Gospel Story Finder

Many years ago I was in Stockton, California, and a high councilor came up to me and said, “Elder Featherstone, I’ve been impressed by what you’ve said about the family. I have a son who is 17 years old. I haven’t hugged him or told him I loved him for half of his life—not since he was eight years old. I’m going home today, and I’m going to hug him and tell him I love him.”

I was afraid he might chicken out, so I asked him to write me a letter and tell me how it went. He wrote me a letter that arrived about three days later. Essentially, he said this, “I went home after Church. My son was watching a football game. He was slouched in the big easy chair with his leg up over the arm. I walked up to him, grabbed him by the arm, pulled him out of the chair, hugged him, kissed him on the cheek, and told him I loved him for the first time in half his life.”

I read the letter as I sat in my office, and the tears ran down and splashed on the letter. Of course we love each other. Love is critical.

My husband, Abraham, and myself were born and grew up in a village here in the Northern District of Ghana. We each grew up without strong family ties and Abraham mostly roamed and raised himself in the bush. While on his own, Abraham learned many skills and developed plenty of ways to support himself. He also made many friends who love him and appreciate his kind ways and happy smile. I never had the opportunity of going to school, not even to grade one. When grown up enough, I found myself down in Accra working for a white lady keeping house and cooking; I learned much from her. After a time, I returned to Tamale and that is when I met Abraham. We decided to marry, and we quickly settled down into married life. It was not easy being newly married and living in Tamale, a hard place! After our first year of marriage the Lord blessed us with our first born, our daughter Favor. We felt SOOO favored of the Lord, and so we named her Favor. Three years later, Savior our son, joined the family. Once again, we were very blessed by God and our Savior and so we named our son Savior. We were so thankful to have him after he was delivered cesarean section because of some concern on the part of the doctors. We thank God!
The year 2014 was the year when the missionaries found us and taught us about the Church. We enjoyed learning even though we spoke no English. The Spirit testified to us both that the Church was true!
Our membership in the Church has blessed our lives so much. When we first joined the Church we could not understand, speak, or read English. We would come to church each week and we enjoyed being there, even though we did not understand English. The branch president would invite us into his office after church was over and explain to us the teachings. We were nurtured by the leaders and other Church members.
Soon we were introduced to the Church’s literacy program. The senior missionary couples were our teachers. I especially wanted to learn to read, to write, and to speak English so that I could do God’s work and also teach my family. Through the Gospel Literacy program, we can now understand, speak, read, and write English. I do not know what we would do without the couples who contributed so much to our learning, serving as our teachers, and helping us to develop self-reliance skills. Our couples were Elder and Sister Brinks, Elder and Sister Renfroe, and Elder and Sister Wight. Without these couples we would not have been able to accomplish so much, but with their help and with God’s power, we are better now!
We love serving in our branch where Abraham is the elders quorum president and I am the Relief Society president. I can give lessons now and read from the scriptures.
We love holding family home evenings with our children. We are learning from the Come, Follow Me manual and we also pray together. I read scriptures stories to them from the Book of Mormon and the Bible.
We are so happy that our family is sealed together in the temple. It made my heart happy when I read, on the outside of the temple, those holy words! When I went inside, I thought, “This is a small heaven”. I loved it!
Ministering is a big part of what we do as members. We visit and support our other members. We have many members of our branch now. They are coming!
God has blessed us too much! We are so happy to be members of the Church and as we look back at our lives and how they have changed and been blessed because of our membership in the Church, we are so grateful. Our progress has been small but now we have strong testimonies and we will never leave the Church, not ever! If you ever come to Tamale, we hope that you will visit our branch.

I have had that experience in my own family. When our children were small, my wife and I sometimes punished their disobedience by making them go to their room or sit on a chair. I remember one particular time when one of my daughters who was about four or five was sent to her room for punishment. When she started her door was closed but pretty soon I heard it quietly and slowly open. It wasn’t long before a little foot appeared in the doorway and slid carefully into the hall. After a few minutes part of a body began to appear. Gradually, she extended more and more of her body into the hall until only her hand was left in the room. She then asked, “Can I come out of my room now?” In her mind she was still in her room because her hand was there, but the rest of her had escaped. She had basically disobeyed the order to stay in her room, but was going through enough of the motion of being there that she could think that she wasn’t violating what she was told. Too often in life we are like my daughter pretending to be obeying the Lord when in reality we have left the spirit of it far behind.

I knew that studying the Book of Mormon during my final year of seminary would also fortify my testimony. As I truly studied, I felt Heavenly Father’s love for me. The stories inspired me to the point that all I wanted to do was read the Book of Mormon. I began to take the Book of Mormon to school and would read it during my free time. I also began to discuss what I was reading with my father.
One day after a long conversation with my father about the gospel, I challenged him to read all of the Book of Mormon. I testified that, like me, he could receive a testimony.
I am happy to say that my father read the Book of Mormon. When he did, he knew the Church is true and was eventually baptized! My family is now preparing to be sealed in the temple. I know that attending seminary and reading the scriptures helped me develop my own testimony, and I know that they bless families.

Orson’s desire to learn grew out of his conversion. In November 1830, just a few months after his baptism at age 19, he met Joseph Smith at the home of Peter Whitmer Sr. in Fayette, New York. As with some other new converts, Orson desired to know the Lord’s will for him, and thus he asked Joseph for a revelation. Joseph invited him “and John Whitmer to go up stairs … [where] Joseph produced a small stone called a seer stone and putting it into a Hat soon commenced speaking and asked Elder P[ratt] to write as he would speak.” But Orson was “young and timid” and had little formal education. So he asked if John could “write it and the Prophet said that he could. Then came the revelation.”2
The Lord called Orson “to lift up [his] voice as with the sound of a trump, both long and loud, and cry repentance unto a crooked and perverse generation” and promised him guidance “by the power of the Holy Ghost” (Doctrine and Covenants 34:6, 10).
The Lord’s words changed Orson’s life. Orson remembered thinking that “unless the Lord shall pour out his Spirit upon me more fully than anything I ever yet experienced assuredly this [call to cry repentance] is something I never can perform.”3 The Lord did pour out His Spirit upon Orson. Not only did he preach in domestic and foreign lands, but he also worked diligently to educate himself. Perhaps as much or more than any other Church member, Orson used the spoken and written word to tell the world of the Restoration.

I recall a young couple who were having difficulty behaving themselves when alone on a date. They worried that they might lose control themselves. But their dates continued to end up with just the two of them in some secluded spot, walking on the edge of the cliff, as it were. They repeatedly fell into the same behavior for which they had prayed for strength to overcome. The peril-filled thrill of petting had greater attraction than did the calm plans made in the light of day. Having once walked to the edge of the cliff, they kept returning readily.

Fortunately, the girl finally realized they lacked the determination to change their behavior, so she ended their dating altogether, thus escaping the final fall over the cliff.

When I was baptized, I was very excited to be a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. At the same time, I remember being extremely anxious about joining a church where I didn’t know anyone besides the missionaries who had taken their time to teach me about the restored Church and the Book of Mormon. I was living in Austria at the time. I got to know a few members in the Church but at that time I had not really made strong connections with anyone. My first Sunday as a new convert was truly blessed as the young missionary who had convinced to come to church sat by my side translating what was being said as my German was still poor. The sacrament meeting left me with so much peace in my heart as I felt an understanding of the message of the day. I was introduced to Sister Toni who smiled and sat next to me during Sunday School and Relief Society meetings.
After church she invited me to her home for lunch and I met with the rest of her family. This family became my first friends in the church, they always picked me up for church activities. Through them I began to know more and more about the gospel and every Sunday I looked forward to going to church. Other Church members were equally friendly.

“Sister Brimley, could I talk to you for a minute?” I asked after Primary.
“Of course, Sara. Let’s gather up the pictures and fold the chairs while we talk.”
I stacked the pictures, but we didn’t get to the chairs for a while.
“Lots of people must know about that lesson you gave today on giving,” I began. “And since my dad’s been out of work, people are always bringing us things. Mom and Dad get tears in their eyes when they talk about how good everyone’s been to us. But now I’d like to give someone something. You always say it’s more blessed to give than to receive. How do you think it makes me feel to always receive? I’d like to take food to someone who’s hungry, but Mom says we don’t have any extras.” I couldn’t control the tremor in my voice. “I hope I can be rich when I grow up.”
Sister Brimley sat across from me and took my hand in hers. Her eyes looked deep into mine, and she gave me her special warm smile. “Sara, you don’t have to be rich to give of yourself. Jesus wasn’t rich, and look how much He gave.”
“I’m not Jesus. I can’t do miracles to help people.”
“Will you do something for me, Sara? Will you look for one person this week who needs something you can share? Will you, like Jesus, give of yourself?” Sister Brimley continued to look me straight in the eyes. I had to say yes.
Monday at school, I looked at the other kids. They had better clothes and shoes than I did, so I couldn’t offer them mine. Anyway, I didn’t have any extras. Everyone had a lunch, so I couldn’t share my sandwich. I was afraid that the whole week would be like this and that I’d have to tell Sister Brimley that I hadn’t found anyone to help.
At afternoon recess, the spring sun warmed my back. There must have been a hundred birds singing among the tiny yellow-green leaves on the big tree in the playground. I forgot about giving and Mrs. Brimley, took a jump rope, and walked towards Maria. Maria just moved here last week, and she doesn’t speak English very well. She mostly stands by herself on the playground.
“Maria, want to jump? Like this.” I jumped a few times. Maria’s dark eyes sparkled, and the shadow of a smile tickled her bronze face. She nodded. As I swung the rope over my head, she jumped in with me. We were laughing together by the end of recess.
When the bell rang to go home, Mrs. Hansen, our teacher, put her arm around me and whispered, “Sara, thank you for playing with Maria today. That’s the first time I’ve heard her laugh since she came.”
Suddenly I understood that this was what Sister Brimley meant when she said for me to give of myself. I really did have something to give! I determined right then and there to find someone every day to share with.
The next day, I asked Maria to come with me. We went to Mrs. Smith’s house after school. She was sitting in an old chair on her front porch, rocking with her cat. I asked her if she’d like me to read her a story.
“Why, Sara, I’d love that, but I gave all my books away when my eyes got bad.”
“That’s OK. I brought one from school.” I sat on her top step with Maria and read her my favorite Dr. Seuss story. Mrs. Smith and Maria laughed until the tears rolled down their cheeks. I think it must be their favorite story too. Mrs. Smith asked if we could come again next Tuesday. This giving of yourself was wonderful. Mrs. Smith and Maria looked really happy, and I hadn’t felt this great in ages.
On Wednesday Maria and I helped Brother Swenson plant petunias. It’s hard for him to stoop that low, but Maria and I planted his whole bed in a half hour. He told us to come back in the summer and pick a bouquet for our moms.
By the weekend, I had started giving to my family. I cleaned the kitchen one evening for Mom, I played a game of checkers with Dad, and I helped my little brother, Jason, with his puzzle.
On Sunday I couldn’t wait until Primary to talk to Sister Brimley, so I met her at the chapel door. “Sister Brimley, you won’t believe this! I found six people to give of myself to this week.” I told her about each of them. “But I can’t think of anyone for today.”
Sister Brimley stooped and put her arm around me and spoke in a tiny, low voice. “You’ve already given of yourself, Sara—to me. You see, I was very, very discouraged. I felt as though I wasn’t doing a good job as a teacher. You showed me that I can make a difference. Sometimes we may need things, but often we just need people to just give of themselves, as Jesus did and as you have. I think that He must be very pleased with you.”
Both Sara and Sister Brimley felt good about themselves as they went into the chapel together.

I still remember a handsome young man with his lovely bride and their two beautiful little girls sitting with me and my missionary companion one day. The Holy Ghost came and testified to them that the gospel of Jesus Christ had been restored. They believed enough that they even asked if we could give their two little girls a blessing, as they had seen done in one of our sacrament meetings. They already had a desire for their children to be blessed, but they did not yet understand that the higher blessings would be possible only in the temples of God after they had made covenants.
I still feel pain to think of that couple and those little girls, probably now grown old, without the promise of an eternal family. Their parents had at least an inkling of the blessings that could be made available to them. My hope is that they somehow, somewhere may yet have the opportunity to qualify to be an eternal family.

My great-grandmother Ivie did not become the woman she was by living an easy life. She developed grace, endurance, grit, faith, and never-ending, constant charity by the experiences that shaped and forged her. In 1924, Ivie married Raymond Forrest Nulph. They soon welcomed their first child—my grandmother, Marcella—who was followed quickly by a son. The little family settled in Shelley, Idaho, but their happiness was short lived as Ray developed complications from being gassed in World War I. Grandma Ivie told me of the night Ray passed away. He was in the hospital and knew it was close to the end. He didn’t want Ivie to see him die, so he asked her to leave, saying, “Don’t cry and don’t look back.” She did just that and Ray passed away that night. Ivie suddenly found herself alone—a widow with two small children and a third on the way.

Ivie was devastated, but stoic, as she made the funeral arrangements and buried her husband. However, three months after Ray’s funeral, her little three-year-old Marcella woke in the night whimpering and crying from pain. In her mother’s heart, Ivie knew the cause. Marcella had polio. This was more than Ivie could bear, and she finally broke down in tears from the sorrow and fear. The polio settled in Marcella’s hip and she lost the ability to walk as her muscles deteriorated. Ivie spent many hours massaging and working Marcella’s leg to strengthen the muscles. It was a long and grueling process, but Marcella finally regained the ability to walk several months later. It was the Great Depression and times were hard, but Ivie was able to support her children through her job at the telephone company where she wore roller skates as she connected calls on the massive switchboards.

As a teenager, I sat at my great-grandmother’s feet as she told me her story and I was amazed at her resilience. When I asked her, “Grandma, how did you go on?” she responded with some surprise, “What choice did I have?” I have spent years pondering her answer and wondering if I would have the same faith and determination. Through her trials, Ivie was refined “in the furnace of affliction.”[7] And I want to be just like her.

The Lord chose Three Witnesses who would see the Book of Mormon gold plates so they could “testify to the truth of the book and the things therein” (2 Nephi 27:12). One of these witnesses was David Whitmer.
David heard about the gold plates while visiting Oliver Cowdery, who was acting as scribe as Joseph Smith translated. Oliver later wrote to David, asking if he and Joseph could stay with him and finish the translation.
David traveled 100 miles (160 km) to Pennsylvania to bring Joseph and Oliver to his parents’ home in New York. David’s interest grew as he watched Joseph translate the Book of Mormon.
Along with Oliver Cowdery and Martin Harris, David was shown the plates by an angel and heard the voice of God command them to testify of what they had seen.
Unfortunately, David left the Church a few years later and never returned, but he never denied his testimony. Near the end of his life, David wrote: “I have never at any time denied that testimony or any part thereof, which has so long since been published with [the Book of Mormon], as one of the three witnesses. Those who know me best, well know that I have always adhered to that testimony. And that no man may be misled or doubt my present views in regard to the same, I do again affirm the truth of all of my statements, as then made and published” (An Address to All Believers in Christ [1887], 8–9).

When I was little, the doctors told my parents I had selective mutism. That is an anxiety disorder that makes it hard to speak to others. I could only speak to my close family members.
I felt anxious all the time, especially if someone spoke to me. Praying always made me feel better and calmed me down. I also saw a counselor at school for help. But I felt like I was not getting better at all. I almost felt like giving up, but I kept having faith.
My eighth birthday was coming up. My parents challenged me to read the Book of Mormon and pray to help me decide whether to be baptized. Every night I prayed to ask if I should get baptized. I always got the same answer—a warm, calm feeling in my heart. I knew the Holy Ghost was telling me that baptism was the right choice.
When I was given the gift of the Holy Ghost after my baptism, I heard words of hope, love, and encouragement. I knew that the Holy Ghost would comfort me and give me courage.
I decided to try to speak to my best friend, Charlie. I tried all week, but it was so hard. But one day Charlie and I were alone in the school garden. I said a silent prayer in my head. Heavenly Father, please help me say at least one word.
Then I opened my mouth and said, “Hey, Charlie!” He was really surprised. I was so happy!
After that day, it was easier to complete more goals. Soon I was talking to pretty much everyone! I am grateful the Holy Ghost gave me the courage to talk to Charlie.

In the spring of 2020 when missionaries around the world were returning to their home countries due to the COVID-19 pandemic, three sister missionaries from the island nation of Kiribati were serving in the Barbados Bridgetown Mission. Sister Manoua Bokai left her home to travel to the missionary training center on Dec. 31, 2018, so she only had a few months left to serve. Sister Tekimatang Auria had been serving for about six months as she started serving on Sep. 10, 2019. Sister Kiakia Barekiau, who had begun her MTC training on Jan. 14, 2020, had just arrived in Barbados on March 16.
Barbados closed due to the pandemic just a day or two after Sister Barekiau arrived. She was supposed to go to the island country of Saint Lucia, but because of the closure she stayed in Barbados. As a brand-new missionary, she and her companion taught people over the phone, by Facebook messenger, by Zoom, and through WhatsApp.
Sister Auria and Sister Bokai were in Saint Lucia when the countries closed, and people were required to stay at home. “We only had a small phone, not a smart phone for a long time,” Sister Auria said. “It was hard to teach people because we could not have a Zoom meeting or any other video chat. We could not see them; we could only talk on the phone.”
In August of 2020, President Alan L. Fisher and Sister Elizabeth H. Fisher, the mission president and his companion, gathered all the missionaries in the Barbados Bridgetown Mission together in Barbados. President and Sister Fisher recalled, “We loved working with these sisters and having the opportunity of becoming very close to them during the pandemic. We believe the Lord wanted them to have this experience, learn these lessons, and have an opportunity to develop relationships with each other and their mission leaders in a way that wouldn’t have happened otherwise. One of the tender mercies we experienced was sharing in the ordinance of the sacrament with them in their apartment. We prayed, sang, and shared scriptures from the Book of Mormon. This repeated connection together brought a bond of love and strength between us and between these sweet missionaries and the Lord. He lifted them and was a constant sustaining influence.”
One of the things Sister Bokai loved best about serving in the Barbados Bridgetown Mission was teaching about the Restoration of the gospel, especially sharing the First Vision. “I know that the Spirit touches the hearts of the people. You can feel when they are receptive and listening carefully. Every time we started to teach about the First Vision, distracting things would happen—phone calls, family needing them, etc.—but Heavenly Father blessed us, and we would get through it. There is power in teaching about the First Vision because, even though I was not there, I know it really happened, I know that God the Father and Jesus Christ truly appeared to Joseph Smith.”
President and Sister Fisher commented, “One of the blessings that evolved for sisters and for us was the power of singing together to bring the Spirit into teaching sessions and into their lives. The sisters sang through Zoom to the volcano-evacuated saints in St. Vincent. They brought them such peace and hope. As we taught with them, and especially each time they recited the account of the First Vision, the Spirit was poured out upon the people they taught, as well as on us and them!”
During this time, the travel departments of both the Caribbean Area, where they were serving, and the Pacific Area, where their home country is located, were trying to figure out a way to get these sisters home. Because the missionaries travelling to the Pacific needed to fly through Fiji to reach their home countries, they needed to wait until Fiji opened its borders, which finally happened in April 2021. Travel was arranged, but because of the eruption of the La Soufrière volcano which sent clouds of ash over Barbados, the flight was cancelled.
Three weeks after the volcano, another way was found. But in order to go on those flights, the sisters needed a specific COVID-19 test record that was not available in Barbados. The decision was made to bring them to the Dominican Republic where they could get that record. They would need to stay in the Dominican Republic for two weeks, and then go on several flights through five different countries to reach their home.
Sister Auria, Sister Barekiau, and Sister Bokai arrived in the Dominican Republic in May 2021 on a chartered flight. They received the COVID-19 records that they needed. All was ready for them to finally make it home, but while they were in the Dominican Republic, Fiji closed its borders again due to cases of COVID-19 increasing.
Their two-week stay turned into a nearly five-month stay. The sisters were reassigned to the Dominican Republic Santo Domingo East Mission. The problem was that they did not know any Spanish. They served in the Santo Domingo Dominican Republic Temple, performing temple ordinances and also helping in the laundry. Sister Barekiau remembered, “When the people in the laundry spoke to us in Spanish, we were able to understand them, and we knew what to do because the Spirit helped us.” Sister Auria said, “Serving in the laundry and doing endowment sessions in the temple were some of the blessings of serving longer.”
They also started the Pathway program during their extended service.
Sister Bokai shared, “Serving longer than 18 months has been a blessing because the promise in Ether 12:27 has been true for me. My weaknesses have become my strengths. By serving longer I can see that more clearly in my life. In the October 2021 general conference, Elder Moisés Villanueva said, ‘In moments of difficulty and trial, there are few things that bring us greater peace and satisfaction than serving our fellow man.’1 I have seen that this is true.”
Even after serving many months longer than they were originally called to serve, they stated, “Our challenge to the youth is to go on a mission no matter your situation or the problems that you are facing in life. It is worth it because the person that serves a mission is the happiest person in the world.”
On Oct. 8, 2021, these sisters left the Dominican Republic to go to Croatia, which is the collecting location for missionaries waiting to return home, where they served in the Adriatic North Mission until March 2022. They did not know each other prior to serving their missions. Now they have formed a unique bond as a trio. They served as companions in three different missions where they served together and sang together.
At the time of the writing of this article (March 2022), Sister Auria and Sister Barekiau are serving in the Fiji Suva Mission (their fourth mission) until they can return home to Kiribati. Sister Auria has been serving for 30 months, and Sister Barekiau has been serving for 26 months. Sister Bokai was released as missionary after serving for more than 38 months. She is living in Fiji with family members.

Just this week we received a letter from a mother telling of her Navy son, now stationed on a small island 1,200 miles south of India out in the Indian Ocean. It has only the military base and a small coconut plantation. This young man has located six other LDS boys and they are now holding regular Church services. He wrote his mother telling of his opportunity now to prepare lessons for their priesthood meetings—young men on a tiny speck of land in a vast ocean recognizing and using their priesthood authority. They are different.

As a junior in high school, I was placed in an English class called Everything Is an Argument. We had to debate our feelings on certain topics, which was something I wasn’t looking forward to.
One day the teacher brought up the topic of whether or not we believed the Bible to be true or just made-up stories. It was a conversation I didn’t want to join. As the discussion went on, I was astonished at the number of people who claimed that the Bible couldn’t possibly be true, and I didn’t know how I could change their opinion. Just then, a student in the back of the class said he knew that the Bible was true. After that, a few others added their belief as well.
One student said he thought that people needed something to live for. I immediately thought of the plan of salvation, and before I knew it I found my hand raised for my turn in the discussion. I wasn’t sure what I’d say; I just knew I had to say something.
I began to question my reflex to shoot my hand into the air, but I thought that this might be the only chance these 28 people would get to hear about this marvelous plan.
My turn came and I told my class that I knew there was something we live for—a plan called the plan of salvation. The teacher asked me to explain myself, and I told him that I would have an easier time explaining if I could draw a diagram on the whiteboard.
With everyone’s eyes on me, I turned to the board and began to draw a diagram of the plan of salvation, full of circles and labels. The room was silent as the class watched. My heart was trying to run away from me because of how nervous I was that I’d say something wrong or that I wouldn’t be able to answer the questions I knew would come. As I turned toward my classmates, I had an overwhelming confirmation that the Holy Ghost would guide me to say the right things. I knew that the plan of salvation was true, and there was nothing stopping me from bearing testimony to my class of this belief!
I started with the beginning of the diagram and talked about as much as I could without confusing anyone. I was surprised to not hear anyone tell me I was wrong, and I was even glad when my teacher and a few classmates asked questions. At the end of my question-and-answer session, the bell rang for the dismissal of school, and I thankfully made a beeline for the door! A friend of mine caught up with me and told me that he respected me for standing up for what I believed in and wished that he had the courage that I showed in class. The Holy Ghost really helped me in class that day!
A few days later, my older brother was asked about the plan of salvation by a friend of his because her younger brother was in my class and had told her about it. To hear that someone had talked to his family about what I’d said was a great blessing to me. I love that I have the Holy Ghost to guide me in my life.

In a talk entitled “Freedom, A Terrible Risk,” by Harvey Jacobs, he related the following:
“In a Japanese novel of several years ago, the main character, wandering in a strange village, becomes trapped in the bottom of a sand pit. Food and water are lowered to him but no ladder. He wants out desperately. He begs his captors to let him go. He tries to bargain with them but nothing works. Months pass. The begging, the scheming becomes a way of life. After a long time he is granted what he wants, what he has been striving for with all his will, day and night—the freedom to come out of his pit and go on his way in complete freedom.
“Suddenly he is afraid, he is alarmed by the prospect of facing the world without protection. He could get lost, he thinks. In his little pit he was at least sheltered from unknown harm. Now he understands that freedom is not a reward but a terrible risk.”

The story is told of a gentleman named Harvey Mackay, who
was waiting in line for a ride at the airport. When a cab pulled up, the first thing Harvey noticed was that the taxi was polished to a bright shine. Smartly dressed in a white shirt, black tie, and freshly pressed black slacks, the cab driver jumped out and rounded the car to open the back passenger door for Harvey. He handed [Harvey] a laminated card and said:

“I’m Wally, your driver. While I’m loading your bags in the trunk, I’d like you to read my mission statement.”

Taken aback, Harvey read the card. It said:

Wally’s Mission Statement:
To get my customers to their destination in the quickest, safest and cheapest way possible in a friendly environment.

This blew Harvey away. Especially when he noticed that the inside of the cab matched the outside. Spotlessly clean!

As he slid behind the wheel, Wally [asked Harvey if he would like something to drink. Wally had a variety of beverages to choose from. Harvey was quite surprised by the offer and the variety and chose a soft drink]. . . .

Handing him his drink, Wally said, “If you’d like something to read, I have The Wall Street Journal, Time, Sports Illustrated and USA Today.”

As they were pulling away, Wally handed [Harvey] another laminated card. “These are the stations I get and the music they play, if you’d like to listen to the radio.”

And as if that weren’t enough, Wally told Harvey that he had the air conditioning on and asked if the temperature was comfortable for him. Then he advised Harvey of the best route to his destination for that time of day. He also let him know that he’d be happy to chat and tell him about some of the sights or, if Harvey ­preferred, to leave him with his own thoughts.

“Tell me, Wally,” [Harvey] asked the driver, “have you always served customers like this?”

Wally smiled into the rearview mirror. “No, not always. In fact, it’s only been in the last two years. My first five years driving, I spent most of my time complaining like all the rest of the cabbies do. Then I heard [a] personal growth [expert] on the radio one day. . . . [The expert] said that if you get up in the morning expecting to have a bad day, you’ll rarely disappoint yourself. [The expert] said, ‘Stop complaining! [Distinguish] yourself from your competition. . . .’

“That hit me right between the eyes,” said Wally. “[The expert] was really talking about me. I was always . . . complaining, so I decided to change my attitude [and think about my job in a different way. Not just as a cab driver but as someone whose role, as the mission statement says, is ‘to get my customers to their destination in the quickest, safest and cheapest way possible in a friendly environment’]. I looked around at the other cabs and their drivers. The cabs were dirty, the drivers were unfriendly, and the customers were unhappy. So I decided to make some changes. I put in a few at a time. When my customers responded well, I did more.” [Wally proceeded to tell Harvey that since he had made these changes, his business had prospered.]

I grew up in Russia in a close and loving family. My parents worked hard, and I stayed with my father’s mother, Anastasiya Vasilyevna Ustavshchikova. She was always bustling about the kitchen, making wonderful flowers to put on hats, and reading. She read all kinds of books, but I especially remember that she read the Bible. She would tell me about God and how she loved Him and awaited her meeting with Him. She said that if we would live God’s commandments, we would return to Him and inherit one of His kingdoms. That memory has warmed me all my life.
My life before joining the Church is a story with many trials and experiences. But I always loved hearing my grandma’s simple, sincere prayers. She would start with the words “Heavenly Father,” and I would get goose bumps.
In June 1993 I arrived at my mother’s home in St. Petersburg, where a friend invited me to study English with her. We called a number we found in the newspaper, and a young woman answered. She told us to come at noon the next day. Her name was Tat’yana. After the lesson we invited her out for tea or coffee. We were quite surprised when we heard, “I don’t drink tea or coffee.”
“Why?”
“I’m a Mormon.”
“What’s a Mormon?” I asked.
“I’m a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. If you’re interested, come see us Sunday morning at 11:00.”
She wrote down the address. I was very interested to find out what kind of church this was.
The week passed slowly, but Sunday finally came. The meetings were held in a music school. Some young men were at the entrance, and they were smiling. When they found out that I had come for the first time, they took me into the chapel. A lot of people were there, but I felt out of place. I very much liked the opening hymn though, and then a miracle happened. A man walked to the front, and the first words of his prayer were “Heavenly Father.” That is what I had been searching for. Suddenly I felt at home. I was at peace.
After the meeting two young ladies approached me.
“Are you already meeting with the missionaries?” they asked.
“No.”
“Could we teach you about the gospel?”
“Of course,” I said. “That would make me very happy.”
At one of our discussions they began telling me about three kingdoms. I stopped them and said, “May I tell you what my grandmother told me when I was little?” Now it was their turn to be surprised. The more we talked, the more I wanted to learn. On August 15, my missionaries asked if I would like to be baptized.
“Yes.” That was already my desire.
My baptism was to take place in a lake the following Sunday, August 22. The weather had been hot and dry. But on Monday, August 16, a steady rain began, and the temperature dropped sharply. Friday morning I awoke with terrible tonsillitis. My whole throat was congested, and I was running a fever. I thought it would pass before Sunday.
The missionaries came on Saturday to interview me. Elder Parker, a young and very tall missionary, asked me the questions. He also agreed to baptize me. I said nothing about my illness.
The day of my baptism arrived. When I woke up I found that my throat was still the same. It was then I realized for the first time in my life what the Lord wanted from me. I said to myself, “I’ll do whatever I have to for Him. I will be baptized. Everything will be fine. The water will be warm, and my sickness will disappear after I am baptized.”
On the way to the lake I told the sisters what had been going on with me. They both looked in my mouth and said, all bundled up in their raincoats, “This is no joke. Should we move everything to a pool?”
“No, no.” I had firmly made up my mind to go ahead with our plans.
It was beautiful when we got there. The lake was like a mirror, without even a ripple. It was about a hundred meters from the changing room to the water. It had rained all week and was muddy. When I came out of the changing room, I saw Elder Parker in his white clothes walking confidently through the mud toward the lake. That was a stunning sight.
We stood in a circle and sang a hymn. We could see our breath, but we were not paying attention to the weather anymore. As I took my first step into the water, I knew I was doing the right thing. It felt warm. And when I came up out of the water, I was happy and healthy. Everyone laughed and cried. I had taken my first step on the path home. Our Heavenly Father loves us and gives us trials, expecting us to make the right decisions, to not doubt what is good.
I will remember that miraculous day for the rest of my life. It will live in my heart with the memories of my grandmother, who sowed the seed that sprouted so many years after her death

It all started when my friend Brett said, “Last night when I talked to my friend, I found out that her parents have been telling her stuff about our religion, making us sound really bad. She told me that I was wrong for being Mormon, and she seemed to have plenty of evidence. Lots of stuff that I didn’t know about. I figured I can’t defend this if I don’t know what we believe.”
Then he asked me, “Do you want to come over and study scriptures tonight? You know, we could do a little reading, look some stuff up.”
“Seriously?” I hesitated. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to. It was just that I was taken off guard. I mean, how many teenagers hang out on weeknights to study the scriptures for fun?
“Sure, I guess,” I accepted slowly. “If you really want to.”
Brett was the only other Church member in my grade, and he’d never seemed very religious. I still remember being surprised my sophomore year when I first met him. He asked me why I chose not to date until I was 16. I was astounded by his question because Brett had been an active member his entire life but he somehow still didn’t know some of the basic teachings of the Church. To him, church was a Sunday thing. I remembered answering Brett’s question about my decision not to date until 16 and then enlightening him on many other standards we had as Church members.
Now, as seniors, we’d grown to be close friends. And once again I found myself surprised by Brett.
I arrived at his house not sure what to expect. As I walked into his family’s study, I noticed the Bible was open and several LDS reference materials were stacked on the desk. He’d already begun. “Look at this,” he said excitedly, pointing to James 2:21–26.
“I thought we could find some answers.” Then he asked, “Do you have any questions?”
“I don’t know. I guess so.”
“After listening to my friend, I know I need to study more,” Brett continued.
“So, are you looking up things about the points she made?” I asked.
“Yeah. I can see where she’s coming from, but you know, the more I find out about what we believe,” he continued, “the more I see and feel just how right our beliefs are. It’s exciting. I want you to help me.”
I’d never considered the scriptures exciting before. I felt humbled by his enthusiasm. He wanted my help because I’d read the Book of Mormon, prayed, felt the Spirit, and from then on hadn’t had doubts.
But at that moment, I realized I too needed to search the scriptures more.
Brett and I really studied the scriptures that night and found the answers to his questions. Time and time again, Brett searched the scriptures in response to criticisms of the Church. As he learned to trust the scriptures, his testimony grew. Not only did that study help him talk with his friend, but his example of asking questions and finding the answers in the scriptures made a difference for me too.

Three years ago a few faculty in our department decided to take a ski-instructor class together. The idea was that we could spend Friday afternoons learning how to teach something completely outside of our expertise while also enjoying some recreation together and generally deepening our friendships. A few of us—me included—invited our spouses to join in the fun as well.

We met together for the first time in a classroom and introduced ourselves to our new classmates. In the process, students commented on their self-assessed ski abilities, and I realized, with some growing trepidation, that I was likely the least prepared for the expectations of the course.

The following week we met at Sundance and spent a fair amount of time on the flat area by the lift just learning how to orient a beginner to the gear and how to teach someone to get in and out of skis and how to get on and off the lift. We played a couple of simple games together, and I remember feeling somewhat more confident about my place in the group. All was going relatively well for me in the class—until we rode the Arrowhead lift to the top of the resort.

Prior to getting on the lift, we had been instructed to exit to the right at the top, ski to the beginning of Bear Claw run, and then look down and to the left, where we would see the instructors gathering the class. We were then supposed to join the group, after which we would be split up by ability before heading down the mountain. I made my way to the top of Bear Claw without much trouble, but when I looked to see my classmates skiing to the rendezvous point, I froze. If I were to follow my peers, I would have to ski at what appeared to be an impossible angle. I had never skied on something quite like that before, and I immediately started looking around for other options.

I determined that rather than ski directly down the mountain, I would simply ski the mountain horizontally, back and forth, allowing me to take a less severe descent to the desired location. I took a deep breath and skied to the right toward the trees and then forced as sharp a turn as I could manage to head back to my class. Unfortunately, my calculations were off, or perhaps my snowplow was ineffective, and I could see that I would be well below the rest of the class upon completing my epic return across the face of the mountain. Flustered from this realization, I fell.

Mark, one of the course instructors, hurried over to try to give me a couple of pointers. After what must have been a few frustrating moments for him, he hollered up to the group that he would stay with me and that the others should go ahead. The class had been divided into its groups: the advanced skiers (which included my husband, Spencer), the intermediate skiers, and me. I was humiliated.

Mark stayed with me and did his best to coach me down the mountain, and given that I had no other options, I did my very best to listen to his counsel and imitate his movements. Much of that day is a blur to me. I was constantly switching focus between Mark’s patient instruction and my own thoughts about the futility of the whole endeavor.

I left Sundance that Friday unsure if I would ever return to class. I even worried about what would happen when I returned to face my colleagues on Monday morning. I fully expected some good-natured teasing and a little fun at my expense, but instead, everyone simply talked about how much fun it was to do something different together. To my surprise, no one focused on my inability; rather, they talked about their own improvements and their desire to keep learning. Their enthusiasm was contagious, and I privately resolved that I would finish the class.

I skied alone a lot in the beginning, and it was hard. I didn’t become an incredible skier ­overnight—or ever. I did join the intermediate group for a few runs toward the end of the course, but I was always the last one down the mountain. Still, even I could see that I had improved.