Gospel Story Finder

Before Richard had left for his mission, a university professor had tried to dissuade him from going; he would be ruining a promising career, the man said. A few weeks after returning from Uruguay, Richard was invited to be interviewed by Captain (later Admiral) Hyman G. Rickover for a job on a top-secret military project involving nuclear energy.
The interview didn’t seem to go very well for Richard. In response to one question, he mentioned his mission. “What mission?” Captain Rickover demanded. “And what do I care about your mission?”
Richard reacted to that, because his mission had been such a precious time in his life. “Everything I really appreciate began to mature in the mission field,” he says. “So I decided to respond vigorously to every question.”
Then the captain asked, “What was the last book you read?”
“The Book of Mormon,” he responded.
At the conclusion of the interview, and feeling that he had no chance for the job, Richard got up to leave. “Just a minute,” said the captain. “I’ve been testing you to see if you could stand up for what you believe. This is not going to be an easy project. We need people who can work with confidence.” Richard got the job working on the design of the nuclear reactor for the Nautilus, the first nuclear-powered submarine.
Later, while checking personnel records, he discovered the name of the professor who had urged him not to go on a mission; the man was now working under Richard’s direction, about three administrative levels down.

In January 2001 my husband, Peter, became unemployed, and shortly thereafter our third child was born. When Peter found a job 500 miles (800 km) away, we made a big move. And although he enjoyed the job, the year was very bad economically and we had barely enough money to pay for rent and groceries. Our small food storage quickly vanished, and Christmas was approaching. Then Peter’s employer gave us an unexpected “Christmas bonus”—all the employees in Peter’s department were declared unemployed for one month.
Thus, my husband was again out of work. But the Lord did not forget us. Peter was asked to help several members, and we were supported financially through this work. We were not forgotten for Christmas either. The sister missionaries rang our doorbell one day and presented us with a package on behalf of an anonymous family in our ward. When we opened it we found many lovingly wrapped gifts, each bearing the name of a member of our family. We also found an envelope containing extra money—as if the presents had not been enough!
On Christmas Eve the doorbell rang again. A package on the doorstep again contained nicely wrapped presents for each of us. We were very happy. I thanked our Heavenly Father for the little miracles He had provided. And I was grateful to the members who were so loving, even though we had lived there for only five months.
We do not know who helped us during those difficult times, and I can’t help but think of the Savior’s words: “For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink” (Matt. 25:35).

A few months ago I had the privilege of sealing another angel--a beautiful daughter of God--to her eternal companion. The girl had been born deaf. Except by the spiritual ear she had never heard Beethoven's "Ninth Symphony" or Handel's "Hallelujah Chorus." When children come into their family, she will never hear her baby's cry, or its first spoken word, or its first talk in Primary. She is not handicapped, as she marvelously compensates in other ways. She is differentially blessed. Her children will be born in the covenant, she has an eternal companion, and she has a body with heaven's promise of its someday perfection.

by Reneé Heyland
One of the altars in the sealing rooms of the Sao Paulo Temple in Brazil is very special to some former Mia Maids from the Lethbridge Alberta Stake. During the course of a year, girls from the nine different classes in the stake raised $1,425—approximately $225 more than the cost of the altar they hoped to contribute to the new temple.
Cheryl Crane from the Second Ward expressed the following thoughts about her experience: “At first I wasn’t too happy to give up my free time to earn the temple money, but then I read about the sacrifices the members in Brazil are making.
“Hundreds of thousands of dollars had to be raised, and such amounts of money are not easy to come by. One young couple saved $2,000 to come to Salt Lake City to go through the temple, a dream they had shared for many years. But when they were asked to contribute to the temple fund, they gave up that dream for the sake of another—the dream that every Brazilian Saint could go through the temple, instead of just a few.
“When I read about these and other sacrifices that Saints in Brazil had made, I realized my sacrifices hardly classify as sacrifices at all.”
Throughout the year the girls participated in a variety of money-raising projects. To the usual baked-food sales one of the groups added caramel popcorn, another sponsored a spaghetti dinner, and several of the classes sold concessions at stake sports events. The girls had car washes, pop bottle drives, and Christmas tree sales. One ward sponsored a carnival (complete with balloon-shaving and doughnut-eating contests); another cut out, made, and sold doll clothes; and a third took orders for and assembled silk flower corsages for Mother’s Day gifts. Several nonmembers became as enthusiastically involved as their Mia Maid friends.
Along with the money-raising events came “spirit-raising” events. Lessons were devoted to learning about the Saints in Brazil, temple marriage, and the significance, structure, and purpose of our modern-day temples. In addition, some of the girls were able to visit the Alberta Temple and do baptisms for the dead. But the highlight of the year was the special stake meeting held for all the Mia Maids, their parents, and leaders at the completion of the project. A Mia Maid from each ward explained how her class had raised the money and then gave her testimony of this special project. Next was the presentation of a story “The Dark Blue Suit” (see the July 1978 New Era), which gave a little insight into the faith and attitudes of some of the Saints in Brazil.
The conclusion of the evening was a talk by stake president Lamont Matkin concerning what the temple in Cardston should mean to the Mia Maids in the Lethbridge Stake.
Adviser Lesley Heath of the First Ward summed up her feelings about the year by saying, “It was a time of learning—about the Brazilian people, about the value of temples, and about the special beauty of each individual Mia Maid in my class. Only I, as their adviser, will ever know the real sacrifice of the two girls in our class who went the extra mile and donated twice as much of their babysitting money as they had promised. Only I will ever know of another girl who took the time away from a special event with her friends to work all day at the basketball concession stand. I’m grateful for this experience, and for the vision it gave us of what we can do.”

We weren’t quite sure what to expect when the bishop of our ward in northern Utah, USA, encouraged the youth to attend the largest family history conference in the world—RootsTech, held in Salt Lake City. We followed his counsel, and a group of 30 people from our ward spent the day attending this amazing experience.
We listened to President Russell M. Nelson’s admonition to “do something to actually experience the joy [of family history and temple work] for ourselves.”1 We realized that the dates assigned to our ward by the Brigham City Temple for our youth baptism night and the ward temple night were only two days apart and we decided to follow President Nelson’s counsel.
One month later we held a name-gathering night, a combined Mutual activity for all of the youth and anyone else in the ward who wanted to participate. Everyone brought smart phones, tablets, or computers, and we hooked up to a printer so that we could print out temple-ready names right on the spot.
With the motivation of helping our ancestors (along with a pizza party), we helped each other until we found at least one family name in need of a temple ordinance. “I gained a testimony from the night I looked for names,” said Bryton W., 16. “I was struggling to find even one, but a leader kept pushing me, and I finally succeeded. It made me feel better knowing that I helped someone.”
We learned, worked, acted, taught, and shared. Finding family names to take to the temple touched us and bonded us together.
The following week, we took these names to the temple for our ward’s temple week. The youth did the needed baptisms and confirmations on Wednesday night, and the adults in our ward took it from there, culminating in sealings on Saturday. “It was my first time going to the temple,” said Tili W., 12. “I felt good knowing I was doing temple work for my ancestors. I want to continue doing this work, because I get a good feeling, almost like when I was baptized.”
Because of this experience, our ward has a new standard for participating in family history and temple work, and we are excited to continue finding names and taking them to the temple together.

As a teenage boy I watched my six-week-old sister, Carol, struggle with whooping cough at a time when there were no antibiotics. I came home one night from having been a grease monkey [mechanic] at a bus depot and saw the light was on. It was about four o’clock in the morning. I knew it meant trouble. As I came in, Carol was laid out on the round dining room table, and Dad was waiting for a neighbor to come to join in blessing her. I thought she was gone. It seemed to me she had quit breathing. Then I watched the power of the priesthood, and I watched her start breathing again. That experience let me know the reality of the priesthood at a very young age. Our prayers for her were answered.

Some prayers are answered dramatically, as with Carol. With others we must wait. But if we do that, in those waiting moments there will come to us special things.

Lucy thought about the day she had come to Grandma Irma’s house to visit and they had decided to drive over to the post office and get the mail. When they arrived home, Grandma discovered that she had locked the keys in the house. So they pushed out the screen in the bedroom window, and Grandma hoisted Lucy up. Lucy had climbed in the window, trotted through the house, and unlocked the door. When they found the keys on the kitchen table, they laughed until their tummies ached.

When President Spencer W. Kimball was a youngster, he heard a speaker in church ask the congregation, “How many of you have read the Bible through?” A feeling of guilt spread over young Spencer as he realized that he had never read the Bible through. As he left the chapel, he was determined to read the entire Bible and promised himself, “I will. I will. I will.” Arriving home, the youth found his Bible and read until very late that evening. And within a year he had read the entire Bible.

When I was 16, my seemingly healthy, vigorous 41-year-old father dropped dead while water skiing. As you can imagine, this was a shocking event in my life and caused me much anguish. Why did this happen? This event was cause for considerable reflection and much prayer as I struggled to set my own course. A few months later, standing on the newly grown grass over his grave at the Ogden, Utah, cemetery, I decided several important matters:
One, that I would always keep the Word of Wisdom.
Two, that I would serve a mission.
Three, that I would always make him proud that I was his son.
Four, that I would strive to be successful as he was.
Five, that I would always be active in the Church.
Six, that I would marry someone in the temple as fine as my mother.
These were simple yet life-defining decisions. They were as indelible as the words carved on my father’s headstone, for my resolve was, in effect, carved in stone—unalterable and resolute. I had “decided to decide.”

Darkness had already fallen for several hours when I pulled into the town where missionary Sisters Hucks and Matson were serving. It was late in the day, but I thought I should stop to say hello since I had to leave early the next morning. The lights in their apartment were on so I guessed correctly that they were there. I was greeted with enthusiasm, and they started our conversation with, “Guess what happened with us tonight, president.”
“Tell me, what happened?”
“Well, the ward mission leader has been behaving mysteriously all week. He never asked us—he told us to be at a meeting at the church tonight. We were almost angry at him, and we wondered what was happening. When we got to the church there were a few cars parked outside but no one was in sight.
“We went into the church and could see lights on and hear voices in one of the rooms down the hall. We walked down there and knocked on the door.
“Everything went quiet, and then the door opened wide.
“To our surprise the room was filled with people, and on the front row looking right at us with radiant smiles was the family we had been teaching. They were all dressed in white baptismal clothes.” Unable to speak further, the sisters smiled at me through their tears.

When two Latter-day Saint missionaries visited the Graybeal home in 1959, Alexandria knew their message was special. Her husband and two children were touched, too, and the Graybeals progressed toward baptism. When Brother Graybeal learned that the Air Force was transferring him to Germany, he decided to be baptized before he left. Alexandria, however, was struggling to know whether Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. Some time later, after the family had moved to Germany, her husband said, “If you really want to know, go to Heavenly Father and ask him.” That night Alexandria did just that. “I don’t know what happened,” she explains, “but the next morning I knew Joseph Smith was a prophet.” Alexandria and the two children were baptized a short time later in Kerlsrue, West Germany, in June 1960.
“I just felt wonderful,” Sister Graybeal says, remembering her baptism. “My testimony was strengthened after that, and I couldn’t get enough of the gospel. I studied and studied. It was like walking through a door and finding that the light was shining. It was beautiful.”

It took several months to gain courage to go to church. I knew where the church was, but there were no missionaries in our little branch. In February 1984, I walked into the Kwekwe chapel. I wanted to walk back out. I wasn’t sure I belonged and sat at the back, ready to bolt. After the opening exercises, the branch president, Mike Allen, bore his testimony about the Savior Jesus Christ and the Book of Mormon. I felt connected. The next person also bore his testimony about the Savior and the Book of Mormon, and so did the third one. I was euphoric. I couldn’t get the courage to go to the pulpit, so I stood where I was and said, “I love Jesus. I’m reading the Book of Mormon.” And I sat down. That was the beginning of my testimony.
Those testimonies were the Lord’s way of reaching out to me because it helped me feel that I belonged there. I felt that these were my brothers and sisters. During the following days I prayed for them and for acceptance. I met members there who were so kind and who helped me.
A lot happened that day when I walked into the chapel. I wonder what would have happened if those members hadn’t borne their testimonies. You never know whether there is someone who is struggling. When you stand up and say what you feel, it may be exactly what someone needs to hear.

A large crowd had braved snowy, treacherous weather conditions and a two-hour drive to Nephi, Utah, to cheer for our high school state championship girls’ basketball game. I felt honored as I watched the townspeople troop in from our small, mountain community of Morgan, Utah. So many had come to watch us play. And boy, did they get a show! Little did I realize at that time the great lesson in life I would be taught at the end of that day.
The score teetered back and forth between the teams in that game on February 17, 1990. It was a tough game, physically and mentally. Early in the second quarter I found myself sitting on the bench, with three fouls. My position not only forced me to become an observer to the battle on the court, but also allowed me to notice the order in which the players were being substituted.
Coach, what are you doing? I thought to myself as he repeatedly put Jodi Rees, a sophomore, into the game before Trisha Garn, a junior. Trisha had been the first person off the bench all season, and now, at state, Coach Wade Fiscus was giving Trisha’s time to Jodi. Jodi’s abilities were certainly par, but changes like this in such an important game weren’t characteristic of Coach Fiscus. I finally decided he must have a good reason and didn’t question his motives.
Throughout the third and fourth quarters the game remained close. While Jodi played her best game, Trisha sat on the bench smiling and cheering her heart out for her friend. Trisha only played a few seconds of the entire championship game.
It came down to the final 30 seconds and the teams were tied. We went up by one, and then two, and finally three. A missed three point attempt by the opposing team gave us the ball with nine seconds remaining. We were still cautious, but could taste the win. The seconds ticked down as we passed the ball to midcourt and the buzzer sounded naming us state champions with a score of 53–50! Bedlam broke out as our fans and teammates swarmed to the floor and surrounded us. We had just achieved the goal we had worked for all year. The trophy was ours and we reveled in our moment of glory.
After the presentation of the trophies, the ladders were brought out to cut the nets down and each team member made the climb to the top to cut a string. Finally, the net hung by one, lonely string. Hal Rees, Jodi’s dad, had the honor of cutting it. He struggled awkwardly up the ladder and, gripping the scissors firmly, managed to snip the last piece.
As the net dropped to the floor tears rolled down the cheeks of our Morgan fans, and when it was placed around Mr. Rees’s neck, members of the Rees family held each other tight.
I soon came to understand why Jodi had played more than Trisha. It was not because Coach Fiscus was crazy, and it was not because one player was a lot better than the other; it was because our friend and teammate had done the most unselfish thing possible—she had asked Coach to let Jodi have her playing time. Trisha Garn understood what many in the room didn’t. Jodi’s 40-year-old dad would not live to see her play again. He was dying of a cancerous brain tumor.
Trisha’s selfless act and the sight of Hal hugging Jodi really put our state championship in perspective for me. Sure, it was nice to have the honors of men, but compared to eternal matters of family and Christlike love it didn’t seem so significant.
“I don’t feel like I made a sacrifice,” Trisha comments. “Jodi is an outstanding athlete. I wanted to do this for my friend.”
Two-and-a-half weeks after the game, Jodi’s dad died. At his funeral the song “Wind beneath My Wings” was sung. Every time I hear the line from that song “Did you ever know that you were my hero?” I think of Trisha. She is my hero. And she’d probably say, “No big deal.” But it’s a big deal to me.

My father was a rancher. The colonies are normally quite dry. At first there weren’t many deep wells, so most of our water came from the river. Rain was very important, and it was scarce. We had a couple of man-made lakes to store the water in when it did rain. We had to rely on the Lord for our blessings, and quite often the ward fasted.
I remember one time when I was about eight years old and we were in a drought situation—it had been a long time since it had rained, and we needed it desperately. Our ward had a special fast, and by the time we left our sacrament meeting, the clouds had gathered and it started to rain. We relied on the Lord because of our need. Sometimes our family fasted for the blessing of rain, and it rained. It was a matter of knowing that if we did our part, the Lord would bless us. That built great faith in me as a young boy.

Shortly after my call to the Presiding Bishopric, I received a letter from one of my uncles. “Dear Glenn: I saw you on television last Sunday. Do you realize what an accomplishment it was to get your old reprobate of an uncle to watch general conference?”

That summer he and his wife celebrated their fiftieth wedding anniversary. After the reception I walked them to their car and said, “You know, with this calling, I have received the sealing power. If you will commit to a temple marriage, I’ll tell you what I’ll do for you. I’ll perform the ceremony for free.”

A year passed, and as I arrived home late one night, a message awaited me. “Please call your uncle no matter what time you get home.” I called and he said, “Glenn, I’m calling to collect on your golden wedding anniversary offer of a free marriage sealing in the Salt Lake Temple.” I asked, “Are you serious? When?” He said, “My bishop thinks I can be good enough by December.”

A year ago I sealed them to each other and then sealed two of their sons to them. After fifty-one years of marriage, my uncle and aunt received their crowning glory and blessings. The entire family cried.

When I was a mission president in Toronto, Canada, we knew that investigators worry about the changes that are going to come into their lives. We had a practice of supplying teams of members to help the missionaries. For example, the missionaries were working with a Catholic family (and that was the majority faith in our area). About midway through the set of discussions they could call on Brother and Sister Anthony Belfiglio. They had been Catholics. They’d joined the Church and were a great help to the missionaries. When the missionaries had borne their testimony, Brother and Sister Belfiglio would say, “We know what you’re going through. We were in the same position, but when we heard the truth and realized that a prophet was on the earth at this time, there was no question what we must do, and we never looked back and we’ve never been sorry.” It buttressed the testimony of the missionaries.

Barbara Matovu from Uganda. Sam Basnet from Nepal. And Elisabeth Olsen from Norway. Three different people, three different countries. Yet Barbara, Sam, and Elisabeth have all gathered in one place, the center for young adults in Oslo, Norway, under one truth: the restored gospel of Jesus Christ.
These three joined the Church in Oslo, receiving the missionary lessons at the center for young adults. Facilities like the one in Oslo are dedicated to providing a place to socialize at activities, learn in institute classes, enjoy computer and Internet access, study for school, and even cook dinner.
Barbara moved from Uganda to Norway in 1998, when she was nine years old. Ten years later, while living in Oslo, two missionaries invited her to learn about the restored gospel, telling her that they could meet in the center for young adults. Barbara was skeptical, at best.
“I thought to myself, ‘Yet another youth center,’” she admits. “I had been to plenty of places like that before, and I honestly never felt comfortable being in any of them.”
But this center proved to be different. “My mind was blown away when I took the first step into the door,” Barbara remembers. “I stood still for a moment, trying to figure out the feeling I had. I felt warmth and love. I felt assured that I was in the right place, with the right people, for the right cause.”
The initiative to build centers for young adults started in 2003. Centers expand the reach of institute by offering more than just religious education classes; young single adults also have opportunities to serve on a center activities council, work with full-time missionaries to help teach and activate their peers, and associate with a senior couple who keep the whole operation running. Local priesthood leadership, under the direction of Area Seventies, determines the creation of centers in their respective areas.
The first 4 centers were in Copenhagen, Denmark, and in Berlin, Hamburg, and Leipzig, Germany. Those initial 4 have since blossomed into 141 in 2011, in locations as diverse as Sweden and Cyprus. Many more are in various stages of development in other parts of the world, including the United States and Africa.
Gerald and Nancy Sorensen served at the center for young adults in Trondheim, Norway. There they met young adults from countries all across the globe, including Afghanistan, China, Ghana, Iran, Iraq, Mozambique, the Netherlands, Nigeria, Russia, Turkey, and Ukraine.
“There were many languages, customs, and educational and religious backgrounds,” observes Brother Sorensen, “but all these young adults had a common bond in wanting to know more about their Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ. As we got to know them and their personal dreams and challenges, it was easy to look at each one as a child of God. It was plain to see that God answered their prayers and guided their steps, showing His great love for them.”
President Armand Johansen of the Norway Oslo Mission feels that the young adults are being guided to the center for a purpose, including being trained for responsibilities in the future. “The Church in Norway is going to become more and more diverse,” he says. “The centers help the young adults know how to deal with that, to recognize how important the Church is as the common bonding element of all cultures and people,” says President Johansen. “I see the centers as great unifiers, places where you find a lowering of social barriers and biases.”
Barbara Matovu remembers the first time the missionaries brought her to the center for an activity to meet other young single adults. She thought she knew what to expect.
“Throughout my life I’ve always had a group that I belonged to,” explains Barbara. “And the groups were always stamped with something—you were the sporty group or the international group or some other group. So when people started coming into the center, it was so strange because no one seemed to have the attitude of ‘I’m in the popular group, so I can’t talk to you.’
“At first, I thought, ‘Are they acting? Is this a show?’ But after a while I realized it actually doesn’t matter who we are or where we come from or which language we speak. The love of our Heavenly Father is for everyone. Usually it takes me a bit of time to find my group, but this time I felt like I didn’t need a group. I was just Barbara, and I could be Barbara for everybody.”
Elisabeth Olsen says she feels humbled to see her place in her heavenly family. “When you meet people from a different culture or society, it’s so easy to label them. I’ve learned to open up my eyes more and to see people through the eyes of Christ,” she says. “At the center we all have different cultural backgrounds, but we all have one thing in common: we want to be with Jesus Christ and God again.”
Some might be wary of the idea of unity because they think it must come at the cost of sacrificing individuality. “A lot of people are scared of religion because they think that it makes us all the same, because we live by the same commandments,” explains Elisabeth. “But that’s not how it is at all. God made us all individuals. We may have the same beliefs, but we have different qualities and gifts, and that’s what makes us individuals. God wants us all to be different because we all have different missions.”
Sam Basnet has also fielded concerns from friends who believe religious rules are restrictive. “One friend told me, ‘If you go to church, you have to follow the rules of others,’” he reports. But Sam follows the standards of the Church because he has prayerfully sought personal revelation to confirm his actions.
And it’s by individually speaking to His children that God is unifying them, explains Sam. “God says that all nations and all tongues will worship Him” (see Mosiah 27:31), he says. “By meeting different people, I learn to appreciate different cultures. But experiencing such diversity also makes me feel that, yes, God has a great plan to unite us in peace.”
As much as these young adults appreciate the power of gathering to a center for young adults, these future leaders of the Church understand that it’s just the beginning. As Elder David A. Bednar of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught, one of the most important gathering places is the temple.1
Sam has prepared to enter the house of the Lord by surrounding himself with good friends at the center. “By getting to know people from so many different places, it has helped me to feel positive about the world,” he says. “I want to be a good example for my friends, and this has made me more fit for God and more fit to enter His temple.”
One month after her baptism, Barbara first started thinking about attending the temple while she was at a family home evening lesson at the center. After the lesson, she started asking questions.
“Having friends who understood what the temple meant for them helped me understand what the temple might mean for me. As they explained to me about the temple, I felt the Holy Spirit,” Barbara recalls. “I realized that all the places I’d been thinking about getting married—a nice church or the beach—couldn’t even be compared to the temple. From that moment the temple was no longer just a building. It was something I wanted to look forward to and a place to one day enter with my future husband.”
Elisabeth has also included the temple as one of her most important goals. “Whenever I get to travel to a temple, I just smile like I won a million dollars,” she says. “I know that God wants everyone to go there and receive all the blessings and gifts He has in store for us. Going to the temple and being temple worthy are true success. I can enter the temple and be the closest to God—the closest to home—as I can get on this earth.”
The celestial kingdom is, of course, the ultimate gathering place, one where Barbara doesn’t want any empty seats. “Christ says that it is only through Him that we can come to Heavenly Father, but He also says that one of the biggest things we can do in life is to serve one another [see John 21:15–17]. And serving one another is helping somebody come home to Heavenly Father, because you don’t want to go alone.”

“Anchored by Faith and Commitment,” page 30: Elder M. Russell Ballard tells about his great-grandfather who was offered a life of ease if he would leave the Church. He refused and chose instead to make the difficult trek to Salt Lake City, arriving ragged and destitute but true to his testimony. What are you willing to give up for your faith? Is there anything you would not be willing to sacrifice if the Lord required it?

Our experience in Rome actually began back in January when as companions, Elder David A. Bednar and I, with our wives, were assigned to go to Rome for a press conference, media open house, and tours with dignitaries. This is the first day of the press conference. In the yellow chairs are Elder Massimo De Feo, our Italian General Authority; Elder Bednar; and me. Many members of the press came from not only Italy, but throughout Europe and around the world.

One of the reporters asked, “Can you tell us what this temple in Rome means to the members of your Church in Italy?” Elder Bednar and I turned to Elder De Feo, our General Authority from Italy, to answer that question. With tears flowing down his face, Elder De Feo said, “Just 25 years ago my family and I were meeting in a garage, here in Rome, for our Sunday Church meetings. So can you imagine, ladies and gentlemen, brothers and sisters, what it means for us to have this beautiful temple and visitors’ center built here?”

Thankfully, as you all know, temples are built by the faithful tithes of the members of the Church. As you are faithful tithe payers, you contribute to temples, like this one in Rome, being built all over the world.

“Mom!” Amy yelled. “Garrett hit me! Make him stop!”
“She started it!” Garrett yelled back. “Make her stop!”
“Kids, kids!” Mom said. “Time for the get-along bucket. Garrett, will you get it?”
Garrett frowned at Amy. But he brought the small plastic bucket to Mom.
“Thanks,” Mom said. “Amy, you pick.” The bucket had slips of paper inside. They had to pick one. Then do what it said. Together.
Garrett hoped they got something fun. Last time they had to wash a window together.
Amy closed her eyes. She pulled a paper from the bucket. “Play in the sandbox together.”
Garrett grinned. That sounded fun! He followed Amy outside.
They got to the sandbox. Amy grabbed a stick. She drew a line down the middle of the sand. “Stay on that side,” she said.
“OK,” Garrett said. He used a little shovel to dig some holes. He pushed some toy trucks around. He didn’t say anything.
A minute went by. He looked at Amy. She was poking holes in the sand with the stick.
“Hey,” Garrett said. “Want to dig a huge hole together?”
“OK!” Amy said.
Garrett handed her a shovel. Together they started digging. Garrett used his dump truck to move sand. Soon they made a big hole! They pretended it was a tunnel to the other side of the world.
“Remember when we washed the window together?” Amy asked. “That was fun too.”
Garrett remembered how they made smiley faces on the glass. Then they washed them off.
“Yeah,” he said. “That was fun. Maybe tomorrow we can play together—without the get-along bucket!”