Gospel Story Finder

I was baptized in February 1991, and soon after I received the January 1991 issue of Der Stern (German), in which I read an article concerning baptism for the dead. I decided that I would have my mother baptized as soon as I could go to the temple. After that, my mother appeared to me by my bed and told me that she would accept her baptism.
I am eternally grateful to my Heavenly Father because I owe this wonderful experience to him and to Der Stern, which brought this message to me.
Erika GiesenGluckstadt Ward, Neumunster Germany Stake

One family home evening years ago began with our singing, “The day dawn is breaking, the world is awaking” (“The Day Dawn is Breaking,” Hymns, no. 52). When we asked each of our five children to suggest an activity we could do that week, five-year-old Fernando said plaintively, “I want to see what it’s like when the day breaks and the world wakes up.” We tried and tried to explain to him all of the things that happen: how the sun comes up, the morning breezes blow, and the dew glistens on the landscape. But he would have none of it. “I want to see it,” he repeated.
So that Thursday at 4:00 a.m., we got up, piled into our car, and drove to a place with a clear view of the eastern sky. Sunrise that day seemed to come from heaven itself. Circles of yellow color were transformed into a brilliant coral as the great curvature of the sun appeared. It was glorious.
Thirty years later, Fernando’s small son Fernandito was visiting us. “You know what, Grandma?” he said. “Papa took us to see the sunrise.”

The missionary bearing his testimony was on crutches; he had injured his knee in a bicycle accident. He wanted to tell the other missionaries how much he loved his companion, to tell them how he had learned of a new dimension in love from this companion. Two or three weeks earlier he had been in an accident. The doctor had said he couldn’t ride his bike anymore and must stay off his leg. The mission president had decided to transfer him so his companion could keep on working. What good could he do when he couldn’t even ride a bicycle? His companion pleaded with the mission president not to break up the partnership yet. They were having success. He loved his incapacitated companion. They would find a way. “Please let us try!” he said. The mission president agreed to let them make the attempt.

Then the elder on crutches told us how they had solved their problem. He said his companion had connected their two bikes with a rope and had pulled him all over the city for two weeks as they did their work. He said he had really learned what it was like for one man to love another.

“You got a dog?” he finally asked Steve.
“No.”
“Well, let me tell you something. You get yourself a dog before your wife gets too set in her ways.”
“You like dogs?” he asked Cathy.
“They’re okay.”
“They’re a lot better than okay,” the man said. “A dog’ll never let you down, never complains when you don’t get home on time.” Fumbling for his wallet, he pulled out a picture and handed it to Steve. “Ain’t she something? She’s real pretty, huh?”
“Yes,” Steve answered.
“She’s part German shepherd and part wolf. But you know what?” the man continued. “My wife hates that dog. It’s her own fault, too.”
He bent the empty can in two and tossed it into the already full wastepaper basket. He wiped his mouth and continued his story. “My wife’s got false teeth. When the dog was just a pup, my wife left the teeth on the kitchen table overnight. Well, you know how pups are when they’re young. When we got up next morning, there were pieces of false teeth all over the place. That pup chewed up my wife’s teeth! Ain’t that something?” He reared back in his chair, laughing crazily.
The laughing brought Oscar from the garage; he added some other details about how long it took to get another set of false teeth and how his friend’s wife wouldn’t go out in public until they came. That started them both laughing again.

The Light the World initiative encourages members to serve those around them and to share the light of the Saviour wherever they are. Being an example and a disciple of Christ comes with being able to emulate the Saviour.
Sister Bulelwa Cotyi, Mdantsane Ward 3, says that #LightTheWorld has helped her realize the importance of helping the elderly in her neighbourhood.
“I saw the importance of lending a helping hand to all those who are in need—especially the elderly. This initiative has made me realize that we have a responsibility to serve and offer a helping hand to all those who can’t help themselves. The advent calendar made doing these tasks fun,” said Cotyi.
Sister Nomawethu Dingaan from Mdantsane Ward 3 expressed her gratitude for the initiative because it helped her invite a friend to church, and she was later baptized.
“I shared [with her] the Book of Mormon story of how faithful Nephi was, and today she is a member of the Church. She has a calling and next year she is going to the temple. I am really grateful for the pass along cards and scriptures that I got to share with her,” said Dingaan.
Sister Somila Mhini from Mdantsane Ward 2 says that when the video came out, she shared it on Facebook and shared it with friends as well.
“When I shared the video, people were asking questions about what we believe in and what we do. Questions about the campaign came up as well and people were interested in coming to church. I also found that people got enlightened about our practices and they also saw that we all believe in one God and we could have conversations about God and the Saviour,” said Mhini.
Brother Uviwe Malgas served a mission in Uganda, and he participated in the campaign. He felt very close to the Saviour and the experience helped him grow.
“I enjoyed using the advent calendar and using the activities relevant for mission standards. I enjoyed participating because this helped me grow closer to God; I enjoyed helping those in need,” said Malgas.

As I settled into my seat on the airplane, I noticed that the young man beside me had a Brigham Young University emblem on his jacket. I recognized the name as belonging to “one of those religious schools.”

Although I had been active in churches all of my life, it had only been recently that I had the time or felt the inclination to learn for myself whether Jesus Christ was actually the son of God, or just a great teacher whose life had been exaggerated by his followers. In my search, I had begun to pray earnestly and to read the Bible with real intent. The Holy Spirit had touched my heart only two months before, and had testified to me that Jesus was truly the Christ.

Immediately, I became disillusioned with the church I was attending. A minister there had once told me that whether or not Christ had actually existed was unimportant. What mattered was his example, and learning to love each other. Now that I knew Christ had lived and died for me, this belief seemed empty, and I searched for ways to learn more about Christ and his will for me.

My seatmate and I started talking, and I learned he was going to an amateur golf tournament. We talked of golf and his ambition to become a professional golfer.

Finally, I couldn’t resist the urge to question him about his beliefs.
“Do you go to Brigham Young University because they have a good golf team or because you believe the doctrines they teach?” I asked. He smiled and said that they did have a good golf team, but he was also proud to be a Mormon.

“Tell me,” I asked, “do Mormons believe in Jesus Christ?” He patiently explained that the true name of the church was The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He also bore witness that the Lord leads his church through a modern day prophet.

I was eager to learn more and asked many questions. I wanted to find out if the average Mormon was a member because of family traditions, or be cause he had a true testimony of Christ. It soon became obvious that this young man had done some soul-searching of his own and had a testimony of Jesus Christ.

In my studies of the scriptures, I had come across some concepts that seemed to have been lost—at least from the churches I had attended. I decided to quiz him about them. “Do you believe in the gift of the Holy Spirit by the laying on of hands?” I asked.

He stared at me in disbelief. “Where in the world did you learn about that?” he asked.

“In the Bible,” I answered.

“Yes, we do believe in that gift,” he replied. Then he explained about the restoration of the priesthood.

Unfortunately, the plane was just about to land, and I still had a hundred more questions.

“If you’d like,” he said, “I’d be happy to have some of our missionaries from the Church stop by and tell you more.”

Of course, some wonderful missionaries did come and I was soon baptized. Now, six years later, I am thankful for the young man on the plane and the emblem on his jacket, without which I would not have learned of the Savior’s true church.

The story is told of an event that happened in New York when President David O. McKay returned from a trip to Europe: “Arrangements had been made for pictures to be taken, but the regular photographer was unable to go, so in desperation the United Press picked their crime photographer—a man accustomed to the toughest type of work in New York. He went to the airport, stayed there two hours, and returned later from [the] dark room with a tremendous sheaf of pictures. He was supposed to take only two. His boss immediately chided him, ‘What in the world are you wasting time and all those photographic supplies for?’
“The photographer replied very curtly, saying he would gladly pay for the extra materials, and they could even dock him for the extra time he took. … Several hours later the vice-president called him to his office, wanting to learn what happened. The crime photographer said, ‘When I was a little boy, my mother used to read to me out of the Old Testament, and all my life I have wondered what a prophet of God must really look like. Well, today I found one.’”

As Wilford and Phebe prepared to return to Nauvoo, Samuel Brannan, the presiding elder of the Church in New York City, heard a rumor that the United States government would rather disarm and exterminate the Saints than allow them to leave the country and possibly align with Mexico or Great Britain, two nations that claimed vast regions in the West. Alarmed, Sam wrote to Brigham Young immediately to report the danger.
Sam’s letter reached Nauvoo amid new perils. Brigham and other apostles had been served with legal writs falsely charging them with counterfeiting, and now lawmen were seeking to arrest them.12 After reading Sam’s letter, the apostles prayed for protection, asking the Lord to lead the Saints safely out of the city.13
A short time later, Governor Thomas Ford of Illinois seemed to confirm Sam’s report. “It is very likely that the government at Washington, DC, will interfere to prevent the Mormons from going west of the Rocky Mountains,” he warned. “Many intelligent persons sincerely believe that they will join the British if they go there and be more trouble than ever.”14
In January 1846, Brigham met often with the Quorum of the Twelve and the Council of Fifty, an organization that oversaw the temporal concerns of God’s kingdom on earth, to plan the best and quickest way to evacuate Nauvoo and establish a new gathering place for the Saints. Heber Kimball, his fellow apostle, recommended that they lead a small company of Saints west as soon as possible.
“Gather up a company who can fit themselves out,” he advised, “to be ready at any moment when called upon to go forth and prepare a place for their families and the poor.”
“If there is an advance company to go and put in crops this spring,” apostle Orson Pratt pointed out, “it will be necessary to start by the first of February.” He wondered if it would be wiser to settle somewhere closer, which would allow them to plant crops sooner.
Brigham disliked that idea. The Lord had already directed the Saints to settle near the Great Salt Lake. The lake was part of the Great Basin, a massive bowl-shaped region surrounded by mountains. Much of the basin was dry desert land and a challenge to cultivate, making it undesirable for many Americans moving west.
“If we go between the mountains to the place under consideration,” Brigham reasoned, “there will be no jealousies from any nation.” Brigham understood that the region was already inhabited by Native peoples. Yet he was hopeful that the Saints would be able to settle peacefully among them.15
Over the years, the Saints had tried to share the gospel with American Indians in the United States, and they planned to do the same with the Native peoples of the West. Like most white people in the United States, many white Saints saw their culture as superior to that of the Indians and knew little about their languages and customs. But they also viewed Indians as fellow members of the house of Israel and potential allies, and they hoped to forge friendships with the Utes, Shoshones, and other western tribes.16
On January 13, Brigham met again with the councils to learn how many Saints were ready to leave Nauvoo with six hours’ notice. He was confident that most Saints would be safe in the city until the spring deadline. To ensure speedy travel, he wanted as few families as possible to leave with the advance company.
“All those men who are in danger and who are likely to be hunted with writs,” he said, “go and take their families.” Everyone else was to wait to go west until the spring, after the advance company had reached the mountains and founded the new settlement.17
On the afternoon of February 4, 1846, sunlight danced across New York Harbor as a crowd huddled at the wharf to bid farewell to the Brooklyn, a 450-ton ship bound for San Francisco Bay on the coast of California, a sparsely settled region in northwestern Mexico. On the deck of the ship, waving to their relatives and friends below, were more than two hundred Saints, most of them too poor to travel west by wagon.18
Leading them was twenty-six-year-old Sam Brannan. After the October conference, the Twelve had instructed Sam to charter a ship and take a company of eastern Saints to California, where they would wait to rendezvous with the main body of the Church somewhere in the West.
“Flee out of Babylon!” apostle Orson Pratt had warned. “We do not want one Saint to be left in the United States.”19
Sam soon chartered the Brooklyn at an affordable price, and workers built thirty-two small bunk rooms to accommodate the passengers. He had the Saints pack plows, shovels, hoes, pitchforks, and other tools they would need to plant crops and build homes. Unsure of what lay ahead, they stowed ample food and provisions, some livestock, three grain mills, grinding stones, lathes, nails, a printing press, and firearms. A charitable society also donated enough books to the ship to form a good library.20
As Sam prepared for the voyage, a politician he knew in Washington warned him that the United States was still determined to stop the Saints from leaving Nauvoo. The politician also told Sam that he and a businessman with interests in California were willing to lobby the government on the Church’s behalf in exchange for half the land the Saints acquired in the West.
Sam knew the terms of the deal were not good, but he believed the men were his friends and could protect the Saints. A few days before he boarded the Brooklyn, Sam had a contract drawn up and sent it to Brigham, urging him to sign it. “All will go well,” he promised.21
He also informed Brigham of his plan to establish a city at San Francisco Bay, perhaps as a new gathering place for the Saints. “I shall select the most suitable spot,” he wrote. “Before you reach there, if it is the Lord’s will, I shall have everything prepared for you.”22
By the time the Brooklyn left its moorings, Sam was certain he had ensured safety for the Saints leaving Nauvoo and a smooth voyage for his company. The ship’s course would follow ocean currents around the stormy southern tip of South America and into the heart of the Pacific. When they reached California, they would found their city and start a new life in the West.
As a steamship guided the Brooklyn away from the wharf, the crowd of loved ones on the pier gave three cheers to the Saints, who responded with three cheers of their own. The vessel then made its way to the narrow mouth of the harbor, spread its topsails, and caught a breeze that carried it into the Atlantic Ocean.23
On the same day the Brooklyn sailed for California, fifteen wagons in the Saints’ advance company crossed the Mississippi River into Iowa Territory, just west of Nauvoo, and set up camp at nearby Sugar Creek.
Four days later, Brigham Young met one last time with the apostles in the Nauvoo temple.24 Though the temple as a whole remained undedicated, they had already dedicated its attic and administered the endowment there to more than five thousand eager Saints. They had also sealed approximately thirteen hundred couples for time and eternity.25 Some of these sealings were plural marriages, which a few faithful Saints had begun practicing privately in Nauvoo following a principle the Lord had revealed to Joseph Smith in the early 1830s.26
Brigham had planned to stop administering ordinances on February 3, the day before the first wagons left the city, but Saints had thronged the temple all day, anxious to receive the ordinances before their departure. At first, Brigham had dismissed them. “We shall build more temples and have further opportunities to receive the blessings of the Lord,” he had insisted. “In this temple we have been abundantly rewarded, if we receive no more.”
Expecting the crowd to disperse, Brigham had started to walk home. But he had not gone far before he returned and found the temple overflowing with people hungering and thirsting for the word of the Lord. That day, 295 more Saints had received their temple blessings.27
Now, with the ordinance work of the temple completed, the apostles knelt around the altar of the temple and prayed for a safe journey west. No one could tell what trials they might face in the weeks and months to come. Guidebooks and maps described unmarked trails for much of the way to the mountains. Rivers and streams were abundant along the way, and plenty of buffalo and game animals roamed the plains. But the terrain was still unlike anything the Saints had ever traveled before.28
Unwilling to leave anyone in danger, the Saints had covenanted together to help anyone who wanted to go west—especially the poor, sick, or widowed. “If you will be faithful to your covenant,” Brigham had promised the Saints in the temple at the October conference, “the great God will shower down means upon this people to accomplish it to the very letter.”29
On February 15, the burden of this covenant weighed heavily on Brigham as he crossed the Mississippi. That afternoon, he pushed and pulled wagons up a snowy, muddy hill four miles west of the river. When only a few hours of daylight remained before evening would darken the way ahead, Brigham remained determined not to rest until every Latter-day Saint wagon west of the river arrived safely at Sugar Creek.30
By now, the plan to send a small advance company ahead to the mountains that year was already delayed. Brigham and other Church leaders had left the city later than planned, and some Saints—ignoring counsel to stay in Nauvoo—had crossed the river and camped with the advance company at Sugar Creek. After fleeing the city so quickly, many families on the trail were disorganized, ill-equipped, and underprepared.
Brigham did not yet know what to do. These Saints would surely slow the others down. But he would not send these Saints back to the city now that they had already left. In his mind, Nauvoo had become a prison, no place for the people of God. The road west was freedom.
He and the Twelve would simply have to press forward, trusting that the Lord would help them find a solution.31

Think about this next story.
In Thailand in 1955, a nearly 10-foot sculpture of a Buddha was being moved to a new building. Made of plaster and very heavy, it didn’t appear all that remarkable.
But as the statue was being lifted from its pedestal, the ropes broke and the sculpture fell to the ground. The anxious movers quickly checked the statue for damage, and to their dismay they discovered cracks in the plaster. Then a glint of color caught their attention.
Where the plaster was removed, they discovered that the sculpture was really made of gold!
Buddha statue: 9.8 feet tall, weighs 6.1 tons, worth $250 million.
Photograph from Getty Images
Apparently, hundreds of years earlier, the golden statue had been covered in plaster, perhaps to protect it from thieves, and over time the secret was forgotten until the fall revealed its true inner beauty. Today the gold alone is valued at $250 million, and the statue is housed in a building of honor as a beautiful, historic, religious work of art.2
The temple of Wat Traimit, Bangkok, Thailand.
Photograph from Getty Images

Elodie follows the Savior by being “anxiously engaged in a good cause” (Doctrine and Covenants 58:27). “My friends and I organize events to raise funds for less-privileged people or countries in distress,” Elodie says. “The money goes to buy clothing, books, toys, toiletries, and food. We also raise awareness for people who may not know about these things to see if they would like to help. We try to take a stand and help other people.”
In fall 2022, Elodie and her friends supported a charity organization in France that helps women with difficulties finding jobs or who need help supporting their families. They held a fashion show to raise money. They donated the funds to the organization in hopes it will support women in need and make a difference in their lives.
“It makes me feel happy that I am able to change something that was going wrong for somebody else,” Elodie says. “It’s also fun to get together with people to try to figure out how to get others involved and help them see that they can participate and also make a difference.”

Some years ago I served on the Priesthood Home Teaching Committee and was assigned to attend stake conferences with the General Authorities to teach leadership principles relating to home teaching. During a Saturday night priesthood leadership meeting in the Raft River Stake in Idaho, Elder A. Theodore Tuttle of the First Quorum of the Seventy called on me to make my presentation. For about 15 minutes I talked about the subject of home teaching and presented what I thought was a very comprehensive outline of methods that might be used to improve the performance of the brethren of the stake. The audience was courteously attentive except for a few yawns on the back row. These I attempted to cure with some interesting stories and all the enthusiasm I could generate. When I ended the talk, I sat down feeling much like a football coach who had just given a rousing talk to his team before a big game.
Elder Tuttle had a very thoughtful look on his face as he arose to talk to the group. He began his presentation by saying something like this: “I tried to listen attentively to Brother Anderson’s presentation, but my mind kept wandering. I couldn’t help thinking about the home teaching families to which I am assigned at home. I have some real challenges in trying to reach and influence them, and they are a constant concern to me. Maybe I could just tell you a little about them, and you could help me with some suggestions.”
Elder Tuttle did not reveal any personal information that would betray a confidence, but he did proceed to illustrate some problems. Before long, hands were in the air; the priesthood members were offering suggestions and solutions, and everyone in the audience was involved in helping. Who were they helping? They were helping themselves learn how to solve home teaching problems.
And me? I was observing with awe the work of a great teacher who could really motivate people. He was busy leading, delegating, creating enthusiasm, and the receivers of the learning were hardly aware of their change in attitude. They were busily involved, they thought, in solving someone else’s problems.

Some of you who are familiar with Oxford University may know that it’s the world’s oldest university. The building that I lived in as a student was built in 1410—beautiful to look at, uncomfortable to live in. When I arrived at Oxford, I realized it was going to be difficult to be an active member of the Church. The Rhodes Scholarship Trust, which had given me my scholarship, had a lot of activities for the recipients of the scholarship.
As I looked at the extent to which I wanted to be involved in church, I realized that I didn’t know the Book of Mormon was true. I had read it several times but usually as an assignment—from my parents or a Brigham Young University instructor. But this time I desperately needed to know if the Book of Mormon was true. So I decided that I would commit every evening from 11:00 to 12:00 to reading the Book of Mormon to find out if it was true.
I wondered if I dared spend that much time because I was in a very demanding academic program, studying applied econometrics. I was going to try to finish the program in two years, whereas most people in the program finished it in three. I didn’t know if I could afford allocating an hour a day to this effort.
But nonetheless I did. I began at 11:00 by kneeling in prayer near a little heater in the stone wall, and I prayed out loud. I told God how desperate I was to find out if the Book of Mormon was true. I told Him that if He would reveal to me that it was true, I then intended to dedicate my life to building His kingdom. I told Him that if it wasn’t true, I needed to know that for certain too because then I would dedicate my life to finding out what was true.
I read the first page of the Book of Mormon. When I got down to the bottom of the page, I stopped. I thought about what I had read on that page, and I asked myself, “Could this have been written by a charlatan who was trying to deceive people, or was this really written by a prophet of God? And what did it mean for me in my life?” Then I put the book down and knelt in prayer and asked God again, “Please tell me if this is a true book.” Then I sat in the chair, picked up the book, turned the page, read it, paused at the bottom, and did the same thing. I did this for an hour every night, night after night, in that cold, damp room at Oxford.
One evening, by the time I got to the chapters at the end of 2 Nephi, I said my prayer, sat in my chair, and opened the book. All of a sudden there came into that room a beautiful, warm, loving Spirit that surrounded me and permeated my soul, enveloping me in a feeling of love that I had not imagined I could feel. I began to cry. As I looked through my tears at the words in the Book of Mormon, I could see truth in those words that I never imagined I could comprehend before. I could see the glories of eternity, and I could see what God had in store for me as one of His sons. That Spirit stayed with me the whole hour and every other evening as I prayed and read the Book of Mormon in my room. That same Spirit would always return, and it changed my heart and my life forever.
I look back at the conflict I had experienced, wondering whether I could afford to spend an hour every day apart from the study of applied econometrics to find out if the Book of Mormon was true. I use applied econometrics maybe once a year, but I use my knowledge that the Book of Mormon is the word of God many times every day of my life. Of all the education I have ever pursued, that is the single most useful piece of knowledge I ever gained.

Did you ever stop to think how difficult it would be to be the only hearing-impaired person in your ward? Daniel Frame of Lansing, Kansas, has.
On his application for the Robert K. Neeley Scholarship that enables a hearing-impaired student in the Chicago Temple District to attend an “Especially for Deaf” session at BYU, Daniel wrote, “My home ward is a hearing ward where everything I do must be done with my parents, who act as interpreters. Attending the ‘Especially for Deaf’ conference would be my first opportunity to participate in a learning and spiritual activity with other deaf members of the Church.”
Daniel got the scholarship and hopes to use some of the things he learns there on his mission next year.

Meghan flopped down in the big chair and put her scriptures on the table in front of her. Five-year-old Tommy came and stood next to Meghan’s chair. Then he picked up her scriptures.
“Meg, tell me a story,” he begged.
“I will later, Tommy,” she said.
“I want to hear about Abinadi.”
“OK, Tommy, I will tell you the story about Abinadi after dinner.”
Tommy looked disappointed about having to wait. The doorbell rang, and Dad went to answer it.
“It’s for you, Meghan,” Dad said.
She loved how Dad always called her Meghan, never Meg. It made her feel grown up. She stood up and walked to the door. Her best friend, Sara, was there, smiling.
“Hi, Sara. Come in,” Meghan said.
“I can’t, Meg. My dad has free tickets to the amusement park! Can you come?” Sara was bursting with excitement.
“I don’t know,” Meghan said. “It’s Sunday.”
“So what? These are free tickets. Come on, you have to go,” Sara begged. “You’re my best friend!”
“Well, I have to ask my parents.”
“Hurry up and ask, then change your clothes. You can’t go in a skirt,” Sara said impatiently. “My dad wants to leave in 15 minutes. I’ll wait for you in the car.”
Meghan nearly ran into the kitchen. Dad was setting the table for dinner.
“Sara’s dad has free tickets to the amusement park, and she asked me to go with her!” she said.
“That sounds like fun,” Dad said. “When is the big day?”
Meghan hesitated. “Well, the tickets are for today.”
“Meghan, you know what Mom and I think about those kinds of activities on Sunday,” Dad said. “But I think you are old enough to make your own decisions. After all, you are 10 now.”
Meghan looked at her father. He looked serious.
“You mean it, Dad?” she asked.
“Sure, I mean it. What do you think you should do, Meghan?” he said.
“Well, I know we should keep the Sabbath day holy and all that, but these are free tickets and you know how much it costs to go to the amusement park. I will be saving a lot of allowance money if I go with Sara.”
“That is true,” Dad said. “You would save money.”
“Is it OK if I go?”
“You can make your own decision, Meghan,” Dad said.
“Yahoo!” Meghan yelled. She ran to her bedroom and began to pull out clothes to wear. Then she looked up and saw Tommy standing in the doorway. He was holding her scriptures.
“Are you going with Sara?” Tommy asked.
Suddenly Meghan got a funny feeling inside. She knew what she needed to do. She smiled at Tommy and then she dropped the shirt back into her drawer.
“No, Tommy, it’s Sunday. I have to go tell Sara I can’t go with her today. Then I will be back to read you that story.”
Tommy grinned. “The one about Abinadi?” he asked.
“Yes, the story about Abinadi.” Meghan smiled at her younger brother and hurried outside to tell Sara.

When I was young, my grandfather Martin taught me that in the latter days, temples would literally dot the earth. At the time my grandfather expressed this thought to me, I could hardly imagine it. But I was raised with this knowledge and feeling in my heart. Recently I looked on the Church’s Web site under “temples,” and I could plainly see that temples, designated by red dots, are starting to spread over much of the earth.

In 1951, our branch started building a chapel. It was the first chapel in Uruguay. There were less than 100 members who worked with my parents to construct the building. Most of the work was done by the members of the branch. I wanted to help, too.
Some members mixed cement. Some members dug holes, and some hammered nails. There were not many jobs for a five-year-old, so they gave me the job of straightening nails. I took a hammer and pounded old nails, trying to make them straight. I loved the clang of the hammer and the challenge of getting the bends out of the metal nails. Most of all, I loved having a job. My parents reminded me that the chapel could not be built without nails. I felt thrilled that I could serve with my family.
After three years, the chapel was finally finished. President David O. McKay came to Uruguay to dedicate it. I remember President McKay standing in the chapel, and I was thrilled that he could see the building I had helped create. He put the cornerstone in place and dedicated the building. His white hair made him look like he had come from heaven. He went around and shook everyone’s hand. When he came to me, he bent down especially to shake my hand. It was my first experience meeting a prophet, and when he spoke to me, I had a warm feeling in my heart. I felt glad I had helped build the chapel.

It was a beautiful, lonely countryside. Yellow wheat waved like a golden sea in the sun. The air was sweet and pure, and the stream danced clear and sparkling. Each afternoon a young girl would look up expectantly from her chores. Her gaze would follow the slope of the land to a valley where parallel tracks ran east and west.
First she would hear the shrill whistle. Next she would see the gray plume of smoke. Finally the huge black locomotive would push its way into the panorama. It would roar on and not even slacken its pace as it passed. None of its passengers probably ever noticed the girl perched on the top rail of the fence. She always waved excitedly, though, and felt a sense of awe as the wonderful train disappeared around a hill. Where had it been? Where was it going, so safe and secure on those steel ribbons that banded the land? What people did it carry, and what were they like? When the smoke from the train had vanished on the breeze, the girl slowly climbed down from the fence and went about her chores.
One day a peddler appeared on the horizon. The clank and jingle of his wagon and its goods could be heard for a mile. The girl’s mother shielded her eyes and watched the wagon approaching. The kettle was put on to boil, and another plate was set at the table.
The peddler had wondrous things to sell. Cloth and buttons, pots and scrub boards, hammers and ointments, spices and books were stuffed into or hung from the sides of his wagon. While her mother fingered the cloth and her father chatted with the peddler, the girl gazed longingly at his books. She pulled one from a box and carefully opened it. There were pictures of the ocean, strange lands, and strange people wearing clothes she had never seen before! She stared at page after page of marvelous sights!
“Your daughter seems to enjoy the books,” the peddler said and smiled.
“Indeed,” her father replied. “Perhaps it’s time she learned to read.”
“Yes, I believe it is,” her mother agreed.
“I’ll let you have the lot in that box for a dollar and a hot meal,” the peddler offered.
“It’s a bargain,” the girl’s mother replied.
So the dollar was paid, the meal was eaten, and the books were taken into the house. They did not, however, remain long in the box, for the girl was anxious to look at them all.
“God gave us good minds,” her mother said, “and we’re obliged to fill them with meaningful things. It’s time for you to learn to read.” She patted the table and smiled. “Come here by the light, and we shall begin.”
Evening after evening they pored over the pages, and word by word the girl learned to read. As she learned, whole new worlds opened before her eyes. And then when she watched the train in its daily passing, she no longer felt so sad. She knew that the train could go only where its tracks were laid and no farther. But she was free to travel with it, and beyond, with God’s gift of a mind that knows no bounds.

Aaron Story, a priest from Baldwin, Kansas, is a talented artist. On a recent school trip with his art class to Spring Hill, Kansas, Aaron teamed up with three other artists to participate in a chalk-drawing contest. Although the other three members of the team are not LDS, they were so taken with the image of the St. Louis Missouri Temple which Aaron had in his sketch book, they insisted on including it in their drawing.
The judges loved the image, too. They awarded Aaron and his fellow artists first place for the boldness and originality of their drawing.

When Elder Brook P. Hales was eight or nine, he was in a fast and testimony meeting where his father was presiding as bishop. His father invited the congregation to bear testimonies, and nearly everyone present bore testimony. “It was perhaps the first time I felt the Spirit bearing witness to me of the truthfulness of the gospel,” Elder Hales recalls.
That day when he was a young boy, Elder Hales didn’t bear his testimony. But it has grown stronger ever since. “The gospel of Jesus Christ has been restored through the Prophet Joseph Smith, the Book of Mormon is true, God loves us perfectly and is eager to bless us, Jesus is our Savior, and we are blessed to have the constant companionship of the Holy Ghost as we are worthy of it,” he says.

Let’s face it, girls (and boys), it’s nice to know that someone loves you. And when you’re married, you have chances to share and receive love every day! When I was talking to my parents about the possibility of marrying Ben, my dad said, “Whomever you choose to marry, I want him to frequently and sincerely express his love for you like Elder Richard G. Scott did for his wife.”3 I listened to Dad.
I decided to marry Ben, and he has always made an effort to express his love to me in small and big ways. During my senior year of college, I worked for months to prepare, apply, and interview for a prestigious internship. And when I finally heard that I got the job, I came home and saw a vase full of flowers from my husband. He knew how hard I had worked and how much the internship meant to me. At other times, he’ll hide my favorite drink and a love note in the fridge before he heads out for a weekend Scout camp. And every day, he’ll do the dishes and make me laugh. Ben is great at expressing his love for me, and that brings both of us great joy.