Gospel Story Finder

Illustration by Shauna Mooney Kawasaki
I worked days, and my wife, Elen, worked nights. We hardly saw each other. We weren’t holding home evening or family prayer. We went to sacrament meeting, but we lacked commitment to the gospel.
We began to feel emptiness that came from focusing on the things of the world instead of the things of the Lord. We felt that Heavenly Father wanted more from us.
So we went to the Santiago Chile Temple for guidance on how we could improve. We both received the prompting that we needed to move with our little daughters from Santiago to the northern coastal area of Coquimbo.
We had never been there before, and we knew nothing about the area. But we quit our jobs, sold everything, and said goodbye to family, friends, and my university studies.
In Coquimbo, we didn’t know anyone, and we didn’t have any money. I found a job, but it barely paid the rent. We asked, “Why are we here?”
Elen wondered if there was something she could do to help pay the bills. One day she sewed a new cover for one of our old chairs. “I’m going to put it up for sale and see if someone buys it,” she said. Someone did buy it. Encouraged, Elen learned more about reupholstering furniture. She started advertising and began receiving work.
In 2016, I was called as bishop of our new ward. With my job, my resumed university studies, and my calling, once again I hardly saw my family.
“This isn’t working,” Elen said. “Why don’t you work with me? I’ll teach you how. You’ll be home, and you’ll also have more flexibility for your calling.”
I worried about quitting my job, but Elen suggested that we pray to Heavenly Father and say: “Here’s our business. We’re going to do it together. Please illuminate for us how we can make it work while Gregorio serves as bishop.”
Heavenly Father answered. Now, after years of hardly seeing each other, we’re adjusting to always being together. Sometimes Elen jokingly says, “Don’t you have some bishopric interviews to do? Come back in four hours!”
Here in Coquimbo, we have learned to have faith and live the gospel as a family, and we have been blessed. We moved to a city we did not know to serve people we had not met, and we have seen miracles we did not expect.

When Elder Wirthlin was young, he loved to go fishing with his father, Joseph L. Wirthlin, who would later become the Presiding Bishop of the Church.
“When I was a boy, I spent a lot of time with my father and loved to be with him. One time we went on a fishing trip on the upper part of the Provo River, southeast of Heber City, Utah. We were walking through a meadow, and I was some distance behind him. Father disappeared over a rise in the meadow, and he fell into a deep pond of water!
“When I came over the rise, there was his hat floating on the surface of the water. He finally came up gasping for air, and I reached down and helped him get out of the pond so that he didn’t drown.
“Even though I was young and very small, I learned in a dramatic way that there are many things that we can do to help our parents on a daily basis, or even in a lifesaving situation. We should always be willing to reach out to help our loved ones, regardless of the situation.”

Years ago, as a member of the Vienna Austria Stake high council, I attended a ward in Vienna once a month. Because I live 120 miles (190 km) from Vienna, I often rode the train to get there.
One Sunday, after I had returned home from visiting the ward, I discovered to my dismay that I did not have my wallet. I was worried because I didn’t know if I had lost my wallet or if it had been stolen. In my wallet I had a small amount of money, my temple recommend, a credit card, and other important cards.
The next day I had a hard time concentrating at work. Over and over again I asked myself, “When was the last time I used that wallet? Did I leave it anywhere?” I called the police, the train station, and the bishop of the ward I had attended. Nobody had found it. I prayed as well, and my prayers intensified as the day progressed. I slept poorly that night.
During my morning prayers the next day, I felt a strong spiritual impression to open my Book of Mormon in order to find the answer to my problem. I ignored the feeling instantly because no Book of Mormon scriptures had anything to do with my lost wallet.
The feeling pressed me: “Why do you doubt? Faith precedes the miracle! Just open the book. The first scripture you read will give you the answer to your problem.”
I discarded this feeling as wishful thinking. But the feeling in my heart fought a hard battle and won. I got up, went to my desk, and picked up my Book of Mormon. My heart beat rapidly in anticipation. I did not turn a page forward or backward. I simply opened the book and read Jacob 3:1: “Look unto God with firmness of mind, and pray unto him with exceeding faith, and he will console you in your afflictions, and he will plead your cause.” I was overcome and couldn’t read any further.
The Lord will plead my cause! I went to work relaxed and comforted. At 11:00 a.m. I received a call from the train station police informing me that my wallet had been turned in. One day later I received my wallet. Nothing had been taken.
The Lord had consoled me in my afflictions. He had pleaded my cause. Through the Book of Mormon my Heavenly Father had answered my prayers in a direct, personal way. I have always loved the Book of Mormon, and following this experience, it has become even more precious to me.

She wasn’t really her grandmother, but that didn’t matter to Sue Baker. The woman finally felt close enough to ask her for a favor.
“I have a parcel that needs to be wrapped,” the older lady said with a smile, propping herself up on her rest home bed. Sue, eager to help, asked if the package was going to be mailed somewhere.
“No, it’s not going to be sent off. But I need you to get some tissue paper, ribbon, and a card …”
Sue asked a few more questions. She needed to know the size of the package in order to purchase the correct amount of paper, and she wanted to be sure to select an appropriate color.
“Can you tell me what it is?” she said. “It might help me to know what I need to get for you, what kind of card, that sort of thing.”
The elderly woman decided she couldn’t keep her secret any longer. She pulled the package out from behind her pillow, handed it to Sue, and said, “Here. It’s for you. Pick out a card you like.”
It’s hard for Sue to tell the story without crying. When she opened the box later, she found inside some embroidery she had admired. A few weeks before, her grandmotherly friend had said it was “the most precious thing” she owned.

In May 2018, our lives took another significant path when my husband's health took a turn for the worse. The prompting I received was immediate. We needed to move to Utah. With heavy hearts but with firm faith, we left our familiar surroundings and moved to a new state, trusting that Heavenly Father had a purpose in our relocation.

Within a month of our arrival in Utah, our first mokopuna (grandchild) was born, but tragically, he was taken back to live with our Heavenly Father. This loss was profound and challenging, yet I felt the love of God surrounding us, reminding us of His presence during our sorrow. With her permission, I share this story of my daughter and her husband, holding their baby as she shared her testimony reminding us that the Church is true and that she has assurance that their family is eternal. What a lesson in faith to witness. My eyes widened as I stared at this 23-year-old asking myself “who is this child?” She’s holding her little one that she just lost and her first thought was to bear her testimony? Our Savior was standing right there clearing the path for us to stand witness that He is almighty, that He is reaching out for us to grab on to. A lesson of faith that has had an everlasting impact on me was through the words of my child.

Just a few months later, on Halloween day, my husband suffered a massive heart attack. The doctors told us he would not survive surgery and that we should prepare ourselves. However, my husband's response to the surgeon was, “You didn’t hear my bishop’s blessing.” I will always be grateful for the strength and faith of Bishop Spencer Reid for his assurance that God has a plan and only He knew what the details were. Our faith combined confirmed that we were in the right place at the right time. Our bishop promised Norris would recover as he has work on this earth to do. Our prompting for our family to move to Utah was a testament to us that God was weaving details into the very fabric of our lives. We were truly tested through these experiences, but then our Father in Heaven tested us some more. I had never heard of anyone being plagued from so many ailments as my husband did. I recall my son coming home from church retelling the story of Job. He told us that Job had sores all over his skin and that his faith in God helped him stay strong in the belief that he would be healed. I wept as my then 7-year-old explained that dad is really sick, but he reminds us always to thank our Heavenly Father for the blessings we have received. My husband has survived three different types of cancer and is now preparing for a kidney transplant. Something that he was told would never happen. What blessings our Heavenly Father has poured down on our little family as we have not waivered in our faith.

As my career became more stable in the realm of education, I was able to take care of my family while my husband faced many of these physical, mental, and emotional challenges. I look back to December 19, 1992, when we were sealed in the Hamilton New Zealand Temple, and fall on my knees with gratitude that He loved us enough to ensure that we would be an eternal family. That all we needed was to have faith and listen with our hearts and not so much with our heads. That a path with all the rational sense in the world may not be the path that you should be taking. That our loving Father in Heaven shows you where to go and you must have faith to follow.

This great caring about how we behave toward everyone around us was one of the great lessons President McKay taught. On the trip to Europe to dedicate the temple sites in Switzerland and England, President McKay was surrounded by eager English youth seeking autographs from him. The first in line was a young girl about nine years of age. She asked the President’s son, who was accompanying him, “May I have President McKay’s autograph?” The son, who thought his father was too tired, began to dissuade her, but President McKay, overhearing the conversation, turned to her and asked jokingly, “Do you think I can write plainly enough so you can read it?” The girl wasn’t sure whether he was in earnest and became flustered. At that moment an aide interrupted with a pressing question, and several minutes of conversation ensued. When the President turned to the table to begin writing autographs, the girl had disappeared.
“I have never seen Father more upset,” said his son. “Please find that girl in the blue dress,” President McKay directed. “I’m sure she has the impression that I didn’t want to sign her book. She misinterpreted my remarks. You must find her.” Before long, branch and mission presidents were looking for a little girl in blue. But the search was in vain. Finally, a missionary thought he knew who the girl was. He telephoned the President later that night and then received these instructions: “Tell the girl that I am sorry I missed her and that I have asked the branch president to send her book to me by mail to Salt Lake City; I will sign my autograph and mail it directly back to her.” And he did!

Judy’s appreciation for the New Era came full circle when she was called as ward magazine representative in Coventry. She’s had many opportunities to bear strong testimony of the powerful words lying within her favourite magazine. She’s worked hard encouraging youth to partake and share similar gifts with others.

Her efforts were further supported recently. “We were really blessed when a generous missionary couple stayed in our ward,” Judy continues. “Knowing our enthusiasm for Church writings, they donated enough money to ensure all our members receive copies for the next year.”

Allow me to explain a lesson I learned about reading signposts from a Marshallese boat captain. (I will tell you two stories today of being out on the ocean, this is odd since I am not a water person but a land and wilderness person, and make no pretense to be a competent ocean dweller like my Marshallese friends). In any case, in the dinosaur days I served as one of the early missionaries to the Marshall Islands. This experience more firmly rooted my testimony in the Lord and his Church, and I came to appreciate a different way of thinking, experiencing, and engaging with my brothers and sisters of another culture. Subsequent to my mission I returned with my wife and two children at the time to live, work and study for two more years. Our third child was even born there. Again, as a family we were enriched by relationships that enlarged our souls and distilled in us a broader sense of kinship and accountability to others.

After this I was invited back to serve as a consultant on a development project that took me to numerous outer-islands. On one occasion I embarked on a 25 foot single engine boat loaded with several Marshallese women and children and a couple men along with our captain. We departed with clear skies from Majuro, the capital atoll, towards Arno Atoll. But in the east, the direction we were heading, we could see a dark foreboding bank of clouds moving in. Now on the ocean of Micronesia some rain clouds don't simply drift by releasing their refreshing moisture, some come as a solid sheet and you can actually see them moving like a wall across the water. Our destination point was no more than 15 miles away, but at high tides and with strong swells one cannot see these low lying atolls (never more than 5-8 feet in elevation) until just a few miles out (thanks to the coconut tree tops). So even in the best of weather navigational abilities are essential to a safe journey. At about 7 miles out the wall of rain hit us. It was intense, one of those down pours that soaks all cloths instantly and you actually have to gasp a bit to get air. I was in the front of the boat and as I looked out in the direction we were going I could not see more than a few yards.

The view of any atoll to the forward was completely obscured. I turned to look back at the captain (at the back of the boat) and others but could scarcely make them out so thick was the rain. Many of us began to bail the water furiously because in less that just a minute our boat was beginning to fill. The rain did not let up but continued in a torrent without ceasing. After several minutes I became concerned, not only that our boat may become submerged, but I rehearsed all the worse case scenarios: One, that our engine would stall and we would be left to drift indefinitely, pulled helplessly in a current away from both our point of departure and destination; Two, I feared that even if the engine held steady, we would miss our mark. In such weather, with no visual reference points, it is easy to become disoriented. Only the slightest veering off course will result in seriously over-shooting the intended destination. I entertained the dark possibility that we may skirt past the atoll in this weather and by the time it cleared we would no longer have any visual reference points, and then aimlessly wander until we ran out of gas and drifted. I thought of the 6000 miles between the Marshalls and South America with no islands in between. I had heard the desperate tales of drifting boats and even their horrors.

But the engine sputtered on and we continued to move forward in a deluge that would not let up, but in what direction I was not sure (were we headed south now, or north?) At one point when I turned back peering through the rain to the captain I noticed he was not even looking forward but down, I thought he too could not even lift his head in the rain. A shock of intense fear ran through me. "He most certainly is off course taking us to our demise," I thought. I shuddered as much out of deep anxiety as to the coolness of the persistent shower. Then, after several minutes, perhaps no more than 45-50 minutes (it seemed like hours) I could see a line of demarcation just before us, and then we broke through the other side of the storm into beautiful sunny weather, and there, only about 200 meters in front us was Arno Atoll. The captain had not only found the island, but we were dead on the small inlet where boats come in from the ocean side. I had thought that in our best case scenario we would find the atoll, but would have to navigate along its reefs for miles to find the inlet. But this captain was right on target. He hit the mark, not from sight but through another way. It was then I realized that this modern seaman was actually practicing something very old, an old navigational tradition that his ancestors had developed and had saved their lives numerous times. We were not in an outrigger canoe but a modern gas powered fiberglass boat, but he had drawn upon the wisdom of the past to securely deliver his passengers in what seemed an inhospitable environment.

Marshallese navigators in the past did not leave anything to chance. Because the islands are small low-lying coral atolls, a navigator could not even see his destination until he was nearly upon it. Instead of viewing them as empty spaces, ocean and sky were texts to be read and interpreted; a map and highway to where the navigators wanted to go. Like many Pacific sailors, the Marshallese navigators used the stars as guides to plot their position. But these navigators also interpreted wave and current patterns that identified a course to steer their sailing canoes. They learned that the ocean is an intricate mixing of currents that interweave in predictable patterns. These currents, when they encounter atolls, also bend and refract so consistently that the waves serve as signatures for the location of each atoll. Canoes encountering these wave actions move on top of the surface in distinct ways, and become signs that mark location and facilitate determining in which direction to adjust a canoe's course. This accumulated wisdom was recorded, not in writing, but through oral tales and stick charts that preserved knowledge and served as instructional aides. One of the most important charts was the Wapepe, which literally means, "canoe decision," that is, the chart helps the navigator make the important decisions about where to point his canoe to arrive safely at his desired destination.

My captain had his head down, not to shield his eyes from the rain, nor out of desperation or fear, but to feel, to feel the motion of our boat more carefully, to detect our direction from feeling wave and current patterns that his ancestors had known and that he had learned. He paid attention to how our boat rocked and moved in the water. He did not need to go by sight; he felt his way to our destination by following age old signs. My brothers and sisters, the way to our destination may not always be easily discerned. But there are signposts, there are maps, there are those who have gone before us who know the way. In the storms of our lives, there is no need to panic, no need to despair, no need to lose hope or even become distracted by other things.

In July of 1976, runner Garry Bjorklund was determined to qualify for the U.S. Olympic team’s 10,000-meter race which would be run at the Montreal Olympics. Halfway through the grinding qualifying race, however, he lost his left shoe. What would you and I do if that were our experience? I suppose he could have given up and stopped. He could have blamed his bad luck and lost the opportunity of participating in the greatest race of his life, but this champion athlete did not do that. He ran on without his shoe. He knew that he would have to run faster than he had ever run in his life. He knew that his competitors now had an advantage that they did not have at the beginning of the race. Over that cinder track he ran, with one shoe on and one shoe off, finishing third and qualifying for the opportunity to participate in the race for the gold medal. His own running time was the best he had ever recorded. He put forth the effort necessary to achieve his goal.

“When I first learnt about the Church, I had no idea of a temple. At church, they always talked about it but there were no regular temple visits, because the closest temple was in South Africa, about a four-hour drive away. Two years later, a missionary couple from Utah took the initiative of taking members to the temple every fortnight. I was the first one to attend, along with the Relief Society president.
“After my first temple visit, I was a little confused but at the same time I wanted to learn more. From that time the branch started to make regular visits to the temple, and I always made sure I went along with the group.
“As a single widowed mother, I learned that I could be sealed to my deceased spouse for time and eternity. That gave me peace and comfort and reminded me of what the missionaries had taught me—that families can be together forever.
“Being sealed to my deceased family members was one of the most memorable, comforting, and peaceful experiences I have ever had.
“Visiting the temple regularly has also helped motivate me to do family history work for my deceased family members. These things have strengthened my faith and given me a stronger testimony about our Heavenly Father and His compassionate love.

Before I left on that mission, President Anthon H. Lund (1844–1921), who was then a counselor in the First Presidency of the Church, talked to us missionaries, and he said, “The people will love you. … They will love you because of what you bring to them.” I did not understand that then, but before I left Holland, I went around saying good-bye to the Saints and the converts whom I had brought into the Church, and I shed a thousand tears, as compared to what I shed when I told my loved ones at home good-bye.
For instance, in Amsterdam I went into a home where I had been the first missionary there, and the mother, looking up into my face with tears rolling down her cheeks, said, “Brother Richards, it was hard to see my daughter leave for Zion a few months ago, but it’s much harder to see you go.” Then I thought I could understand what President Lund meant when he said, “They will love you.”
I went to tell a man good-bye. He stood erect in the uniform of his country. He got down on his knees and took my hand in his and hugged it and kissed it and bathed it with his tears. And then I thought I could understand what President Lund meant.
Now I have labored much with the missionaries. I have been on four missions and presided over two, and I have toured many missions. I love to hear those young missionaries bear their testimonies. For instance, a young man in Oregon in our testimony meeting said there wasn’t a company in this world that could pay him a large enough salary to get him to leave his missionary work.
I received a letter here from a missionary from Idaho. He wrote this:
“There is no greater work than that of missionary work. … My life is dedicated to serving the Lord. My heart is overflowing as are the tears of joy that are now coming from my eyes. There is nothing so wonderful—nothing—as tasting the joy and success of missionary labors.”
After all the missionary service I have had, I wouldn’t want to raise a boy and not have him go on a mission, for his good and because I think we owe it to the world to share with them the truths of the gospel.

Keeping the mighty works of God in our memory builds in us knowledge, confidence, and a profound reverence for His magnificent power. On one occasion we stayed overnight in the Austrian Alps. Our lodging was a small guesthouse on the edge of a deep precipice. Across the divide rose a sheer wall of rock thousands of feet high. Early in the evening a fierce storm arose. As thunder and lightning reverberated against the rock wall, the whole valley seemed to shake. With profound respect for the awesome power of God, we could not help but compare our puny experience with the account found in 3 Nephi:
There arose a great storm, such an one as never had been known in all the land.
And there was also a great and terrible tempest; and there was terrible thunder, insomuch that it did shake the whole earth as if it was about to divide asunder.
And there were exceedingly sharp lightnings, such as never had been known in all the land. [3 Nephi 8:5–7]
The mightiest of all His work is, of course, His magnificent Atonement, which brought to pass the immortality and eternal life of you and me. May we always remember His mighty works.

Edson S., age 16, Georgia, USA
Likes marching band, playing sports of any kind, and spending time with his family.
My freshman year of high school was very difficult. I was doing online school because of COVID-19. During that year, my dad got COVID and passed away. I had to deal with that loss the whole year. Exactly one year later, my grandfather passed away. During my junior year, my grandmother passed away. I was in the room with her when she passed.
I always had a feeling of emptiness because of these things that happened in my life. I felt like maybe I was doing something wrong or was paying for my mistakes or something. During that time, I wasn’t doing the best things either. I wasn’t letting Christ’s light shine through me.
One day, while reading the lyrics of the hymn “I Stand All Amazed” (Hymns, no. 193), the line “Such mercy, such love and devotion can I forget?” hit me. When I read that, I felt my emptiness be filled. The words “can I forget” made me stop and think. Throughout my life, with all the stuff that I’d been suffering and going through, I wanted to forget. I wanted to find an easier way, to have fun, and to do things that weren’t right, all while not relying on Jesus Christ.
Even though I was in a dark place and trying to go astray, Jesus Christ didn’t let me forget His mercy and love. When I was down, He didn’t forget me. So, if He didn’t forget me, I shouldn’t forget Him.
I believe that even if you’re in a dark place and you think God’s not going to give you a second chance, He will. He loves you and cares for you.

Lafague Augustin, a friend of the Church from Haiti, took EnglishConnect 3 after losing his job because he couldn’t speak English. The service missionaries at his gathering place encouraged him to continue with BYU–Pathway, attend church, and read and listen to the Book of Mormon. In return, they promised he would feel the power of God and his English would significantly improve.
As promised, Lafague has seen the blessings. He was able to get a job as an interpreter with his new English skills. “EnglishConnect blessed my life so much. It allowed me to enroll in BYU–Pathway Worldwide, which has helped my confidence when speaking with native English speakers.”
He added, “In church, I feel peace, love, and respect. As I pray, read the scriptures, and study the gospel with the missionaries, I’m becoming closer to Jesus Christ.”

Anchorage that night was across the bay from Miami. The skyline reflected beautifully in the water. Lobsters tasted better for having been caught by hand. With boats moored together, the combined crews held a testimony meeting, expressing their brotherly love and gratitude. The setting was spectacular and the spirit impressive. Almost everyone had expressed himself when Miguel, who had been quietly listening, asked if he could participate.

“Of course,” he was assured. He said that he felt a wonderful spirit, that he hadn’t felt anything like it since he had been active in his own Catholic Scout troop. He said he had been on cruises with many Explorer posts, but he wanted us to know he felt something special about our group. Everyone was deeply moved.

A few weeks later, President Gordon B. Hinckley asked everyone in the Church to read the Book of Mormon before the end of the year. Kim’s family started right away and read every night before saying their prayers and going to bed.
Grandma and Grandpa started to read the Book of Mormon at their house too. Grandpa got up early each morning, sat at the kitchen table, and read for a long time. He got so excited reading about the people in the Book of Mormon that he could hardly put the book down. He loved seeing how their lives were blessed when they followed the teachings of Jesus Christ. Grandpa read so much each day that he finished the book far before the end of the year. So he decided to read the Book of Mormon again.
When Grandpa finished the second time, he asked Grandma to call Kim, Cody, and Kate. “Tell them I did more than eat two cookies to go the extra mile. I loved the Book of Mormon so much that I read it two times before the end of the year!”

“Thanks for vacuuming, Anne. Now please go get ready and put on your Sunday clothes,” Mom said, as she placed her best china plates on the table.
“Sunday clothes? But this is Monday,” I protested.
“Remember, we’re having company for dinner,” she said.
“How could I forget after all the work I’ve done? But why Sunday clothes? We didn’t have to wear Sunday clothes for our other guests,” I complained.
“Anne, please just do it,” Mom concluded, as she rolled the green cloth napkins and slipped them into the napkin rings.
Always before Dad and Mom had told us who was coming. My Dad has this thing about inviting people over to eat with us. The first time he invited someone, it was a returned missionary from Argentina. Mom fixed food from Argentina called milanesa. Before this missionary came, Dad made us learn where Argentina is on the globe, what the people and the weather are like, and what Argentina’s main exports are, so we could carry on an intelligent conversation.
Dad had such a good time that about a month later, he invited the bishop and his family to have dinner with us. The bishop had been to Hong Kong on his mission, so Mom prepared Chinese food. Before the bishop’s family came we had to be able to, you guessed it, locate Hong Kong on the globe. We also had to learn the books of the Old and New Testament and of the Book of Mormon. Dad thought it would impress the bishop, but it was a little hard to work it into the conversation.
A few months later Dad got really brave and invited his boss to dinner. Dad is a chemical engineer and works for a petroleum company. The company makes gas and oil and bug spray and things like that. I asked Mom if we were having petroleum products for dinner. She laughed and said, “No, stuffed pork chops.”
Before the boss came we not only had to learn about the Alaska pipeline, off-shore drilling in the Gulf of Mexico, and how to squeeze oil out of rocks called shale, but we also had a review of manners and etiquette.
We spent days putting napkins on our laps, keeping our elbows off the table, chewing with our mouths closed, speaking only when spoken to, etc. The boss turned out to be very nice, and he seemed to like us.
A few months later Dad was at it again. It began when a notice came in the mail that one of the senators from our state, Senator Brown, would be in town to give a lecture about what was going on in Washington, D.C. When Dad mentioned that he was going to call this senator and invite him to dinner, we all begged him not to do it. Mom said senators don’t have time for such things. But Dad was undaunted (that’s one of the week’s vocabulary words) and called the senator’s office. He even got to talk to the senator.
The senator said he was sorry, but all his evenings were busy, so he couldn’t come to dinner. Now my dad is a quick thinker and just like he’d planned it, he said, “Well, then, how about coming to breakfast?”
Senator Brown is no match for my Dad, and he certainly was not prepared for that and couldn’t think of an excuse fast enough, so he said, “Yes.” He actually said he would come.
Before he came you can imagine what we had to learn. Did you know there are 435 congressmen in the House of Representatives, 100 senators in the Senate, that a senator is elected to a term of six years and a congressman for two? We were crammed full of facts, and we got Mom’s now famous manners and etiquette review.
The morning the senator came, a newspaper reporter did too. The reporter took our pictures with Senator Brown and wrote down all about how the senator was having breakfast with this family. It was kind of embarrassing and was even more embarrassing when the picture and article were in the newspaper.
Well, Dad had not taught us one thing to impress his latest guest, and Mom hadn’t explained why we had to wear Sunday clothes. In fact, they wouldn’t even tell us who was coming.
Mom had fresh flowers, candles, and her very best lace cloth on the table. She made us work to clean every inch of the house. She even got her hair done at the beauty shop.
I said, “Hey, Mom, please tell me. Who is coming? If he’s such an important person, how could he have time to come to dinner with us?” She just smiled and asked me to refill the ice cube trays.
Soon the house was ready, the food was ready, all five of us children were bathed and dressed and ready in our Sunday clothes. There was soft music playing. Mom and Dad seemed happy and peaceful, not nervous like when our other guests were coming. It was 6 o’clock. The guest would soon be here.
At 6:30, the guest hadn’t come. At 6:45 we were still waiting. We were all hungry. “Who is this most important person, anyway?” I asked impatiently.
Just then Dad and Mom called us to the table, and Mom lit the candles. “Let’s begin,” said Dad.
“How can we begin? We can’t start without our guest! We’ve gone to too much work. Who are we waiting for anyway? The president of the United States?” I said.
“Sit down, all of you, and we’ll give you some clues to see if you can guess who our guest will be,” said Mom.
“This person is more important than the president of the United States. But even though he is so important, he knows you very well,” said Dad.
“Is this a trick?” I asked.
“Not a trick,” Dad answered.
Dad continued. “This person is smarter than my boss or the senator. He is more spiritual than the missionary or the bishop. Yet, as important as he is, I didn’t even have to make an appointment with him.”
“Let’s kneel down and have family prayer to begin our dinner and home evening,” said Mom.
Suddenly, as we knelt around the table and Dad began to pray, I got this special feeling. Then I knew. Dad and Mom had gone to all this work to teach us about Heavenly Father. He is much more important than anyone else, and we don’t have to make an appointment to talk to him.
Everyone else must have figured it out too because after the prayer we ate in silence for a long time.
Finally, Dad said, “I hope you will invite Heavenly Father to be your guest in everything you do.”

Answering my phone, I heard the excited voice of one of the local full-time missionaries telling me about a baptism to be held in a few days. Baptisms, of course, are always a reason for excitement among missionaries, but the name of the sister being baptized was unfamiliar to me. Yet the elder insisted that I attend the baptism because a surprise awaited me. He would not tell me more.
On the day of the baptism, I arrived at the church early to find out what the surprise was. But I did not know the young sister—Alice—who was getting baptized, and she gave no indication that she recognized me.
After the sweet, Spirit-filled baptism, Alice held a Book of Mormon as she bore testimony of its truthfulness and expressed gratitude for its teachings, especially its witness of the Savior. In her testimony, she told how the book had come to her. She had been working at a kiosk in a local shopping mall. One day a woman came by and gave the book to her boss. The boss was not interested and put it on a shelf.
A short time later, when the business was leaving the kiosk, the boss told Alice to throw the book away. But Alice was curious, briefly looked at the book, and asked if she could have it.
Alice took the Book of Mormon home, read it within a few weeks, and was convinced of its truth. But she didn’t know what to do. Some months later she found another job, where she worked with a Latter-day Saint. She asked him about the Book of Mormon and the Church, and he and his wife invited her to meet with the missionaries.
Then this sister said she would like to read the testimony written in the front of her Book of Mormon. The testimony was mine. I had placed it there before giving it to Alice’s boss at the kiosk.
The elders broke into delighted smiles. This was the sweetest surprise I had ever experienced in my life! After the baptismal service, my new sister in the gospel rushed to hug me.
I loved witnessing Alice’s baptism and hearing her humble testimony, gained by reading the Book of Mormon and praying as Moroni counsels: “If ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you” (Moroni 10:4).
A deep gratitude still fills me that I had been allowed to play a small part in helping one of God’s children receive the blessings of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

One such experience occurred when my older brother, Adrian, needed surgery. Medical facilities here are limited, and it was necessary for him to leave his wife and children to fly to the mainland. He resisted the trip, fearing a problem with the small plane he would be taking. But in the end, he had to go. Boarding with him were the pilot and two television reporters.
As I heard the plane fly overhead, I sent my thoughts with my brother: Have no fear, Adrian. Heavenly Father will watch over you. Yet I felt prompted to go to my room and pray for his protection.
I was still on my knees when my husband came in. “I don’t know how to tell you this,” he began.
“Tell me what?”
“Adrian’s plane has crashed into the sea. We don’t know yet if there are any survivors.”
Thankfully, all four men lived. They were rescued by some people in a fishing boat and were soon back safe on the island. The entire population was waiting for them when they returned to the dock. We applauded with relief and joy and shed many tears of gratitude.
The next day the two reporters came to my place of work and gave me their version of what had happened. When the plane began to go down, the pilot ordered them to break the windows and throw out anything they could. Suitcases, cameras, shoes—everything was sacrificed to help the plane stay afloat as long as possible after crashing. The pilot gave some final instructions, and they buckled their seat belts.
Then Adrian began to pray aloud. He told the Lord that all of them felt they had a lot of living left to do. They were heads of families. They all had small children. He pleaded for another chance.
When he finished the prayer, he began to sing one of our hymns, “The Lord is my light; then why should I fear? …” (Hymns, 1985, number 89). The reporters said that without knowing the hymn, they began to sing with him. The music and his prayer gave them hope that they might be saved.
Within a few seconds of impact, the plane sank. But those few seconds were enough. They got the door open and inflated a raft. After the fishing boat picked them up, someone spotted a suitcase floating. It was Adrian’s. Inside was the tithing from our branch, which he was to deliver to Church leaders on the mainland. Other than the four men, the suitcase was the only thing that was saved.
Although we live in one of the most remote places of the earth, we know our Father in Heaven is mindful of us. We have felt his almighty hand, and he has answered our prayers.

Raymond Sixth Ward
The Raymond Sixth Ward Primary, Raymond Alberta Stake, had a service project where they filled shoe boxes with small gifts for children in developing countries. Some of the gifts included soap, toothbrushes, toy cars, jump ropes, and pencils. Each child stuffed one box for a girl and one box for a boy. They also wrote the children notes and drew them pictures. Everyone enjoyed the activity and gained a stronger testimony of the joy that can be found in giving service to others.