Gospel Story Finder

Attending sacrament meeting for the first time was strange for Cesar. It wasn’t anything like the meetings he was accustomed to.
“There was a man carrying the sacrament trays. He was very busy fixing the microphone and saying hello to everyone. There were so many people there that I wondered if they would all fit in the church! It seemed funny that the man fixing the microphone was the bishop.
“It was also a change to be in church for three hours; that seemed like a long time. I still remember that first Sunday School class. We talked about the birth of Jesus Christ, and I asked a lot of questions. After class, Betty’s brother, Isaac, helped me find the missionaries. I didn’t go to priesthood meeting that day; instead, I had my first discussion with the missionaries.”

“I’m not afraid to go to bed,” Billy told the baby-sitter. Mrs. Jones smiled and tucked in the covers.
“But I like to see where I am sleeping,” Billy said.
Mrs. Jones turned on the small night-light.
“And my bear would be warmer if it was under the covers with me,” Billy said.
Mrs. Jones brought the teddy bear to Billy.
“If I had a glass of water near my bed,” Billy said, “I wouldn’t have to bother you in case I got thirsty.”
Mrs. Jones went to the kitchen and brought back a glass of water.
“You must be tired,” Billy said. “Would you like me to read you a story?”
“That would be very nice,” Mrs. Jones said.
Billy read a picture story about Jesus Christ.
“I would read you another story,” Billy said, “but my eyes are getting sleepy.”
“You can read it to me the next time I come,” the baby-sitter said. She kissed him good night.
Billy nodded. He was very, very sleepy. He was also happy that Mrs. Jones knew that he was not afraid to go to bed.

Years later I read President Joseph F. Smith’s memory of a similar testimony and teaching by his widowed mother. In the April 1900 conference, President Smith shared this memory from his childhood:
“My mother was a widow, with a large family to provide for. One spring when we opened our potato pits she had her boys get a load of the best potatoes, and she took them to the tithing office; potatoes were scarce that season. I was a little boy at the time, and drove the team. When we drove up to the steps of the tithing office, ready to unload the potatoes, one of the clerks came out and said to my mother, ‘Widow Smith, it’s a shame that you should have to pay tithing.’ … He chided my mother for paying her tithing, called her anything but wise or prudent; and said there were others who were strong and able to work that were supported from the tithing office. My mother turned upon him and said: ‘William, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Would you deny me a blessing? If I did not pay my tithing, I should expect the Lord to withhold His blessings from me. I pay my tithing, not only because it is a law of God, but because I expect a blessing by doing it. By keeping this and other laws, I expect to prosper and to be able to provide for my family’” (in Conference Report, Apr. 1900, p. 48).

When I was 14 years old, one Sunday in sacrament meeting, my parents heard about the need for volunteers at the bishops’ storehouse in Slidell, Louisiana. They decided they would help, and, of course, this meant my younger brother and I would also help. Our family went so often, in fact, that my parents were called to be the assistant managers.
At first, I disliked helping out because I felt it took up my valuable homework time (well, OK, TV time). But the more we went, the more I grudgingly accepted this chore, especially after my parents made it clear that we were in it together.
Fortunately, as the months passed, I slowly began to focus less on myself and the earlier resentment I felt and more on what I could do to help. I helped fill food orders for needy families, bag and number them, and then place them on the truck that would deliver them to various cities nearby. Numbering bags was hard because I had to remember the order number as well as the number of bags I had put out on the counter for volunteers to place food in. Also, I had to number bags extremely fast because the other volunteers were depending on me.
Now, instead of trying to avoid work, I began stocking canned goods, dry foods, and produce on the shelves and mopping the floors once in a while. My favorite task, with adult supervision, was cooking meals for the other volunteers. We would prepare an array of magnificent culinary delights that consisted mostly of macaroni and cheese, hot dogs, spaghetti, sloppy joes, and chocolate cake. We usually added a vegetable salad and a fruit salad and considered it a fairly balanced meal. I also began trying to aid the other helpers by showing them where different items were located, and which items to place in each bag. I felt like the official item finder.
My attitude had completely changed from the first couple of months that I worked at the storehouse. There were still days when I felt a little lazy and tired, but mostly I viewed working at the storehouse as a blessing. I also counted myself lucky to have the opportunity to serve so many people (around 60 families a week) and make an impact, albeit a small one, on their lives. Best of all, I started to recognize the value of all the blessings I had received and how fortunate I truly am.
Though I may not have made a huge difference by helping at the storehouse, it has definitely influenced me. My experience has taught me to value all the blessings I have received throughout my life and that I am expected to use my abilities to help others. More than four years have passed since my first time at the storehouse, and now my parents are the managers. I still help out when I can, and when I do, I love it.

After many days and nights of uncertainty and worry, I was slowly falling into a bout of depression. Once again my life was in a huge upheaval. Much of the problem was the typical teenage syndrome: struggles with dear friends, worries about the future, and the stresses of daily activities. Folded into the mix was the fact of a family moving across the country.
Nothing seemed good in my life, and I felt like I had nobody to turn to, until one friend asked me if I had prayed about my adversity and asked the Lord for help. The thought immediately came to my mind: “Why haven’t I thought of that?” So I began praying to Heavenly Father about my challenges. Little did I know that the Lord was about to change my life and the lives of others in a most unexpected way.
One evening after a long practice for a school play, I was dropping off a couple of my peers in the neighborhood when I felt the prompting to ask one friend if he would like to come to a service project my stake was doing that night for Mutual. He had received the missionary lessons a few years before but had not chosen to join the Church. Immediately, I felt a slight embarrassment for asking him to a Church activity starting in only a few moments. To my complete surprise, he politely accepted the invitation, and after arranging for him to borrow some Church clothes, we were at the meeting with the other youth.
Known in my stake as the “Seminary Basket Project,” this popular activity consists of the youth’s visiting the lonely and elderly of the community during the holiday season. After visiting several homes, bringing them bags of fruit accompanied by a short message and hymn, my friend remarked on what a good time he had been having. Once again I felt awkward as I followed the prompting to invite him to the testimony meeting following the activity. He joked a little about people who cry when bearing testimony but agreed to go to the meeting to “check it out.”
At the meeting I again had a prompting, this time to bear my testimony. Unable to sit still, I walked up to the podium and expressed how grateful I was for the help of the gospel in my challenges. Sure enough, I became one of the “criers” my nonmember friend and I had been joking about just a few minutes before! The meeting continued, with a tremendous feeling of the Spirit obviously present. Many uplifting testimonies were borne, and there was something miraculous still to come.
A complete shock hit me as I watched my friend stand up, slip out of the pews and approach the stand! The feeling I had as I watched my friend bear his testimony and say, “I’m gonna be a Mormon,” is indescribable. The thought of the enormity and importance of what had just transpired stuck with me throughout the rest of the evening.
Because of the support and example of good friends and the prompting of the Lord, my friend had ended his long internal struggle with the idea of becoming a Latter-day Saint. It was a relief for those who had pretty much given up hope. What a joyous day it was when only a few short weeks later my friend informed me of his baptism date! There was hardly enough room for the supportive friends who attended his baptism, and almost no one was without a tear in his eye. The same Spirit was present for his confirmation during the next day’s fast and testimony meeting.
Many bore testimony about how my friend’s decision to change his own life had changed their lives. It was evident that not only had many pleading prayers for my friend been answered, but many others’ testimonies had been strengthened. God had brought about His great and eternal purposes by bringing one precious soul into His Church while also strengthening those involved. If we rely on the Lord, pray, and strive to be a righteous example, He will make us an instrument in His eternal plans, better our lives, and bring about great things.

A few years ago President Monson was scheduled to dedicate the Oquirrh Mountain Utah Temple on his birthday. As he arrived at the temple and approached the front door of the temple, a group of young people had assembled. They obviously knew it was President Monson’s birthday because they began to sing “Happy Birthday” to him. He stopped and faced them with a big smile on his face. He even started to wave his arms as if he were leading them in the singing. At the end they added the refrain “And many more.” He said to me, “That’s my favorite part.”
The children and the youth of the Church love him, and they have no doubt that he loves them too!

When I turned 12, my beloved father, Moise Kouassi Avana, passed away, leaving behind my mother, my three siblings and me. I was devastated and did not anticipate the pain and emptiness his passing would leave in my life. I mourned my father every day, yearning for the truth about whether I could see him again, until I was introduced to the restored gospel by a fellow student, Laure, in high school.
In a religious debate with classmates, Laure boldly stated, “There is only one true Church upon the surface of the earth.” Intrigued, I approached her immediately, asking, “Where is this church you spoke about? I challenge you to accompany me there this Sunday to see if what you proclaimed is true”.
On October 3, 2010, the first Sunday of the month, I went and was warmly welcomed. I felt what I later recognized to be the Holy Ghost. Subsequently, I attended church multiple times, received teachings from full-time missionaries about the plan of salvation, and learned of the possibility of seeing my father again by embracing the restored gospel.
One day, I knelt in prayer, something I had never done, and poured out my heart to my Father in Heaven. In response, I received a personal testimony that the Prophet Joseph Smith was truly called of God, and that the Book of Mormon is powerful evidence of the Restoration. This experience set me on the path of conversion, and on October 31, 2010, I was baptized and confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I received the promise that I would be reunited with my late father if I kept my covenants and prepared to perform proxy baptism for him in the temple.
At the end of 2014, I read Doctrine and Covenants 31:2–3 that states. “I will bless you and your family . . . and the day cometh that they will believe and know the truth and be one with you in my church.
“Lift up your heart and rejoice, for the hour of your mission is come; and your tongue shall be loosed, and you shall declare glad tidings of great joy unto this generation.”
I knew that I had to fulfill the priesthood duty by serving a full-time mission. I informed my siblings and my mother of my desire to serve. My mother initially opposed the idea and threatened to disown me if I left. Through prayer and fasting, she eventually relented. I was called to serve in the Accra Ghana Mission, and the promise of seeing my father again became a reality after he was baptized by proxy in the Accra Ghana Temple.
In 2016, one night while on my mission, after praying and falling asleep, I had a dream in which a tall man dressed in white, whom I couldn’t clearly see, appeared to me. As he drew nearer, I realized it was my father. His presence filled me with immense joy, and he imparted many teachings to me, instructing me to write them down. The next day, as I reviewed my journal, I found that much of what he had taught me was recorded therein. My joy was full of the truth that many of the things he shared lightened and eased my progress on the covenant path.
Upon completing my mission, countless blessings such as entering the new and everlasting covenant of marriage, serving in the missionary training center and the temple, and having an eternal family served as evidence of the fulfillment of the plan of salvation in my life, as well as in the lives of my wife and children. Being able to baptize my mother and seeing my older sister join the Church in the same year, 2023, attested to me of the truth that Heavenly Father always pours His blessings and fulfills the promises He makes to His covenant-keeping children.
I am grateful to the young boy, Joseph Smith, who without hesitation, prayed to a loving Father in Heaven. That prayer led to the reopening of the heavens and brought on earth the gift of the restored gospel to all of God’s children, which gospel turned my heart to my parents. I am looking forward to being sealed to them for eternity. I know that Heavenly Father loves me and has made all truths available to me and to the rest of my brothers and sisters through the Atonement of His Only Begotten Son, even Jesus Christ. These truths and blessings in my life are the anchor of my testimony and my faith in the Lord. I know without any doubt that the Book of Mormon is true, and we have a living prophet, chosen by God, on earth.

Rick Cartier, a former seminary student, now serving in the Brisbane Australia Mission, talks about his love of the scriptures. He says, “There were three of us in the branch that were really good friends. At times, either my friends or I went astray, but what kept bringing me back to the scriptures were two things: my testimony and caring leaders like our seminary teacher. It was love that kept bringing me back. And that’s what the scriptures are about, our Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ’s love for us.” Rick and his friends are all serving full-time missions, the most missionaries the Charlottetown Branch has had out serving at the same time. They are a little like Alma and the sons of Mosiah, excited that they are all strong in the faith and teaching others.

I’m a convert. But it took me six years to join The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
One of the reasons was that growing up, I didn’t have a very good opinion about the Church. If you’d read what I read about it in my school textbook when I was 12 years old, you might have been that way too. The things it said weren’t very nice. And since I’d never met a Latter-day Saint, I accepted what I read as truth.
I grew up in Kentucky, USA. Where I lived, there were very few members of the Church. So I was surprised when the Martinez family moved into our neighborhood when I was 13.
Everybody liked them. They were kind and easy to get along with. They had six kids—which seemed huge! And they had a son my age who quickly became my best friend.
Actually, I think he was everybody’s best friend. There was a light about Mateo that just drew people to him. So even though I thought his church was a little strange, pretty soon that didn’t bother me because of our friendship.
A couple of years later, Mateo and I entered high school. That’s when I met other members of the Church. There were several at our school, and others in the community. Over time, they would talk about their lives and bring up the Church naturally. Eventually I started going to Church activities, played basketball with other youth, and even went to early morning seminary for a few weeks.
I had a lot of good friends who chose to follow good standards, but there was something special about my Latter-day Saint friends. Of course, they didn’t drink or smoke or do drugs. And while some of my friends were getting involved physically with their boyfriend or girlfriend, these ones didn’t. But it was even more than that. There was a light about them that was wholesome. They never pushed the gospel on me—they just lived it. When the moment was right, they would share little things with me.
“They never pushed the gospel on me—they just lived it.”
And the Martinez family was always so open and generous. I was welcome at their house anytime. And their kitchen was always open too!
Still, I was pretty set in my religion, and I still thought some of the things Mateo believed were weird. I also had a strong personality. Even though I mostly lived the standards of the Church, I didn’t want anyone telling me what my standards ought to be.
At the same time, I felt lost spiritually. I think that can happen when you feel drawn toward the light and goodness of the gospel but push it away. Though I believed in God, I struggled to accept that God could or would be actively involved in my life. And yet I was attracted to the light of the gospel in other people.
That’s probably why I decided to join my friends at a Church school when I was 18. We attended Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah, USA, where I met even more members of the Church. Good people. Kind people. Filled with light, just like back home. And I still didn’t join the Church.
After that first year in school, I ran out of money and went back to Kentucky to live with my dad. I was 19, and all my friends began to leave to serve missions or were still in Utah.
But the amazing thing was that God put other awesome people in my life. The Martinez family still lived nearby and invited me into their home whenever I wanted. And I learned that there were other Latter-day Saints my age living nearby as well. All of them stood by me as I wrestled with my beliefs.
No one pushed me. No one pressured me. They were just good to me.
Finally, after six long years, I started studying with the missionaries. It took a lot of deep questioning, but with kindness and encouragement of friends, I was finally ready to open my heart, study and pray about the Book of Mormon, recognize the Spirit, and accept baptism.
Of all the things that helped me in my journey, probably the most important was the patient, kind support of other people.
“Of all the things that helped me in my journey, probably the most important was the patient, kind support of other people.”

As a new member of the Church, Soren knew little about the Church or its teachings. For the first month, he did not even attend church meetings. Finally, feeling obligated to learn what the gospel was about, he read a pamphlet about the Book of Mormon. From that small pamphlet he gained a testimony that the Book of Mormon truly is the word of God. That realization forever changed the course of Soren Edsberg’s life.

In 1959 when I received my call to preside over the Northwestern States Mission, it came at a most inconvenient time. But both Sister Richards and I felt that if the Lord wanted us to go, then we should go.
Many of our friends, Church members and nonmembers, indicated that they felt we were making a real sacrifice. We felt otherwise, and as President McKay set me apart, he promised me that it would be the happiest time of our lives. And it was, because our entire time was spent in serving our fellowmen. And we remembered the words of King Benjamin, “… when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God.” (Mosiah 2:17.)

The sun hung low against the blue-white horizon of the Wasatch Mountains. It was late in the afternoon. The temperature was dropping, and to the west, storm clouds drew a dark curtain of gray. In a small basin near the top peaks a line of backpackers on snowshoes crossed through a maze of snow-feathered trees. It was December, months past the season for backpacking and camping in the mountains. A deep layer of snow, hardened by the cold and polished by wind, covered the earth and low bushes. The sound of backpackers walking in the crusted snow echoed in the basin.
The backpackers, members of Sandy Utah East Stake’s Summiteers, an advanced camping program for girls, stopped in a clearing. One of the girls, Susie Bigelow, wearing sun glasses for protection against snow glare, looked around and took off her pack.
“This looks like a good place,” she said.
Dallan Sohm, a priesthood adviser for the group and the husband of one of the Young Women leaders present, looked the area over.
“The snow’s deep enough for the shelter,” he said. “But we’ve got to hurry and get it built before dark.”
As they worked, shadows of frosted-white pines grew long and silver-gray in fading light. Icicles hanging from the trees caught the last rays from a pale sunset and sparkled like polished topaz. The temperature dropped with the sun. The girls’ cheeks were bright red in the freezing air.
They dug a rectangular pit in the snow, arched their snowshoes over it, and covered them with sheets of plastic. They added pine poles for additional strength. Tunnels were dug on both sides for entrance and ventilation. The shelter’s floor was covered with plastic, then with foam pads, and sleeping bags were laid out on top.
Finally the shelter was ready. It wasn’t very comfortable or even very warm, but it was warm enough to keep the group from freezing.
Above the basin, high winds tore clouds that fogged the mountain and left them ragged. In the basin there was no wind, and only the girls’ voices broke the cold stillness.
Looking back to the west the girls, all between 16 and 18 years old, knew the stillness in the basin wouldn’t last. The high wind was moving the storm east, toward their camp. They knew that before morning there would be snow falling in the basin—deep, fresh, powder snow. It was snow that would send cross-country skiers and snowmobilers down the mountain to warm cabins. The Summiteers stayed. This was why they had come high into the mountains in December, to learn winter survival and winter camping. They were ready for the storm and the cold.
One member of the group, Koryl Thornwall, later explained that the Sandy Utah East Stake follows the camp certification program developed for the Young Women organization of the Church. This program includes a four-year camp training program and a fifth Summiteer year for those who want further camping experience.
“The Summiteer program is for those who want to develop advanced camping skills. The winter camp is the climax in the program,” she explained.
The girls in the winter camp were all experienced campers. During the previous summer they had gone on a hundred-mile canoe trip down Idaho’s Snake River.
“We know what it is like to be out in the rain and wind,” Koryl said. “But winter camping is something new for us.”
Months before the winter campout the members of the group began preparing for the trip. They held classes on winter survival, learning about the dangers of cold weather and how to prepare for it. They learned how to prevent frostbite, hypothermia (a rapid drop in body temperature), and snowblindness, how to build simple shelters, how to dress to keep warm and dry, and what foods to eat.
During the campout they put what they had learned into action. After building the shelter and after a meal of high energy foods and hot chocolate, they crawled into their sleeping bags. Night came fast and dark. A small but icy wind started and grew in intensity. Inside the shelter it was crowded, but all were protected from the freezing night air.
In the morning they woke to find several inches of fresh snow, bright, sparkling, and satin white. After brushing it off their equipment, they cooked hot oatmeal for breakfast. Afterwards, they took the shelter apart, loaded equipment and supplies into their packs, and started down the mountain. By late afternoon they reached the road. Several parents were waiting with cars. The winter campout was over. The Summiteers had learned some new camping skills and grown closer to each other in the process. And once again they had come to appreciate the magnificence of their Father’s creations and the depth of his love for them.
They packed their equipment into the cars and were ready to leave. Then one of the girls looked back up the mountain and said, “Hey, next month how about a cross-country ski trip?”

My friend Jorge reached across the table, offering me a sip from his glass of champagne. I was surprised by his offer. He knew I was a Latter-day Saint and drinking alcohol was against my beliefs. I politely shook my head, indicating that this time, like all previous times, I would pass.
He brought his hand to his forehead and exclaimed, “¡Pero es nuestra graduación!” (But it’s graduation night!)
Yes, it was graduation night. And in Ecuador, this was our night to celebrate. The evening had begun with a formal dinner for our entire families. A bottle of champagne had been placed in the center of each table, and well-mannered waiters had served an excellent meal. After dinner, those of us who had just graduated danced a waltz with our father or mother.
Eventually all the parents left, and only the graduates and our friends remained. It was around midnight when Jorge approached me and offered me some of his drink. Jorge felt that just this once wouldn’t do me any harm, especially considering the event was a once-in-a-lifetime occasion and everyone was expected to have a drink.
I simply replied, “I know it’s graduation night. That doesn’t matter.”
All through high school, I had been invited to drink and smoke, but I had always refused, explaining that my religion taught me drinking and smoking were harmful. My friends usually did not persist after the explanation, but I never knew how they really felt about my turning them down.
To my surprise, Jorge smiled, extended his right hand, and shook mine. All he said was “I really admire this about you,” and he walked away.
Later, while reflecting on what happened that night, I remembered the counsel President Gordon B. Hinckley has given us to “stand for something” (see “True to the Faith,” Liahona, Sept. 1996, 4). To Jorge and my other friends, I had stood for something. I realized that often we may think our efforts to do the right thing make us unpopular. While that may be true in some instances, for the most part, people take note and see Latter-day Saints as people who stand for something worthy of admiration.

Even now there is a rapidly growing group of Jewish Christians. These are Jews who believe that Jesus was, indeed, the Messiah. Quite by accident I met a young couple who held that belief. Early one morning I entered a small stationery store in Jerusalem and was greeted by a friendly couple who spoke excellent English. We chatted for a few moments, and they were impressed by my Mormon attitudes, so they invited me out to lunch with them later that afternoon. After a very pleasant meal of Hungarian goulash, we talked for three hours, mostly about the similarities in our religious feelings. They were fascinated by the story of Joseph Smith and the idea of a personal, tangible God. They were especially interested in the Latter-day Saint concept of family unity and exaltation. They warmed to an invitation to attend our branch services in Jerusalem and expressed a desire to learn more about the Church. As we talked, I made a mental note to send them a copy of the Book of Mormon with my personal testimony written on the flyleaf.

Kelley could not find Samuel’s wife. Kelley knew her name, but Samuel’s wife just wasn’t where she was supposed to be. It was like unraveling a mystery, and it was frustrating. “His wife had a nickname, and we had to get a special form for the census to get her record. Then we had to put their names in code before we asked for it. We would do these names in code, and then we were wrong, wrong, wrong.”
For a little while one Saturday afternoon in Anchorage, Alaska, Kelley Staats, a Beehive in the Anchorage Sixth Ward, got a taste of what doing family history was really like. Even though Kelley was having a hard time for a few minutes, she was actually having a great time figuring out how to find information from census, cemetery, immigration, and church records.

“Who wants to pick the song for family night?” Dad said.
“I do!” Colby said. “Let’s sing ‘I’m Trying to Be Like Jesus’!”
Colby sang loudly: “I’m trying to be like Jesus. I’m following in His ways. I’m trying to love as He did, in all that I do and say.”
Mom began the lesson. “How can we be like Jesus?”
“We can be nice,” Colby said.
“Yes,” Mom said. “Jesus was nice. What else did Jesus do that we can do?”
“He comforted sad people,” Dad said. “He helped them feel better.”
“How can we do that?” Mom said.
Colby thought. Comfort seemed like a grown-up word. Could he really comfort someone who was sad?
The next Sunday, Colby sat next to Katy in Primary.
“My mom is sick,” Katy said. “She had to stay home.”
Colby remembered how sad his mom was when she was sick.
When Colby got home, he found some paper and a pen.
“I’m making a card,” he said. Colby drew lots of smiling faces. Dad helped him write, “Get Well.” Colby put the card in an envelope.
“Can we take this to Katy’s mom?” Colby asked. “I want to comfort her.”
Colby and Dad went to Katy’s house. Katy came to the door.
“This is for your mom,” Colby said.
A few days later, Colby heard a knock at the door. He ran to the front room. His mom was talking to Katy’s mom.
“Thank you for the card, Colby,” Katy’s mom said. “It made me feel happy.”
Colby smiled. He didn’t have to be a grown-up to do what Jesus would do. He could comfort people now!

Seven-year-old Jamie loved her mother dearly. The family had known for nearly a year that their wife and mother was dying of cancer. The father and seven children fasted and prayed; they pled with the Lord to heal her. Everything possible was done for their mother, yet at the end of three painfully difficult months, she passed from this life.
In the first hours following her death, the father brought the grieving family together. After prayer, the children went to their own rooms to prepare for bed. Jamie, who had spent many hours with her mother and was devoted to her, knelt at her own bedside. “Heavenly Father,” she prayed through her tears, “we thank thee for the great mom you gave us. We thank thee for helping us try to make her well. Help us to be good so we can live with her again.” Without a hint of bitterness, this little seven-year-old girl continued for several minutes in a sweet attitude of peaceful prayer, reflecting her understanding and acceptance of her mother’s death.
Jamie was a child at peace. How did she come to that peace? She had been prepared by parents with spiritual understanding. Such preparation brings peace.

In France, it isn’t unusual to see sleek sports cars whizzing around the streets. But it is unusual to see a large family van driving down the road—with a father, a mother, and seven children squeezed into it.
Many families in France have only one or two children. People are often surprised to learn that Michel and Pascale Küsseling have seven.
The Küsselings live in Gournay, a beautiful town of about 6,000 people on the outskirts of Paris. They are members of the Torcy Ward, Paris France East Stake. There’s a row of child-sized bicycles in their driveway. In the backyard are trees to climb and a slide to play on.
There are four boys and three girls in the family. Julien, age 14, is a teacher and likes to swim. Jérome, age 13, is a deacon and likes to swim and play the piano. Next come twin girls, age 10—Claire, who plays the flute and likes ballet, and Laurence, who also plays the flute but prefers swimming to dancing. Marie, a 9-year-old girl, is next; she likes to dance and play the piano. The youngest two are boys—Christophe, age 6, who is learning to swim, and Nicolas, age 4, who likes to play ball.
“I always wanted to have a large family, even before I was a member of the Church,” says Sister Küsseling. “I love children.”
“The most difficult time,” laughs Brother Küsseling, “was when Marie was born and the twins were only a year old. We suddenly had three girls nearly the same age. They became a little jealous of each other, because I had three girls to hold and only two knees to hold them on!”
Large families can have lots of challenges—but also lots of blessings. On the challenging side, sometimes the children need to have patience when Mom and Dad are busy with the others. And sometimes brothers and sisters tease one another.
On the positive side, there’s always somebody to play with—or to work alongside. “I’ve always had lots of brothers and sisters,” says Laurence. “For me, it seems normal. It’s nice to have older children and younger children in the family. That way, we all learn from each other and help each other.”
And there are plenty of family members to share assignments for family home evening. “We try to give each child a responsibility every Monday evening,” says Sister Küsseling. “Someone leads the music; somebody tries to find something for the lesson; somebody makes a treat for refreshments. They all try to participate.” Family home evening is also a time to share things the children have learned or made in Primary.
They love to go to Primary. “I learn about Jesus, about His life and what He did,” says Laurence. “And we learn about Joseph Smith. He translated the Book of Mormon and organized the Church when it was restored. I believe he was a prophet.”
The children enjoy reading stories from L’Étoile, the Church magazine in French. They also read the scriptures together and have family prayer. And they love to sing. Laurence’s favorite song is “Love One Another” (Hymns, number 308). Claire’s favorite is “Silent Night” (Hymns, number 204). “I love Christmas,” she says, “because we remember the birth of Jesus and can all be together. That’s important to me.”
Brother Küsseling has been a member of the Church all his life; as a young man he served a mission in New Caledonia, an island in the South Pacific. He currently serves as a counselor in the mission presidency in Paris. Sister Küsseling, a Primary teacher, was baptized 16 years ago and is the only member of the Church in her family. Brother and Sister Küsseling were married in the Swiss Temple. Claire says it’s a wonderful feeling to know that their family can be together forever.
Claire is also thankful for many other blessings that come with being a member of the Church. When she was three years old, she became extremely sick and began having seizures. “We were very frightened,” says Sister Küsseling. “Her dad gave her a blessing, and then we took her to the hospital. The next day, Claire was well. She hasn’t had any seizures since.”
Claire can’t remember that incident, but she knows she was healed through the power of the priesthood. She does remember another time when the priesthood was especially important in her life. She clearly recalls when her father baptized her. “It made me happier than before,” she says. “I knew Jesus would forgive all my sins.
“I have seen my father bless and baptize the children of our family. And when he was bishop, he also blessed other people in the ward who were sick or needed a blessing,” says Claire. “He gives us blessings when we start a new year at school. When he does, I know I will have a good year.”
Her twin sister, Laurence, says: “I believe Heavenly Father hears me when I pray. He has answered my prayers. When our father lost his job four months ago, we all prayed for him to get a new job. And he got a new job in two weeks!” Brother Küsseling now works as a financial adviser for a British company in Versailles.
Both Claire and Laurence like to study math, and both are good students. Although they are the only Latter-day Saints in their school, they have learned to choose friends with similar standards and values, and they have talked with some of them about the Church. “Since my parents and relatives are not members of the Church,” says Sister Küsseling, “the children often bear their testimonies to their uncles, aunts, cousins, and grandparents.”
And they try to show by their actions that they are followers of Jesus Christ. For example, they often help their neighbor, an 87-year-old man who lives alone. They help carry his groceries into his house because they are worried he might fall. And they help feed his dog. In return, he lets the children eat cherries off the branches of his tree that reach over the fence into the Küsselings’ backyard.
“I’ve learned in church to be more polite,” says Laurence. “The gospel teaches me to be kinder to people around me, including my family.”
Most of all, Claire and Laurence each want to be the kind of mother their own mother is. They are glad to be part of a family that people notice. Some may notice the Küsselings because of the size of their family or the size of their car. But more important, people notice them for their love for one another and for their efforts to live the gospel.

Shortly after returning from his mission Ross went to work for a packaging and printing company in West London. During break times the men would meet in a smoke-filled room to play darts. Ross chose to stay at his workstation and read the Book of Mormon. One of the female packers asked him why he didn’t join the others and Ross took the opportunity to tell her about the word of wisdom and shared gospel principles with her. Not long after that conversation he changed jobs.

A couple of years later, while serving as a bishop, he received information about a new family moving into his ward. He felt he knew the name and to his delight found it to be that of the lady with whom he’d had the gospel discussion. Along with her husband and son she had joined the Church not long after her breaktime discussion with Ross.

I have been a member of the Church since I was eight years old. I believed all of the Church’s teachings, but used to take it for granted and relied on my parents’ testimonies.
When I was 14 years old, I was invited to a stake missionary fireside. I attend all the Church activities I can, so naturally I decided to go to this one. The thing that was mainly on my mind was socializing. However, I soon became engrossed in the meeting. It was a fireside musical and visual presentation called “Greater Than Us All.”
Around the middle of the fireside there was a song called “His Hands,” which describes the life of Christ, his love, his example, how he died, and how we should try to live. The song referred to his hands, and I found myself starting to cry, especially when they sang: “And then they pierced them! They pierced them! He let them because of love”—referring to his gentle hands being nailed on the cross. I felt a really warm burning inside, and I couldn’t stop crying. I felt the Savior’s overwhelming love for me.
I felt like that for the whole meeting. When I walked out, I asked my friends if they felt the same thing. They said no, that it was just a normal fireside. It was a personal witness to me of my own testimony. Now if I start wondering about some things concerning the Church, or have any doubts, I always think about that experience and I am reassured. I now have a very strong testimony of my own and am able to share it with other people. I am grateful for that experience at the fireside.