Gospel Story Finder

One day my older brother, Lynn, came hurrying home from high school basketball practice, bringing a teammate with him. Upon entering the house, both made a dash for the kitchen to satisfy their hungry appetites. My brother’s friend loudly described his feeling of hunger by using a few vulgar and profane words to accent his anxious mood. Lynn quickly, quietly, but firmly said, “Hey, don’t talk like that. My little brothers might hear you. I don’t want them to learn words like that. Besides, they might think less of you than they ought to.”

Unknown to my brother, my friend and I did hear that conversation, but the profane words were quickly erased from my mind by the thoughtful concern and courage shown by my older brother. That experience made a positive, lasting impression on my young mind. At the risk of sacrificing a friendship, his kindly chastisement of his friend taught me a lesson of love and concern for others and of courage to uphold the right.

To illustrate our Lord’s power of deliverance, I want to share with you a modern-day ­deliverance story—the story of a miracle. We often use the term miracle casually, but today I mean miracle in the strictest sense of the word: in the Moses-parting-the-Red-Sea sense of the word. I share this story because it gives me hope and reminds me that there is a God in Israel, there is One Who Is Mighty to Save. I share it because what the Lord did in Bolivia in 2003 on behalf of a dozen or so missionaries was miraculous, and it gives me hope that He will do the same for you and for me.

I share this story with the permission of my parents—who were serving as mission leaders of the Bolivia La Paz Mission at the time—and of Brooke Porter—a young sister missionary who served with them. This story is movie worthy.

In October 2003, Bolivia was experiencing a period of significant civil unrest that is now known as the Bolivian Gas War. People were upset about the government’s policies regarding the use of their natural resources—oil and gas in particular. The details of this conflict are beyond the scope of my message today, but suffice it to say that the label of war is appropriate. The conflict turned bloody and resulted in the deaths of more than seventy people, with hundreds more wounded.

One of the goals of the protesters was to shut down all transportation in the cities of El Alto and La Paz—cities that are located about twelve miles apart. To accomplish their goal, the protesters erected barricades and scattered broken glass in the streets to limit transportation inside of and between the two cities. Their leaders vowed that no goods, including fuel, would come in or out of the cities.

Violence soon broke out, and the government responded by declaring martial law. A dozen or so missionaries in El Alto were trapped and needed to get out. Sister Brooke Porter, a missionary serving in El Alto at the time, described the situation in her journal as follows:

Today is Sunday, and it has been the longest day ever. The whole afternoon we heard machine guns going off, and they seemed very close. We could hear dynamite blowing things up and ambulances by the dozens coming in. . . . It is very scary, and I just want to get out of here.

The news reported that three thousand miners from the rural areas of the country were on their way to El Alto armed with dynamite to reinforce the protesters. The danger was real and getting worse by the hour; it was clear that the missionaries needed to get out of El Alto and into the safety of the mission home in La Paz.

But there were two massive problems.

First, the two mission vehicles each had less than one-fourth of a tank of gas—not enough to pick up all the missionaries. Furthermore, the news had reported that no gasoline had entered the city of La Paz for the past five days.

Second, both my parents and their car would be targets for the protesters—my parents because they were foreigners with possible ties to the U.S. government and their large white Toyota vehicle because that vehicle was commonly used by government officials.

It was in this context that very early in the morning my father—after a night spent almost entirely in prayer—received the following impression: “Leave now and you will find gas.” Now this was a particularly tricky endeavor because in order to find gas, they would need to use gas.

With this risk in mind, my dad turned to my mom and said, “We must leave right now if we want to find gas.”

Without a word she jumped up from bed. Off they went, like Nephi, “not knowing beforehand the things which [they] should do.”

My parents recorded the following in their journal:

After a time, we came across a parked car with two men in it. We stopped and asked, “Do you know where we can find gas?” The men simply told us to drive another block and look left. We followed their advice, and when we looked down the street, we saw a gasoline tanker driving slowly.

My parents followed the tanker to a gas station and filled up their car to about half a tank, limited by a quota imposed by the station. They then called the assistants and told them to leave that minute to try to find gas for the other vehicle. The assistants were also successful and were able to fill up their car to half a tank. Both gas stations closed soon thereafter, having run out of their limited supply of fuel. But both mission vehicles now had enough gas.

The stage was now set for the evacuation of the missionaries. Because the missionaries were scattered throughout El Alto in their various areas, different rendezvous points were determined as pickup locations; however, getting to each of the pickup locations required the missionaries to leave the safety of their apartments and walk the dangerous streets of El Alto.

Sister Porter recorded the following:

President Drake said that we were going to leave that afternoon. I knelt down in that adobe, closet-sized room and prayed harder than I had ever prayed before.

We left around 4:30 p.m. . . . I was scared to be walking down the main street because there were so many people. Luckily no one did anything to me. I have never felt so protected, though, in my entire life. With each step I took, I felt more and more invisible. I am amazed at the safety and protection we had in making it to the bishop’s house.

Now I do not have time to share all the amazing stories that happened to get each missionary out, but I will share one.

During one of the evacuations, my father and his assistant needed to drive on a very dangerous six-mile stretch of highway between La Paz and El Alto. As they approached the highway, they noticed an enormous convoy entering the highway ahead of them. This convoy consisted of military and police vehicles, including troop carriers with armed soldiers. To my father and his assistant’s surprise, they also noticed that many of the vehicles in the convoy were large and white, and a fair number of them were Toyotas. My father recorded that without being invited, they “slipped in behind the lead troop carrier. No one said a thing. We looked very official in our big white car.”

They had thought that driving a very conspicuous big white Toyota would be a dangerous weakness. But instead it turned out to be precisely the vehicle they needed to drive to be inconspicuous within the convoy.

What they didn’t know at the time was that they were now part of the military convoy evacuating the president of Bolivia and his family out of the city of La Paz to the airport in El Alto.

This powerful military escort was not only protecting the president of the country of Bolivia but was also protecting the president of the Bolivia La Paz Mission.

My father and his assistant drove inside the convoy for as long as possible and then proceeded to the rendezvous point. When they arrived, they found a group of armed soldiers standing there, and in the midst of these soldiers they found five very anxious missionaries. My dad hugged each of the soldiers, who explained that when they had seen the missionaries in such a dangerous location, they knew they had to protect them.

Miraculously, every missionary was safely evacuated that day.

The second day of hiking began with another vertical climb. Alana, a small, first-year Beehive, bounded up the steep wall like a mountain goat. A half mile farther down the trail three whistle blasts pierced the air. An emergency! Rochelle was sitting, white-faced, by the side of the path. She had suffered a bad bronchitis attack.
“Let’s split up her pack.”
“What can I carry?”
Concerned girls swarmed about the pack until all the gear was gone. When the last groups reached the scene, Rochelle was shivering in her sleeping bag. Brother Woolley later recalled, “When I first saw Rochelle, I didn’t see how she could travel any farther. But she was given a blessing and immediately stood up, put on her pack, and was fine the rest of the day.”

And as a mother, I remember worrying about a young adult child who was doing things that I knew were not going to make that child happy. We had agreed to discuss the concern and had set a time to talk. Before the appointed time for our phone call, I had my lecture ready; I knew exactly what I was going to say. I prayed to have the Spirit with me. What came out of my mouth from the beginning of our conversation and throughout the call was completely different than what I had planned to say. But it was exactly what that child needed. The gift of the Holy Ghost made it possible for hearts to be softened and a better solution identified. That is a demonstration of how priesthood power works in our lives.

On 21 May 1853, sixteen-year-old Rosa Clara Friedlander married Charles Joseph Gordon Loge, a recent convert, in the Scots Church. The Reverend James Fullerton performed the ceremony because Latter-day Saint elders were not then approved to perform marriages in Australia; but the new mission president, Elder Augustus Farnham, and another of Rosa Clara’s Latter-day Saint friends, Mary Ann Gingell, attended the ceremony and signed the register as witnesses. “Attended the wedding of Brother Loge and Sister Rose Friedlander at Parson Fullerton’s,” wrote President Farnham in his journal. “Returned to Brother Gingell’s and married them over again. Spent the evening very happily … in good spirits, peace and harmony.”

The sun hung low after a warm summer day in Pacheco, in the Latter-day Saint colonies in Mexico. As five-year-old Mae and two-year-old Wasel played outside, they could smell smoke wafting from adobe chimneys and open fires. Supper would be ready soon. Sure enough, Mama called, “Mae! Wasel! Go wash up.” The girls quickly obeyed and went inside to eat.
After supper, Mama said, “Come, little Wasel.” Every night Wasel went with Mama and Papa to herd the cows. Mae and baby David stayed home with Aunt Hattie. Wasel loved this time alone with her parents. She was so excited that she ran outside still clutching her dinner spoon.
“I don’t think Wasel should come with us tonight. We have to care for some horses, and it may be too far for her to walk,” Papa said.
Mama nodded. “Wasel, Mama and Papa are going on a long walk tonight. Take that spoon back to the house and give it to Aunt Hattie. Then you can play with the other children, and tomorrow you can come with us to get the cows.”
Wasel just stood there, holding her spoon. She didn’t want to go back to the house.
“Run along now,” Mama said. Wasel turned and ran toward the house, but when her parents were out of sight, she put her spoon near the door and decided to go get the cows after all. She knew the way to the pasture. But she didn’t know that her parents hadn’t gone straight there.
The shadows grew long as the sun sank lower. Wasel walked and walked, through fields and corn patches. Wolves howled in the distance. Wasel came to a marshy area and walked there for a long time. She liked to feel the mud squishing between her bare toes.
When Mama and Papa returned from the cow pasture, Mama went inside to put the children to bed, and Papa went to the barn to take care of the animals.
“Hattie, where is Wasel?” Mama asked.
Aunt Hattie froze. “Wasn’t she with you?”
“Yes, but we sent her back here.”
“Well, I haven’t seen her!” Aunt Hattie exclaimed.
Mama and Aunt Hattie called for Wasel and searched in all the rooms and in the yard. Then Mama ran to the barn.
“Wasel isn’t here. I’m going to look for her,” she told Papa.
“She’s probably asleep somewhere,” Papa said. “I’ll look in the house.”
Mama knew that Wasel wasn’t in the house. She ran to the river and the cornfield calling, “Wasel! Wasel! Can you hear me, Wasel?” There was no answer, so she returned to the house.
“I think we need help,” Papa said.
Just then, Aunt Hattie pointed out the window. “Look! It’s Brother Carroll.”
Papa ran outside and stopped him. “Wasel is lost,” he explained.
“I’m on my way to the church for a meeting,” Brother Carroll said. “I’ll tell everyone that you need help looking for her.”
When Brother Carroll told Bishop Hardy that Wasel was lost, Bishop Hardy dismissed the meeting and asked the brethren to go search for her.
As everyone searched under the beds, in the outbuildings, and through the house, Mama began to fear for Wasel’s life. “We are wasting time looking for her here. We have already done that, and I know she’s not here!” she cried.
Wasel’s grandpa gathered the men together. “Let’s divide into small groups and circle the area,” he said. “Whoever finds her will return here and fire a gun five times to signal the rest of us.”
One group went with the bishop. They followed the road toward the cow pasture.
“Look, Bishop!” someone shouted. “Little footprints.”
The men held their lanterns high and carefully followed the footprints until they reached the marsh. The ground was too moist there to hold any tracks.
Bishop Hardy instructed the men to kneel on the soggy ground. Then he prayed for Wasel’s safety and for guidance to find her.
With teary eyes, Bishop Hardy rose. He thought he heard something and paused to listen. There, very faintly—yes! He could hear her! The others strained but heard nothing. “She’s calling for her mama!” he exclaimed.
Bishop Hardy ran toward the sound he heard so clearly. He stopped occasionally to listen—“Mama!”—and hurried on. He ran through fields and over hills for nearly two miles (3 km). He found himself in a rugged canyon, the moonlight falling softly around him. Then, suddenly, he saw Wasel walking wearily along the mountainside. Bishop Hardy ran to her and gathered her into his arms. “Mama,” Wasel whispered as she fell asleep.
The bishop carried Wasel back to the house as quickly as he could go. Mama took Wasel in her arms, and tears of joy flowed freely from her eyes. She offered a silent prayer of thanks to Heavenly Father for bringing little Wasel home safely.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bishop Hardy fired the gun with joy. When Papa arrived, he hugged his wife and daughter, weeping with gratitude. Then everyone knelt in a circle, and Bishop Hardy thanked the Lord for protecting Wasel. He knew that he couldn’t have heard her soft cries on his own. But the Lord was watching over Wasel and had helped him to find her.

Now may I make a personal reference, which I’ll try to treat in such a way as to preserve the confidentiality. It involved a beautiful, young wife and mother from a prominent family. She had gone away from her home and was now in the East. She had gone out into an area where she and her husband had taken up with those in the ghetto, and she wrote me a rather interesting letter, and I quote only a paragraph: “Tomorrow my husband will shave off his long, full beard. Because of the request of the stake president and your direction in the Priesthood Bulletin, he must not have the appearance of evil or rebellion if he is to get a recommend to go to the temple. I have wept anguished tears; the faces of Moses and Jacob were bearded, and to me the wisdom and spirituality of the old prophets reflected from the face of my own spiritual husband. It was like cutting out for me a symbol of the good things my generation has learned.” Then the letter concluded with a challenge to me: “We are prepared for clear, specific, hard-line direction as youth. Wishy-washy implications are not heard very well here. We look to you to tell it straight.”

I don’t know whether she knew just what she was asking for when she asked me to tell it straight, but these are some things I wrote to her: “In your letter you address me as ‘Dear President Lee,’ and in your first sentence you refer to me as the Lord’s prophet. Now, in your letter you tell me that you are saddened because with the shaving off of the beard and the cutting of the hair, which, to you, made your husband appear as the prophets Moses and Jacob, he would no longer bear that resemblance. I wonder if you might not be wiser to think of following the appearance of the prophets of today. President David O. McKay had no beard or long hair; neither did President Joseph Fielding Smith; and neither does your humble servant whom you have acknowledged as the Lord’s prophet.

“The inconsistency in your letter has made me reflect upon an experience that I had in the mission field when, in company with some missionaries and the mission president, we were at Carthage Jail, where the martyrdom of the Prophet Joseph and his brother, Hyrum, took place. In that meeting there were recounted the events that led up to their martyrdom. Then the mission president made some significant comments. He said, ‘When the Prophet Joseph Smith died there were many who died spiritually with Joseph.’ Likewise there were many who died spiritually with Brigham Young, and so with others of the presidents of the Church, because they chose to follow the man who had passed on, rather than giving allegiance to his successor upon whom the mantle of leadership had been given by the Lord’s appointment.” And then I asked her, “Are you following, in looks, prophets who lived hundreds of years ago? Are you really true to your faith as a member of the Church in failing to look to those who preside in the Church today? Why is it that you want your husband to look like Moses and Jacob, rather than to look like the modern prophets to whom you are expressing allegiance? If you will give this sober thought, your tears will dry, and you’ll begin to have some new thoughts.”

My final advice to you lovely girls who are present, perhaps likewise struggling for answers to difficult questions: Accept this word of counsel and apply it to yourselves, you girls, and you young men. Keep your eye upon those who preside in the Church today, or tomorrow, and pattern your life after them rather than to dwell upon how ancient prophets may have looked or thought or spoken, because if you really believe what you say, you will honor the one who presides today as a prophet, seer, and revelator. For the Lord gives to his leaders in their own dispensation and their own time the things that he would have given to his church for the guidance of his people in this present day. This is the thing that makes this church strong. God isn’t an absentee father. Jesus is the head of this church. This church is founded upon apostles and prophets, but Jesus Christ, the Savior of the world, is the chief cornerstone. He reveals his mind and will by the power of the Holy Ghost to those who preside, as each President of the Church can testify. Today we see the evidence of His direction as we are seeing His work going forward day by day in our time. Well, that letter seemed to bear fruit, because I had another letter from this sweet sister. She said something that pleased me: “I recall the trials of last week basically being a challenge to my sense of individuality. I have a finer understanding of others now. I also see that, like the Council of the Twelve, we may have individual viewpoints, but each is necessary in the deliberation. Yet by our decision through the mediating and truthful power of the Holy Ghost, we will become of one mind without force. Again I feel refreshed in the blessings which always follow difficulties. I’ve pondered on these experiences and wonder why I felt pressed to share them only with you. I trust you will know. We all long to counsel with a wise man and take comfort in the Lord. Perhaps I wrote my prayer.”

And then she said something that thrilled me, “God bless you, President Lee, that your voice may be heard above the chaos of these days.”

Shortly before our wedding, forty years ago, Valérie and I experienced something we will never forget. We were briefly taken hostage during an armed robbery attempt near Paris, France.

We had just pulled into in the parking lot of a local post office when, suddenly, a car blocked our way. Four men armed with sawed-off shotguns came over and forced us out of our vehicle.

Within moments, we were lying face down on the ground, our heads pressed into the grass, with a gun pointed at us while the gangsters attempted to break into the post office. What felt like an eternity passed. Fortunately, they were unable to force their way inside and eventually fled. Valérie and I were left shaken—but safe.

I have often reflected on this key moment, when our lives seemed to hang by a thread. What was going through my mind?

My thoughts and all my energy were focused on one thing: our temple sealing that was just a few months away. During those long minutes, I pleaded with God to spare our lives so that we could be united in His Holy House and sealed together for eternity—that nothing would ever separate us.

I realized more than ever the truth that President M. Russell Ballard taught when he said: “What matters most is what lasts longest.” [9]

“Listening to the Spirit becomes essential as you go home teaching or visiting teaching,” says Jack Cook, a high councilor in the College Station Texas Stake. “We have a high priests group leader and his companion who were visiting a single mother and her daughter. The family was active but talked of feeling spiritually ‘empty.’ There was just not a lot of spiritual movement.
“While visiting one day, this man felt prompted to suggest that this sister might consider attending the temple. Her eyes lit up. She’d never considered the possibility.
“With attending the temple in mind, she set goals, made progress, and grew tremendously,” Brother Cook says. “The day she attended the temple she was ecstatic. Her home teacher had listened to the Spirit and made a difference in her life.”

There are positive examples of the same principle. I recall a story told by Elder Harold B. Lee in a devotional address here at BYU 52 years ago last month. (Incidentally, I was a student at BYU that year—1952.) His story has had a significant impact on me for several reasons. I quote Elder Lee:
I was around ten or eleven years of age. I was with my father out on a farm away from our home, trying to spend the day busying myself until my father was ready to go home. Over the fence from our place were some tumbledown sheds that would attract a curious boy, and I was adventurous. I started to climb through the fence, and I heard a voice as clearly as you are hearing mine, calling me by name and saying, “Don’t go over there!” I turned to look at my father to see if he were talking to me, but he was way up at the other end of the field. There was no person in sight. I realized then, as a child, that there were persons beyond my sight, for I had definitely heard a voice. Since then, when I hear or read stories of the Prophet Joseph Smith, I too have known what it means to hear a voice, because I’ve had the experience. [In Harold B. Lee, Stand Ye in Holy Places (Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 1975), 139]
Consider some of the effects of that experience. First, it taught the reality of revelation to a young boy who was to become a prophet. Second, it may have protected young Harold from some hidden danger in those old sheds. That was the way I interpreted the story for many years, and perhaps that is true. We will never know. But perhaps the warning he heard was not to protect him from danger. Perhaps it was to test his willingness to be obedient to heavenly guidance. Surely he passed the test, and where did that lead? It kept the channel of revelation open for further guidance, and it was a formative experience in the life of one of our greatest teachers. Following an impression may seem a small thing now, but where it leads can be immensely important.

A few months after I returned home from my mission, someone who I knew well and who was older and more educated than I was at the time took me aside and tried for hours to fill me with doubts about my faith. The experience left me in a place of spiritual darkness for a period. Though I felt as if I were in a spiritual cloud, I continued my habit of reading the Book of Mormon and praying daily. Though I was struggling spiritually, it didn’t feel right to me to stop these daily habits—even if during this period it was harder to feel heaven’s light—because I knew they had brought answers and blessings to me in the past.

A few weeks after this experience, while reading the Book of Mormon, I had a strong impression to open my mission journal and read some of my mission experiences. This had a profound impact on me during this difficult time. I read about multiple experiences when I had felt enveloped in God’s love during especially difficult times; when I had experienced significant increases in my ability to learn the language of Cantonese; when I had had impressions about where to go and what to say that proved to be inspired after the fact; when I had felt an overwhelming calmness while being threatened with danger; and when I had experienced the powerful spiritual light that flooded the room each time my companion and I testified of the First Vision.

As I read through my record of these past experiences, I felt the spiritual cloud begin to lift. The cumulative effect of reliving these very real experiences was resounding evidence of the hand of a loving God in my life. Great peace and clarity returned as the power of my own witness from my own experiences reaffirmed the truth of the restored gospel as I allowed the Spirit to teach me from what Elder Neal A. Maxwell called “the pulpit of memory.”15

Several years ago I had lunch with a young man who was a student in my department here on campus—one whom I had taught in a graduate-level class. With his permission I would like to share with you his remarkable story.
John was born healthy but developed bone cancer in his leg when he was only 11 years old. He underwent some of the early chemotherapy and radiation treatments. The cancer in his leg was successfully treated, but the medication used in the chemotherapy attacked his heart and resulted in a disease called cardiomyopathy. Such chemotherapy procedures today avoid the onset of this disease with frequent heart biopsies during the treatment. Unfortunately, these were not performed routinely when John was treated.
In this condition the muscles in his heart slowly deteriorated. Despite his weakened heart, John lived an active life, even becoming an Eagle Scout. By age 19 his heart had weakened seriously; nonetheless, against the recommendation of his doctors, John submitted his application to serve a full-time mission. His cardiologist advised against a mission, but, on seeing John’s determination to serve, suggested that he request a mission close to home. The doctor candidly warned him and his parents that his last years of life might be spent there. John accepted a call to the California Oakland Mission. At the time, being among those who were called to serve for 18 months, he prayerfully extended his mission service to 24 months when given the opportunity.
After his honorable mission teaching Cambodian refugees, John returned to BYU to study mechanical engineering. When he was 25 the muscle decay in his heart became so severe that his doctor indicated a heart transplant was the only option. After careful screening, John was placed on the eligible organ transplant recipient list at the University of Utah, and he waited for word of organ availability with an electronic pager at his side 24 hours a day. His family moved temporarily from California to Bountiful to be near the hospital. After nearly two months John was notified that a donor heart had become available, and he went immediately to the hospital for the transplant. In a surgical procedure that lasted only 87 minutes, John’s diseased heart was taken from his body and replaced by the healthy heart of a young automobile accident victim whose family’s unselfishness made critical transplants of several body organs possible all across the country. Incidentally, the heart transplant donor was female, and John used to joke that his transplant might be the only way he could “capture the heart of a woman.” After two weeks of hospital recuperation and nearly six months of required recuperation near the hospital, he returned to BYU to complete his studies.
I was then and still am amazed at the miracle of John’s story. Sitting beside him in the cafeteria, I was astonished to realize that I was talking to a young man whose heart had been taken from his body, and the heart of another was beating in its place. After his transplant John resumed a full, active life with participation in Men’s Chorus, an election as president of the student section of the national professional society to which he belonged, and Church service. He completed a master’s degree and was married in the temple in August 1992.
I’m quite sure John appreciates mortality more than perhaps most do. And he recognizes that his routine will never be the same. For the rest of his life he will face frequent visits to the doctor, careful oversight of his physical activity, and a daily regimen of medication to prevent his body from rejecting his borrowed heart. His heart transplant, however, has made it possible for him to escape what the doctors promised would be certain early death.

Melissa looked out the car window, hoping she would be the first one to spot the tall white temple spire. “I love to see the temple. I’m going there … today!” she sang. Finally it was the day she had been waiting for.
“Do you remember how you felt when you became part of our family a year ago?” Dad asked.
Melissa thought for a minute. “I was a little bit scared,” she said. “I had already lived with another foster family, and it’s hard to make changes.”
“We were nervous too,” Mom said. “We knew it was the right thing to become your new foster family, but we weren’t sure how things would turn out.”
“You fit right in, though,” Dad said. “Deciding to adopt you was easy.”
“We’re so grateful that Heavenly Father has blessed us to have you in our family,” Mom said. “Today you will be sealed to us for eternity.”
Melissa was excited and also a little nervous. She didn’t understand everything about the temple. But she knew that the temple was the house of God, and she was happy to become part of a forever family. Sometimes she wondered why she wasn’t just born into this family in the first place.
“There’s the temple!” Melissa and her three brothers called out as the car rounded the corner. In front of them, the statue of angel Moroni rose up through the trees against the bright blue sky.
Inside the temple Melissa and her brothers put on white clothes. Melissa loved her pretty white dress with lace on the front. Then one of the ladies who worked in the temple took them to a room that was just for children. They quietly played a game while they waited.
Then it was time for the sealing!
Melissa and her brothers walked with a temple worker through the halls of the temple. Finally they came to a beautiful room. Melissa gazed at the crystal chandelier in the center of the room and the large mirrors facing each other on two of the walls.
Then Melissa saw her mom and dad waiting for them. Mom’s eyes were sparkling, and Dad’s grin spread across his face.
“You look like an angel,” Mom whispered to Melissa.
“So do you,” Melissa whispered back. She felt reverence, sacredness, and love.
Melissa was invited to kneel at the altar with Mom and Dad. She was then sealed to her parents as part of an eternal family through the power of the priesthood—they could now be together forever and ever.
Melissa couldn’t stop smiling. She was filled with so much joy that she thought she might burst!
Melissa hugged her family tight as they all stood in front of the two mirrors. They could see themselves reflected over and over as far as they could see.
She thought about how she and her family would be together, now and for eternity. She felt love wrapped around her like a warm blanket.
“Thank you, Heavenly Father,” Melissa whispered.

The “bus sisters” who come all the way from Utah to be in pageant are almost a legend. This year, six buses started out from Salt Lake City. Only three hours later one bus broke down, which meant a crowding of the girls all the way to Palmyra. It warmed my heart to learn of the pioneer stoicism and fortitude these girls displayed. “Rest stops would take two hours,” said bright-eyed Nancy Cox from the Lynwood (Oregon) Ward. “It was really crowded on the bus until someone finally bought some little kids’ chairs to sit on in the aisles.” What did they do to relieve the monotony and keep discouragement at a minimum? “We sang a lot and prayed. I feel very close to all the girls on my bus,” said Nancy. No doubt “Come, Come, Ye Saints,” with its trek-to-Salt Lake origin, was a favorite.

Some years ago, as our youngest son, Clark, was approaching his twelfth birthday, he and I were leaving the Church Administration Building when President Harold B. Lee approached and greeted us. I mentioned to President Lee that Clark would soon be twelve, whereupon President Lee turned to him and asked, “What happens to you when you turn twelve?”
Clark, without hesitation, said to President Lee, “I will be ordained a deacon!”
That was the answer President Lee had sought. He then counseled our son, “Remember, it is a great blessing to hold the priesthood.”

On 24 March 2024, the Notse Branch was organized. Presiding at the creation of the branch was President Kelvar J Lundeen of the Benin Cotonou Mission, assisted by his counselor, Comlan Amegandji. Attending the meeting was the king’s special representative, Togbe Afanwubo III, who helped make the branch creation possible.
Following the organization of the branch, brother Kodjo Pascal Adokou was called and set apart by the mission president as president of the Notsé Branch. The saints in Notsé then witnessed the ordination of their very first Melchizedek Priesthood holders. Brother Thimothée Atchavi was first ordained an elder and was followed by brother Fovi Kedagni. These brothers were then called and set apart as the first and second counselors in the branch presidency. “A new page in the history of the Church in Togo is being written with the creation of this Notse Branch,” noted President Amegandji.
“March is a period full of blessings to me. A baby boy was given to me at the beginning of the month, we got a building for our brothers and sisters in Notsé and now we’ve become a branch! God is always on my side!” exclaimed President Adokou.
Isaac Valentin, a friend of the Church attending the meeting said, “It’s a good thing to know that this Church that I have visited as a young boy in Lome is now available in Notsé. We are not going to stop participating after the branch creation ceremony, but we will keep on coming to the church until we become a full-time member.”
Despite the blazing sun and intense 35°C heat of the day, all participants in the ceremony stayed until the group photo. President Lundeen and his counselor spent time teaching the new presidency how to lead in the Lord’s way. With joy and fellowship, the members, friends, and missionaries departed, leaving with eager hearts to meet again on Sunday for a sacrament meeting with the newly called leaders.

Masha’s mother, Ludmila, works long hours Monday through Saturday in a shop downtown. She recently got this new job so she doesn’t have to work on Sundays. Ever since her baptism three years ago, she has been Relief Society president. Masha is learning a lot from her about service.

“When we find out somebody needs help,” says Sister Zemskova, “all the sisters in the branch help as much as they can.” One young mother whose husband has to work on Sundays found it difficult to get her two baby girls to church on her own. On many Sunday mornings, Masha and her mother help her get the children ready and to church. Masha plays with the babies at times so their mother can rest.

During the first semester of my law school training, I learned a legal principle that helped me better understand how our actions affect our ability to receive the blessings Heavenly Father desires for us.

My contracts class was taught by a distinguished professor who was very kind and gracious—when he was not in the classroom. In class, he was a master at teaching using the Socratic method—a method of teaching that involves asking probing questions in a way intended to develop critical thinking. My professor was so skilled that he seemed like the lawyers described by Amulek, who “by their cunning devices . . . might catch them in their words.” [11]

For most class periods we were assigned to read three legal decisions or cases. During class, a student was called upon to summarize the facts of the case and then describe the legal principles of contract law that the cases established. The unfortunate student was then subject to the professor’s probing, twisting questions that followed. It was almost always a very humbling experience. The first time I was called upon, the cases dealt with a principle of contract law known as unilateral acceptance. As a result, I have never forgotten that principle.

Another man attended a stake leadership meeting where the congregation was challenged to double their fast offerings; they were promised that their incomes would increase if they would do so. As this brother reported,
“I went home and discussed this promise with my wife. We were already paying a lot of fast offerings. We were willing to double the amount but did not want to do it for a selfish purpose. After prayer and consideration we decided to double our fast offerings. Not long after this, unexpected opportunities started coming to me in my work. After one year my income had significantly increased! We felt this was truly a blessing from the Lord—the fulfillment of a promise given to us by one of his servants.”

Recently we had a lesson in teachers quorum, and our leader asked us, “What is a quorum?” I’d had lessons about this before, but this time I felt the Spirit telling me the message was important and I needed to listen and apply it.
We answered that a quorum is a group of priesthood holders who rely on each other and stick together. The instructor explained that quorum members have a responsibility to help and lift each other. He then showed us a video about a ward in Florida that started with just one young man who invited his friend, who then invited a friend, who then invited a cousin, etc., until there were 26 active young men in the ward.
Our instructor stopped the video and asked, “How many members of our quorum aren’t here today?” We listed six or seven. He asked if we had any idea why they weren’t at church. After we had given our answers, he asked, “Who has reached out to one of these boys to ask why he doesn’t come or to let him know we miss him?” I raised my hand, thankful that I had just had a conversation with one of these quorum members in the past week. However, it struck me that I’d had the conversation with only one quorum member—not six or seven.
Our leader continued, “A quorum helps each other out, right? So then doesn’t it make sense that we would all want to help each other to be here and to be working toward the same goal of eternal life?” I really pondered that question, and I suddenly felt a responsibility, as president of my quorum, to get my missing quorum members back to church and activities.
We decided as a quorum to focus on helping each quorum member come unto Christ. I want to help them feel the happiness of participating in the gospel because I know that it brings me so much happiness. I felt prompted to put more time and energy into helping my quorum members—that’s my duty as a priesthood holder and quorum member. I also felt strongly that, as president of the quorum, I have priesthood keys for a reason. Heavenly Father trusts me to help my brothers.
I am thankful that the Spirit spoke to me so strongly and directly during the lesson. Now I’ve committed to act on the prompting I received to be a better leader, friend, and disciple of Christ.