Gospel Story Finder

When President Gordon B. Hinckley announced the construction of the Nauvoo Temple, everyone was excited. He said that members could give money to help build the temple, and I wanted to help. I had been saving my money for a long time to buy a new pet that I wanted, but I decided to give that money for the temple, just like the children did when the first temple was built there. When I gave the envelope to the bishop, I felt great, knowing that someday I will visit the Nauvoo Temple with my family.Eric Smith, age 9Provo, Utah

I was never the most popular girl in my school, but I had tons of good friends, people to talk to and trust. Most of the students at school, including some of my friends and I, made fun of a girl in my class because she was different. We would tease her and call her names. We thought she looked funny, so we were just using her to entertain ourselves.
One Friday night some of my friends and I were at a friend’s house. We stayed up late talking, and we started talking about this girl. Then one of my friends said that she used to be friends with this girl and that she was made fun of last year, too. She told us that when they were friends, this girl used to call her on the phone every day after school. She said that sometimes it sounded like she was crying.
This made me think twice about how this girl must have felt. So I decided to stop making fun of her. That next week, instead of saying something mean or laughing at her, I would smile at her. After a few weeks, we began saying hi to each other in the halls. The next month we started talking more. We became very good friends.
One day we were walking to the bus, and this girl looked at me and said, “You mean the world to me, and I am so glad you’re my friend because you’re so nice to me. You respect me for who I am, and you make me so happy. You give me a reason to come back to school every day.”
After she told me this, I couldn’t speak. All I could do was say thanks and think about how much our friendship meant to her. It made me feel like someone out there loved me and respected me for how I acted toward them. It made me feel like I was worth something.

When I studied experiences in Church history, I realized that I might not be the only one who has felt this way. I found hope in the story of William W. Phelps, who was an author, missionary, and leader of the early Restoration. He was a good man. He preached the gospel wherever he traveled and became a trusted member of the Missouri High Council. William was also a close friend of Joseph Smith.
Which is why his betrayal of Joseph was particularly painful.
In 1838, mobs and militiamen attacked and pillaged the Saints in Missouri, destroying homes and beating resisters. In the aftermath, Joseph Smith and other Church leaders were arrested for baseless crimes. Afraid of being prosecuted alongside them, William W. Phelps and several others made a deal with the prosecutor: testify against Joseph Smith and go free.
Under oath, William joined others in bearing false testimony against the Prophet. After the trial, Joseph and other Church leaders were incarcerated in Liberty Jail. While William left the courthouse a free man, he felt the weight of his actions on his shoulders. Several years later, Joseph Smith received a letter from William asking Joseph for forgiveness.
“I am as the prodigal son,” wrote William. “I have been greatly abased and humbled.”
The Prophet wrote back, “Believing your confession to be real, and your repentance genuine, I shall be happy once again to give you the right hand of fellowship, and rejoice over the returning prodigal.”
Joseph Smith was filled with compassion for William. Just as the father celebrated the return of the prodigal in the scriptures (see Luke 15:11–32), so too did the Saints receive William Phelps back into the fold.
Repentance and forgiveness for William—which likely seemed impossible to him—was now a reality. And it can be a reality for us too!
Joseph Smith acknowledged the pain that William had caused: “We have suffered much in consequence of your behavior—the cup of gall, already full enough for mortals to drink, was indeed filled to overflowing when you turned against us.”
But Joseph continued, “However, the cup has been drunk, the will of our Father has been done.”
Joseph recognized that William’s sins had been paid for and that there was no need for William to suffer any longer. William’s repentance to Heavenly Father could free him from guilt.

In Farmington, Utah, USA, 135 years ago, Bishop John W. Hess was concerned about the behavior of the children in his ward. He called the mothers of the ward together and talked about the importance of guiding the minds of young children.
Aurelia Spencer Rogers listened, and then discussed it with Eliza R. Snow, who visited Farmington in the spring of 1878. Sister Snow in turn met with Church President John Taylor, who authorized Bishop Hess to form an organization for children in his ward. The Farmington Ward Primary Association was formally organized on August 11, 1878, with Sister Rogers as president.
Today, approximately one million children all over the world benefit from Primary each week. Primary leaders and teachers strive to support parents in their role to help children gain testimonies of Heavenly Father, Jesus Christ, and the restored gospel.
From a story by Rosemary M. Wixom, Jean A. Stevens, and Cheryl A. Esplin, Primary General Presidency

Last Christmas we visited our great-grandparents in Hawaii, USA. We decided to create rock art to remember the story of Jesus Christ’s birth. We got the idea from a past Friend to Friend broadcast.
Christmas was on a Sunday. After church our family headed down to the beach. We all looked for items to use in our nature Nativity. After we were done, we enjoyed the sunset together. Then we went back to our grandparents’ house to make the art.
It was amazing to see it all come together. This is a Christmas memory we will never forget!

My siblings and I, as kids, grew up not knowing and feeling what it means to enjoy the real spirit of Christmas centred on the life and mission of the Saviour, Jesus Christ. We celebrated Christmas as just one special day. In many ways my Christmas experience was mixed with childish wishful thinking. To me, Christmas day meant one thing: a Christmas gift. No gift, no Christmas.
Despite our childhood hearts focusing only on our Christmas gift, we knew this period between when school let out and Christmas day wasn’t going to be an easy ride. It would be a tough time which I will call “time to behave”. Our loving parents didn’t accept any excuse and made sure everyone had something to do. Each evening after dinner, the work plan for the next day was briefly discussed and individual or group assignments appropriate to our age were given. It was during this time to behave that we were taught the value of work, family unity, bearing one another’s burdens, teamwork and other valuable life skills. Just before Christmas, our parents would judge how well we conducted ourselves on all these household chores and farming activities, and they would decide whether we were to receive or miss out the Christmas gift. I am profoundly humbled and thankful for such a self-disciplining time to behave childhood experience which molded my life with everlasting character.
Many years have gone by. We have grown from childish to adult pursuits, being caught up in the business of busy life. I vividly remember some of these wonderful, happy moments when I got my Christmas gift. On the other hand, it is hard to forget a few unpleasant Christmas days when I missed out on my Christmas gift after failing to live up to my loving parents’ expectations during the time to behave period. It was through these childhood experiences that I came to love and treasure the Saviour’s birth and the Christmas season.

As a friend and I were completing the virtue value project for Personal Progress, we read the Book of Mormon at school during breaks. Our teacher and our classmates began to make fun of us. At times I wanted to stop reading, but I simply could not leave my scriptures at home. We continued to read at school, and over time we weren’t made fun of anymore. One of our friends became interested in the gospel and in Personal Progress. We gave her the booklet and a triple combination, and since then we have been telling her about the gospel. Her brother also became interested in the gospel. They are both reading the Book of Mormon.
Kimberly A., age 16, Brazil

My boy graduated from high school at the age of 17 with plans to attend Brigham Young University-Idaho, 3,000 miles away from home before serving a full-time mission.
When he turned eighteen, he received his patriarchal blessing that mentioned the blessings that would come to him from serving a mission. Shortly after, my son shared with me that he had put in his mission papers. I cried. In part because I was proud that he had come to that decision on his own, but also because I was terrified. You see, Rayshawn was my only child and since my divorce, it was just the two of us.
Life intervened and some pretty trying things happened that tested my son’s faith. It is the hardest thing in the world to see one’s child struggle and not be able to do anything but encourage and pray unceasingly for them. My son turned eighteen, then 19, and by this time he was adamant that he would never serve a mission. He turned 20 and COVID hit. He came home from school because the isolation was doing things to his mental health.
By this time, he attended Church sporadically. He and I are the only members of the Church in our family, so I depended heavily on the temple prayer roll, personal and family prayer, and spending quality time together. We would sometimes read his patriarchal blessing together because I think the adversary works very hard at making the youth feel unworthy, unloved, unappreciated, worthless, and unable to do anything that presents a challenge or even anything that does not bring them instant gratification. We must help them see themselves as their Heavenly Father sees them and then living up to their potential will be much easier.
My little branch in the Caribbean is guided by a mission president and when a new president moved into our area he reached out and began counseling with my son via Zoom. By the time my son turned 22 years old he submitted his mission papers for the third time. Third time’s the charm, right? I should let you know that he taught himself Japanese because he really wanted to go to Japan.
Of course, our plans are not God’s plans, and he was called to the Trinidad Port of Spain Mission. He has been out on his mission for 10 months and he is zone leader. I have seen a mighty change in my son, and this young man who always thought the glass was half-empty is able to keep things positive even when confronted by someone with a knife in the streets while training a new missionary. He would later encourage other missionaries to always look for the positive perspective in similar situations.
As a mother, I still pray without ceasing over my baby boy, Elder Rayshawn N. Gibson, but I see that he has received His image in his countenance and the Light of Christ indeed shines in his eyes. Can a mother ask for anything more?

One day I was watching a movie at a friend’s house, and I didn’t feel good about the movie. And then I remembered the article in the Friend magazine about a boy who was at his friend’s house and he didn’t feel comfortable playing a video game, so he played cars instead. This gave me courage, so I told their mom that I didn’t feel comfortable with the movie. Then she changed the movie. I had a warm feeling inside because I knew I did the right thing.

I first discovered the garage when I was seven years old and spending the day at my grandparents’ house. I quickly settled into my routine of playing with toys in their living room. Just as I jumped my toy car off of the armrest of the sofa, my grandpa walked through the den wearing a set of blue overalls covered in stains and his favorite “Ford Racing” hat. Opening the sliding door and stepping over the threshold, he looked back to find me staring at him wide-eyed. With a wink, he motioned for me to follow him.
As we walked across the backyard and came to the door of the gray garage, Grandpa reached into his pocket and retrieved his keys. Slowly and methodically, he fingered through the keys with his big, calloused hands that were the result of a lifetime of hard work. Finally, he found the old brass key he was looking for, inserted it into the lock, and opened the door.
After climbing over boxes and tiptoeing around engine parts and transmission pieces, we stood in the middle of the garage. Grandpa showed me around, pointing to various parts and explaining what they did in a way that my seven-year-old mind could understand. He pointed out the cars he was fixing and what they needed to run well again. One was a 1940s-era roadster that looked just like one of my toy cars. The other was a 1965 Mustang that was lying in pieces all over the floor. It was amazing how much my grandpa knew and how he could figure out exactly what was wrong with something so complex. His stories of growing up in a family of 12 and buying old cars, repainting them, and selling them to make money made me laugh and the stories of car crashes and real fiery explosions astounded me.
Over the years I’ve put in my share of elbow grease in Grandpa’s garage. I would change oil in the countless cars that rolled into the shop, driven by people asking for my grandpa to work on their vehicles. Grandpa would always smile and treat his loyal customers to at least a half-hour’s worth of conversation. I helped clean the brake drums and apply body filler to the Mustang, which soon became my favorite car in the garage. We spent many hours working in the crowded space. I treasured the time I got to spend with my grandpa working in the garage.
When I was nine, I moved away and no longer got to spend time in the garage with Grandpa. A few years later the distance multiplied when my grandparents were called to serve a mission in Hawaii. However, it was truly a blessing. My grandpa finally got the chance to serve the Lord as a missionary. Growing up in such a large family meant that money was limited, and a full-time mission wasn’t possible for him when he was young. While my grandpa had the desire to serve, a full-time mission involved a great deal of sacrifice. I had always wanted to serve a mission, and seeing my grandparents serve and the blessings that came from their service bolstered my desire. When my grandpa came back, the garage was waiting for him. The sounds of power tools and metal once again reverberated through the walls.
The years have raced by, and I am older now. But working with Grandpa is still special to me. Whenever I come back to visit, it seems like there is always a new project or something that needs to be done. The distance makes me treasure our time together so much more.
I recently visited during the summer, and Grandpa gave me that familiar wink as he motioned for me to follow him. Expecting a new job, I followed willingly. As he lifted the door to the garage, what I saw took my breath away. There stood a beautifully restored 1965 Mustang. The body filler had been covered with a beautiful copper metallic paint, and the brake drums were now masked by flawless new rims. Big white racing stripes flowed up the front of the car from the chrome front bumper to the chrome rear bumper, and the shiny running horse pranced across the front of the grill. He put the key into the ignition, and the huge V-8 engine roared to life. He looked at me and smiled, then he asked if I wanted to go for a ride. I quickly said yes, and with that, we backed the car out of the garage and took off down the street.
As I make preparations to serve a mission, I look forward to following in my grandpa’s footsteps once again as I serve the Lord. My grandpa has not only taught me many things about cars, but he has also taught me many things about life. From all the hours we spent in the garage, I’ve learned how to be patient and take pride in my work. Because of his incredible people skills, I’ve learned how to approach and talk to people. And above all, he helped me discover who I truly am. Just like the Mustang, I have been piecing myself together over the last 18 years, and now, with help from Grandpa, I am finally ready for the open road.

Once, for my wife’s birthday, I gave her a pair of wonderful gold earrings. They suited her very well since she has a long, graceful neck, and the earrings were made in the shape of concentric circles bound together so they could move and play in the sunlight. My wife, Yelena, looked stunning whenever she wore them. She loved these earrings.

Then came the day of that best of all holiday celebrations, our branch Christmas party. I was in charge of this activity for our branch in Penza, Russia, so I was hurrying, wanting to get there as quickly as possible to make sure everything was ready for the activity. Yelena did not hurry but continued carefully getting ready. When my patience gave out, I told her to stop with her makeup, insisting that she looks great even without it. That was my mistake. She told me that she wasn’t going anywhere, and I would have to go to the party alone.

This led to a petty argument, and we said unkind words to each other. In the end she didn’t follow through with her threat, but in the car on the way to the activity we didn’t speak one word to each other, as if we were complete strangers.

Our Christmas party was held in the large auditorium of a nearby school. Friends and fellow branch members had helped us decorate the room with flowers and pictures of our Lord’s life and death. When we arrived we sat down in our seats, and my wife discovered that she was wearing only one earring. This was an unpleasant surprise, and we completely forgot about our argument. We looked all around us, but in vain—the earring was nowhere to be found. We decided it would be best to forget about it for the moment and watch the wonderful concert our friends had prepared.

Although the concert really was fabulous, my wife and I weren’t able to fully enjoy it. Our day was spoiled, and we returned home in low spirits. We were sad to lose the earring, not only because it was expensive and beautiful, but more important because it was a gift of love for my wife.

When I woke up the next day, I realized we had lost something else much more important than a gold earring: the unity between us. Turning to Yelena, I said, “Look at this other earring. See how beautiful it is and how the light plays on it. Think about how much gold and effort were required to make it, and see how it’s just lying there alone on your table. Once the other was lost, it turned into something far less than when it was part of a pair. We are like this also. When we are united, we can be a beautiful, powerful, and creative force for good. But when we are not united, we don’t have the same strength, power, or beauty.”

Tears appeared on my wife’s face. She came over and embraced me. Her voice shook as she spoke, but her words touched me from head to toe: “We should never argue. We should be like Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ. We love each other, and we had our marriage sealed for eternity in the holy temple. The devil wants to destroy all families on earth, but he can’t do it if we are united. I love you even more after this incident. God has shown us what a family really is.”

I held her in my arms, tears streaming down my cheeks. Now I knew that I held in my arms my greatest blessing.

Preston ran down the court. He caught a pass from his teammate. Swish! He made a basket just as the recess bell rang!
I wish I could have made one more basket, Preston thought as he walked into the classroom and sat down at his desk. He could hear his classmates laughing behind him and turned around to see what was going on. They were making fun of a boy named Jacob. Again.
Preston didn’t know Jacob very well. He knew Jacob liked to draw. The boys were passing around one of Jacob’s drawings and laughing at it. Jacob was looking down at his desk.
I need to do something, Preston thought.
He walked over and grabbed the drawing. It was a picture of a police officer. “Hey, I like this picture. Do you have any others?” he asked Jacob.
Jacob smiled. He showed Preston drawings of a robot, a dog, and a dinosaur. They were good! The police officer was Preston’s favorite.
“Can I have it?” Preston asked.
“Sure,” Jacob said.
That night while Preston was doing his homework at the table, Mom saw the picture of the police officer. “What’s this?” she asked.
“A kid named Jacob in my class drew it,” Preston said. “Some of the boys were making fun of it, so I asked if I could have it. Everyone stopped making fun of him after that.”
Mom smiled and hung the picture on the refrigerator with a magnet. “That was a kind thing to do,” she said.
Seeing Jacob’s drawing on the fridge gave Preston an idea.
“Hey, Mom, you know how we’re submitting drawings to the county fair?”
“Yeah,” Mom said.
“What if we submitted Jacob’s drawing? I bet it’d win a ribbon!”
“That’s a great idea!” Mom said.
“Can we make it a surprise?” Preston asked. “I want to see Jacob’s face when he sees his picture!”
Mom nodded. “I’ll give Jacob’s mom a call to make sure it’s OK with her.”
The next day, when Preston was playing basketball at recess, he saw Jacob sitting alone. Preston walked over.
“Hey,” he said as he sat down next to Jacob.
“Hey.”
“My mom and sisters and I are going to the fair next week,” Preston said. “Want to come with us?”
“Sure!” said Jacob.
The next week, Preston and his family picked up Jacob and drove to the fair. There were lots of fun games and rides, but Preston wanted to go straight to the art booth before anything else.
Preston looked at all the drawings, but there was one he especially wanted to find.
“All right!” Preston shouted. There was Jacob’s police officer. And attached to the drawing was a blue ribbon!
Jacob’s eyes got big. Then he smiled. “That’s my drawing!”
Mom and Preston’s sisters caught up. “Mom, look what Jacob got!” Preston said, pointing to the drawing.
“That’s great!” Mom said.
“And look at yours,” Preston’s sister said. Preston’s drawing of a tiger had won a blue ribbon too!
Preston gave Jacob a high five. No matter what other people said, he was glad they could be blue-ribbon friends.

It all started when my stake set up a project to help refugees. I really liked the project, so I asked my mom to tell my schoolteacher about it, and my teacher wanted to do something with the fourth grade. To set the example for the project, my sister, Maddie, and I went door to door asking for donations.
The day came to present the project to the rest of the fourth grade. I was a bit nervous. Actually, I was super freaked out, but I did my best. I told all the other fourth graders what we needed for school kits for the refugees. I told about how we went door to door, and I gave them a challenge to try to do better than me in raising money. Together we made over 100 kits! We put in notebooks, pencils, and other school supplies. We also added a note to say, “Welcome to Germany!”
My mom and I took the kits to the refugee camp. I wouldn’t say the camp was nice, but there was a playground and an area for learning academics. There was a train next to the camp that was really loud, and the kids told me it sounded like jets flying by in Syria and other places like that. Maybe it sounded like bombs to the kids who had heard them in their home countries.
I met a few kids at the camp my age, including Daniel, an awesome chess player. I didn’t get to play chess against him, which was too bad because I love chess, but they invited me to play foosball and ping-pong. The boys told me that they missed their homes and really wanted to leave the camp and go to school again.
After we played foosball and ping-pong, we handed out the kits. I feel good that I could do something kind for the kids who lived at the camps.

President Gordon B. Hinckley explained the reason in a talk delivered in general conference. He told about talking to a Protestant minister following a temple open house. The minister had asked why there were no crosses anywhere if we say we believe in Jesus Christ. President Hinckley answered, “‘I do not wish to give offense to any of my Christian brethren who use the cross on the steeples of their cathedrals and at the altars of their chapels, who wear it on their vestments, and imprint it on their books and other literature. But for us, the cross is the symbol of the dying Christ, while our message is a declaration of the living Christ.’
“He then asked, ‘If you do not use the cross, what is the symbol of your religion?’
“I replied that the lives of our people must become the only meaningful expression of our faith and, in fact, therefore, the symbol of our worship” (“The Symbol of Christ,” New Era, Apr. 1990, p. 4).

When a pair of shoes was put aside by a teenager because they “squeezed her toes,” they were taken to Sister Pongsuwan, mother of three young daughters. “Do you want to be Cinderella?” asked Brother Dang as he knelt before her and slipped the shoes on her tiny feet. The shoes fit perfectly. Sister Pongsuwan danced and twirled with happiness, telling everyone that she had never had a pair of shoes before!

In the Free home in Williamsville, New York, the law had been laid down. No dogs allowed. Crysti was allergic, Melanie didn’t like them, and Mom and Dad didn’t want the problems associated with man’s best friend. Janna Free, the dog lover in the family, had asked before but to no avail.
“I don’t think so,” was always the reply whenever the question was posed.
For a while, it appeared the Free home would remain a dog-free environment.
Then things changed. Crysti moved out, Melanie left for her mission, and Mom and Dad turned into a couple of old softies.
And Janna—the 16-year-old with the innocent smile—decided to give Mom and Dad the big “Pleeeeeeeeease” once more. And this time, the response was a little different.
“We’ll talk about it,” said Mom. And for Janna there was a glimmer of hope.
But why the change of heart? Credit Janna for that. Her well-thought-out plan to get a dog became an offer Mom and Dad couldn’t refuse.
Janna’s strategy for getting a dog was simple. She would affiliate herself with Guiding Eyes for the Blind, and raise a guiding eye dog. She patiently explained to her parents that she would keep a dog for 18 months, while socializing it and teaching it manners and commands. Then she’d return the dog to Guiding Eyes for the Blind for the four months of specialized training all guide dogs need before being assigned to a blind person.
It was a simple plan, really. Janna, a member of the Amherst Ward, Buffalo New York Stake, would get her dog. It would be a short-term deal, and she’d be performing a service at the same time. Who could argue? Certainly not Janna’s mom and dad.
“I’d always wanted a dog, and when I was 16 it just worked out that I was looking for a project to do for Girl Scouts—to earn my Gold Award,” says Janna, now 18 and a freshman at BYU. “One day I saw a sign on a bulletin board for Guiding Eyes for the Blind.” The light went on.
“So I took down the number and came home and started bugging my parents to let me do this project,” she continues. Janna, a firm believer in the if-at-first-you-don’t-succeed adage, tried again.
Let’s just say that Janna Free can be pretty persuasive. “Oh, yes, she was,” says Janna’s mom, Maureen, remembering the process. “She went and got all sorts of literature on dogs. She showed us all the things she knew she was going to have to do. She was pretty convincing.”
Guiding Eyes for the Blind, a nonprofit organization in Yorktown Heights, New York, which has placed more than 4,000 guide dogs with blind people since it began in 1956, evaluated Janna’s application, and two weeks later approved her to receive a dog.
“I was a little nervous because I had never had a dog before. I wasn’t sure how [Guiding Eyes] would feel about giving one of their dogs to a first-time raiser, especially one so young,” Janna says.
Apparently that wasn’t a problem, because in May of 1994, Phineas, a 14-week-old black labrador retriever, was delivered to the Frees’ front door. And Janna’s year-and-a-half odyssey with her puppy began.
“There was a lot of adjustment because I took sole responsibility for Phineas. I had to walk him twice a day. I had to schedule my time so that I would be home. I didn’t want to dump him on my parents,” Janna recalls.
“You’re doing what?” was a common question among Janna’s friends. “They couldn’t believe I’d take a dog knowing I’d have to give him up in the end. That was generally the first reaction they’d give. But I knew when I took him on that I wasn’t going to be able to keep him. But I also knew he could do something better than just sit around as a house pet. I was excited to be a part of that.
“My greatest fear,” she continues, “was that he would never make it.”
Unfortunately, not all dogs graduate to become guiding eye dogs. Some don’t have the temperament. Some don’t respond to the training. Some just aren’t cut out for the task.
It was Janna’s job as a puppy raiser to take Phineas into new situations that would acclimate him to things he would face as a guiding eye dog. If Janna had to run to the store, Phineas went with her. She made arrangements with local shopkeepers to allow her to take him inside their stores. She was also impressed at how the public awareness about guide dogs increased as she took Phineas around.
Janna also noticed how her experiences with Phineas made her feel. “I’ve always wanted to keep busy. I’ve never been one to just sit around, and this felt like the perfect opportunity for me to do something for someone. There was always that sense of, Yes, I’m doing this for someone. I’m doing this for a blind person,” she says.
Although Janna’s work with Phineas made her more aware of the disabilities of people around her, she also noticed her own attitude change when she realized how blessed she was. When she’d stop and think that somewhere a blind person needed Phineas to have a full and active life, she was humbled.
“The best thing for me was what I’ve learned about service. I’ve gained a testimony of the idea that when you lose your life you find it. There are times when I get kind of bogged down when things go wrong. But my problems become so minuscule in comparison to the people I’m helping. I don’t have to go through life blind. It really gives me a renewed appreciation of how blessed I am,” she says.
All along, Janna knew her time with Phineas was short. And when the day came in August of 1995 for Phineas to leave, it was no easy thing.
“I cried. I tried not to but I cried,” she says. “Phineas knew something was going on. I was sobbing. But he just got in the car and went away.”
Last January, Janna traveled to Yorktown Heights for Phineas’s graduation from Guiding Eyes for the Blind. It was there that Janna met Joyce, the blind woman who became Phineas’s new owner. They talked, and Joyce filled Janna in on what Phineas had been up to.
Never was anybody more happy to have dog slobber on her face than Janna. “I was nervous to see whether he’d remember me. I petted him for a long time and got kisses all over my face. I was really excited,” she adds. “That was a major emotion for me. I felt grateful that he had made it all the way. It was really kind of a culminating experience to go see the graduation. I was just really proud of him.”
These days, there are few visual reminders of Phineas’s 18-month stay in the Free home. But Phineas’s impact on Janna is not forgotten. And vice versa.

My natural mother, Irene, was unknown to me; she died from a serious infection in 1946 caused by inadequately clean medical instruments. I was 8 months old at the time, so the key consequence for me was the loss of that physical bond so essential to an infant in their early years. I was the fourth child, so very fortunately there were older siblings who had some memories of Irene; and even more fortunate was the connection I made with Shirley, the dear lifetime friend of my oldest sibling, Gwen, who fondly recalled her memories of my mother.
Shirley would often visit our home in Hayes, within a stone’s throw of her own home. She always remembered the very kind lady that was my mother. This connection with Shirley was made when I was in my fifties, and fortunately well before Gwen passed away in her late 70s — this long-distance friendship between Shirley in England and Gwen in Rhodesia, now Zimbabwe, was crucial to me in becoming better acquainted with my early departed mother.

After finishing our mission assignment, I was called by President Gordon B. Hinckley to serve as a Seventy in the Church. Part of my early training as a new General Authority included an opportunity to sit with members of the Twelve as they assigned missionaries to serve in one of the 300-plus missions of this great Church.
With the encouragement and permission of President Henry B. Eyring, I would like to relate to you an experience, very special to me, which I had with him several years ago when he was a member of the Quorum of the Twelve. Each Apostle holds the keys of the kingdom and exercises them at the direction and assignment of the President of the Church. Elder Eyring was assigning missionaries to their fields of labor, and as part of my training, I was invited to observe.
I joined Elder Eyring early one morning in a room where several large computer screens had been prepared for the session. There was also a staff member from the Missionary Department who had been assigned to assist us that day.
First, we knelt together in prayer. I remember Elder Eyring using very sincere words, asking the Lord to bless him to know “perfectly” where the missionaries should be assigned. The word “perfectly” said much about the faith that Elder Eyring exhibited that day.
As the process began, a picture of the missionary to be assigned would come up on one of the computer screens. As each picture appeared, to me it was as if the missionary were in the room with us. Elder Eyring would then greet the missionary with his kind and endearing voice: “Good morning, Elder Reier or Sister Yang. How are you today?”
He told me that in his own mind he liked to think of where the missionaries would conclude their mission. This would aid him to know where they were to be assigned. Elder Eyring would then study the comments from the bishops and stake presidents, medical notes, and other issues relating to each missionary.
He then referred to another screen which displayed areas and missions across the world. Finally, as he was prompted by the Spirit, he would assign the missionary to his or her field of labor.
From others of the Twelve, I have learned that this general method is typical each week as Apostles of the Lord assign scores of missionaries to serve throughout the world.
Having served as a missionary in my own country in the Eastern States Mission a number of years ago, I was deeply moved by this experience. Also, having served as a mission president, I was grateful for a further witness in my heart that the missionaries I had received in New York City were sent to me by revelation.
After assigning a few missionaries, Elder Eyring turned to me as he pondered one particular missionary and said, “So, Brother Rasband, where do you think this missionary should go?” I was startled! I quietly suggested to Elder Eyring that I did not know and that I did not know I could know! He looked at me directly and simply said, “Brother Rasband, pay closer attention and you too can know!” With that, I pulled my chair a little closer to Elder Eyring and the computer screen, and I did pay much closer attention!
A couple of other times as the process moved along, Elder Eyring would turn to me and say, “Well, Brother Rasband, where do you feel this missionary should go?” I would name a particular mission, and Elder Eyring would look at me thoughtfully and say, “No, that’s not it!” He would then continue to assign the missionaries where he had felt prompted.
As we were nearing the completion of that assignment meeting, a picture of a certain missionary appeared on the screen. I had the strongest prompting, the strongest of the morning, that the missionary we had before us was to be assigned to Japan. I did not know that Elder Eyring was going to ask me on this one, but amazingly he did. I rather tentatively and humbly said to him, “Japan?” Elder Eyring responded immediately, “Yes, let’s go there.” And up on the computer screen the missions of Japan appeared. I instantly knew that the missionary was to go to the Japan Sapporo Mission.
Elder Eyring did not ask me the exact name of the mission, but he did assign that missionary to the Japan Sapporo Mission.
Privately in my heart I was deeply touched and sincerely grateful to the Lord for allowing me to experience the prompting to know where that missionary should go.
At the end of the meeting Elder Eyring bore his witness to me of the love of the Savior, which He has for each missionary assigned to go out into the world and preach the restored gospel. He said that it is by the great love of the Savior that His servants know where these wonderful young men and women, senior missionaries, and senior couple missionaries are to serve. I had a further witness that morning that every missionary called in this Church, and assigned or reassigned to a particular mission, is called by revelation from the Lord God Almighty through one of these, His servants.

Example four: I have a friend named Jay Hassell who was in my Sunday School class years ago. We have kept in touch over the years. Along with the rest of the class, we hiked to the peak of Mt. Timpanogos. We went swimming down at Rockport. I attended football and basketball games he played in. I was with him when he did some amazing things in track. He was a competitor to the core. He was a high school student body president. He served a great mission in France, returned home, went to medical school, and now is an orthopedic surgeon.
A few years ago I was invited as a member of the Young Men General Presidency to attend a regional youth conference in the eastern United States. When I got off the plane, Jay and his wife were there to meet me. We were both filled with emotion. I wept. He wept. His father had passed away some time before, and I gave this sweet young friend a fatherly hug. We spent two days together. Now the years have passed, and Jay has been a great blessing in the life of my son Lawrence. Although we do not spend much time together, I love him dearly and am grateful for his interest and love. Jay has served as a bishop and is now serving in a mission presidency. Jay Hassell, I want you to know you have been a great influence in my life.

In brief form I will mention several examples:
On a visit to the Millcreek Stake in Salt Lake City some years ago, I learned that just over 100 brethren who were prospective elders had been ordained elders during the preceding year. I asked President James Clegg the secret of his success. Although he was too modest to take the credit, one of his counselors revealed that President Clegg, recognizing the challenge, had undertaken to personally call and arrange a private appointment between him and each prospective elder. During the appointment, President Clegg would mention the temple of the Lord, the saving ordinances and covenants emphasized there, and would conclude with this question: “Wouldn’t you desire to take your sweet wife and your precious children to the house of the Lord, that you might be a forever family throughout the eternities?” An acknowledgment followed, the reactivation process was pursued, and the goal was achieved.