Gospel Story Finder

Children’s laughter in London’s Battersea Park on a Saturday is nothing unusual, but this day and these children were very special.
The children were from hospitals all over Britain. Some were disabled and some were terminally ill, but they all came for fun. They were invited by the Young Adults of London’s Brittania First Ward, London England Hyde Park Stake, who were in charge of organizing the day. It took nine months of planning and fund-raising, but their work paid off when pop music and sports celebrities joined with clowns, food, and music to make children’s dreams come true.
Former world light heavyweight boxing champion John Conteh came to the celebration and made 5-year-old Lee Spruce’s dream come true. Lee, who is in the hospital for a brain hemorrhage, said, “I never thought I would get the chance to punch a boxing champ.”
The day not only helped children, but introduced many people to the gospel. Parents of the children said working with the Young Adults gave them new insights about the Church.
Things went so well that the Young Adults are already making plans for next year’s event.
by Maxine Rasmussen

Howard R. Driggs tells of an incident in the life of the poet Longfellow that illustrates the concept I would like to stress:
“It happened that, while the poet, at over eighty years of age, was still teaching at Harvard, one of his appreciative students asked him, ‘How do you keep so perennially young, Professor Longfellow? We never get tired of your classes. You always have something new and interesting to give.’
“‘I’ve never had that question put to me before,’ returned the poet. Then, looking out of the window, he said, ‘Do you see those two apple trees in the yard?’
“‘Yes.’
“‘Do you observe any difference between the blossoms on the older tree and those on the younger one?’
“‘No,’ replied the student, ‘they look just alike to me.’
“‘How do you account for the fact that the old apple tree flowers out as beautifully as does the young one?’ persisted the teacher.
“‘I can’t explain it.’
“‘Let me tell you the secret. That old tree managed last year to grow enough wood to put forth its new blossoms. Blossoms, you know, always come on the new wood.’
“‘Oh, I see,’ said the young man, ‘to keep young one must keep growing.’
“‘Yes,’ came the quiet response” (in Especially for Mormons, comp. Stan and Sharon Miller, Provo, Utah: Kellirae Arts, 1978, 4:2–3).

“One time when Dad was a little boy his eyes were badly burned, and the doctor told him he would never see again. When the doctor changed the bandages, it was very painful so Dad would sing songs to help him get through the ordeal. To comfort his parents he would tell them not to worry because he was going to be fine. His faith proved so strong, even as a young boy, that not only does he see normally now, but no visible scar remains.”

Cheng Han-sin awakened with a feeling of great happiness, but it took him a few seconds to remember why he felt the way he did.
Stretching out on the mat helped him to recollect. He had given his bed to his aged grandparents who had come to Hsinchu to join in the New Year’s Eve celebration.
This was the very day! There would be fun and feasting all over Taiwan, with fireworks and a parade in the evening. Best of all, he was to march in the head of a dragon. He had been chosen because of his good grades at school and because he happened to be just the right size.
Oh, it was good to be alive this day in Hsinchu, to have grandparents, and to be just the right size to stand inside the head of a dragon and guide it in the parade! He jumped up from the mat, slipped on his clothes, and went out to the kitchen where his mother was preparing a breakfast of rice and fried vegetables. The feasting would come later.
After breakfast his father said, "Now all of you scatter and do your chores. Then I have a surprise for you." From the smile on his father’s face Han-sin knew that it was a good surprise.
He hurried out to weed the small garden. When he came back into the house his sister Mei-ling had just finished wiping off the floor mats. His brother Shih-kai was watering the house plants. The two younger children were listening to their grandfather tell how he and their grandmother had come all the way from the farm on the train.
Waiting impatiently for his father to come in from his work in the garden, Han-sin asked, "Is it time now for the surprise?"
"Now is the time, my son," said his father. "Come. We will all go down to the park."
Han-sin asked, "Grandfather, will you not come with us to the park?"
"No, my son. I cannot walk so far. My old knees do not hold up for more than a few steps."
It was the first cloud on Han-sin’s happy day.
The children followed their father from the house. He was carrying a large package. When they reached the park he brought out a large kite. "This is for you, Han-sin," he said, "because you have brought honor to the house of Cheng."
Han-sin unwound the string and ran along the grass. The kite was lifted upward. It was in the shape of a carp, and as it filled with the wind, the mouth of the fish kite opened as though it were searching for food.
The children all laughed and cheered. "It is the finest kite in all the world," said Mei-ling.
After many flights Father said, "Come, it is time to go home. We will have our dinner, and then it will be the hour to go to the parade."
As they reached the house they took off their shoes and put on the clean slippers that were lined up outside the door. The house was filled with delicious odors of food. Mother said, "Come. The New Year’s feast is ready."
There was fish, steamed rice and vegetables, bits of pork in sweet and sour sauce, bananas and melons, and a sweetmeat for an extra treat.
Before long it was time for Han-sin to leave to take his place in the parade.
"We will all be there to watch you," said his father. "Will you be able to see us?"
"Oh, yes, indeed! I can look out through the huge mouth as long as I am careful not to stick my head out too far. Behind me is Lin Ting-fang. It is he who blows the smoke through the dragon’s nostrils."
Han-sin turned to his grandfather. "I hope that you will like the parade."
"I’m sorry, son, but I cannot walk even that far or stand that long. Your grandmother and I will sit outdoors here and imagine the dragon writhing down the street."
"And I shall stay here with them," his mother added. "I will have many more chances to see parades."
"There will be music that you could hear," said Han-sin. "There will be flutes and banjos and oboes. And there will be fireworks along the way that may be high enough for you to see."
"That will be fine, my son. We will watch and listen."
Han-sin left. He was troubled that his grandparents would not be able to see the parade.
Chang Tso-lin, the parade director, explained, "The big dragon is in the lead. Next come the musicians and the acrobats. And you, Han-sin, will be the last in the little dragon. All you have to do is follow and weave from side to side as you march along. At the third fountain the parade will turn right and return on the other street."
The boys took their places inside the dragon. The sides came down and hid all but their feet. It was a gorgeous green, trimmed with tinsel and make-believe jewels.
As they started to weave down the street, Han-sin thought again of his grandparents. If only they could see the parade! They have had little in life but hard work on the farm.
The boys fell in line behind the acrobats, who were tumbling and performing other stunts along the way. Just behind Han-sin was Lin Ting-fang, blowing smoke through the dragon’s nostrils. He blew some in Han-sin’s face. The boy almost stumbled as he began to choke.
"Please don’t do that again," said Han-sin. "I might fall."
"A fine dragon you’d make if you can’t stand a little smoke," responded Ting-fang, blowing more smoke around Han-sin’s head.
Han-sin started to cough and his eyes were blinded for a moment. "If I fall, it will ruin the parade," he warned.
"So it would," agreed Ting-fang, almost with glee.
Han-sin remembered now. Ting-fang had wanted to be the leader. He was a year older and thought that he should have been chosen.
Han-sin said no more. He thought that if he paid no attention, Ting-fang might stop bothering him. But it was not so. Almost every time the dragon came to an extra large crowd or was making a wide curve, Ting-fang blew more smoke around Han-sin’s head.
At times he could hardly see where they were going because of the smoke. But still he counted the fountains as they passed. Ahead was the third one, Yu Shann, named in honor of the high mountain.
The big dragon in the lead had already turned, followed by the musicians. Now the acrobats were turning. If I turn left instead of right, Han-sin suddenly had a thought, I can go down our street. Then my grandparents can see the dragon.
Disregarding the consequences, Han-sin left the main body of the parade and turned to the left. Behind him Ting-fang hissed, "You numbskull! You have made the wrong turn. Go back before it is too late!"
"It is too late now," said Han-sin. "We will go down this street."
People came running out of their houses to see the dragon. Han-sin’s grandparents and his mother were already seated before the house. Their faces lighted up with surprise and joy as the dragon swerved in their direction and bowed its head.
When they returned to the starting place Chang Tso-lin was waiting. "What is the meaning of this?" he asked.
"I told him!" shouted Ting-fang. "I told him to turn back."
"Anyone can make a mistake," said Tso-lin. "It is not too serious."
Han-sin swallowed hard. He could have let it go at that. But instead he softly said, "It was not a mistake, sir. I went the wrong way because I wanted my grandparents to see the dragon."
"Then you disobeyed. You must tell your father. He will give the proper punishment."
Han-sin bowed and started to walk home. He arrived soon after his father and the younger children.
"It was such a beautiful parade!" Mei-ling was saying. "We wish that you could have seen it."
"But we did," said Grandfather. "At least we saw the best part—Han-sin’s dragon."
"How was that possible?" asked Father. "The parade turned to the right."
"All but the last dragon," explained Han-sin. "I turned it down this street. But it was the wrong thing to do. Chang Tso-lin says I must be punished."
"He is right," agreed Father. "You will bring me the new kite."
"Yes, Father," said Han-sin. He went inside and brought out the beautiful new kite that swam in the sky like a fish.
His father took the kite and handed it to Shih-kai. "It is now yours," he said.
Shih-kai turned to his older brother. "Will you help me fly the kite?" he asked.
Han-sin nodded with a smile.

Mikako Akiyama, 18, and Satomi Miyashita, 17, both from the Kawasaki Ward, were eager to talk about the baptisms for the dead they had participated in that same morning.
“This is the first visit to the temple for me,” said Satomi. “I had to have an interview with the bishop and get a recommend. But what a wonderful thing to come early in the morning to a beautiful white building and be baptized to help others.”
“I think it is a wonderful thing for our ancestors to have the opportunity to be happily united in heaven,” Mikako added. “If I had not had the opportunity to accept the gospel in this life, I would want someone to be baptized for me. I wanted very much to come this morning. It has made me think of my own baptism over over again.”

I had known for months that something was going on, but it wasn’t until this moment that my friend admitted the truth to me out loud: she had been struggling with pornography for years.

While sitting in the car listening to my friend, I was grateful for her honesty. Don’t get me wrong, I felt very sad to know she had been struggling with this for so long. But I was glad that she could open up to me and that I was now able to respond with love and not judge her.

But being unkind is never justified. Jesus Christ, our perfect example, sought out the people most despised by others. He spoke with Samaritans, tax collectors, and sinners. The Lord, who “cannot look upon sin with the least degree of allowance” (Doctrine and Covenants 1:31), “[looks] at us, imperfect as we are, without recoiling in horror and disgust,”2 because He knows He can forgive and cleanse us if we repent. So, listening to my friend, I tried to think of how Jesus would respond. The story of how the Savior had compassion on the woman caught in adultery was one of the things that helped me know what to do and say that day (see John 8:3–11).

I was in a better place to comfort my friend that day because I had a more mature view of my own sins and weaknesses than I did when I was younger and so judgmental. I no longer felt better than those struggling with pornography, and I’d done my best not to justify my own sins just because they were more “acceptable.” After all, we “all havesinned, and come short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23). We cannot allow our knowledge that pornography is evil to distort our view of other people, who are also children of God and whom we should love. Jesus Christ loved others and showed compassion, and we certainly should too (see John 13:34–35).

If you know someone struggling with pornography, don’t give up on them! That moment in the car with my friend was only the beginning of a process that is still going on today as I strive to replace judgment with love in my reactions to people. Reach out with love and compassion just as Jesus Christ would. It will not always be easy; these struggles do not go away overnight. There have been many times when I have helped my friend resist temptation but also many times when she has admitted relapsing. Be patient with your friend and with yourself.

Learning to love and understand someone going through something so difficult isn’t easy. But I trust that all the love I give my friend will not be in vain, no matter the length or end result of her journey.

Here I recall a pioneer example of faith, commitment, and courage by some young men just about the age of our missionaries. A few months before the Prophet Joseph Smith was murdered at Carthage, some of his enemies plotted to kill him. As part of their plan, they sought to enlist others in their conspiracy. Among those they invited to a meeting in Nauvoo were two young men still in their teens, Robert Scott and Dennison L. Harris. Dennison’s father, Emer, was the older brother of Martin Harris, one of the Three Witnesses to the Book of Mormon. Being loyal to the Prophet, these young men immediately reported the invitation to Dennison’s father, who advised the Prophet Joseph and sought his advice. Joseph asked Emer Harris to request that the young men attend the meeting, pay strict attention to what was said, make no commitments, and report the entire matter to the Prophet.

As events proceeded, there were three meetings. They began by denouncing Joseph as a fallen prophet, proceeded to considering how Joseph could be overthrown, and concluded with specific planning to kill him. All of this the two young men reported to the Prophet Joseph after each meeting.

Before the third meeting, the Prophet foresaw what would happen and told the young men this would be the last meeting. He warned them that the conspirators might kill them when they refused the required oath to participate in the murderous scheme. He said he did not think the conspirators would shed their blood because they were so young, but he called upon their loyalty and courage in these words: “Don’t flinch. If you have to die, die like men, you will be martyrs to the cause, and your crowns can be no greater.” He renewed his original caution that they should not make any promises or enter into any covenants with the conspirators. Then he blessed them and expressed his love for their willingness to risk their lives for him.

As Joseph had foreseen, the third and final meeting required all present to unite in a solemn oath to destroy Joseph Smith. When the two boys refused, explaining that Joseph had never harmed them and they were unwilling to participate in his destruction, the leaders declared that since the boys knew the group’s plans, they must agree to join them or they must die on the spot. Knives were drawn.

Some protested killing the boys, especially since their parents knew of their presence, so their failure to return would cast suspicion on some of the conspirators. By the barest margin, the cautious course was chosen, and those who opposed killing prevailed. The boys were threatened with certain death if they ever revealed what had transpired in the meetings or who had participated, and they were then allowed to leave unharmed.

As the boys passed beyond the view of the guards, they were met by the Prophet, who was anxiously watching and praying for their safe return. They reported everything to him. He thanked and praised them, and then, for their safety, counseled them not to speak of this to anyone for 20 years or more.

One attempt I remember well. About eighty men, women, and children escaped in a small boat. Within two days, we reached international waters, but the boat’s engine failed. We drifted for fifteen days. We ran out of food and drinking water and just lay motionless on the boat’s deck awaiting death.
Finally we heard the noise of a ship’s engine. We waved for help. It was a ship from Europe. After giving us food and water, they towed our boat back to Vung-Tau harbor and the North Vietnamese. We wept openly. Many men, unable to accept such a fate, jumped into the sea and sank beneath the waves. The police imprisoned us. Luckily, I spent only a few months in jail.

On April 6, 1830, the day The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was formally organized, at least 30 people were in attendance. One of them was an 11-year-old boy named David Lewis. As the events of that day unfolded, David became convinced of the truthfulness of the gospel.
He approached the Prophet Joseph Smith and asked to be baptized. Joseph was happy for him but felt that it was important for him to get permission from his parents first.
Following the Prophet’s counsel, David went home to discuss his feelings with his parents. They gave him permission, and he was baptized 29 days later, on his 12th birthday.
Soon after his baptism, clouds outside darkened. Thunder and lightning cracked through the sky. Joseph suggested that David might want to stay overnight and wait out the storm. David replied that he had promised his mother that he would return that night. Joseph told David that it was important to keep the promise to his mother and that if he left right away, the Lord would protect him.
David followed the counsel of the Prophet and hurried off into the downpour. He hadn’t gone far before he became confused, and he realized that he was lost. Remembering the Prophet’s words that he would return home in safety, David knelt under a tree and prayed for the promised protection and guidance.
After the prayer, he started on his way again. He saw a faint light through the trees. It looked like a person with a lantern in the distance. Something in his heart told him to follow it.
It led him down a path through the trees.
After he followed the light for some time, it suddenly disappeared. What had happened to it? He looked around and saw that he was now in front of his own house!1

When I was single, it seemed like engaged girls with sparkly diamond rings loved to show them off so everyone would know how much their husband paid for them. It’s like in the film Johnny Lingo, where islanders are shocked when Johnny buys his wife with eight cows instead of the typical three or four. I couldn’t wait until I got the chance to wave around an “eight cow” ring of my own.

But if you judge me by the plain, thin, silver-colored ring I currently wear, you’d think my husband was a cheapskate. Actually my husband worked for months so I could have a beautiful ring. Unfortunately, it was an uninsured beautiful eight-cow ring … and I flushed it down the toilet.

We’d only been married for two weeks, and I’d already formed the habit of carefully pulling off my ring and placing it safely in a little box above the sink each time I washed my hands. I didn’t want to run the risk of tainting my ring’s sparkle with soap scum buildup. As I pulled it off one Saturday morning, the pressure built, and it popped right off my knuckle. I watched in disbelief as my lovely ring sailed straight for the toilet and hit the open bowl dead center, just as it finished flushing.

I screamed. I cried. I tried to jump in after it, but grown women just don’t fit in toilet bowls no matter how desperate the circumstances. My poor husband took the toilet apart for me, stuck his whole arm down the sludge hole, and felt around for the ring. We called every person in town that had anything to do with the sewer system and pleaded our case.

“Lady, your line is connected to the largest high pressure pipe in the city. Your ring is long gone,” I was told. In one swift swirl of water, my ring was gone forever.

Over the next few days, I became understandably depressed. My marriage preparation classes hadn’t covered crises of the flushing variety. I worried I’d ruined my chances for a happy marital relationship. After all, my husband had insisted on buying me a nice ring because the sacrifice it would take for him to be able to buy it would represent his love for me. Now I’d flushed the symbol of his love down the toilet.

I was telling my husband for the 42nd time how oafish I was and how sorry I was that he’d worked so hard for something I’d clumsily lost. He took me by the shoulders, looked me in the eyes, and said, “Please stop, Arianne. I don’t care about the ring. I didn’t do all that work for some sparkly rock. I did it for you, and I’d do it all over again a hundred times if you wanted me to. You’re worth more than all the diamonds in the world. I love you.”

My husband’s comforting words and warm embrace that day made me realize how silly I’d been acting. The ring was gone, but everything it symbolized still exists.

So even though I still punish the toilet with a hard kick from time to time, I’ve learned to focus on what’s most important. And that’s not how much my husband spent on me but how much he loves me. My husband insists he’ll get me a new ring someday. But I’m not sure I want one. Every time I look at my thin little ring, I remember what real love is. It doesn’t sparkle, it can’t be shown off, and thank goodness, it can’t be flushed down a toilet.

I was leaving junior high school, embarking on a new adventure riddled with unknown possibilities and, of course, filled with fun. Little did I know that the first few months of high school would feel disastrous and ultimately change my life.
It all started normally enough for a freshman. I felt small at this new, big school. Everything seemed twice as big, but it was nice knowing I was going through this with my friends. When we checked our class schedules, we saw that I didn’t have any classes with my friends. As the weeks passed, we drifted apart. Instead of the close relationship we’d once shared, I would be lucky to see the backs of their heads as they walked in another direction.
My lunch hour was miserable. I tried to make myself look busy, like making several unneeded trips to my locker to retrieve books I didn’t need, tying my shoes, or pretending to look for someone who would never be found. I guess I wasn’t very good at pretending, because my older brother, Shawn, noticed.
Since my childhood, Shawn was always there, whether it was teasing me incessantly or putting his arm around me after a bad day. He never really asked me what was wrong; he just knew. He started inviting me to eat lunch with him and his friends. When I was with him, he never ignored me. I remember him yelling, “Hey, Sis!” and walking over to put his arm around me.
Slowly I became stronger, and I became comfortable in my own skin. I realized I didn’t need my old friends to define who I was. I had my brother, my friend.

Johnny slowed his bike before turning into Mrs. Jones’s driveway. It was the day before Easter, and it was time for the neighborhood Easter egg hunt.
“I knew it,” he thought. “There’s Randy Mills. He’ll get the prize. He always does. I’ll have to listen to him brag for another year.”
“Hey, come on, slowpoke!” Randy yelled.
“I’m coming.”
Randy laughed. “Why are you frowning? Afraid you’ll get beat again?”
“Come line up, children,” Mrs. Jones called. “When I say, ‘Go,’ the smaller children will run to the backyard. When I say it again, the older children will follow.”
A few minutes into the hunt, Randy ran up to Johnny. “How many eggs have you found?”
“Nine.”
“Me too. Maybe we’ll tie for the prize.” He ran off to find more.
Johnny poked about here and there. He sure hoped to find another egg and beat Randy. He was looking under an already-searched bush when he heard a small sniff. A little girl was standing behind the bush crying. It was Laurie, Johnny’s neighbor.
“Hi, Laurie. Why are you crying?”
“I don’t have any eggs!” Laurie sobbed. “If I could find just one egg …” Laurie was much younger than most of the children, and she was crying as if her heart would break.
“Children, I believe all the eggs have been found. Let’s count up,” Mrs. Jones said.
“Now I’ll never find one.” Tears ran down Laurie’s face.
Johnny felt very bad for the little girl. As he looked at his full basket, an idea hit him. He quickly slipped his prettiest egg under the bush. “Laurie, did you look really well under here?”
“I think so.” She came around to his side of the bush, her eyes searching everywhere. Suddenly her face lit up. “Ooooh! Look at the pretty egg!”
Randy walked up and pounded Johnny on the back. “Well, we tied for first prize with nine eggs apiece.”
“I only have eight,” Johnny said quietly.
“I thought you said you had nine.”
“I made a mistake.”
“Wow! The prize is mine. Say, you’d better learn to count better, Johnny.” He laughed over his shoulder.
Johnny watched Randy claim the prize. He would have to listen to Randy brag for another year, but somehow it didn’t matter anymore. He smiled, remembering Laurie’s face as she found just one egg.

When I was in junior high school, I would get out of bed on cold winter mornings and head for the heat vent to get warm. The family cat would always beat me there, so I would gently shoo her away and sit down. Soon my mother would tell me it was time to leave for school. I would look out at the icicles on the house and dread going out into the cold, let alone beginning another day of school.

As I kissed my mother good-bye and went out the door, I would look at my comfortable spot in front of the heat vent and find that the cat had repossessed it. How I envied that cat! If that weren’t enough, she would look up at me with heavy eyelids and an expression as if to laugh at me and say, “Have fun in school, Glenn. I’m sure glad I’m not a human!” I hated it when she did that!

However, an interesting thing would happen as the day went on. I would come home after experiencing the joys and sorrows of the school day and see that lazy cat still curled up in front of the vent, and I would smile and say to her, “I’m sure glad I’m not a cat.”

“I’m scared!” Adam blurted out as he and Mom drove to the church.
“There’s no need to be scared, Son,” Mom reassured him.
“But what will he ask me? What if I don’t know the answers? Will I still get to be baptized?”
“You don’t need to worry. It will be very much like the father’s interviews you have each month,” Mom replied, parking the car.
“But why do we have to do it in the bishop’s office?” Adam asked as he shut the car door.
“Because that’s where he interviews all the boys and girls before they’re baptized. It helps them understand how important baptism is. And it reminds them that the bishop has the priesthood keys—the authority—to authorize ordinances in our ward.”
Adam and Mom sat down outside the bishop’s door. Soon it opened. “Hello, you two,” the bishop greeted them warmly. “Adam, come in. I’ve been looking forward to our visit all day.”
Mom gave Adam a smile of encouragement as the door closed behind him.
After a few questions about school, the bishop asked, “Adam, do you love Jesus?”
Adam nodded.
“Would you tell me what you’re doing to show Him that you love Him?”
“Well, I want to be baptized like He was. And I try to be a good example to my friends so they’ll want to know about the Church.”
“Very good. Anything else?”
“I pay my tithing, go to church, and say my prayers. And I’m preparing to serve a mission.”
“Excellent! I want you to know that I appreciate how kind and helpful you are to others, too,” the bishop added. “That’s another important way you show love for the Savior. Let’s read Mosiah 18:10, a scripture about baptism.”
Adam took the book from the bishop and carefully read, “‘Now I say unto you, if this be the desire of your hearts, what have you against being baptized in the name of the Lord, as a witness before him that ye have entered into a covenant with him, that ye will serve him and keep his commandments, that he may pour out his Spirit more abundantly upon you?’”
“Adam, are you willing to serve the Lord and keep His commandments?” the bishop asked.
“Yes!”
“Well then, you’re ready to be baptized.”
The two stood up. The bishop shook Adam’s hand. “Congratulations! I’m very, very proud of you.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Adam said with a grin.

Because of a lawsuit filed by some local residents who objected to the temple’s proposed steeple, the temple was dedicated without a steeple. Yet in a press conference on the eve of the dedication, President Hinckley expressed optimism concerning the issue.
“We wish the steeple were on it. I regret that it isn’t. But we can get along without it while awaiting the outcome of the legal action,” he said. “In the meantime, we’ll go forward performing the ordinance work of this sacred house.”

Another faithful family is that of Edwina Swartzberg, first counselor in the Sandton South Africa Stake Relief Society, a third-generation Latter-day Saint. Her explanations about Church temples to her future husband, Isaac, who was reared in an Orthodox Jewish home, assisted in his conversion. He had puzzled why the Lord, who, scripturally, always spoke to his people in temples, no longer had one on Earth. He recognized, too, prophecies of Christ in the Old Testament, especially in Psalm 22, and things fell into place for him. The Swartzbergs were later sealed in the Salt Lake Temple. They live in Pretoria where Brother Swartzberg is Church legal advisor and area director of Church public communications.

Will wanted a picture of the temple. He wanted to put it in his room. He had heard the prophet say it would be a fine thing for everyone to have one.
“Mom, did you get me a picture of the temple yet?” Will asked.
“Not yet,” Mom said. She was busy taking care of the new baby.
“OK,” Will said.
Will loved the temple. He knew it is a special place where families are sealed together.
Will felt a little bit sad. Mom was too busy. How could he get a picture of the temple?
Then Will had a great idea. He didn’t need to wait for Mom!
Will ran to find his crayons and some paper. Then he sat down at the desk and started to draw.
After a long time, Will put down his crayons. He ran into the kitchen and held his picture up to show Mom.
“What a beautiful picture of the temple,” Mom said.
“Let’s go hang it in my bedroom,” Will said.
Mom smiled. “That’s a great idea!”

One blustery day last March, a young man named Layne Anthony climbed out of his father’s car beneath the flags to answer that call and undertake that adventure. As he lugged the heavy suitcases through the doors, he may have been thinking of the moving promises and awesome authority that had been given him the night before when his stake president set him apart. He may have been remembering the inspiring missionary farewell in sacrament meeting or the day he was ordained an elder. Perhaps he thought of the moment his eyes scanned down his call letter and he learned he was being sent to the Peru Lima North Mission. Maybe he was even thinking about his last good-bye to his girl friend. There were plenty of memories to choose from, because his old life and the old Layne Anthony were being left behind when he walked through those doors.
As the new missionaries came streaming in, a battle-wise old veteran of two or three weeks stood observing them with a knowing eye. “Once you walk through those doors,” he said, “you never come out.” And then he smiled and lent a hand with the luggage to show that he was just kidding. But whether by design or by chance, he spoke the truth, because when these young men and women boarded busses for the Salt Lake City Airport several weeks later, they would not be the same men and women who strained at their luggage that brooding gray morning in March. The real journey, the one inside their hearts, the one that would take them where no jet airliner could fly, had begun.
After leaving their luggage in a large room, the new missionaries and their families gathered in one of the Missionary Training Center’s many chapels. Allen C. Ostergar, administrative director of the MTC, addressed the assembly, telling of the joy of missionary work, recalling his own mission, and explaining some of the rules. He urged the parents not to duplicate the adventure of one lonesome mother who came and hid in the bushes to get a glimpse of her son. Some of the mothers didn’t laugh.
Recalling his own mission call, Brother Ostergar said, “As I read the call I knew I was doing what the Lord wanted me to do. I knew the Church was true. The Spirit literally touched my heart, and it changed my life. And above all other things that the missionaries will feel here, they will feel the Spirit of the Lord, and they will strengthen their testimonies. Please rest assured that that happens. We love the missionaries as if they were our own sons and daughters.”
Before long the meeting was over, and Brother Ostergar invited the missionaries to come forward and exit through doors at the front of the chapel. “Anyone who comes up this way, we keep,” he added, “so the rest of you will have to leave the way you came in.” He invited the missionaries to give their mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters a hug and a kiss and shake their girl friends’ hands. They obeyed enthusiastically, as good missionaries should. All the young ladies present were apparently sisters, because there were few handshakes. Elder Anthony gave a good hard missionary squeeze to each of his family and walked through the doors.
Emerging on the other side, the missionaries found themselves much the same as before, to all appearances, but there was a subtle difference. Now they were really on their missions. The last mooring line had been cast off, and they were embarked.

After high school Gary was offered scholarships in all three sports. He was probably best in basketball, but baseball was his first love, and he intended to make it his career. So friends and teachers were surprised when Gary went off to Diablo Junior College to play football. He did it partly out of friendship. A former high school coach had called three days before DJC’s first game and said, “Hey, Gary, how about coming over to play for Diablo? All three of my quarterbacks are injured, and I’ve got nobody to start.”
Gary had gone, but he had time for only three practices before the game. “We had some good breaks,” he recalls, “and we ‘creamed’ the other team.”
In spite of this brilliant beginning, Gary was repeatedly ambushed by injuries and was able to play in less than half the games during his two years at Diablo.

When I was 16 years old, I met and befriended a lady with three children. We became trusted friends, although she was ten years older than me. She was having discussions with the missionaries, but at that time I was not interested. I was very frightened and stayed in the kitchen when they arrived.
One evening, when I was making food for the children, I overheard the missionaries speaking about life before birth and after death, and how we choose to have an earthly experience, just as Jesus chose to come to die for us. I felt overwhelmed on hearing this, because in my heart I always felt that we had been around forever.
Later that night I queried my friend for more information, and she told me about Joseph Smith. His story really captured my attention and I felt that it was true. I didn’t rush into anything, but weeks later when I was invited to a sports event at the Church, I decided to go to see the children having fun in the sun. And I really wanted to meet people and find out more about the teachings of the Church.
It was a beautiful day, and many people were there with their children. I was introduced to a few families and was asked if I wanted to meet the bishop. I entered the chapel and I remember the aroma to this day: it was the fresh smell of lovely, polished wood, old wood, and the smell of cakes baking in the oven. I’m not even sure if they were baking cakes that day, but that is what I smelt. It was lovely and clean and smelt homely.
When I walked through the building towards the bishop’s office, I had this overwhelming feeling of pure love and protection. I was very nervous, yet I felt such a strong sense of belonging. I will always remember the big beautiful smile on the bishop’s face, as if he was waiting for me to return home. I felt emotional and frightened at the same time because I didn’t know what to expect. These feelings were all new to me, but I felt this was a major part in my journey, my destiny, while not knowing at that time how my life would turn out. I was only 16 but I remember exactly how I felt that day. My dad had told me about these dangerous religious organisations, but there was no danger here. I only felt love, a love that I yearned to feel forever.
Feeling such love, I felt safe. I felt I was home. I knew this was so right.
This kindhearted man, the bishop, told me his name and spoke with authority, and he made me feel safe and very welcome.
He drew me in with his godly spirit. He drew me in with his smile. He drew me in with his love. He drew me in with his fatherly influence in the way he spoke to me. He drew me in.
He was a good decent man, and a fatherly influence on my shattered, insecure soul. It has taken me years to be who I am today. I was a canny, quiet kid, yet fiery when anyone hurt me. I carried so much pain. So, I love with my heart and soul, and am so overjoyed at the fact that I allowed Bishop Barratt to draw me into the gospel with his beautiful strong spiritual soul. He indeed saved me that day.
I dread to think how my life would have turned out if I had not been introduced to the Church at that time. Although I have had periods of inactivity, I have always stayed loyal to the teachings of the gospel. I have never stopped believing that the gospel is true, and during those times of inactivity, I knew with all my heart and soul that I would return.
Years on, I met my husband, and we were sealed for time and eternity. Bishop Barratt was a very important part of our gospel journey, yet sadly he was too unwell to make trips to the temple; but he did give many beautiful and sacred blessings to my husband. Over the years I would choose him to bless my children. As my children got older and had children of their own, they would also choose Bishop Barratt to bless their babies too.
Brother Ronald Barratt died in early 2021. His beautiful wife, Mary, gave my husband a few of Bishop Barratt’s tie pins, which will be treasured; it’s an honour to have something of his. It has been many years since Brother Ronald Barratt was bishop, but he brought honour to the title.
The Barratts carried out many acts of service in spreading the gospel and teaching people. They were firm examples. They stood strong in the Church through difficult times. They worked hard. Bishop Barratt also had an amazing operatic voice which could drown us all out when singing.
We all have amazing experiences with people in our lives who have been such wonderful examples. I am so grateful to many people in my life. Heavenly Father certainly knows what He is doing. He brings people into our lives for specific reasons. We are never alone, even if we sometimes feel we are.
Cherishing our surroundings and those who have helped us on our way is so important. Each person met on life’s journey can be vital to one’s spiritual growth and emotional wellbeing. Even in challenging times, people are helping to move us forward, to learn from one another through the good and the bad. Everything has its purpose. We see the beauty in others and in ourselves. We are all God’s beautiful precious creations.