Gospel Story Finder

After the battalion departed, Brigham turned again to the next stage of the Saints’ journey. Cooperating with the United States had allowed him to secure permission to establish a winter camp on Indian lands west of the Missouri River. He now planned to winter the Saints at a place called Grand Island, two hundred miles west, and from there send the advance company over the Rocky Mountains.4
As the apostles counseled together, Wilford spoke of other important Church matters that needed their immediate attention. Reuben Hedlock, the man he had appointed to preside over the British mission, had alienated many British Saints by squandering funds they had consecrated for emigration. Wilford foresaw problems within the mission, including the loss of many new converts, until Reuben was released and replaced by more responsible leadership.5
The quorum also knew that impoverished Saints were still in Nauvoo at the mercy of mobs and false prophets. If the apostles did not do more to help these Saints, as they had promised to do in the temple at the October conference, then the quorum would be breaking a solemn covenant with the Saints and the Lord.6
Acting decisively, the quorum resolved to send three of the apostles in camp—Parley Pratt, Orson Hyde, and John Taylor—to England to lead the British mission. They then sent wagons, teams, and supplies back to Nauvoo to evacuate the poor.7
As the quorum sent men and provisions east, Brigham realized his plan to push farther west that year was no longer possible, especially since the battalion had reduced the number of able-bodied men in camp. Thomas Kane recommended building their winter camp at the Missouri River, and Brigham ultimately agreed.8
On August 9, 1846, the apostles announced that the Saints would spend the winter in a temporary settlement just west of the river. Brigham wanted to go over the Rocky Mountains and build a temple as soon as possible. But before then, he would gather the Saints together and look after the poor.9

Today, probably more than in any other period of history, we find more profanity and vulgarity being used. I had a particular experience in my life that showed me how using the wrong word can shock those who do not expect such an utterance to come from you. I was in boot camp in the U.S. Marine Corps during World War II. Of course, the language among my fellow Marines was not of the caliber that you would want to repeat. Being a recently returned missionary, I determined I should keep my language above the level they were using. I tried consistently to keep from saying even the simplest and most common of swear words.

One day we were on the rifle range firing for our final qualification scores. I had done well in the 100-, 200-, and 300-yard positions. Now we were back at the 500-yard position. All I needed was a reasonable score—just hitting the target without even having to hit the bull’s-eye—and I would make Expert Rifleman. We had been charged up with the desire to excel and be the top platoon in firing for qualifications. I tensed up at the 500-yard standing position and on my first shot threw my shoulder into the rifle. Of course, the flag waved—I had missed the target. And likewise I missed the opportunity of being named Expert Rifleman.

Out of my mouth came a little four-letter word that I had determined never to use. Much to my shock and chagrin, suddenly the whole range stopped firing and everyone turned and looked at me with their mouths open. Any other Marine firing from that position that day could have used the word I used without anyone paying attention. But because I had determined that I would carry the standards of the mission field into the Marine Corps, everyone was shocked when I forgot myself.

In March of 1967, early in my service as a member of the Council of the Twelve, I was attending a conference of the Monument Park West Stake in Salt Lake City. My companion for the conference was a member of the General Church Welfare Committee, Paul C. Child. President Child was a student of the scriptures. He had been my stake president during my Aaronic Priesthood years. Now we were together as conference visitors.
When it was his opportunity to participate, President Child took in hand the Doctrine and Covenants and left the pulpit to stand among the priesthood brethren to whom he was directing his message. He turned to section 18 and began to read:
“Remember the worth of souls is great in the sight of God. …
“And if it so be that you should labor all your days in crying repentance unto this people, and bring, save it be one soul unto me, how great shall be your joy with him in the kingdom of my Father!”
President Child then raised his eyes from the scriptures and asked the brethren, “What is the worth of a human soul?” He avoided calling on a bishop, a stake president, or a high councilor for a response. Instead he selected the president of an elders quorum, a brother who had been a bit drowsy and had missed the significance of the question.
The startled man responded, “Brother Child, could you please repeat the question?”
The question was repeated: “What is the worth of a human soul?”
I knew President Child’s style. I prayed fervently for that quorum president. He remained silent for what seemed like an eternity and then declared, “Brother Child, the worth of a human soul is its capacity to become as God.”
All present pondered that reply. Brother Child returned to the stand, leaned over to me, and said, “A profound reply; a profound reply!” He proceeded with his message, but I continued to reflect on that inspired response.

Charlotte’s friend Joan came running toward her, grinning. “Guess what?” Joan said. “I saw the list! I got picked to be one of the soloists for the choir concert!”
Both girls shrieked and jumped up and down. “Am I on the list too?” Charlotte asked. They had gone to tryouts together.
Joan stared down at her feet. “Sorry,” Joan said sadly. “You weren’t chosen.”
Charlotte’s face felt hot and her stomach felt sick. Why was Joan chosen and not me? I’m just as good a singer! I should have a solo too! she thought. Before she knew it, some unkind words popped out of her mouth. “I bet you only got picked because your parents are friends with the choir director.”
Joan’s face turned pink and her eyes looked a little wet. “That was mean,” she mumbled. Then she walked away.
During the whole bus ride home, Charlotte stared out the window. Why did I say that? she thought. Joan is right. That was mean. And I don’t even think it’s true. She’s a really good singer. Why would I hurt my best friend?
When Charlotte got home, she prayed in her room. “Heavenly Father, please help me know how to fix my friendship.” Charlotte waited by her bed for a moment, hoping for an answer, but she still wasn’t sure what to do.
Finally she stood up and pulled out her homework. It said, “Think of something you do well, then teach the class how to do that same thing badly. Write down a list of instructions to share in class tomorrow.”
Charlotte said to herself, “The only thing I did well today was lose a friend.”
Then she got an idea. Maybe it was an answer to her prayer! She pulled out a stack of notecards and started writing.
The next day Charlotte kept sneaking glances at Joan. Usually the girls would smile at each other during class. Today Joan wouldn’t even look at Charlotte. Charlotte tapped her foot all through the lesson until it was her turn to teach the class. She swallowed hard and prayed silently, Please, Heavenly Father, help this work.
Charlotte tried to catch Joan’s eye when she stood at the front of the classroom, but Joan wouldn’t look up. Charlotte held up her cards. “These are friendship cards,” she said. “One side tells you how to lose a friend, and the flip side tells you how to gain a friend.”
At last Joan looked up.
Charlotte read the cards and showed them to the class:
“1. Bully and laugh at others.” She flipped the card. “Be kind and include others.”
“2. Gossip about others.” Flip. “Say kind things.”
“3. Get upset when people win.” Flip. “Be a good sport.”
Charlotte held up the last card.
“4. When you are upset about something, say hurtful things that you don’t mean.” She glanced at Joan.
“And the other side says?” her teacher asked.
“Say sorry and ask them if they can forgive you.”
At recess, Joan came over to Charlotte on the playground. “That was really good,” she said.
“Thanks,” Charlotte said. “I’m sorry for saying those hurtful things. I didn’t mean them.”
“I forgive you,” said Joan.
The two friends smiled at each other.
“I can’t wait to hear your solo,” Charlotte said. She was really glad that Heavenly Father helped her make things right.

“Most adult women in our towns and villages do not speak English,” says Seth Oppong, president of the Abomosu District in the Ghana Accra West Mission. “Our local language, Twi, has been a verbal language for centuries. Only recently has an alphabet for Twi been created, so few people read it, either.”

“Sisters must rely on others—mostly their husbands if they are married, or on word of mouth from friends if they are not married—to understand gospel principles and Church policies,” explains Georgina Amoaka, the district Relief Society president. “Many have great desires to serve, but they cannot read manuals or magazines so their opportunities to participate at church are limited.”

Since women do not speak English in their homes or at the market, Church participation provides their main incentive to learn the language. Yet both long-time members and new converts may encounter family resistance concerning literacy programs. The district council discussed this concern, and then President Oppong spoke to priesthood and auxiliary leaders in each branch about a district-wide approach to literacy training. While open to all women in the community, the program would focus on women in the Church. Rather than inviting individuals separately, invitations would be extended to attend in groups—for example, Relief Society and Primary presidencies would attend together so they could support each other.

Based on discussions with the branches, district leadership decided to hold literacy classes at each branch on Sundays as well as twice during the week. After a concentrated six-month effort, certificates of completion would be awarded to those who attended regularly and completed required homework.

“One of the challenges was to find a way to teach reading and writing to people who have only a spoken language,” explains Elder Jim Dalton, a senior missionary serving in the district. “Because of Twi’s long tradition as a spoken-but-not-written language, most people who speak it don’t know how to write it, so we had to start with learning to write.”

Ransford Darkwah of the Abomosu District high council worked with two returned missionaries, Francis Ansah and Cecelia Amankwah, to use a locally produced manual. Participants were shown pictures and asked to write about what they saw. This helped them develop basic writing skills while learning to think in English. Once some basic abilities were in place, more advanced learning resources could then be used.

Before the program began, literacy specialists trained instructors not only in learning methods but also in how to teach practical hygiene and family life skills. But even the best training couldn’t have foreseen some of challenges encountered once classes began: frequent power outages in the area made evening classes difficult to conduct, rumors that unruly gold miners were roaming the streets at night created anxiety, and occasionally those with keys were unable to arrive on time to open church buildings.

Once again, the district council discussed what needed to be done. In response to their counsel, groups of participants began coming to class together. They were given flashlights to help them safely walk along footpaths. Local leaders authorized use of generators to power lights at church buildings at night. Well-trusted members who lived near buildings were entrusted with keys so they could open buildings on time.

Sixty-one members and investigators began the program. Forty-three completed all of the sessions and homework. At graduation, they were invited to give short presentations.

“Before the literacy program began, I could not read at all,” said Sandra Obeng Amoh of the Sankubenase Branch. “When my husband traveled for work, I never had family home evening. Some weeks ago when he was gone, my oldest son helped me read the manual and I gave a lesson in English to my children. Since then I have done so every week that my husband is not at home.”

Prosper Gyekete, who despite limited English skills has remained a faithful member in the Abomosu Second Branch, read a three-sentence testimony he wrote himself. He said he could not read or write before the class but now he can help his young children with their homework. “Thanks to what I have learned,” he said, “I can be a better father.”

“Now I can read the scriptures by myself,” said Kwaku Sasu of the Kwabeng Branch. “Before, I knew the Book of Mormon was true even though I could not read it. Now I know it is true as I read it. My testimony is growing and growing.”

The members of the Asunafo Branch Relief Society presidency said they dedicated each Thursday to speaking to each other only in English. “It made some conversations longer that day because we could not think of the right words to say to each other,” said Evelyn Agyeiwaa, Relief Society president. “But we soon began translating for each other, finding the right words to say. Because we were learning together, none of us were embarrassed or afraid to say the wrong words. We simply helped each other.”

Women who completed the Abomosu District literacy program said they felt better about themselves and were more likely to participate in church. They became more willing to accept callings, read the scriptures, and teach both at church and at home. Some men also completed the program. Mostly subsistence farmers, they said they are now better able to calculate costs and sales of their produce, help children with their homework, and read the scriptures on their own and with their families.

Encouraged by the success in Abomosu, the neighboring Asamankese District has launched its own literacy program.

“Being able to read and write is changing our lives and the lives of our children,” said Gladis Aseidu of the Sankubenase Branch. “Words are changing our world, and we thank our Father in Heaven.”

By age nineteen, she had saved enough money to go to Chicago, Illinois, where she studied at the Chicago Art Institute under the great John Vanderpoel. Several times during her three-year course she had to go home to earn more money by working in the fields or in the classroom. But Minerva always returned to her studies. With characteristic confidence, Minerva once confronted Mr. Vanderpoel, asking why he criticized her work so harshly when so many classmates were doing much poorer work. She later recalled, “I shall never forget the disappointment on the man’s face when he answered in a choked voice, ‘Can it be possible you do not understand; those other students are not worth it, they will eventually leave school, but you—ah, there is no end’” (“Miss Kohlhepp’s Own Story,” Pocatello, Idaho, 1917).

When I was in junior high school, I used money from a paper route to buy a small motorcycle. It wasn’t new or very powerful, but it was fast enough to kick up desert dust from the trails that snaked through the cactus east of our home in Tucson, Arizona, USA.
When my motorcycle ran out of gas, I would grab our gas can. When the can was empty, I would arrange a ride to fill it up at a gas station. One day my older brother had what I thought was a great idea.
“Just borrow some gas from Dad’s pickup,” he said.
He showed me how, with a small section of rubber garden hose, I could syphon gas from the pickup directly into my motorcycle. That solution worked great—until I got careless a few weeks later.
While I was syphoning gas, the hose slipped from my hand and slid into the pickup’s gas tank! I couldn’t see it or reach it. In a few weeks, I feared, the gasoline would dissolve the rubber, which would likely clog the pickup’s carburetor.
It was bad enough that I’d been taking gas without permission, but now I’d probably ruined Dad’s pickup. How could I tell him? He was kind of strict, and I was afraid of what he’d say.
I didn’t write my dad a note about the hose in the gas tank. In fact, since I’d probably be grounded for life, I decided not to tell him. A few months later, however, my conscience got the best of me and I prayed up enough courage to admit what had happened. Instead of grounding me, he shrugged his shoulders, gave me some fatherly advice, and said, “Be more careful next time.”
After that conversation, it was easier to talk to my dad—especially when I messed up. Those chats helped prepare me for bishop’s interviews.
As for our pickup truck, I’m happy to report that that hose didn’t ruin it. It still runs just fine.

The compassion and sensitivity developed in President Monson’s boyhood continued to be a major part of his life when he was called to be a bishop at age 22. Bishop Monson’s 67th Ward had more than 1,000 members, including 85 widows.
Every Christmas the young bishop took a week of his personal vacation time to visit and bring a gift to each of the widows in his ward. He continued to visit these sisters at Christmas for the next 47 years until the last widow passed away in 1998.

Twenty years ago my bishop was interviewing me for my temple recommend. Because I was a member of a stake presidency, I knew all the temple recommend interview questions. I asked them weekly to other members, and I was prepared to answer each question that my bishop asked me. But following the formal questions, he caught me totally off guard with an additional inquiry about my understanding of the gospel.
He asked, “Jay, do you know how to repent?” My first thought was to say, “Yes, of course I know how to repent.” I paused for a moment to think about it, and the more I thought about it, the more uncertain I was of my answer. The standard five or six words we use to describe repentance (recognition, remorse, restitution, reformation, resolution, and so on) did not seem adequate. In fact, they were meaningless to me at that time. They seemed to be too trite, too compartmentalized.
I know there are some great doctrines and principles in those repentance words, but I did not feel comfortable giving an immediate answer or using them in my answer. Finally I said rather hesitatingly, “Yes, Bishop, I think I do.” I do not remember any other details of the interview because I was so struck with that one question. “Jay, do you know how to repent?” Since then I have thought a lot about that question and the associated doctrine.
Some years ago I worked in the Missionary Department of the Church. We were developing materials to help missionaries be better and do better. One of the General Authorities shared this experience about repentance:
“A little over a year ago, I had the privilege of interviewing a young man to go on a mission. Because he had committed a major transgression, it was necessary for him under then-existing policy to be interviewed by a General Authority. When the young man came in, I said, ‘Apparently there’s been a major transgression in your life, and that has necessitated this interview. Would you mind telling me what the problem was? What did you do?’
“He laughed and said, ‘Well, there isn’t anything I haven’t done.’ I said, ‘Well, let’s be more specific then. Have you … ?’ And then I began to probe with some very specific questions. The young man laughed again and said, ‘I told you; I’ve done everything.’
“I said, ‘How many times have you … ?’ He said very sarcastically, ‘Do you think I numbered them?’ I said, ‘I wish you could if you can’t.’ He said, again quite sarcastically, ‘Well, I can’t.’
“I said, ‘How about … ?’ And then I probed in another direction. He said, ‘I told you. I’ve done everything.’ I said, ‘Drugs?’ He said, ‘Yes,’ in a very haughty attitude. I said, ‘What makes you think you’re going on a mission then?’ He said, ‘I know I’m going. My patriarchal blessing says I’ll go on a mission, and I’ve repented. I haven’t done any of those things for this past year. I have repented, and I know I’m going on a mission.’
“I said, ‘My dear friend, I’m sorry, but you are not going on a mission. Do you think we could send you out with those clean, wholesome young men who have never violated the code? Do you think we could have you go out and boast and brag about your past? You haven’t repented; you have just stopped doing something.
“‘Sometime in your life you need to visit Gethsemane; and when you have been there, you’ll understand what repentance is. Only after you have suffered in some small degree as the Savior suffered in Gethsemane will you know what repentance is. The Savior has suffered in a way none of us understands for every transgression committed. How dare you laugh and jest and have a haughty attitude about your repentance? I’m sorry; you are not going on a mission.’
“He started to cry, and he cried for several minutes. I didn’t say a word. Finally, he said, ‘I guess that’s the first time I have cried since I was five years old.’ I said, ‘If you had cried like that the first time you were tempted to violate the moral code, you possibly would be going on a mission.’
“He left the office, and I think he felt I was really cruel. I explained to the bishop and the stake president that the boy could not go on a mission.”
About six months later the same General Authority returned to that city to speak in a lecture series held in the evening. When he finished, many young adults lined up to shake hands with him. As he shook hands one by one, he looked up and saw the young man that he had previously interviewed standing in the line about four back. The General Authority related the following:
“My mind quickly flashed back to our interview. I recalled his laughing and haughty attitude. I remembered how sarcastic he was. Pretty soon he was right in front of me. I was on the stand bending over, and as I reached down to shake his hand, I noticed a great change had taken place. He had tears in his eyes. He had almost a holy glow about his countenance. He took my hand in his and said, ‘I’ve been there; I’ve been to Gethsemane and back.’ I said, ‘I know. It shows in your face.’
“We can be forgiven for our transgressions, but we must understand that just to stop doing something is not repentance. If it had not been for the Savior and the miracle of forgiveness, this young man would have carried his transgressions throughout all eternity. We ought to love the Savior and serve Him for this reason and this reason alone” (adapted from Vaughn J. Featherstone, in Conference Report, Stockholm Sweden Area Conference 1974, 71–73).
The words “conditions of repentance” (see Hel. 5:11; Hel. 14:11; D&C 18:12) have great meaning. I have studied and pondered the scriptures to learn what those conditions are and discovered that these conditions could also be called prerequisites to the five or six words describing the process of repentance. These concepts are important and much needed, but the following conditions need to precede them.
The first condition is to know that God lives. He is in heaven. He knows us by name. We cannot hide from Him. He has a fulness of divine attributes and perfections, including all knowledge. In order for repentance to begin, we must start with God and our relationship to Him.
Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles made a very insightful comment about repentance and God: “Someone once said that repentance is the first pressure we feel when drawn to the bosom of God” (“‘The Peaceable Things of the Kingdom,’” Ensign, November 1996, 83).
We are fallen, mortal, unclean, and we need help. We are estranged from God—being mortal—and cannot live with Him.
We need to know the doctrine that one day we will die. Some die early, some late. But that day will come; it is absolute.
There will be a final judgment. An important condition of repentance is to believe that one day we will all stand before the judgment bar. That day will come.
Another prerequisite or condition to repentance is to know that no unclean thing can dwell with God (see 1 Ne. 10:21; 1 Ne. 15:34; Alma 7:21; Alma 40:26; Hel. 8:25). You can hide sins from your bishop; you can hide them from your parents and friends. But if you continue and die with unresolved sins, you are unclean—and no unclean thing can dwell with God. There are no exceptions.
We are saved only through the merits, the mercy, and the grace of the Holy One of Israel (see 2 Ne. 2:8). He is our only hope. When we finally realize where we are in this life, we turn to Him. I am so grateful for the restored gospel of Jesus Christ, a message of hope. There is hope, and He can make us clean.
I have worked with many, including my own self, and have seen the miracle of forgiveness, the miracle of cleansing, and I bear witness of Him, as one of His witnesses. I know that He lives. May you ever be blessed to stay on that straight and narrow path that leads you to God.

When the Salt Lake Tabernacle was refurbished, its rededication took place during the Saturday afternoon session of April 2007 general conference. During that session, I had an experience that helped me to understand, in a small way, the love our Father in Heaven has for His Son, Jesus Christ.
Satomi, our second daughter, was serving in the Salt Lake Temple Square Mission. I knew that the missionaries serving on Temple Square would be in the Tabernacle for the afternoon session, seated on the main floor. I had a seat in the balcony for that session, and I hoped to see my daughter.
Right before the session began, a door opened and a group of missionaries came inside. I saw that my daughter and her companion were in the group. They were guided to their seats. Then Satomi looked toward the balcony. She saw me and said something. I could see tears in her eyes. Her companion put her arm around Satomi’s shoulder and comforted her.
I could not hear what my daughter said, but I understood the word: “Father.” That word made me think of Satomi’s childhood and her school days. It reminded me of her desire to serve God, to do His will, to serve Him as a missionary. Soon, I was crying too. Here was my daughter, and I was well pleased with her.
At that same moment, I thought of our Father’s feelings for His Son as Jesus Christ suffered in Gethsemane. Heavenly Father might have been moved to tears when He heard His Son’s prayer: “Abba, Father, all things are possible unto thee; take away this cup from me: nevertheless not what I will, but what thou wilt” (Mark 14:36).

Normally, ten-year-old Tatiana was asleep well before her babushka (great-grand-mother). However, tonight she was worried. No matter how hard she had tried, Tatiana could not get Babushka’s eyes to smile.
Tatiana snuggled deeper into her bed on the living-room couch and wrapped the blanket more tightly around her. She even covered her ears to see if that would help muffle the sound of Babushka’s snoring. Tatiana knew she was lucky to share the living room with only Babushka. Most nights, her snoring didn’t bother Tatiana. But tonight she wanted to think, and the snoring made it hard to concentrate. She peeked out from under the blanket to see the dim outlines of the flowers on the ceiling. She thought Mama was very clever to put wallpaper on the ceiling.
However, the flowers did not make Babushka’s eyes smile. In fact, Babushka thought the wallpaper was a waste of money. Tatiana remembered scrubbing the beets to help her make borscht. While Babushka had stirred the soup, she said, “Yanichka (Little Tatiana), you could have had new shoes and a dress for less than the wallpaper cost. I want you to have the things that you love.”
“But I do love having a garden to look at when I lie on the couch,” Tatiana had replied.
Tatiana did not remember when Babushka had stopped smiling with her eyes. But once Tatiana had noticed it, she did everything she could think of to make her great-grandmother happy. She worked hard at school, helped peel potatoes, cleaned the bathroom without being asked, drew pictures of mountains and trees, sang happy songs, and tried to obey. Everyone noticed and smiled at Tatiana. Babushka smiled too, but only with her lips. She still was not truly happy.
Although she thought she would never go to sleep, the night seemed short when the sun peeked through the window and awakened her. How lovely Sundays were—everyone could sleep until it was light. And today Tatiana was going to her friend Katya’s apartment, where some American men and some neighbors would be holding a church meeting. Tatiana had never been to church before; in fact, no one at home ever talked about God at all since it had been forbidden for so many years. But now that Ukraine was an independent nation and had new laws, people were going back to church. Tatiana had been afraid her parents would not let her go, but she had begged for permission. They gave their consent, somewhat reluctantly, saying that going to church would not likely hurt her.
Then, before she left, Papa had pulled her aside. “Yanichka, remember when we saw the puppet show of Peter Pan in Donetsk? Remember when Tinker Bell was dying, and we had to clap to show that we believed in fairies?”
“Yes, and I cried.”
“Right!” Papa said. “I told you the story played with your emotions. The author made you cry on purpose. Religious teachers will work on your emotions, too. They want to make you think you believe what they say.”
“Papa, I won’t believe what they say just because they say it is so. I will pay close attention to what I know is true.”
“Good!” Papa patted Tatiana’s hand. She knew what Papa had said was important—she could not remember ever having such a serious talk with him before.
It was different with Mama. They often had important talks, and this time Mama wanted to warn Tatiana, too.
“Zaichik (Little Rabbit), you must not make any promises. They will try to get you to do so. Don’t make any promises. You come talk to me.”
“OK, Mama. No promises.”
“But you must be polite, always courteous. And here”—Mama reached in her apron pocket and pulled out a kopeck (a coin)—“they will pass a box to put money in. You must have money for the box.”
Tatiana patted her pocket that held the kopeck as she ran down the stairs. Soon she was welcomed into Katya’s apartment. She was surprised to see about fifteen people in the room. The Shushkevich family had borrowed a few stools and had pushed their own furniture against the walls to make room. Some people were sitting on the floor talking quietly and happily. The Americans were there. They were about twenty years old, and Tatiana thought Elder Samson looked very kind.
Elder Tanner stood up and called for everyone to be quiet; he talked with a foreign accent. “Brothers and Sisters, it is good to be together again. Let’s sing ‘Count Your Blessings,’ and then Brother Shushkevich will give the opening prayer.”
Tatiana was surprised that Katya’s papa knew how to pray, and she wondered why they called him “Brother Shushkevich.” But she liked the song. Part way through it, a nice warm feeling came over her; she felt as if she had been away from home and had just returned. As the meeting continued, no one tried to work her emotions. She wasn’t asked to make any promises, and nobody passed a box for her kopeck.
After the last hymn and prayer, Tatiana ran back up the stairs and down the corridor to her own apartment.
“Mama, I liked church. May I go again?”
“Perhaps. I’ll talk to Katya’s mama first.”
Tatiana decided not to plead; it didn’t seem wise. However, as the week progressed, she thought of ways to persuade Mama to let her go.
The next Sunday morning, Tatiana awoke early. She could hear Babushka snoring softly across the room and her parents talking quietly on the other side of the wall. Tatiana knew that they were still in bed. It made her feel safe, and she snuggled deeper under her blanket.
Suddenly Tatiana had a wonderful thought. She slipped out of bed and hurried to her parents’ room. “Mama, Papa,” she whispered. “I just have to go to church today—I want to take Babushka with me! Please say yes.”
Later Tatiana led Babushka into Katya’s living room and helped her to a chair. Elders Samson and Tanner came to welcome them. Babushka was pleased and smiled politely at them. Several neighbors came to greet Babushka before the meeting started. Then Elder Samson announced the song: “I Am a Child of God.”
Good! Tatiana thought. I learned it last week. I can sing, too.
The music swelled. Everyone sang in unison and with enthusiasm. The music reverberated around the room and into Tatiana’s heart. She looked at her great-grandmother and was surprised to see that she was crying. Alarmed, Tatiana reached for her hand. Babushka took her hand, squeezed it, and smiled. Then Tatiana saw something wonderful: Babushka’s eyes were smiling! Tears ran down her cheeks, but her eyes smiled.
Babushka leaned toward Tatiana. “I remember! I remember when I went to church as a little girl. I always loved going to church. It is good—so good.”

Nearly 20 years ago I received my mission call to serve in Japan. With great anticipation and some anxiety, I prepared to leave for my mission in January. Around this time both of my parents lost their jobs.
I had funding for my mission once I arrived, but our family struggled financially. I wasn’t sure where I would get money for upfront expenses like mission clothes, luggage, and other necessities. I was working a part-time job but wouldn’t have enough. I was especially concerned with how I would get money to apply immediately for a passport so I would have it in time to leave for Japan.
One afternoon, in desperation, I went to my room and pleaded with Heavenly Father. I shared my desire to serve in Japan and my gratitude that my dream of serving a mission would come true soon. I choked back tears, telling Him how I needed $75 for a passport that I just did not have. When I arose from my prayer, I knew everything was going to work out. I didn’t know how, but a quiet peace assured me that the Lord would provide.
Later that day I opened our mailbox to find a Christmas card inside. The individual who delivered it had made a concerted effort to maintain anonymity. There was no stamp on the card; it had been delivered by hand.
On the inside of the card was typed, “Congratulations! You are the recipient of random acts of Christian kindness. Merry Christmas, Hannah. Good luck on your mission.”
Inside the card was $100. I stood at my front door and cried. Who did this, and how did they know of my need?
Years later I still don’t know who brought the money to my house that day. I have thought about that person, or persons, a lot since then. They demonstrated what I believe Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin (1917–2008) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles meant when he said: “The compassion of Christlike friends deeply touches and changes our lives. … In this Church, prayers for help are often answered by the Lord through the simple, daily service of caring brothers and sisters. In the goodness of genuine friends, I have seen the reflected mercy of the Lord Himself.”1
That act of kindness changed me, helping me to leave on time for my mission and inspiring me to look for ways to be the answer to the prayers of others.

Gary and Jennifer Tucker had a dream. They both wanted an eternal family. But Jennifer had almost lost hope. The path to achieving that dream leads through the temple, something for which Gary wasn’t ready.
Then their bishop was inspired with an idea that would help the Tuckers—as well as many others in the Three Forks Ward, Bozeman Montana Stake—achieve the dream of an eternal family. A few years ago Bishop Aaron Baczuk was in a meeting for bishops and new converts in the stake. The Area Seventy who was presiding asked a new member, “Have you been to the temple to perform baptisms for the dead?” He had.
Bishop Baczuk had never considered taking unendowed adults to the temple. The following week he made an appointment with the Billings Montana Temple for adults in his ward to perform baptisms for the dead. The visit to the temple was a success, and in the months that followed, elders and high priests in the ward accompanied more unendowed adults to the temple. “It proved to be a very spiritual experience for them, compounding their desire and commitment to receive their endowments,” says Bishop Baczuk.
To prepare, adult members work with the bishop to become worthy to attend the temple. Then they take the temple-preparation class. Their interest in the class really peaks after they perform baptisms for the dead. They find that talking about the temple in class is one thing, but actually feeling the Lord’s Spirit in the temple is another.
“Having the option to take someone to the temple who may not be prepared for additional covenants but can still have an experience participating in ordinances is huge,” says Bishop Baczuk. “I think it fits with the sentiment the Church is trying to convey in its temple-preparation booklet: ‘Come to the temple!’”1
Three Forks Ward elders quorum president David Boyd says attending the temple to perform baptisms makes a goal tangible: “They begin to see the possibility that they can receive their own endowments. Many of them have not even stepped foot on temple grounds before, so these adult baptism trips give members that opportunity.”
Many recently activated members in the ward perform baptisms for the dead before receiving their own endowments. “It was never a question of worthiness,” says Bishop Baczuk. “It was a question of preparedness. Some were worthy and prepared to do baptisms but were not prepared mentally or spiritually to take on the covenants of the endowment.” For the men, it’s also a time to prepare to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood.
Family history also propels the temple work. Ward members, such as Larry and Carolyn Isom, work in the ward’s family history center to provide hundreds of family names. These three efforts—the temple-preparation class, family history, and worshipping in the temple—work together. Those doing family history get excited to provide names for those going to the temple. Members going to the temple are excited to do temple work for their own ancestors and for those of their fellow ward members. And being in the temple motivates the members to prepare to return to the temple.
In the past few years, 22 members of the Three Forks Ward have taken the temple-preparation class, and 14 of them began attending the temple regularly to perform baptisms for the dead. Then, upon finishing the class, 13 of those 14 received their own endowments. Some of them were single or widowed, but others, like Gary and Jennifer Tucker, were sealed as a family.
Gary joined the Church in 1992, a couple of months before he and Jennifer were married. She was already a member. But working long hours and associating with the wrong friends made it hard for Gary to stay active in the Church, even with his wife’s support. He says he spent many years “chewin’ and cussin.’”
When their daughter, Cody, was born, Sister Tucker tried to raise her in the gospel by taking her to church, even though Brother Tucker didn’t want any Church materials at home. Although he encouraged his family to attend church, he didn’t attend. When Cody turned eight, she was baptized by a missionary, not by her father. Brother Tucker says, “I’m very happy I was there, but that’s a huge regret—watching instead of participating in it.”
In the following years, fellowshipping helped Gary return to Church activity. Jennifer would invite ward members or the missionaries over for dinner, knowing that would give them a chance to talk with Gary. He is grateful to those members and missionaries for being a good influence on him.
Dale Price, for example, home taught Jennifer’s mother and got to know Gary and Jennifer that way. When Brother Price visited with Brother Tucker, they didn’t talk about the gospel at first. They talked about a common interest: hunting. The Prices also sat with the Tuckers at ward activities, brought them food from their food storage when Brother Tucker was out of work, and gave them honey produced by their own honeybees. Honey is the Tuckers’ favorite topping on toast. That little gift, as Brother Price describes it, was “to sweeten the relationship.”
Counsel from their stake president also helped the Tuckers. President David Heap asked stake members to do “seven small and simple things”: (1) Read the scriptures personally every day; (2) read the scriptures at least five days a week as a family; (3) have personal prayer every morning and night; (4) have family prayer every morning and night; (5) attend church every Sunday as a family; (6) hold family home evening every Monday night; and (7) attend the temple every month.
Gary could see that these things would help his family be closer—something he very much desired—so the Tuckers began having family prayer, scripture study, and home evening. These efforts helped prepare Gary to be receptive to his bishop’s invitation to prepare to go to the temple.
In January 2006 the Tuckers were attending a fireside at the bishop’s home. Bishop Baczuk pulled Gary aside and talked to him about the temple. Right there, Gary gave the bishop his can of chewing tobacco so it wouldn’t continue to be a temptation to him. He had many questions for the bishop then and in subsequent interviews. The bishop emphasized living the covenants that Gary had made at baptism so he could be worthy of the Spirit.
The Tuckers began taking the temple-preparation class, and Jennifer began attending the temple with her ward each month to perform baptisms for the dead. Gary was working on becoming worthy to go. Their daughter, Cody, who was 11 then, was excited to be able to go to the temple soon to perform baptisms. By the time she turned 12, Gary was able to go to the temple with her. It was the first time either of them had been in the temple.
Cody says, “It was wonderful. It’s very peaceful there. My dad went, so that was even a bigger deal.” Gary says he felt “unbelievable peace and joy that first time.”
The next Sunday in the temple-preparation class, Gary was a different person. “A light had gone on,” says Sister Elna Scoffield, who has taught the class for several years. Gary stayed after class to ask questions. He had felt the Spirit at the temple and wanted to return—not just to perform baptisms but to receive his endowment and to have his family sealed to him.
The next month the Tuckers again attended the temple with the bishop and other ward members.
In the weeks before Brother and Sister Tucker received their endowments and were sealed, they felt the adversary’s opposition. Gary was making progress, but he still had doubts about his worthiness to be in the temple. Their dream of an eternal family was close, but it felt just out of reach. The Tuckers knew they had to pray together more often, asking for strength. “We always received it in the form of calming peace and reassurance that all things are in the Lord’s hands,” says Sister Tucker. “Even up to the time we walked inside the temple, His calming Spirit was with our whole family.”
After Gary and Jennifer received their endowments, they knelt in the sealing room with their children, Cody and Garrett, dressed in white. When six-year-old Garrett saw his mom crying, he reached up to wipe the tears from her cheeks. Gary and Cody were crying for joy too. Even the sealer was emotional.
The Tuckers say their family now enjoys stronger relationships and better communication. Gary says, “We are happier. My wife and I are closer, and our children see that.” Gary feels like he’s a better example to his family members who are not members of the Church, and he hopes that other families in his ward will want the same blessings that the Lord has given the Tuckers through the temple.

There are special weeks for secretaries, pickles, and Boy Scouts among other things, so why not an Aaronic Priesthood and Young Women week?
That was the question posed by youth leaders of the Ogden 49th Ward to adult leaders in the bishop’s youth committee meeting. The answer they received was, “Why not? Now what will you do?”
To open the week a fireside was held on Sunday evening. A local seminary teacher was the featured speaker, and the group enjoyed homemade cookies and punch.
The youths spent Monday with their families, and parents were encouraged to have the Aaronic Priesthood and the Young Women programs as the theme for family home evening.
Tuesday brought a carnival featuring a dart game, a dunking machine, a water-filled balloon toss, and a balloon bust.
On Wednesday the youth met at the church and cooked a potluck dinner.
On Thursday there were softball games and a weenie roast. In addition, nearly 50 people enjoyed volleyball and a marshmallow roast that evening.
A service project began on Friday and lasted well into Saturday. An elderly couple in the ward had put their home up for sale, and the youth of the ward volunteered to paint it for them. The house was over 100 years old, and the wife had been born there 82 years ago on land once owned by Brigham Young. The house was scraped, washed, and painted by Saturday afternoon.
That evening the successful week was climaxed with a campfire in Ogden Canyon.
The ward plans to make “Busy Week” an annual affair. They received additional support from the Ogden Standard-Examiner, which said the city “would be a better place in which to live if more residents of all ages would take pride in the appearance of their houses, yards and out-buildings. The 49th Ward MIA young people have shown the way.”

I. You suggest that you all play on the swing. Tasha has the first turn. As Julie climbs on for her turn, a car full of teenagers drives by. One of them flips a cigarette on the curb. Tasha runs to pick it up. “It’s still lit!” She turns to you and says, “I dare you to try it!”
If you say, “No, I don’t do that kind of stuff, and I hope you don’t either, because it’s bad for you,” go to D. If you say, “Well, maybe just one puff—but you’d better not tell anyone!” go to H.

H. You put the cigarette to your mouth. Even though you don’t breathe it in deeply, it tastes terrible. You are still holding it when Tasha’s mom drives by. She stops the car, tells Tasha to get in, and says to you, “Don’t expect Tasha to come over anymore.”
You feel awful. When your eyes meet Julie’s, you see that she is very disappointed in you. You promise that you’ll never do anything like that again. Julie gives you a weak smile and says, “I believe you, but I don’t think Tasha’s mom ever will.”
This is your last chance to get this story on the “right-choice” track. Hurry to D!

One day while playing with his friends as a boy, Elder David A. Bednar accidentally broke a window in a store near his home. The glass shattered and set off a security alarm! Elder Bednar thought he would have to go to prison. He was so afraid that he hid under his bed until his parents helped him calm down and apologize to the store owner. Elder Bednar used this story to teach that all of us are scared sometimes, but when we look to Jesus Christ and follow Him, we can feel peace instead of fear.

As identical twins, we’ve always had a lot in common. Growing up, we both loved swimming and joined a competitive swim team at six years old. The heart-racing feeling before each race was exhilarating. Unfortunately, that exciting feeling quickly turned to fear about how we looked in our swimsuits. For both of us, our appearance started to creep to the forefront of our every thought.
In middle school, we each filled journals with weight-loss goals, food logs, and our most beauty-obsessed thoughts—stacked on shelves next to teen magazines promoting the latest fashion and beauty fixes.
At age 15, we both quit swimming—not because we hated to swim but because we hated the way we looked in our swimsuits. Our years of relentlessly trying to “fix” our bodies simply hadn’t worked.
What we didn’t realize then is that our bodies were never the problem. The problem was our body image, or the way we viewed and thought about our bodies. It had been skewed by all kinds of influences, including movies, TV, magazines, and even friends and family who learned from all of these same sources.
After years of struggling, things changed. We even started swimming again. But it wasn’t dieting or makeovers that did the trick—it was learning how our skewed views of our bodies had held us back in every way. Our research has showed us that developing positive body image—or feeling good about your body from the inside, not just how it looks—is a key to health, happiness, and seeing ourselves as God sees us.

Dan Jones had been baptized into the Church in the spring of 1843, and he was with Joseph Smith at Carthage Jail the night before the Prophet was killed. As they lay next to each other on the hard floor, the Prophet asked his Welsh friend if he was afraid to die.
“Has that time come think you?” Dan asked. “Engaged in such a cause I do not think that death would have many terrors.”
The Prophet then gave what would be his last recorded prophecy as he told Dan, “You will yet see Wales and fulfill the mission appointed you ere you die.”

Maria had been less active for more than 20 years. A few months ago, we spent a couple of hours with her in our home, exploring her family through census and other records. At one point she burst into tears exclaiming, “I’ve learned more about my family in two hours than I’ve known in my whole life!”
At the end of our time together, we introduced to her the Relatives Around Me feature of the FamilyTree app. It turned out that my husband and I both are distantly related to Maria. She burst into tears again, saying she had thought she was alone. She never knew she had family in the area. A few weeks later Maria met with our bishop. She is now working on preparing for the temple, and she has met many “new” cousins in our ward!
Carol Riner Everett, North Carolina, USA

“You’ll probably never get to meet your grandparents, Son. They’re in Hickory County, Missouri, with all eight of my brothers and sisters. I still remember the last time I saw them. It was during a summer rainstorm, and the humidity wrapped around me like a wool blanket as I stood there on the front porch, facing my parents. They wouldn’t even come out the door to say good-bye. Nor did they let any of my siblings come outside that house to hug me—not even my twin sister, Nora.
“‘The day a body puts some crazy fool church before her own family is the day that body loses herself. She loses her family,’ my daddy told me through the screen door. My mama was behind him. I could see she was crying. Then he said, right before he slammed the door, ‘You are no longer my daughter.’ I’ve never seen any of them since.
“Now, Son, I don’t tell you this story to make you feel sorry for me. I tell you this because I want you to know how firmly I believe this church is the one true Church on the earth. I was willing to sacrifice my family to come here to Utah because of the truth.
“Was it hard? It was very hard! Did I ever feel lonely? Absolutely. Have I ever for one single minute regretted it? No, Son, I have not. The gospel is true. I would never deny it. If I hadn’t followed my heart and joined the Church, it would have driven me insane. I knew the Book of Mormon was true the first time I read it. Sometimes, Son, you have to do the right thing, even though everyone around you is telling you otherwise.
“One night when I was feeling very discouraged, I was kneeling to say my prayers and felt myself embraced by strong, warm arms. I suddenly felt safe and reassured. There was no one there—it was our Father in Heaven letting me know that He was there and that He loved me.
“When you have children of your own someday, you be sure to tell them how much their grandmother loves them. You tell them that the gospel is true and that it’s worth all the sacrifices they will have to make. Oh, and tell them that I’ll always be right there beside them, watching out for them—just as I will be for you.”