’t stand it—I jumped out of bed and yelled at him some more and then went downstairs. Can you believe that he still didn’t apologize?” Marilyn’s experience is a good example of how not to deal with angry feelings.
Habits, even short-term ones, can seem hard to break. But spouses can learn skills to help. Here are some useful practices:
Challenge thoughts quickly. In our example, Marilyn could have said to herself, “It seems like I’m right, but I’m blowing it out of proportion. My relationship with my husband matters more to me than what we’re arguing about.”
Allow your emotions to calm before you try tackling a problem. Wait out the chemical reaction that may be taking place.
Find a distraction. Choose to think about something else or take a walk.
Write down your thoughts. For some, this helps to increase self-awareness.
Let it out in productive ways. Yelling about your feelings won’t help you “get it out of your system.” The more you vent in an angry manner, the more intense your feelings will become.
Listen to calming music or read uplifting literature.
Start over. Catch yourself in the beginning of a disagreement. Research has shown that the first three to five minutes of a conversation lays the foundation for what is likely to follow. Say, “This is going in a bad direction. Let’s start over.”
Strengthening Marriage, an LDS Family Services’ manual, recommends three steps for resolving conflict: (1) expressing views, (2) exploring concerns, and (3) selecting mutually satisfying solutions.5 These steps are based on a communication and sharing model that is cooperative and addresses the issues of all concerned.
Each individual shares views in an honest but non-attacking manner. Sometimes thoughtful reflection resolves the problem as it becomes clear the disagreement was merely a misunderstanding. For example, a wife who thinks her husband is selfishly insisting that she attend a high school basketball game with him instead of going out to dinner for a date, might come to understand that he is less interested in basketball than in showing attention to a player who has stopped attending his Sunday School class.
Couples explore concerns at a deeper level. The focus is on understanding and accepting one another’s concerns. Continuing the basketball example, the wife, while understanding her husband’s concern for the student, might believe that he is developing a pattern of always putting the needs of others before those of the marriage. In this case, a more thoughtful discussion must be held in which each expresses feelings in a sensitive manner and opposition gives way to cooperation.
Couples brainstorm and decide on mutually satisfying solutions. The focus is on what each individual can do to address the concerns rather than on what their spouse can do. Such negotiation can test maturity and patience but, over time, lead to a belief that there is safety in expressing feelings and confidence that each person’s desires will be addressed. Our couple may agree to spend one Friday night together at a basketball game, one Friday night in which the husband attends the game alone, and two Friday nights doing couple activities. It is not as important how the couple chooses to spend Friday night as it is that the quality of the decision-making process is satisfying to both.
Wonderful blessings flow from resolving conflicts in an atmosphere of love. These include security; personal growth, which leads to inner peace; increased faith; enhanced character; and personal righteousness.
When conflicts are resolved, new patterns can take their place. The door then opens for spouses to express positive thoughts and demonstrate support. Sister Jean B. Bingham, Relief Society General President, said: “Words have surprising power, both to build up and to tear down. We can all probably remember negative words that brought us low and other words spoken with love that made our spirits soar. Choosing to say only that which is positive about—and to—others lifts and strengthens those around us and helps others follow in the Savior’s way.”6
Couples who have made long-term progress in resolving conflict reap desirable rewards. A husband of a previously troubled relationship said, “It’s hard for me to look back on how it used to be and believe that it was real. How could I have treated my wife the way I did? I’m grateful for the Spirit getting my attention and for the patience my wife has shown to me.”
Overcoming conflict takes conscious effort and follow-through. The very next thing you say or do can start more positive communication patterns in your marriage. You too can reap the fruits of the Spirit as experienced by the Nephites: “There was no contention in the land, because of the love of God which did dwell in the hearts of the people.
“And there were no envyings, nor strifes, nor tumults … ; and surely there could not be a happier people” (4 Nephi 1:15–16).

During the Great Depression, Sister Louise Kelly, who lived on a farm in the United States, grew strawberry plants. Her family’s income depended on the sale of their crops. During one season, the $40 earned from strawberry sales was the only cash they had seen for a long time. Their $4 in tithing seemed a small sum to offer, and with a family of four children the money was desperately needed. But Louise was determined to pay her tithing. She was not aware of any immediate blessings other than the satisfaction of having obeyed. However, the following year when a strawberry-leaf blight struck the area, only her family’s plants remained healthy. Asked what special care they had given their plants, they simply explained they had tithed their income the previous year. Louise reflected that “at a time when the economy was at low ebb, our blessing of a good crop was to us an irrefutable example of the blessings that come from paying tithing” (“Divine Law of the Tithe,” Ensign, June 1981, 69).

Rachel ran through the living room and rushed up the stairs to her bedroom. She and her best friend, Becca, were going to the park to try out Becca’s new rollerblades.
As Rachel was pulling her own rollerblades out from under her bed, Mom came into the room. “I’m going over to Sister Heaton’s for a few hours, and I need you to stay with David.”
“But Becca and I are going to the park right now!”
“I’m sorry to ruin your plans, Rachel, but Sister Heaton still isn’t feeling well after her operation, and I promised to help take care of her today. David will be up from his nap in about half an hour, and then you two can play for a while until Dad gets home.”
“But I don’t want to play with David—I want to go to the park!”
“I know you do, but today you need to stay home and take care of your little brother. You can go to the park tomorrow. I’m sorry, but Sister Heaton needs me, and I need you to help me.”
As Rachel watched Mom going down the street, she was so angry that she almost cried. Why did she have to take care of David? It wasn’t fair that she had to give up a trip to the park just so her mom could take care of somebody.
She called Becca to tell her the bad news, and as she hung up the phone, the doorbell rang. It was Aunt Pearl, her mom’s younger sister.
“Hi, Aunt Pearl. Mom’s not here.”
“That’s OK—I can’t stay. I just came to return your mom’s sewing machine. Mine is fixed now, so I don’t need hers anymore. And I thought that maybe I’d spend a few minutes with my favorite niece!”
Rachel gave her a weak smile and tried to seem happy, but Aunt Pearl noticed Rachel wasn’t really feeling happy.
“What’s wrong?”
“Oh, I was going to go to the park with Becca, but Mom told me I had to stay and take care of David so she could help a woman in our ward.”
“That’s too bad. If it were any other day but today, I’d stay so you could be with your friend. But I have a doctor’s appointment, and I can’t reschedule it.”
“I guess I’ll be OK. It’s just that I really wanted to go to the park today.”
“You know, there might be something I could do.”
“What?”
“Sit down with me, and I’ll tell you a story.”
Rachel wasn’t sure a story would fix things—a story couldn’t baby-sit for her. But Aunt Pearl usually knew what she was talking about, so Rachel followed her to the couch.
Aunt Pearl began: “When your great-great-grandmother Emily Burk left Nauvoo to come west, she had an old hen she wanted to bring with her. It had been doing something rather unusual—sitting on a nest of duck eggs—and Emily just couldn’t leave her behind. So she set up a box in the wagon for the nest. Soon the ducklings hatched, and every night when the wagon train stopped, Emily filled a washtub with water and let the little ducks swim. Everyone in camp came to watch them.
“You see, Rachel, part of being a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is helping others. There’s even a scripture in the Book of Mormon that tells us how important it is to ‘bear one another’s burdens’ [Mosiah 18:8]. Heavenly Father wants us to take care of those who can’t take care of themselves.”
“You mean just like Emily took care of the chicken and like the chicken took care of the ducks?”
“And just like the Lord took care of the pioneers and how He still takes care of all of us. He wants us to be happy, so He watches over us.”
“Why doesn’t He take care of Sister Heaton instead of having Mom do it?”
“That’s how He is taking care of Sister Heaton—through your mother. Most of the time Heavenly Father answers our prayers through someone else.”
“So Mom is Heavenly Father’s answer to Sister Heaton’s prayers?”
“Probably. Your mother is helping Sister Heaton rest and get her mind off her troubles, sort of like those ducklings helping the tired pioneers find a little bit of enjoyment at the end of their long days.”
“But why do I have to baby-sit?”
“So your mom can help Sister Heaton. The ducks wouldn’t have been able to bring some enjoyment to the pioneers if the chicken hadn’t cared for them. Your mom wouldn’t be able to help Sister Heaton if she didn’t know you would take good care of your brother while she’s gone.”
“So, in a way, I’m helping Sister Heaton too?”
“In a very big way.”
“Then I guess I don’t feel so bad about waiting until tomorrow to go to the park.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
As Aunt Pearl left, Rachel heard David waking up. On her way upstairs to get him, she thought more about what Aunt Pearl had said. Rachel was still a bit disappointed to miss out on the trip to the park, but it helped to know that taking care of David helped Heavenly Father take care of Sister Heaton.

Just about every day, you can find Stella and her family visiting the landlady in their apartment building. They aren’t related to her, but Stella and her brother call her “Grandma Cecilia.”
Stella says, “She is 83 years old, and she doesn’t have any children of her own.” Stella and her family noticed she needed help and decided to “adopt” her.
Stella always lends a helping hand by sweeping and mopping Grandma Cecilia’s floor. Having a clean home is an important way to stay healthy. So Stella is doing something that really helps Grandma Cecilia. “Jesus Christ served others,” says Stella, “so that inspired me to serve her. I know that Jesus Christ and His Father are happy when I serve.”
Stella followed Jesus by helping her neighbor. Turn the page to read a story about how Jesus helped others.

Not everyone agreed with him about the valley. Despite its streams and grassy fields, the new settlement was drier and more desolate than any place the Saints had ever gathered. From the moment he arrived, Sam Brannan had pleaded with Brigham to continue on to the green fields and fertile soil of the California coast.16
“I am going to stop right here,” Brigham had told Sam. “I am going to build a city here. I am going to build a temple here.” He knew the Lord wanted the Saints to settle in the Salt Lake Valley, far from other western U.S. settlements, where he was sure other emigrants would soon take up residence. Brigham appointed Sam to serve as president over the Church in California, however, and sent him back to San Francisco Bay with a letter for the Saints.17
“If you choose to tarry where you are, you are at liberty to do so,” Brigham noted in his letter. Yet he invited them to join the Saints in the mountains. “We wish to make this a stronghold, a rallying point, a more immediate gathering place than any other,” he told them. California, on the other hand, was to be a way station for Saints headed to the valley.18

Ruben Gapiz and Nenita Reyes were among the earliest Filipinos to join the Church. Nenita, who was baptized on 25 November 1961, was the fifth person to join the Church after missionary work began. She was a college graduate when her brother-in-law sent the missionaries to her home. Her response and the response of several family members was immediate and positive. Nenita was soon called to lead the music for the growing group of members in the Manila area. She has since served in the presidencies of the Young Women, Relief Society, and Primary.
Ruben Gapiz was interested in Nenita before he was interested in the Church. A talented guitar player, he was recruited to accompany Church members for an evening of Christmas caroling. Disappointed that he was not offered payment for his services, he was about to leave when he saw Nenita leading the singing. He stayed, eventually listened to the missionary discussions, and was baptized a year after Nenita.
Two years later, Ruben and Nenita became the first Filipino Latter-day Saint couple to marry. Almost everyone in the branch attended the ceremony and the celebration afterward. The Gapiz family was eventually blessed with four daughters.
Ruben accepted a number of callings in the Church, but he served with less eagerness than Sister Gapiz, although his testimony continued to grow. In 1975, however, Nenita says “the Lord tapped him on the shoulders and woke him up.” Ruben was diagnosed with cancer of the nasopharynx. He was not expected to live more than a few years. Nenita and Ruben’s oldest child was only 10 years old when the cancer was discovered; Ruben wanted badly to live and raise his family.
“In August 1978,” he recalls, “I received my patriarchal blessing from Patriarch F. Briton McConkie. My wife was in the room with me. … [The patriarch] did not have any prior knowledge of my affliction. Toward the end of the blessing he pronounced these words, which brought tears to my eyes and caused my wife to sob softly: ‘You will live your life to the fullest and will be called to serve in many leadership positions.’
“After the blessing was over, [the] patriarch … asked me the reason for my tears. I told him that I had been diagnosed with cancer, that I had only two years to live, and that the blessing he pronounced was almost too good to hope for. … I knew that day that the Lord had answered my prayers.”4
The blessing awakened his dedication to the gospel. “He became a different man after that,” Sister Gapiz says.
He has since worked tirelessly to strengthen the Church in the Philippines. Through the years he has served as bishop, stake president, mission president, and regional representative. He also served as chair of the committee that translated the Book of Mormon into Tagalog, the predominant native language. He currently serves as an Area Authority Seventy and Materials Management manager in the Philippines/Micronesia Area.

Illustration by Dilleen Marsh
“Will you accept this challenge?” the missionaries asked.
The missionaries were focusing on me. After dinner with our family, they left us with a spiritual message and the challenge to read the Book of Mormon and pray to know if it was true. I accepted the challenge without thinking much of it.
I’m an ordinary girl, with an ordinary life, and I pray every night. But I had never actually prayed to find out for myself if the Church is true. I believed it with all my heart, but I had never known that what I believed was true. I thought about this for a while and then committed myself to take the missionaries’ challenge seriously.
On Monday night I read and I prayed, and I didn’t get any kind of confirmation. I began to think, “Be patient, Rachael, the Lord will reveal His answers when it is pleasing to Him.”
This went on for a week. Every night I would end my day by my bedside, where I read and prayed for an answer. By Saturday, I was worn out and could hardly keep my eyes open to read. I was trying so hard to live the gospel and to be an example, yet I was getting no answer.
These feelings began to weigh me down, so I did what I had always been taught. I knelt down and prayed. Nothing happened. So I continued praying, and I poured out my soul to my Heavenly Father. My heart began to ache because I wanted to know if all my efforts were worth it.
With tears streaming down my worried face, I opened up my Book of Mormon to the third chapter of Mosiah and began to read. As I read, the verses quickly caught my weary eyes. I put my name into the scriptures and read aloud, “My [Rachael], I would call your attention, for I have somewhat more to speak unto you. … And he said unto me: Awake, and hear the words which I shall tell thee.” By now my eyes were as big as apples. I was being told to awake and listen to the scriptures. I kept reading as my heart was filled with the Spirit. “For behold, I am come to declare unto you the glad tidings of great joy.
“For the Lord hath heard thy prayers, and hath judged of thy righteousness, and hath sent me to declare unto thee that thou mayest rejoice” (see Mosiah 3:1–4). The Spirit filled my entire room. I knew. I knew without a doubt that this Church was true, for the Lord had heard my prayers.
Some may call it coincidence, and others may call it luck, but I know my Heavenly Father was listening to His daughter here on earth. I know He knows my heart and what I feel. He wants all of us to return to Him. I know this Church is true. The missionaries’ challenge blessed my life.

Some years ago I was invited to speak to a group of faculty and students at Harvard University. I, of course, hoped that the gospel message would be accepted and that our meeting would end in a harmony of views. As I prayed that this might result, there came to me a strong impression that this petition would not be granted.

I determined that, however preposterous the talk about angels and golden plates and restoration might be to my audience, I would teach the truth with quiet confidence, for I have a testimony of the truth. If some must come from the meeting unsettled and disturbed, it would not be me. Let them be disturbed, if they would.

It was as the Spirit foretold. Some in the group shook their heads in amazement that anyone could believe such things. But I was at peace. I had taught the truth, and they could accept it or reject it as they pleased.

“As a young man in high school I was told that I would be better advised to be a plumber than an artist. I didn’t follow that advice, and with a lot of effort and some good teachers, I achieved my goal. My recently completed doctoral dissertation was concerned with the psychological process of learning to create art. I now work as an artist-teacher.”

Dr. Grant L. LundAssistant Professor of ArtSoutheast Missouri State University

August 10
Dear Sarah,
Nothing has been worse so far than picking beans. Mr. Trujillo can’t bend over now, so I picked all the beans, my rows and his. Your back aches, and the leaves make your skin itch, and the sun is beating down on you. Mrs. Trujillo gave me an old straw hat to wear. We got three bushels! Mr. Trujillo smiled and said, “There’ll be this many again in about ten days.” I could have cried. But by then it was cooler, and Mrs. Trujillo brought out ice cream with fresh peaches sliced on it. Then you’ll never guess what happened—Mr, and Mrs. Trujillo took me into their garage and gave me one of their kids’ old bicycles. It was all clean and shiny, with new paint and new tires and the chain all oiled. I gave them both a hug.
I took a big, juicy peach home to Lindsay, and she ate it all!
Have you found any new people to teach?
Love,Angela the Cyclist

Shortly after my call to the Seventy, I was assigned to serve in England. Sister Rasband and I took our two youngest children, Shannon and Christian, with us. We quickly realized what a sacrifice it would be for them, particularly for Christian. He was 17 years old and looking forward to his senior year of high school with his friends and the athletic competitions, which he would now miss back home.
To help Shannon and Christian adjust to this new place, we decided to go to the Preston England Temple to perform baptisms for the dead. We had not done this in our busy lives back home. The minute we walked into the temple baptistry, everything changed.
After performing the baptisms, Christian put his hand on my shoulder and sincerely asked, “Dad, why haven’t we ever done this before?”
Preston England Temple baptistry
I learned an important lesson that day. The temple had changed our perspectives, brought us peace and joy, and spiritually lifted us more than any football tournament or basketball game ever could. If you have a chance to attend the temple, I encourage you to go as often as possible. Take your ancestors’ names and perform baptisms and confirmations for them. Your experiences in the temple will bring peace and joy to you and others here and in the life to come.

Illustration by Emily Jones
I watched, confused, as my family and I watered the concrete foundation of our house. I felt ridiculous. Who has ever heard of watering a house? When we moved to Texas, USA, our neighbor explained that in that particular area we needed to water our house’s foundation so that the weather wouldn’t cause the house to settle and crack. So I watered the house, even though I felt crazy doing it.
The watering helped for a time, but eventually, our house started to crack. We soon discovered that our house wasn’t built on solid ground. It had been built on a landfill, which caused our house to sink as buried trash below decomposed over time. We watered the foundation, but our house would still crack. So we eventually moved away.
This experience reminds me of the importance of building my spiritual foundation on the solid ground of the gospel of Jesus Christ. There have been times when I didn’t feel a strong enough conviction about the gospel. By choosing to believe, I “watered the foundation” of my faith until I could build a testimony on the solid ground of the gospel. As I have chosen to live the gospel of Jesus Christ, I have built a strong foundation that won’t crack.
Ann J., Maryland, USA

Matthew said goodnight to his mom and dad and started up the stairs. But before he closed the door to his room, he heard his father say, “I’m sure tired. It’s been a long day.”
Why does Dad always think it’s been such a long day? wondered Matthew. There just weren’t enough daylight hours to do all that he wanted. Darkness, quickly followed by bedtime, always came too soon.
The next morning his father greeted him at the breakfast table. “Son, how would you like to go with me on a business trip? You could ask your friend Jimmy to take your paper route for a week.”
A week, Matthew thought. He’d occasionally gone with his father before, but usually only for a day or two at the most. A whole week!
His father continued, “I have a convention in Helsinki, Finland. You could stay with your Uncle Jussi and Aunt Helvi.”
“You mean I’d get to see Matti?” asked Matthew excitedly. He and his Finnish cousin were both named after their great-uncle Matias. Both boys were almost twelve now, and had been writing to each other for several years.
After hours of anticipation, the flight to Helsinki seemed short to Matthew. Then, picking up their suitcases, the two of them were whisked to their hotel in a taxi.
Later Matthew was looking out the hotel window and watching the trolley cars below when his dad said, “You’d better get to bed, son. You have to leave early in the morning.”
Tomorrow Matthew would go by plane to Oulu, flying northward half the length of Finland. He would stay with his cousin Matti, while his father remained in Helsinki for meetings.
The hotel room was flooded with light when Matthew awoke the next morning. He shook his father. “Hey, Dad. Wake up. It’s late!”
His father rolled over and looked at his watch. “It’s only three-thirty, Matt. The plane doesn’t leave until eight. Go back to sleep,” he suggested and shut his eyes again.
But Matthew was awake now and too excited to sleep. He quietly walked over to the window and looked down at the sleeping city. The sun was shining brightly on the street below.
It’s strange to have the sun shining when it’s only a few hours after midnight, he thought.
Later that morning the fifty-five-minute plane ride took Matthew over the industrial section north of Helsinki. Dairy farms and grainfields broke up the blue and green pattern of the lakes and forests below. He’d never seen so many small lakes. He remembered something he had read about this pleasantly strange land: “Silvery lakes—55,000 of them—embroidering a carpeted forest and strung together with short … rivers make Finland a labyrinthine land.”
Uncle Jussi and Aunt Helvi greeted him warmly. He and Matti shook hands shyly but were soon laughing and talking together excitedly.
“I think you speak English better than I do,” said Matthew.
“We start learning it when we are seven and first enter school,” replied Matti. “Our school radio broadcasts lessons into our classrooms,” he added.
Matti showed his American cousin around their home. They stepped into a storage shed next to the house where several pairs of ice skates hung from the wall and skis were stored above the rafters.
“The countryside looks flat. Where do you ski?” asked Matthew. “I haven’t seen any mountains.”
“We don’t need mountains or steep slopes. We ski cross-country,” replied Matti. “Nearly everyone has a pair of skis. Those small ones belong to my sisters Tuula and Liisa.”
Back in the kitchen, Matti said, “Aiti (Mother), I’m going to take Matthew down to the harbor to see the fishing boats.”
“You’d better eat something first,” she suggested. “I’m sure Matthew must be hungry.” She placed a plate of sliced rye bread on the table along with some cheese and milk.
Matthew had never seen such dark bread before. “This is really good,” he said as he finished one slice and then reached for another.
The boys left for the harbor, but Matthew returned for a sweater. He wasn’t used to such cool summer weather. “I keep forgetting we’re so far north,” he told his cousin as he pulled on the sweater. “Say, I haven’t seen any reindeer yet.”
Matti replied, “Oh, most of them are farther north in Lapland. Many people think Finland is nothing but Laplanders and reindeer. But I’ll show you lots of other things about our country. Come on. Let’s go.”
Matthew was tired by suppertime—too tired to eat all of the potatoes, meatballs, and raspberry pudding placed before him. He yawned. “Doesn’t it ever get dark here?” he asked. “The sun seems as bright as ever.”
“The days are the longest of the year now,” said Matti. “The sun shines for over twenty hours. It won’t get dark until about midnight.”
At nine-thirty, with several hours of daylight left, Matthew excused himself and headed for bed. “It’s been a long day,” he said, yawning, “and I’ve some catching up to do!”