Gospel Story Finder

Another pair of siblings, Bich Thuy and her brother Tuan, were literally launched on their new life by their mother. Eight years after South Vietnam’s surrender, the family decided the two youngest children must leave and attempt to join the older children who had left earlier. Their LDS father was still in a “reeducation camp,” and their mother was unwilling to leave without him. For her children, however, she knew a better life was possible. She took her two children to the ocean, put them on a small fishing boat loaded with others also seeking a better life, and like the mother of Moses who set her baby adrift in a basket, committed her children into the currents and prayed that God would watch over them.
Prior to her departure, Bich Thuy, now 20, had been an accomplished pianist trained in the finest Saigon music schools. Her delicate hands have since known many hardships. As those same hands were raised to bid farewell, she wondered if she would ever see her mother’s face again. She wonders still.
For Bich Thuy and her brother, Tuan, who last saw their mother two years ago when she bade them farewell, life in America, although fulfilling in many ways, nevertheless holds a certain emptiness. Bich Thuy is attending a community college in Los Angeles while also working at a music store. Tuan is in high school. Five older brothers and sisters who preceded them in coming to America are also in California. But the emptiness lingers because their father, until recently, was being held in a work camp while their mother struggled to maintain their home. These parents would like to join their children in America, but their hopes are dim. In the meantime, the children they sent to America send them back what money and supplies they can. They are one of about 16 known LDS families in similar circumstances still in Vietnam.

Every year when I was young, I helped my mother wrap the family Christmas presents. I had 5 married siblings and 13 nieces and nephews, so this was no simple task. But even in the colorful mess, I noticed that we seemed to always wrap a handkerchief for my sister. Even if my mother was giving her a nightgown or a blouse or some kitchen gadget, there was that handkerchief for Ann again. I understood that handkerchiefs were practical and inexpensive, but I began to wonder what my sister would think about receiving this gift so often.
One December, I finally commented: “Another handkerchief for Ann? Mom, it seems you give her one almost every year. Have you considered maybe she has enough by now? How many does she need? And another gift makes her family parcel more expensive to mail. I don’t think you need to do this.”
My mother put her scissors aside. “Let me tell you a story. Then maybe you’ll understand. This happened before you were born.
“You know how I came to this country.” (I did. My mother’s family was surprised when she married a widower with four children but shocked it meant she was leaving Holland for the United States.) “But some things you don’t know. When we came here, we had nothing. Life was hard. Your father was working two jobs but with little pay. I took in washing and ironing. Still we didn’t have enough money.
“Ann was 17 then and understood how much money we owed. She decided she could help. She went to work. She found a job in the city at a candy store. She had to take the bus there and stand at the counter all day. She gave us almost all her salary, keeping just enough for bus fare and to buy some lunch, since she couldn’t keep any food behind the counter.
“Ann would tell me she was glad she had a job and that her salary could help us. But she didn’t tell me she worried for her little brothers. Christmas was coming. Their new American friends were talking about the toys they had asked Santa to bring them. What if Santa didn’t bring any presents to our house?
“A few days before Christmas, Ann gave me some money. But it wasn’t her payday. I asked her where she got this money. She told me she had saved it by not eating lunch. It wasn’t a lot of money, but I knew it meant she hadn’t had lunch for weeks. She told me to take the money and buy Christmas presents for her brothers. She trusted me, the new stepmother, to buy what was right.
“I had to buy little things. But I decided I could make a Christmas for the whole family. Tangerines to eat, teddy bear soaps, crayons, little toy cars, socks for your father. And I bought Ann a handkerchief. It was plain, but I stayed up late at night to embroider it and make it pretty. I was so happy my new daughter was giving us Christmas. I wanted her to have something special for Christmas too.
“Christmas came. We were surprised when our church friends brought us a Christmas tree and a box full of presents. They apologized that it was simple things wrapped up in newspaper, but it was wonderful! There were so many useful things and good food to eat. And then another surprise, Ann’s and my secret surprise: Santa had come to our house! Your brothers were so excited! Soon they were on the floor of that little living room, running cars over and under the newspaper. Newspaper everywhere! And Ann opened her present and found the handkerchief. She cried. I cried a little too.
“We made our Christmas meal. Oh, we had treats we hadn’t had in such a long time! Then we cleaned up. Ann went to put her handkerchief away. But it was gone. We looked everywhere. And then I thought, oh no, your father had thrown the newspaper in the fire. Had the handkerchief gone in the fire? It must have because we never found it. But Ann didn’t complain. What had happened had happened. She said she was happy because her brothers were happy.
“The next Christmas, I gave Ann a handkerchief. I made sure that one didn’t get lost. When she got married and moved away, I mailed her a Christmas handkerchief. I don’t give her a handkerchief now because I think she needs it. I give her a handkerchief to tell her I will never forget what she did for our first Christmas together.”
Several years after my mother told me this story, we were able to celebrate Christmas with our entire family. In the commotion, I watched my sister unwrap a handkerchief. I saw her eyes glisten as she reached over and gave our mother’s hand a squeeze. I understood. It wasn’t just a handkerchief. It was their special remembrance of love, gifts, and sacrifice. And, in its simple way, it reminded me of why we celebrate Christmas—because of a very great and loving gift that required sacrifice.

One final story: William Tyndale, who translated the Bible into the language of the common person--English--in the sixteenth century--and was martyred for it--stated to a cleric who opposed his efforts: "If God spare my life, ere many years I will cause a boy that driveth the plough, shall know more of the Scripture than thou dost!"[43] In a parallel some three hundred years later, Nancy Towle, a famous itinerant preacher in the 1830s, visited Kirtland. While there, she sharply criticized the Church. The emotional Sidney Rigdon responded in kind, and accused her of being "in the gall of bitterness, and the bond of iniquity!" According to Towle's record, Joseph said nothing during this heated exchange until she turned to him and demanded that he swear to her that he had seen an angel. Ever gregarious, Joseph good-naturedly replied to her that "he never swore at all." Having failed to rattle him, she tried to belittle him: "Are you not ashamed, of such pretenses?" she rejoined. "You, who are no more, than an ignorant, plough-boy of our land?" Joseph calmly responded: "the gift has returned back again, as in former times, to illiterate fishermen."[44]
Joseph compared himself to an "illiterate fisherman." In this, Tyndale's words were prescient: certainly a plough-boy did grow to know more of scripture than that cleric, and probably more than any man that ever lived, save the Savior only.

As my senior year of high school was coming to an end, I knew that yearbooks were going to be available soon. As I considered what I would write to my best friends, the idea came to me that I could write my testimony in every yearbook that I would sign.
But I didn’t know how appropriate it would be to write my testimony. What if they didn’t take it seriously? So I prayed and asked Heavenly Father what I should do. I felt a warm burning inside. I was determined to do it.
When yearbooks came out, I wrote my testimony in the books that were handed to me to sign. One day, after school, my friend Mike’s younger brother, Ben, asked me to sign his yearbook. I barely knew Ben. I considered not writing my testimony in his yearbook since I didn’t really know him, yet I felt impressed to go ahead.
Two days later, as I was walking home from school, I felt restless. I decided I wanted to play basketball. As I was thinking of whom to call, I heard someone walking behind me. I looked back, and it was Ben. He wanted to talk to me. I suggested that we play basketball, and he agreed.
As we began to play, I was joking around and having fun. Suddenly, Ben asked, “Are you a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints?”
I stopped dead in my tracks. No one had ever asked me that before. Many people had asked me if I was Mormon, but nobody had ever known the entire name of the Church. Today I was not thinking about sharing the gospel. My attention was on basketball and having fun. I shrugged and said, “Yes,” and started dribbling the ball.
A bit later, he asked, “Where is the church that you go to?”
Still thinking of basketball, I offhandedly answered him before dribbling by him to score.
A little flustered, Ben asked, “When does church start?” Then it dawned on me that he just might be interested in the Church. I offered to give him a ride the next Sunday. He said that he would like to do that.
After church, Ben and I watched part of a church video at my house before he had to go home.
The following Sunday, my Sunday School teacher was giving us a ride home. Out of the blue, Ben asked, “What does it take to be baptized?”
My teacher slammed on the brakes. I was stunned as well. “You have to have a testimony, I said.” Then I realized how silly it was in light of the fact that Ben already believed.
My Sunday School teacher called the missionaries. They set up a time to meet Ben and teach him the gospel at my house. He accepted the baptismal commitment without hesitation.
Ben was baptized about one month after I had signed his yearbook. He asked me to give one of the talks at his baptism. His parents came to his baptism. It was an exciting experience for me.
I am thankful that the Spirit of the Holy Ghost prompted me to go ahead and share my testimony in Ben’s yearbook. I am thankful for the opportunity to be an instrument in God’s hand in bringing the gospel to one of his beloved children.

I was recently told of a woman in Idaho Falls, a widow. Over a period of 15 years she acted as proxy in giving the temple endowment to 20,000 individuals in the Idaho Falls Idaho Temple. She completed her 20,000th endowment on a Friday and returned on Saturday to do five more. She passed away the following week.

Just think of what this one little woman did. She performed these vicarious endowments for as many people as are assembled in this Conference Center this morning. Think of the reception she must have received on the other side.

I could read you a letter here tonight that I read to the Regional Representatives, and I think I should read parts of it, at least. Maybe I can tell you what is in it.
The president of the Korea Mission, when I was over there, was telling me of the problems they have with young men in the service because the bishops were not sending the recommends for two or three months after they had arrived. He said that our servicemen do not enjoy—in fact, they resent—being there, and they become lonesome, and there are prostitutes there in great numbers. In fact, he told me that it was a common thing for these soldiers to have a prostitute companion. He told me an experience where one of our priests who was lonely, who had not been too active, became involved with one of these prostitutes. And then one of our young men who was living the gospel and who was interested in trying to save these young men contacted him, worked with him, and finally got him to acknowledge the value of the Church, to repent of his doings, and to strive to work as he should to be worthy of the blessings of the Lord. And then he said if he could have just got hold of that boy when he arrived, he could have helped him and probably prevented this tragedy. He goes on to tell of the experience with many of the young men there, and how many of them bear testimony that it was because somebody met them and worked with them, and gave them companionship and love, that they were able to withstand the temptations so prevalent there.

Marcia and I were married when she had two years left to complete her Bachelors degree and I was just beginning three years of law school. During those three years we both completed our degrees and had our first two children in the process. As I share this memory with you, the biggest question I have now is how did Marcia do that? I would go to school during the day while Marcia was with the children. She went to school at night while I was with the children. At the same time we managed a 10 story condominium. Each day we had to vacuum every floor. At the end of our experience there, we each had a child on our back in a back pack as we vacuumed. I would start on the tenth floor and she on the first and we would meet on the fifth. These are some of our very best memories. We were working together to build our family and obtain our education. We would not trade those wonderful first years of our marriage for anything.

Long before I joined the Church, I was a critic of it. I gathered false information about the Church and criticized my friends who were members.
Despite my ignorance, I was soon converted to Christ through missionary lessons, which transformed me to the point where I desperately wanted to serve a full-time mission.
To strengthen my testimony, I participated in missionary lessons almost all the time, and every moment I spent at a lesson with the missionaries made me more eager to proclaim the restored gospel.
For four good years, the Lord’s invitation in Doctrine and Covenant 88:81 lingered on my mind. Meanwhile, I was learning an electrical and plumbing trade that would take almost three years to complete. This job prevented me from attending Church regularly.
During this time of doubt and reflection on the decision to take, I was inspired by the Savior’s promise in Matthew 6:33–34.
After careful reflection, I finally resolved to accept the call to serve a full-time mission, and it was at this point that I began to encounter a series of obstacles.
I quit my job and went to Côte d’Ivoire to work on my mission application. When I arrived in Côte d’Ivoire, my elder sister hosted me. I stayed with her for a while before finding a job.
After a few months, I found a job in a boutique where I was to be paid 600 francs CFA a day, or 20,000 francs CFA a month. I had to accept it because it was the only opportunity I had.
I also met a girl who agreed to be my girlfriend. I told her about my beliefs and my plans, and she was willing to stand by me.
During working hours, I would go to money agencies to deposit money in amounts ranging from 500,000 francs CFA to 4,000,000 francs CFA. Whenever I received any amount of money and recounted it, there was always a surplus, which I gave back to my boss. Surprised at my honesty and integrity, he increased my salary and often gave me 1,000 to 3,000 francs CFA every evening in addition to my salary. Each time I received my salary at the end of the month, I completed one task on the requirements list for my mission. During this time of unrelenting effort, I had a misunderstanding with my elder sister, so I had to move out and embark on a new adventure. I had no place to sleep because all the money I earned at the end of the month was invested in my mission application. I slept at my friends’ homes, where sometimes four people shared a small room. Some close friends declined my request to spend the night in their homes. There came a time when I wandered from house to house with my suitcase, looking for a place to lay my head. One night, with no place to sleep, I slept on the ground at a marketplace.
Through it all, I kept my faith and knew that the Lord gives no commandment to the children of men without preparing a way for them. (See1 Nephi 3:7.)
One evening, I met with my boss to discuss my situation and the goal I wanted to achieve (i.e. serving a full-time mission). After listening to me, he set a condition: If I would forgo my dream and stay with him, he would do everything for me. I knew he could do that. He had good intentions when he set this condition. He was very close to me, and I had become like a son to him. He trusted me more than some of his brothers. For me, the Savior‘s call was the most important thing. I, therefore, declined the offer. He even sent people to plead with me, but it was all in vain because I was determined to serve a mission.
Finally, I went to Abidjan to apply for my passport, during the COVID-19 pandemic. Along the way, we had to get off the bus and walk for miles to cross certain areas. We even had to walk through the forest during the trip.
There were all sorts of issues with getting a passport, but by God’s grace, I got mine.
After about a year of working on my mission application, I gave it to my bishop to submit it to the stake president. To my utter surprise, my bishop lost the file containing my passport and medical records. This was a huge ordeal for me. That night, I got on my knees and cried my heart out, pleading with God to make it possible for us to find the file. After my prayer, I told Heavenly Father that if we did not find the file, I would work on another application no matter how long it would take.
A few weeks later, a miracle happened: my file was found at the premises of my stake president’s company. The security guard had been keeping the file all this while since he did not know the owner.
This experience strengthened my faith in Christ, that He is mighty to save.
After receiving the file, we gave it to my stake president to fill it out and submit online. However, the file was not submitted online for nearly two months, and it was at this point that I felt like giving up. When I told my girlfriend that I wanted to give up, she replied with a statement that I had made at the beginning of our relationship, that nothing and no one could stop me from serving a full-time mission. I regained hope, called my stake president, and followed up with strict monitoring. When the application was submitted, I quit my job to better prepare for my mission. At one point, I ran out of food and was supported by my girlfriend.
Finally, my call came. I was called to serve in the Côte d’Ivoire Abidjan West Mission with President and Sister Lewis. I was so happy I had attained my goal. I had to go to the training center in Ghana, but due to the COVID-19 pandemic, I had to undergo my training online. There again, I paid for an internet bundle out of pocket until I ran out of money. A few days later I informed my trainer that I would have to stop taking the course for lack of money. Surprised by what he had just learned, he sent a message to my stake president, and the problem was resolved. I then proceeded with my training as planned.
I experienced adversity from the beginning of my preparation till the end. I am grateful for having kept the faith and for the hand of God that supported me during those trying times.
After my mission, I married that young girl who stood by me through it all. We now have a child who makes us so happy. I testify that as much as we shall put our trust in God even so much we shall be delivered out of our trials, and our troubles, and our afflictions, and we shall be lifted up at the last day. (See Alma 38:5.)

Several years ago, I was working as a software engineer. I was married, had two kids, and was serving in the Church. I started teaching some night classes at the local university, and I loved it. So, I was considering trying to become a university professor, but that would mean that I would need to quit my job and go back to school full-time.

My wife and I counseled together about it and asked the Lord to help us with wisdom and judgment. In the end, we felt good about this option and moved forward with faith that the Lord would help us through the process. So I quit my job and started back into school full-time. In addition to my schooling, I was working on the side to try to make ends meet. Needless to say, this was a busy time for me.

Perhaps you can relate.

At this time, I was serving as the executive secretary in my ward, and so I attended bishopric meetings. During some of these meetings, it came up that our ward needed a new young men's president. As the bishopric discussed names of possible people, none quite felt right. And in the process, my name came up. The bishop knew this was a very busy time in my life, but he asked me to give it some thought and let him know how I felt. He said he wasn't officially issuing me a calling, and if I said it wasn't a good fit right now, it wouldn't be a problem.

This was a difficult decision for me to wrestle with. In some ways, I think it would have been easier for me if the bishop had issued the calling directly. Because, as it was, I was left to weigh the options myself.

My wife and I counseled together about it, because it would affect our whole family, and we felt assurance and faith that the Lord would bless us if we moved forward with this calling.

I wrote the following in my journal: "It was really in my court whether or not I would be called. I didn't sleep well and wasn't sure what to do, but as I was reading in the scriptures, I had the distinct impression that if I waited until I had time to serve, then I never would, because things will always be busy. So I told the bishopric I was willing, and I was given the call."

This decision blessed my life in many ways during that time, but it has blessed it even more since, because it established a pattern in my life that has made a huge difference for me.

I can't tell you how many blessings have come from simply saying yes and showing up—even when I was tired or didn't always start with the best attitude.

As a brand-new chemistry graduate student at the University of California, San Diego, my faculty advisor, Dr. Charlie Perrin, gave me the relatively easy task of replicating the experiments of a student who was leaving our lab. The results from that project were going to be published in the Journal of the American Chemical Society, which is a top journal in my field.

When I finished the experiments, my results were the opposite of the original findings. I repeated the experiments several times, but each time the results didn’t match. I began to panic. My failure to replicate felt like evidence that I was terrible in the lab. I took my results to my advisor, and he was surprised. He suggested a series of modified molecules on which I could repeat similar experiments.

I worked hard. I purified materials. I read literature techniques. I did a mountain of experiments. I talked about ideas with my favorite friend in chemistry, Julie, and at the end of a long day I would come home and worry out loud to my husband, Dan. In the end, what we learned is that the original results were inaccurate. Eventually we published a paper in the same journal, retracting the first claims and proposing a new conclusion. In fact, the title changed from the original “Symmetries of Hydrogen Bonds” to “Asymmetry of Hydrogen Bonds.”

Charlie Perrin became one of my heroes. He valued learning truth over protecting his reputation. Every time I entered his office with new ideas or new results, he welcomed them. He felt that even an unexpected or “wrong” result taught us something.

I learned so much from this experience—including that ice cream soothes my soul after a long day—that has shaped me over the years. I learned that experiments help us gain truth, that we can become stronger from struggles, that meaningful results require a lot of time and effort, and that working with others is essential.

Monte Schofield had always planned to serve a mission but when the time came in 1971, it was a difficult decision. “It was the time of the Viet Nam War and that had to be a factor in the life of a young man from the US,” he recalls. Learning he would not be drafted for military service unlike other young adults he knew, Brother Schofield heeded the prophet’s call for every young man to serve a mission.
Brother Schofield was called to serve in the Philippines Mission from 1971 to 1973, which then covered the entire archipelago. He was assigned to Quezon City (Cubao area), Angeles, Bacolod, Los Ba?os/Calamba, Caloocan (Malabon and Navotas area), and Davao City. “I developed a great love of the gospel, my Savior, and the Filipino people,” recalls Elder Schofield of his pioneer proselyting days.
The Schofields were married in the Idaho Falls Temple in 1974 and raised a family of two boys and three girls. After retiring from working in the retail clothing business, Brother Schofield responded positively to the invitation to serve the Lord again full-time.
“I have always told my wife I wanted to come back to the Philippines and serve as a senior couple,” Elder Schofield reveals, “I love this country, and most of all the kind hearted people.” Together, the Schofields served in the Cebu City Philippines Temple (2015–2017), Philippines Olongapo Mission (2019), and lastly in the Manila Philippines Temple (2024–2025).
All in all, Elder Schofield wants the rising generation to know that serving a mission will change their lives, just as it changed his: “I cannot imagine how much different my life would have been had I chosen not to serve.”

We just received here in Brazil the great September issue. The article on unusual dates reminded me of a real fun date I had once. It started when three friends and myself were crawling around a local mine near my hometown. We knew it was safe, and many people had visited it. The idea struck me as to how we could share all the fun we were having there. We finally came on the idea of having a restaurant in the mine for our dates. So one Saturday we arranged the event. Two of the fellows would be waiters one week, and the other two would bring dates. Then we’d reverse our roles. We spent the morning hauling up tables, chairs, silverware, china, radio, and other assorted equipment. This is easier said than done—the hike was two miles from the nearest road. All the equipment was put on pack boards on our backs. Then about 4 P.M., the dates came up (for what seemed to the girls to be a regular cave exploring trip). We spent the next several hours crawling around the mine, marveling at anything from small nuggets of gold to blind crickets. We all had a good time, and all precautions were taken—hard hats, ropes, three varieties of lights.
Then, on the way out of the mine, we were suddenly met by two waiters dressed in French-style clothes. We were led to a table complete with crystal and linen, candlelight and soft music. The menu was given—five different choices that were all the same but were written in five different languages. Appetizers, soup, salad, steaks, baked potatoes, dessert, and punch. The whole thing was cooked over an open fire outside the mine. The girls couldn’t believe it, and the rest of the hike down in the moonlight was a touch of fantasy also. The girls raved about it for weeks. The whole meal cost only $5 per couple.
Elder Gary E. LewisRio de Janeiro, Brazil

I chose to arrange the next two family home evenings, focusing on faith. I started off by preparing the lessons and trying to learn the chords on the guitar for the songs we would sing.
The first lesson was on faith. I asked what we as a family could change to grow our faith. They replied, “Praying, studying scriptures, fasting, going to church,” and so on. We agreed that there are many things you can do to grow your faith, but the most important thing is to actually do them. It’s important that you act in order to strengthen your faith.
The second lesson was on spiritual gifts. We talked about what faith and spiritual gifts had to do with each other.
Our faith-themed family home evenings went really well. We improved some things in our family; we had fun and tried not to just get it over with. We felt the Spirit together as a family.
Riza S., 16, Roskilde, Denmark

I’m 12 now! My birthday was pretty crazy because it was also the last performance for the play. I only forgot one line! So today was Sunday, and I had my first meeting as part of the Beehive presidency. We talked about what we can do to help Sara feel comfortable at church. I had no idea. Then I remembered what the bishop said when he set me apart for my new calling. He said that God would help me know the needs of the girls in my class. When I remembered that, I had an idea of an activity that Sara might like.
Sara loved our activity on Wednesday and even came to church today! Travis and Luke are both passing the sacrament now. I think I understand what Dad meant about all of us having different jobs. We use priesthood power in different ways, but we all serve each other.

In pondering my own experience, I was reminded of a moment when I recognized a weakness as a young missionary. I was riding with a family to the baptism of their eldest daughter. My companion had taught the mother and the youngest daughter and they had been baptized a year previous. The oldest daughter had now accepted the invitation to be baptized. The father, whom we called Oom Piet, sat with my companion and I in the back seat. As we drove, I felt the spirit prompting me to ask Oom Piet if he had a desire to join his family and be baptized. While he was always very pleasant, he had not as yet expressed an interest in learning more about the gospel and particularly not in baptism. It was an hour’s drive, and I could not shake the impression. I kept thinking about how and what to say and feeling like everyone was expecting me to do this. At some point, Oom Piet took out some dried boerewors—smoked sausage—he had made and began sharing it. In my anxious state, I finally managed to self-consciously blurt out in Afrikaans, “Kan ek nog 'n stukkie hê, asseblief?” (Can I have another piece, please?) referring to the boerewors. That is all I said for the entire drive.

I had faith in Christ, I was on my mission. What happened? Why didn’t I say the words? I then remembered the scripture from my seminary days: “But with some I am not well pleased. For they will not open their mouths, but they hide the talent which I have given them, because of the fear of man.”[3]

The Lord had shown me a weakness, and I was humbled. This moment of weakness has been a reminder of my need for Christ for more than 46 years.

The anxiety and fear this sister felt may not have been my weakness, but my fear certainly exacerbated a lack of faith or confidence in the Lord and the promptings I had received. As I turned to the Lord, over time my language abilities and confidence increased. It took faith to know the Lord was beside me and bearing me up. Faith was followed by work, and eventually, I became stronger in that one area. Certainly, I had not overcome all weaknesses, and thereby my weakness, but I had learned something about how the Lord works and how becoming humble and teachable can increase our usefulness to the Lord and to our fellow man.

In 1988, we relocated to Perth, Australia for a new job opportunity. The Sydney Australia Temple was then 4000 km from our home. We made a family commitment to drive to the temple every two years. Once there, we would spend a whole week participating in temple ordinances. My children still have fond memories of the mostly sacred time we had together in the car for three and a half days each way driving across Australia and back.

John also reports an incident which took place in June 1844, shortly before the martyrdom. Now 16, he had been marching with 75 legion troopers summoned to Nauvoo by the Prophet. It was raining; roads were bad. Most of the men were on foot, wading in places through waist-deep water.
We reached Nauvoo about daylight and encamped near the temple. While I was guarding the baggage, Joseph the Prophet rode up. He asked about my parents. As we were talking, he took my hand and pulled me forward until I was obliged to step up on a log. Then turning his horse sideways he drew me step by step to near the end of the log, when, seeing that each foot left marks of blood upon the bark, he asked me what was the matter with my feet.
I replied that the prairie grass had cut my shoes to pieces and wounded my feet, but they would soon be all right. I noticed the hand he raised to his face was wet and looking up I saw his cheeks covered with tears. He placed his hand on my head and said, “God bless you, my dear boy,” and asked if others of the company were in the same plight. I replied that a number of them were.
Turning his face toward Mr. Lathrup as the latter came to the door of his store, the Prophet said: “Let these men have some shoes.” Lathrup said: “I have no shoes.” Joseph’s quick reply was, “Let them have boots, then.”
Joseph then turned to me and said, “Johnnie, the troops will be disbanded and return home. I shall go to Carthage for trial. …” Then leaning toward me, with one hand on my head, he said: “Have no fear, for you shall yet see Israel triumph in peace.” (Adapted from Carl Arrington, “Brother Joseph,” New Era, Dec. 1973, pp. 16–19.)

Before leaving Australia for India, I was blessed to participate in the sealing of my father’s family members in the Melbourne Australia temple. Although I did not know my grandmother very well, this made me feel closer to her. And now that I am here, I am coming to understand my father better. I see his friendliness and hospitality in the Indians I meet every day and have come to know that it is part of the culture.

Jed looked forward to the day when he, like his brother David, would be old enough to go into the world and be a missionary. In his last letter, David had written, “People here ask us why we’ve left our homes to come here, and we tell them we’re here to share something that is most precious to us. And that’s true. I feel a great love for each and every person we meet each day.”
Although Jed looked forward to being a missionary, he had just turned 14. He lived with his family in Broken Arrow, Wyoming, just across the border from Idaho. His dad ran the only auto repair shop in town.
In the late afternoon of December 29, his dad asked Jed if he’d fill in for him at the shop. “Your mom and I would like to go to the temple. All you need to do is stay there until closing time, then lock up.”
“I guess I could do that.”
“Oh, one thing,” his dad continued, “a lady will be coming in to ask about her car. She’s from out of state, and her car broke down just outside town. Tell her I won’t be able to get parts until after New Year’s Day. If she needs a car, she can probably rent one in Idaho Falls. That’s about it. Any questions?”
“Can I have some change?”
“What for?”
“To get some candy from the machine.”
Shortly after his folks left, it began to snow. That was hardly news for Broken Arrow in December. But then the wind started to pick up.
Jed liked being at the shop. He liked wearing his dad’s work coveralls with the name of the shop on the front. He even liked the smell of the place, a mixture of old oil, grease, and, at that moment, the candy bar he was eating. Someday he wanted to be like his dad, a mechanic who could fix just about anything. He helped out during the summers and sometimes, when the work was stacked up, on Saturday mornings.
Nobody came in until just before five o’clock, when a smartly dressed woman with a cell phone to her ear entered the shop, accompanied by her daughter.
The girl appeared to be about his age. She was nearly as tall as he, had long dark brown hair, brown eyes. She frowned at him and then ignored him and started checking out the advertisements for tools on the wall.
“I’d like to pick up my car,” the woman said. “The name is Smith-Porter.” She was wearing an expensive but not very warm coat.
“You’ve got two last names?”
“It’s hyphenated,” the girl said, running a finger across the dust covered counter.
“Oh,” Jed said, confused why a person would have two last names.
“Is there anyone here who actually knows something?” the girl asked.
“Bailey, that’s really not necessary,” her mother chided.
“I’m the only one here, and I know quite a bit about cars,” Jed said, his voice cracking as he said it.
“That’s my car there,” the woman said, glancing into the shop area. She reached for her purse. “How much is it?”
“My dad said to tell you that he won’t be able to get parts until after New Year’s, but if you need a car, you can rent one in Idaho Falls.”
“How far is that from here?” the woman asked.
“It’s about 70 miles.”
“Is there some other place in town that can fix my car?”
“No, we’re the only shop in town.”
“How are we supposed to get to Idaho Falls?” the girl asked impatiently.
“Well, there’s a bus twice a day. The next one should be coming in about half an hour. It leaves from the Broken Arrow Cafe, just across the street. I’ll warn you, though. We have a saying about that place, ‘If it ain’t broke, don’t eat there.’” Jed chuckled enthusiastically for the girl’s sake because he knew she would not approve.
The woman nodded her head. “Well, that’s not too bad then. Thank you for your help. We’ll need to get some things in the car.”
The girl stayed behind while her mother went into the shop area to get their luggage. The girl scowled at the candy wrappers in front of Jed. “How many candy bars have you had?”
“Two or three.”
“Disgusting.” She scowled at him.
“Is your name really Bailey Smith-Porter?” he asked.
“Yes it is. So?”
“It sounds like a law firm.”
“Really? How old are you anyway?” she asked.
“Fourteen.”
“I’m way more mature than you.”
“How old are you?”
“I’m going on 15.”
Before Jed realized that anyone who was 14 was also going on 15, the mother returned with their luggage and they left. Jed watched them fight the wind and the snow on their way across the street. It was then he noticed the cafe, where the bus stopped each day, was closed because of the storm.
Jed looked at the clock. Just a few more minutes and then he could close up and go home. He walked through the shop, making sure everything was locked up. When he went to the front to turn off the outside light that illuminated the sign advertising the shop, he could see the woman and the girl huddled in the doorway of the cafe, waiting for the bus.
“With the way the wind is picking up, the bus probably isn’t going to come,” he thought. “I’d better go tell ‘em.”
He was standing inside in the dark about ready to leave. “There’s no place they can go tonight.”
He answered himself. “That’s not my problem. I did everything I was asked to do here.”
He thought about going out the back door, so he wouldn’t have to see them standing there in the storm.
“What are they going to do if you don’t help them?” he asked himself.
“That’s not my responsibility.”
He went to the back door to leave. As he stepped outside, a sudden gust of wind blew a blast of snow into his face. At the same time, part of his brother’s letter came to his mind. “I feel a great love for each and every person we meet each day.”
He stepped back inside. “I don’t like the girl. How many times did she put me down in the five minutes they were in the shop? I don’t need that.”
He walked to the front of the shop again. “Maybe the storm has let up and the bus will make it after all. For all I know, maybe the bus has come and gone already. Maybe it’s not that bad outside of town.”
He stood at the window and looked out. The storm had grown into a blizzard as the wind sent pulsating waves of snow down the main street of the town. Across the street, their coats now caked with snow, the two strangers huddled in the doorway, waiting for a bus that wasn’t going to come.
Suddenly Jed made a decision, stepped outside into the storm, made sure the door was locked, and walked across the street. “I guess the bus isn’t coming today.”
He expected the girl to insult him or the bus company or the town, but she was too cold to say anything.
“Is there a place in town we can stay?” the woman asked.
“There’s a motel in town.”
“Good.”
“But it’s closed down until May.”
“I see.”
“You could come home with me, if you want. At least you’d be warm.”
“Are you sure?” the woman asked.
The truth was he wasn’t totally sure what his folks would say, but one thing he was sure of, his brother David would agree it was the right thing to do.
“My mom and dad are out of town, but they should be home soon. I’m sure they’d want you to stay with us until things clear up.”
“That’s very kind of you. Let’s go, Bailey.”
He offered to lug their suitcases but they said they could do it themselves.
Because there was no traffic, they were able to walk down the middle of the street. They trudged their way through deep drifts alternating with places where the wind was sweeping the road’s surface bare. By the time they reached the house, they looked like snowmen. Once inside, they stomped and brushed the accumulated snow from their coats, slacks, and heads.
Bailey’s mother warmed up for five minutes and then got back on her cell phone.
“Who is she talking to all the time?” Jed asked.
“Very important people. Famous people. Business leaders.”
“Okay.”
“She’s a very influential person.”
Bailey rapidly went through a list of names of famous people that worked with her mother. Then, seeing no recognition in his face, she said, “You’ve never heard of any of them, have you?”
“No, sorry.”
“You’re really out of touch with what’s happening in the world, aren’t you?” she asked.
In a way Jed was amazed. Bailey was tall, had dark eyes and a penetrating glance. She stood with such good posture that he was sure it was something she’d been taught. And she stood too close, almost as if she expected an argument. Also, her voice was too polished. In short, she wasn’t like any of the girls he’d ever known in Broken Arrow.
More than anything, he feared she might make him talk about current events, so he tried to change the subject. “Are you hungry?”
She nodded enthusiastically. “I really am.”
“You want to help me cook up something?”
“Well, I don’t know how to cook very well. We eat out most of the time.”
“Can you peel potatoes?”
She started to blush. “Uh, well, you’ll have to show me.”
“You’ve never peeled potatoes before?”
“Not really.”
Jed went to the storeroom and brought back five or six large potatoes and set them on the counter next to the basin. He grabbed a peeler from the drawer and placed it in her hand. “The idea is, you try to get the brown parts off.”
She smiled. “You don’t have to tell me that.”
“I wasn’t sure.”
Jed got some ground beef from the fridge and started to make patties.
In the living room Bailey’s mother was pacing the floor complaining to someone on the phone.
“How come you and your mom came out here this time of year?” he asked.
“We wanted to be some place safe for the new year.”
“Safe?”
“You know, because of Y2K. My mother was worried there might be riots and no food in the city, so she rented a cabin for us until the middle of January. Then we drove here from Los Angeles.”
She paused. “What has your family done to prepare for the new year?”
“Well, I think my dad picked up a calendar at the bank. They give them away every year.”
“Don’t you people around here know what could happen? What are you going to do on New Year’s Day?”
“We’ll probably have nachos and salsa and watch football.”
“If that’s all you’ve done, then you’re not prepared. It’s as simple as that.”
“If we’re the ones not prepared, how come you and your mom are staying with us?”
“Believe me, this is the last place in the world I want to be.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“It’s so isolated. Have you ever been to Chicago?”
“No.”
“What about New York?” she asked.
“No.”
“Europe?”
“No.” He glanced at how she was doing at peeling potatoes. “You’re doing a good job.”
“So, basically, you’re going to live the rest of your life right here?”
“I suppose so.” He paused. “Except when I’m 19, I’ll go out into the world for two years.”
“Doing what?”
“Being a missionary for my church.”
“What church?”
“The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”
“My mom and I don’t believe in organized religion.”
“Sometimes we’re not that organized. Like this one time, somebody forgot to get the key to open up the chapel for an activity …”
Just then her mother came into the kitchen. “Well, this is quite a sight. Bailey, I hope you’re learning some great Wyoming recipes.”
“We’re just fixing fried potatoes and hamburgers,” Jed said.
“Sounds wonderful. Well, I’ve called everywhere, and it looks like we’re stuck here. The storm is building in intensity. Looks like the roads may be closed here for a couple of days.
“That’ll give Bailey time to finish peeling that potato she’s been working on since we got here,” Jed teased.
Bailey glanced up from her work, and, to Jed’s surprise, came very close to smiling again.
The food preparation sped up considerably with Bailey’s mother stepping in and taking charge. Jed insisted on cooking the hamburger patties. He thought they turned out pretty good.
While they were eating, the phone rang. Jed answered it.
It was his dad. “Jed, we’re in Idaho Falls. They’ve closed the roads, so we’re going to stay at your Uncle Mel’s place. We’ll try to get out tomorrow. Are you doing okay?”
“Yeah. Oh, that woman and her daughter who left their car at the shop. They were stranded, so I invited them to stay here. I hope that’s okay. I didn’t know what else to do. They didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
“No, that’s good. I’m glad you invited them.”
His dad asked him to go to the shop in the morning and make sure the flat roof didn’t have too much snow on it, and then Jed talked to his mom and told her about the unexpected guests. She gave him a flurry of instructions of what he needed to do to be a good host.
By the time he returned to the kitchen, the dishes were done, and Bailey’s mother was pacing back and forth in the living room, talking on her cell phone.
Bailey was sitting at the kitchen table, deep in thought.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I’ve got a question. Why aren’t you worried about Y2K? If all the computers break down, it will be like all of us don’t exist anymore. It will be like we’ve all been erased.”
“Come with me,” he said.
He opened the front door, and they went outside into the storm. “You feel the wind in your face? That’s real. The snow is real. It’s not going to be erased by some computer. Some things can’t ever be erased.”
“Like what?” she yelled over the storm.
“Like who you are and what you stand for.”
They hurried back inside and sat down again at the kitchen table.
“What did you mean when you said, ‘What you stand for’? Do you stand for something?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“What?”
Jed wasn’t ready for this. He always imagined he would have to go to some faraway place before he’d have a chance to tell people what he believed. He never imagined they would come to him.
He told her about the Prophet Joseph Smith and gave her his copy of the Book of Mormon to read.
While Bailey was reading, he went in the bathroom and set out the guest towels, like his mother had told him to do. And then he put clean sheets on the bed in the guest room, got an extra blanket from the closet, and turned up the heat.
When he finished getting the room ready, he stood in the doorway and looked with satisfaction at what he’d done for his guests.
The first time he’d read his brother’s letter, Jed had had a hard time understanding how his brother could love all the people he met on his mission. But as he watched Bailey sitting at the kitchen table reading the Book of Mormon, and her mother, who had joined her while he’d been making up the guest room, he now understood how that could be.
Jed smiled. He was very happy, and he looked forward with great anticipation to the new year.

Old Jerusalem.
Narrow streets—barely wider than alleys—are crowded with people from all over the world: tourists in shorts and sunglasses, priests wearing vestments of various religious orders, young soldiers carrying machine guns, Jewish men and boys wearing skullcaps, and Arabs in flowing robes and shepherd headwear. Some women are dressed in shawls and veils; others are wearing business suits. Little children are darting through the crowd.
As we make our way through the souk (marketplace), the sound of bargaining is everywhere. And the choices are overwhelming. Shopkeepers advertise their goods by lining them out in the street in front of their stores. Wicker baskets are filled with nuts, fruits, and vegetables. Long embroidered dresses hang from overhead. Shelves are filled with religious statues carved from olive wood. There are rows and rows of brass cookware, copper and silver trays, glazed Armenian ceramics, and Persian jugs. And there is an endless array of gold and silver jewelry, sheepskin and leather coats, and exotic oriental rugs.
Someone is making falafel (a fried mixture of spicy ground vegetables); someone else is roasting shish kebab; the smell of fresh bread mingles with the aroma of strange spices. Merchants stand at their doors and invite us inside. Music from various cultures blares from radios.
My wife, Mary, and I stop in a small shop that sells religious items significant to Christians, Jews, and Muslims. As we browse, the shopkeeper—a short, thin Arab man—explains the meaning and use of several items. And he tells us about the Koran.
We decide on our purchase and begin the expected ritual of bargaining on the price. Hoping we’ve settled on a fair amount, we hand the man several crisp, new bills.
He counts them out and surprises us by handing one back.
“You gave me too much,” he explains. The new bills had stuck together. We had overpaid him.
“Thank you,” Mary says. “We appreciate your honesty.”
“Oh, I’m not being honest for you,” the man replies. “I’m being honest for me and my household. I will not buy food for my family with dishonest money!”
As we return to the noisy, crowded street, we realize that we got more than we bargained for—the memory of an Arab friend who wouldn’t sell himself for a crisp, new dollar bill.