Gospel Story Finder

When I was growing up in Guatemala, my family owned a factory that made uniforms for sports teams.
My dad wanted the children in our family to learn to work hard. We helped him in the factory. I got in trouble a lot when I was little. I always seemed to break things! But when I was older, my dad let me take care of the machines.
My dad paid us for the work we did. Then he would ask, “What are you going to do with your money?” I knew what the right answer was: “Pay my tithing and save for my mission.”
When I was about 13, our business lost a lot of money. We had to get rid of a lot of our machines. Instead of having two hundred workers, we had fewer than five. They worked in our garage at home.
I had always paid my tithing, but I never really understood how important it was. Then I learned an amazing lesson. One Saturday morning I heard my parents talking quietly. My dad told my mom that there was enough money to either pay tithing or buy food. There wasn’t enough for both. I was worried. What would my dad do?
On Sunday I saw my dad hand an envelope to our branch president. He chose to pay tithing! I was glad he did, but I was also worried. What would we eat?
The next morning some people knocked on our door. They told my dad that they needed uniforms right away. Usually people paid us after the order was finished. But these people paid my dad that day, even before we had made the uniforms!
In one weekend, I learned a beautiful lesson that has lasted me a lifetime. The law of tithing helps us build our faith and show our gratitude for Heavenly Father. Paying tithing is a blessing!

A true story from France.
Adeline finished drawing the last check box on her paper. Next to it, she wrote, Say prayers morning and night.
“What’s this?” Maman asked.
“I’m making a checklist for tomorrow,” Adeline said. “I’m going to have a perfect day!”
Maman raised her eyebrows. “Really?”
Adeline nodded. “In Primary we learned about being perfected in Christ. I’m going to be extra good so I can have perfect days.”
“I’m happy you want to make good choices,” Maman said. “But you know, there was only one person on the earth who was perfect—Jesus Christ.”
Adeline sighed. “I know. But I really want to try! I think I can do it.”
When morning came, Adeline was ready. She made her bed and said her morning prayer.
At breakfast, she helped feed her little sister, Sylvia. When Sylvia spilled her peaches all over her chair, Adeline took a deep breath. She counted to four and helped clean up.
At school, Adeline looked for people who needed help. Lucas had a sprained ankle, so she carried his lunch tray for him.
While leaving school, Adeline smiled her biggest grin at the lady who held the school gate open. The lady usually looked grumpy. But today she smiled back!
After school, Adeline gave Sylvia her favorite stuffed animal to play with. And before going to bed, she said a prayer. She checked off the items on her list and snuggled into her blankets. She felt very proud and very tired. She was ready for another perfect day tomorrow!
When Adeline woke up the next day, all her dolls were scattered around the floor. Sylvia was holding one and sucking on it. She must have pulled them all out!
“Sylvia!” Adeline yelled. “I told you not to touch my dolls!” She grabbed the doll Sylvia was holding. Sylvia cried and ran away.
Adeline glanced at her checklist on the door. Her heart sank.
Maman came in just as Adeline felt a tear on her cheek.
“What’s happened?” Maman asked.
“I forgot to say my prayer. I didn’t make my bed.” Adeline’s voice wobbled. “And I was mean to Sylvia. My perfect day is officially over!”
Maman gave Adeline a hug. “It’s very hard to be perfect all the time. Actually, it’s impossible.”
Adeline frowned. “But then how can I be perfect in Christ?”
“That’s just it! We can’t be perfected without Jesus Christ,” Maman said. “He gave His life for us because Heavenly Father knew we would make mistakes and would need help. Jesus takes our imperfect attempts and makes them better.”
Adeline thought about it. “So I can’t have perfect days every day?” she asked.
Maman shook her head. “No. You’ll have hard days. But you’ll have good days too.” Maman tucked Adeline’s hair behind her ear. “You trying your best is what matters. Even if a day starts out with a wrong choice, we can always say a prayer to repent and try again. With Jesus Christ’s help, you are enough.”
Adeline felt warm inside.
“Now, for your list.” Maman pointed to the list. “How about we just focus on one thing?”
Adeline looked at her list. She tore off part of the paper and taped what was left back on the door. The one item still there said, Say prayers morning and night.
Adeline smiled. “My day may not have started perfect, but I can still say a prayer now. And with Jesus Christ’s help, it will be enough!”

Several years ago, the members of a teachers quorum decided to work together to do secret acts of kindness within their ward. It started when one or two of them fixed a broken bicycle for another quorum member without telling him they had been the ones to do it. When he eventually found out about their help, the quorum members decided to find others in their ward whom they could help anonymously. Because others soon became aware of the acts of kindness that were secretly being performed, they became known as the “ward phantoms.” Eventually, they had cards printed which they left as evidence that the “phantoms” had struck again, doing good and trying not to “get caught” at it. It was a long time before the ward finally figured out who had been at the root of these many good deeds of service.

Recently I went on a soccer recruiting trip to an out-of-state university. I went to check out the school, the campus, the team, and the environment.
While I was there some of the girls on the team decided they would show the recruits what college life was like, so they took us to a party. This party was not the kind I was used to. Everyone there was drinking and smoking.
One guy at the party announced that all the recruits had to get in the middle of a circle and he would pass around a bottle of liquor for us to drink.
When I wouldn’t even touch the bottle, he said to me, “You’re not even going to taste it?”
“No thanks,” I told him.
He continued to harass me for a few minutes and then finally left.
Throughout the party I was very uncomfortable and wished we could leave. Finally we did.
The following day as I listened to general conference, I heard Elder Richard G. Scott say, “Be grateful that your righteous life molds you so that you don’t fit where you don’t belong” (Ensign, Nov. 1998, 70). I am thankful that I have lived my life in such a way that I was uncomfortable at the party. I felt that I was the odd one there, and I am glad I was. I am also grateful that I decided long ago that I was never going to drink, and that decision helped me in my time of need.

Eleven-year-old Cassie sat on the front porch, frowning at the yellow stains on her fingernails. Since early morning she’d helped peel bushels and bushels of peaches, and the fuzzy skins had not only stained her fingers but made her hands itch. She never wanted to see another peach as long as she lived.
It had been a good summer for her family. The garden had given them lots of vegetables, and they’d already bottled beans and peas. The corn and the apples looked promising, but the peaches had been the best crop that Cassie could remember.
“Come inside and wash up for supper,” Mama called. “We have to go to bed early because we’re making peach jam tomorrow.”
Peaches, peaches, and more peaches, Cassie thought. Too many peaches! I’ll be dreaming all night about peaches.
“I see Papa and the boys coming up the back way,” Mama said. “Please hurry.”
Cassie hadn’t realized how hungry she was. Mama’s beef stew was wonderful, and even the peach cobbler tasted good.
After supper, Papa, Willy, and Jon took the bottles of peaches down to the fruit cellar. “These will be mighty tasty this winter,” Papa said. “How many bottles did we get?”
“Nearly two hundred,” Mama answered. “Almost twice as many as last year, even after we took the tithing bushels to the storehouse.”
Papa smiled. “I hope you children realize how much the Lord has blessed us.”
Cassie offered the family prayer that night and thanked Heavenly Father for all their blessings, including the peaches, though it was hard to feel grateful when she was so tired.
Cassie fell asleep right away. She awoke to the sounds of people shouting and wagons rattling down the road. She looked out the window and saw a smoky orange and red glow coming from the direction of the Ashman house. She jumped out of bed, her heart pounding. Sara Ashman was her best friend! She wrapped her quilt around her and ran downstairs. The floor felt cold on her bare feet. Mama was shaking out their extra quilts.
“What’s wrong, Mama?”
“I’m glad you’re up, Cassie. The Ashmans’ house caught fire. I don’t know how bad it is yet, but Papa and the boys are helping to put it out. The Ashmans are going to have to stay with us awhile, and I need your help to get the house ready. Brother and Sister Ashman will stay in your room. You, Sara, and Molly will stay in the boys’ room, and the boys can sleep down here on the floor.”
Cassie dressed quickly and moved her things to her brothers’ room. She put fresh sheets on her big double bed that had belonged to Grandma Bingham. The boys’ straw mattresses wouldn’t be nearly as comfortable as her down-filled one, but she was happy to share it with Sara’s parents. Besides, it would be fun to have Sara and Molly stay with her.
As she and Mama finished getting the house ready, a wagon pulled up outside. Cassie was hurrying downstairs when Willy came through the door, carrying Molly wrapped in a quilt. Sara and Sister Ashman followed him in. Their faces were smudged with soot, and Cassie could see where tears had run down their cheeks. She ran to Sara and gave her a hug.
“Oh, Cassie,” Sara cried, “everything’s gone—our clothes, our furniture, even our dolls!”
“Couldn’t you save anything, Edith?” Mama asked.
Sister Ashman shook her head. “We’re just very grateful to be alive.”
Papa and Jon came in with Brother Ashman, Tim Ashman, and Bishop Smith. “Looks like some rags were left too close to the wood stove, and the fire just spread from there,” the bishop said. “It’s a good thing Tim smelled smoke and woke the family. You’re a hero, Tim.”
Tim blushed. “I’m just glad the house was built next to the oak tree. We all climbed out Sara’s window and down the tree. You should have seen Mother—she shinned down faster than any of us.”
“We’re grateful that you’re safe,” Papa said. “We’ll go over when it’s light and see what’s to be done. Bishop, will you offer a prayer?”
The Bishop thanked Heavenly Father for saving the lives of the Ashman family. He asked for a special blessing on Cassie’s house while the Ashmans were staying there. Cassie felt good inside knowing that they had more than enough to share.
At daylight the men examined the ruins. They decided that it would take nearly two months to build a new house since they could work on it only after their own work was done. Every man in town volunteered to help.
The time went by quickly. Each evening except Sunday the men worked on the house. Lumber was donated from the sawmill in the next town, and Mr. Farley gave them paint from his store. People Cassie didn’t even know came to help. If anyone had a spare minute, it was spent building the house.
The sisters from the ward were busy too. They met to make quilts and clothing. People donated furniture, clothes, and kitchen utensils. A traveling salesman stopped by with a box of kitchen knives and left without telling anyone his name. Cassie couldn’t remember when everyone had seemed so happy.
Cassie and Mama kept busy making peach jam and canning the vegetables from both their own garden and the Ashman’s, which had not been harmed by the fire. Being with Sara and Molly was so much fun that Cassie even forgot that canning was hard work.
Because of everyone’s help, the house was finished sooner than expected. Cassie felt sad to think about Sara leaving. One night at dinner Sister Ashman began to cry. “I don’t know how I’ll ever repay all of you. The new house, the clothes, the dishes. Why I feel like a young bride again.”
“There’s no need to thank us,” Mama said. “You’d do the same for us.”
When the Ashmans moved, everyone came to see the new house. It was beautiful. Cassie couldn’t believe all the wonderful things the neighbors had done. There were dishes in the cupboards, rugs on the floors, and curtains at the windows. But for Cassie, the best part of the house was the fruit cellar. Lined up on the shelves were the bottles of vegetables she’d helped preserve—including three full shelves of bottled peaches. Well, she thought, maybe there weren’t too many peaches after all.

One day while I was at church, one of the sisters expressed to me that she was feeling lonely. Like her, I was also a widow and lived by myself. Suddenly, I had an idea: why didn’t we get together on Mondays and hold family home evening? We could also invite other sisters who lived alone.
I did a little research and found eight women in our ward who might participate. Six were widows, one was single, and one’s husband wasn’t a member of the Church.
With my bishop’s approval, I arranged for all of us to hold family home “afternoons” together. (We hold it early in the day because most of us don’t see well and don’t like being out after dark.) We take turns meeting in each other’s homes and giving a brief lesson. Perhaps the most important thing that has come from this is a true feeling of friendship that binds us together in love as sisters.
All of us eagerly await our family home “afternoons.” We feel happy to be studying the gospel together, and we enjoy wonderful friendships that strengthen our faith and our love for the Lord Jesus Christ.

Experience # 2 - Some time ago, we were in a stake presidency meeting with Elder Scott D. Whiting. The zone leaders for full-time missionaries in the area were invited for a part of the meeting. Elder Whiting questioned them about where they ate lunch on a particular day the past week. He then asked if they were talking about such and such a thing and goofing off. They replied they were. He reminded them that they had a badge on that said they were representatives of the Lord Jesus Christ. There was a standard expected of them, and they fell short. There were people watching and had reported their actions to Elder Whiting.

When I was 17 years old, I had been to many different Church dances, early morning seminary classes, and even a few Church meetings, but I was not a member of the Church.
One Sunday afternoon I was home with my mom. I think I had disappointed her and was feeling very down. My friend Karen called to see if I wanted to go to a fireside with her. I wasn’t familiar with that meeting. I truly thought that we would be outdoors by a campfire.
I agreed and attended the fireside with her and several other friends. I remember that as the speaker came to the pulpit, he started by saying, “Who am I?”
I thought to myself, “I am a horrible person. My mom is mad at me.” The speaker continued, “I am a son, I am a father, I am an uncle, I am an American citizen.” And then he paused. It became very quiet, and he said, “I am a child of God.”
He looked into the audience. He looked at me and said, “You are a child of God.” And then he looked to someone else and said again, “You are a child of God.”
I was not yet familiar with the Spirit and what it felt like, but I got a lump in my throat and started to cry. I was a little embarrassed and didn’t know what to think, so I left. I walked down the hall and found a phone and called my sister and her husband, who are Church members, and asked if I could talk to the missionaries that night. We met with them, and I was baptized three weeks later. The Spirit truly witnessed to me that night that I was a child of God.

There is a particular challenge we face as Latter-day Saints in establishing and maintaining friendships. Because our commitment to marriage, family, and the Church is so strong, we often feel challenged by constraints of time and energy in reaching out in friendship to others beyond that core group. I experienced this dilemma personally in recent days as I tried to steal a few moments at home to prepare this talk. Twice, friends from my past, whom I love dearly but see only occasionally, dropped in to visit. During what ought to have been choice times of reunion and reminiscence, I ironically found myself growing inwardly impatient for the visits to end so that I could get back to writing my talk about friendship!

I have since felt ashamed. How selfish we can be. How unwilling to be inconvenienced, to give, to bless and be blessed. What kind of parents or neighbors or servants of the Lord Jesus Christ can we be without being a friend? In this information age, is not friendship still the best technology for sharing the truths and way of life we cherish? Is not our reluctance voluntarily to reach out to others in friendship a significant obstacle to helping God accomplish His eternal purposes?

Years ago when I was serving as a bishop, a recently converted family moved into our rural Utah community. These good people had joined the Church in the eastern United States and had been warmly fellowshipped and put to work in a small branch there. When they came to our larger, more-established ward, they somehow slipped through the cracks. Some of the family members, particularly the father, became disenchanted with the Church and its members.

One Sunday morning when I noticed the father was missing from priesthood meeting, I left the meetinghouse and drove to his home. He invited me in, and we had a very honest conversation about the struggle he was having with his new faith and neighbors. After exploring various possibilities for responding to his concerns, none of which seemed to appeal to him very much, I asked him with a tone of frustration in my voice just what we could do to help him. I’ve never forgotten his reply:

“Well, bishop,” he said (and I will need to paraphrase here slightly), “for heaven’s sake, whatever you do, please don’t assign me a friend.”

I learned a great lesson that day. No one wants to become a “project”; we all want spontaneously to be loved. And, if we are to have friends, we want them to be genuine and sincere, not “assigned.”

Brothers and sisters, my message today is very simple: if we truly want to be tools in the hands of our Heavenly Father in bringing to pass His eternal purposes, we need only to be a friend. Consider the power of each one of us, 10 million strong, of our own free will and choice reaching out to those not yet of our faith in unconditional friendship. We would no longer be accused of offering warm bread and a cold shoulder. Imagine the consequences for good if each active family in the Church offered consistent concern and genuine friendship to a less-active family or a new-member family. The power is in each one of us to be a friend. Old and young, rich and poor, educated and humble, in every language and country, we all have the capacity to be a friend.

Our Savior, shortly before His Crucifixion, said to His disciples: “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends. Ye are my friends.” Having been so richly blessed by Christ’s friendship, I pray that we will now be to others what He is to us: a true friend. At no time will we be more Christlike than when we are a friend. I testify of the inestimable value of friends in my own life and express my gratitude to all of them this morning. I know that when we offer ourselves in friendship, we make a most significant contribution to God’s work and to the happiness and progress of His children. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

For an entire week, Sydney G., 14, from Utah, USA, visibly carried a copy of the Book of Mormon everywhere she went—to school, to her extracurricular activities, and to church. She was prayerfully trying to find someone to share the gospel with, and keeping the Book of Mormon out with her was a constant reminder of that goal.
One day, she went to the office at school and accidentally left the book there. Without even opening the cover, the office secretary knew immediately whose it was. That week, Sydney had become known at her school for carrying that Book of Mormon with her. And throughout her life, she’s become known for many other things as well.
For instance, she participates in student council. She dances for her school’s dance company. She was the lead in an Alice in Wonderland musical. She volunteers for a service group. She cheers. She crafts. She loves to spend time with her friends and family.
She’s also a strong advocate of type 1 diabetes awareness and research.
When Sydney was three, her parents noticed changes in her behavior. Among other things, she was extremely thirsty, moody, and fatigued. One day she slept for 22 hours, waking up only for moments before falling back asleep. Her parents knew something was wrong and took her to a doctor the next morning. The doctor said she was on the verge of a diabetic coma and was lucky she came in that day. Sydney and her parents now recognize that the timing was more than luck; it was a blessing.
Sydney’s diagnosis flipped her life upside down, but that hasn’t stopped her from living a life that gives back to others. Despite her age, Sydney is a leader, role model, and friend as she works to help promote diabetes awareness.
What Is Type 1 Diabetes?
Type 1 diabetes is a disease in which the pancreas produces little or no insulin, the hormone that converts glucose into energy. To treat this, people with type 1 diabetes take insulin every time they eat to help their bodies get the energy they need.
If left untreated, diabetes can have serious complications. It’s important to recognize the symptoms and be treated as early as possible. Type 1 diabetes requires constant care and vigilance throughout a person’s entire life.
In 2015, Sydney and her family participated in a fundraising managed by JDRF, an organization that helps fund research for type 1 diabetes. After the walk, Sydney wanted to keep helping. She says, “I was super excited to get out and do stuff, and I wanted to inform people of the symptoms of type 1 diabetes so they would know to get tested.” To do this, she and her mom created a social media page to promote awareness. Their first post included pictures of the walk, and they’ve continued with regular posts debunking myths about diabetes, promoting fundraisers, and showcasing diabetes-related events and activities Sydney participates in.
Sydney knows the impact youth can have in their communities, and she hopes to keep helping those around her. “Young people can make a huge difference,” she says, “and it’s good for them! They get to get out and help the community. It’s just good for the soul.”
She’s already seen some positive results from her efforts. One day, soon after they started the page, Sydney’s mom felt prompted to post Sydney’s diagnosis story. A woman in their neighborhood read the post and then, two days later, recognized the symptoms in her own daughter. As a result of a prompting, this five-year-old girl was able to receive an early diagnosis and get the medical attention she needed.
Sydney knows it’s important to have friends during times of trial, and she always strives to be that friend for people in times of need. When she heard of another young girl in the community who was just diagnosed with type 1 diabetes, Sydney immediately reached out and met with her. The girl’s mother later told Sydney about the great influence she had on her daughter. The daughter had felt alone in her trial because no one else she knew had diabetes. But immediately after Sydney’s visit, she had a friend, and that made all the difference.
Sydney also recognizes the importance of friendship in her own life and strives to include and love others. When she was about to turn 12, she was “probably more excited than anyone to go to the temple for the first time.” So for her birthday party, she invited some friends over to eat a formal dinner and then go to the temple to do baptisms and confirmations on behalf of those who have died. One of her close friends, Lindsay,* wasn’t a member of the Church, but Sydney still wanted to include her. So Sydney invited Lindsay to the birthday dinner with them and explained why the temple was so important to her.
Remember that Book of Mormon that Sydney carried around with her? She felt prompted to give it to Lindsay with her testimony. Though Lindsay respectfully said she didn’t believe in the book, Sydney didn’t focus on the rejection. Instead, Sydney just appreciated the opportunity she had to share her testimony with someone she cares about.
Though she sometimes feels discouraged, Sydney tries to stay positive and move forward in her goal to help others. She says, “I think it’s important to just keep going if you’re having a trial. It helps to focus on something positive. Like, if you fall off your bike, you just get back up and keep going, and soon you’ll forget you even fell off in the first place.”
Every day, Sydney chooses to focus on the positive of her situation by striving to be a leader in her community and a friend to those who need one. She’s learned that the smallest decisions—like deciding one day to go to a fundraiser walk with her family—can make a big difference.

In our family, everyone helps.
Fofoa: Our family believes in working together. My brother Etuale and I gather firewood for cooking. We also help make food to sell. I remember one time when our family didn’t make enough money to pay an expensive water bill, so we all did our part to help. My sister sold barbecue. Etuale and I gathered coconuts and other food and then helped sell the food to raise money. By working hard as a family and trusting God, we were able to get the water turned back on.

“¡Bienvenido!”
That’s probably the first thing you’d hear from Omer Machuca if you paid him a visit in his home in Monterrey, Mexico. Then again he might also offer you a courteous, “Wilkommen.” Or he just might grin and say, “Hi, how’s it goin’?”
Changes don’t seem to faze Omer very much. Living much of his life in the Tijuana, Mexico, area, just across the border from San Diego, California, Omer had a lot of exposure to both American and Mexican cultures. He speaks fluent English, and, of course, fluent Spanish. When his family moved from Tijuana to Monterrey, a large metropolitan city almost 2,000 miles away from the costal town he knew and loved, Omer made the best of it and made new friends.
Now Omer, a 16-year-old priest, is tackling the study of German. Someday he’d like to travel far and wide, using the languages he knows and learning new ones. But for Omer one of the most exciting places to travel is a place where he knows everyone can feel welcome whether they speak one language or ten.
For Omer a trip to the temple to perform baptisms for the dead is better than any exotic travel. And although he is a master of adapting to fit into different cultures, there are certain things Omer will never change about himself. He knows that it is how he lives outside the temple that determines what kind of experience he will have when he enters its doors.
When Omer and his parents moved from Tijuana to Monterrey, they left behind family, friends, and a home they knew and loved. It was hard, but it was also exciting for Omer. One thing that wasn’t so exciting, however, was leaving behind a conveniently located temple in San Diego. Now a trip to the temple involves considerable travel.
“I really miss the temple,” says Omer. “Here you usually get only one chance a year to go to the Mexico City Temple. In Tijuana we would cross the border and go to San Diego on the first Saturday every month. The feeling in our family was always a little bit different, a little special on those days. The people in the temple always seemed glad to see us there. I know that it will be the same when the temple is here.”
A temple has been announced in Monterrey, and although construction hasn’t yet begun, Omer and many of the other youth in Monterrey and the surrounding areas are ready and waiting.
“We feel very excited that the temple will be built, and it will be our temple,” says one seminary student. “We will soon be able to go to the temple any time we want.”
When the youth in Monterrey speak about the temple, certain things happen. Their voices get softer, and they seem to become more calm and happy. Even though the nearest temple is several states away and most of them haven’t been there many times, their reverence is evident when the temple is being discussed.
“I think the temple is the most beautiful place on earth,” says 16-year-old Carlos Cadena.
The word cadena means “chain” in Spanish. That has special meaning for Carlos, his parents, and his two brothers and two sisters. They say that attending the temple keeps them linked together, as well as keeping them linked with their past.
Ana, Carlos’s 15-year-old sister, talks about how meaningful her temple baptisms feel when she does them for ancestors she has found at the family history library—ancestors who have likely been waiting a long time for their work to be done. Carlos talks about the happy, peaceful feeling that exists when the family has recently been to the temple. Leon Cadena, a deacon, says that in preparing to go to the temple, he tries extra hard to be good.
The youngest Cadena brother, Moises, spends time in the nursery with his little sister Laura while the rest of the family does temple work. It is this shy, quiet 10-year-old who seems to sum up the whole family’s feelings the best when he says with emotion, “When we go to the temple, our hearts are very full.”
The Alonso family has also made the trip from Monterrey to Mexico City many times, but the most memorable one for them was when the teenagers in the family, Carlos, Emilio, and Rosa, were very small.
“I was four years old the first time we went to the temple,” says Rosa, who is now in the Beehive class. “I remember that when we were sealed we knelt around the altar, all dressed in white. Every time I remember that occasion, I feel warm inside.”
Carlos and his twin brother, Emilio, were nine years old when the family was sealed, and they too have wonderful memories of that time.
“It was very beautiful,” says Carlos. “I remember the mirrors where you can see for eternity.”
Emilio feels very much the same way. “It was beautiful because we were all together in the temple, and that is where we learn to be an eternal family and how to live.”
Although the Machucas, the Cadenas, and the Alonsos are eager for the temple to be built in their city, they all know that there is temple-related work they can do right now, while they are waiting. All the youth agree that trying to live the gospel principles as fully as they can is the best preparation for the temple.
“We are preparing to have more names ready,” says Emilio. “We are reading the scriptures, having family prayer, and fasting regularly.”
But spiritual preparation isn’t the only thing to consider. Soon members will travel from cities far away to attend the new temple here, and they will depend on the help of the members in Monterrey. Carlos says that he and his family are saving money to help others attend the temple that will soon be in their city. And even something as simple as helping with chores at home can help the temple effort.
“If I help around the house and take care of my younger brothers and sister, my parents will feel more secure about leaving us at home while they attend the temple,” says Ana. “Helping out at home helps the temple work, too.”
Temples are miraculous places, and it seems that no sacrifice is too great to get there. Carlos and Ana’s father, Jesus, once rode on the floor of a bus for 14 hours to get to Mexico City, since there wasn’t an empty seat. All of his children say that sacrifices leave no doubt in their minds that temple attendance is important.
In northern Mexico, where Omer used to live, crossing the border occasionally presented a problem. But Omer says that sometimes, when it seemed that people weren’t going to make it to the temple, circumstances changed at the last minute, allowing people to go.
“Passports were a problem [for people] trying to get to the [temple] dedication,” says Omer. “One sister went to get permission to cross the border, but she didn’t have any papers except for her temple recommend. The officer let her through.”
The Alonso family can think of no greater miracle than the fact that their family is sealed for time and eternity—except for maybe the miracle that very soon there will be a temple in their own city.
Emilio says, “Now that the temple will be here, it is very special because we’ll have the opportunity to come to the temple more often. We will be greatly blessed as a family when we have the temple here.”
Like any big city, Monterrey has its share of hustle-bustle and noise. At any given time there is a traffic jam in the making or an event drawing large crowds, or both. It’s exciting and exhausting all at the same time. But soon there will be a place, somewhere in this mass of activity, where calm and order will be the rule instead of the exception.
Omer Machuca is a lot like most boys his age. He is fascinated by the excitement that surrounds new places, different people, and unique cultures. And yet he knows that the most important border he will ever cross is the threshold of the temple. He knows that no matter how many languages he learns to understand, his understanding of the gospel will be more important. Emilio knows it, too. So do Anna and Rosa and all the other youth that can hardly wait for the temple to be built.
They are excited and happy that the house of the Lord will soon be closer to their own houses. And they are counting the days until a trip across town, instead of across the country, will take them a world away.

Joseph wrote these feelings to his wife in an 1832 letter from New York City, where he had gone with Newel K. Whitney to buy goods for the Whitney store in Kirtland, Ohio. He had spent some time walking through the “most splendid part” of the city:
“The buildings are truly great and wonderful to the astonishing of every beholder and the language of my heart is like this: Can the great God of all the earth, maker of all things magnificent and splendid, be displeased with man for all these great inventions sought out by them? My answer is no. It cannot be, seeing these works are calculated to make men comfortable, wise, and happy. Therefore not for the works can the Lord be displeased, only against man is the anger of the Lord kindled because they give him not the glory.”
Then he wrote:
“I returned to my room to meditate and calm my mind. And behold, the thoughts of home, of Emma [his wife] and Julia [his daughter] rushes upon my mind like a flood and I could wish for a moment to be with them. My breast is filled with all the feelings and tenderness of a parent and a husband. … Yet when I reflect upon this great city … my bowels are filled with compassion towards them and I am determined to lift up my voice … and leave the event with God.”
He concluded,
“I prefer reading and praying and holding communion with the Holy Spirit and writing to you than walking the streets and beholding the distraction of man.”25

Let me tell you another story. We are assigned to the BYUH 6th Ward. We love that Ward - so many great young people. One fine young couple were the Bauros . They are great kids. Brother Bauro was the secretary in the Elders quorum Elder Monson worked with, so we had some extra association with them. We knew he wanted to go to Fiji to medical school. As the year went on, his scholarship funding became shakey. Then it became questionable. It was at this time we traveled to Fiji to meet with our missionaries there. One evening we returned to the hotel for dinner and Pres. Ardern, Pres of the Fiji mission, his wife, and some of their missionaries were eating dinner with Elder Winkel and his wife. Elder Winkle is a member of the Seventy, and at that time was a counselor in the Area Presidency. We knew Elder and Sister Winkel because he had been one of our sons Mission President in Spain. They greeted us so warmly and invited us to eat with them. We were seated right next to Pres. Winkle. As we chatted, Pres. Winkel said they had just been to Kiribati, so we mentioned we had been there several times and we knew such wonderful people there. We told him about Brother Bauro, and his desire to go to medical school, but that he was having problems with his scholarship funding. Pres. Winkel was very interested. He said to contact him in New Zealand in a couple of days and somehow, this funding problem would be solved.

So make a long and complicated story short, through Pres. Winkel, Vice President Kongiaka, President Shumway and a wonderful donor, Brother Bauro is now in medical school in Fiji.

How did that happen? Why were we in Fiji that very night? Why were Winkels at the same restaurant, why were they there at that same hour? Why did Brother Bauro's chance for medical school come together in the middle of the Pacific Ocean? I think it's amazing, don't you?

In October 1988, as my plane droned onward to Berlin, my thoughts were upon these nations and my heart felt concern for their people, particularly our own members who had unflinchingly borne their burdens and suffered in silence. I sat back somewhat in reverie, contemplating my lengthy assignment to the German Democratic Republic. For twenty years this had been a vital part of my ministry. My mind filled with memories. My heart overflowed with gratitude to God. I reflected on the history of the Church in the land to which I was going.
Such was the dilemma uppermost on my mind as my plane landed in Berlin that October afternoon. We went forward with the vital assignment to visit with the leaders of the German Democratic Republic. Our ultimate goal was to seek permission for the doorway of missionary work to open. Elder Russell M. Nelson, Elder Hans B. Ringger, and I, along with our local German Democratic Republic Church leaders, headed by President Henry Burkhardt, President Frank Apel, and President Manfred Schutze, initially met with State Secretary for Religious Affairs Kurt Löffler as he hosted a lovely luncheon in our honor. He addressed our group by saying, “We want to be helpful to you. We’ve observed you and your people for twenty years. We know you are what you profess to be: honest men and women.”
Government leaders and their wives attended the dedication of a stake center at Dresden and a chapel at Zwickau. As the Saints sang “God be with you till we meet again”—“Auf Wiedersehen, Auf Wiedersehen”—we remembered Him, the Prince of Peace, who died on the cross at Calvary. I contemplated our Lord and Savior, when He walked the path of pain, the trail of tears, even the road of righteousness. His penetrating declaration came to mind: “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” (John 14:27.)
Then it was back to Berlin for the crucial meetings with the head of the nation, even Chairman Erich Honecker.
That special morning the sunlight bathed the city of Berlin. It had been raining all night, but now beauty prevailed. We were driven to the chambers of the chief representatives of the government.
Beyond the exquisite entry to the building, we were greeted by Chairman Honecker. We presented to him the statuette First Step, depicting a mother helping her child take its first step toward its father. He was highly pleased with the gift. He then escorted us into his private council room. There, around a large round table, we were seated. Others at the table included Chairman Honecker and his deputies of government.
Chairman Honecker began, “We know members of your Church believe in work; you’ve proven that. We know you believe in the family; you’ve demonstrated that. We know you are good citizens in whatever country you claim as home; we have observed that. The floor is yours. Make your desires known.”
I began, “Chairman Honecker, at the dedication and open house for the temple in Freiberg, 89,890 of your countrymen stood in line, at times up to four hours, frequently in the rain, that they might see a house of God. In the city of Leipzig, at the dedication of the stake center, 12,000 people attended the open house. In the city of Dresden there were 29,000 visitors; in the city of Zwickau, 5,300. And every week of the year 1,500 to 1,800 people visit the temple grounds in the city of Freiberg. They want to know what we believe. We would like to tell them that we believe in honoring and obeying and sustaining the law of the land. We would like to explain our desire to achieve strong family units. These are but two of our beliefs. We cannot answer questions, and we cannot convey our feelings, because we have no missionary representatives here as we do in other countries. The young men and young women whom we would like to have come to your country as missionary representatives would love your nation and your people. More particularly, they would leave an influence with your people which would be ennobling. Then we would like to see young men and young women from your nation who are members of our Church serve as missionary representatives in many nations, such as in America, in Canada, and in a host of others. They will return better prepared to assume positions of responsibility in your land.”
Chairman Honecker then spoke for perhaps thirty minutes, describing his objectives and viewpoints and detailing the progress made by his nation. At length, he smiled and addressed me and the group, saying, “We know you. We trust you. We have had experience with you. Your missionary request is approved.”
My spirit literally soared out of the room. The meeting was concluded. As we left the beautiful government chambers, Elder Russell Nelson turned to me and said, “Notice how the sunshine is penetrating this hall. It’s almost as though our Heavenly Father is saying, ‘I am pleased.’”
The black darkness of night had ended. The bright light of day had dawned. The gospel of Jesus Christ would now be carried to the millions of people in that nation. Their questions concerning the Church will be answered, and the Kingdom of God will go forth.

Papa laid a bright pink bracelet on the dining room table.
“Oh, Papa,” I cried. “Where did you get it?”
“I found it on the sidewalk in front of the barber shop.”
I picked it up and carefully slid it onto my wrist. I felt so beautiful. I’d never, ever worn anything so pretty.
“Can I have it?”
“Would you want to keep it when it belongs to someone else?” Mama asked.
“But maybe we can’t find who it belongs to.”
“Well, if we can’t find the owner, then you may have it,” Papa said.
That night when I knelt to pray, I wanted to ask Heavenly Father to bless us so we couldn’t find the owner. But the words wouldn’t come out. I tried three times, but I just couldn’t feel good about saying it. So I climbed into bed and decided to pray later.
The next morning I hurried into the kitchen. “Can I wear the pink bracelet to school?”
“That’s a good idea,” Papa said. “Maybe one of your classmates will see it and know who it belongs to.”
I skipped to my room to pick the perfect dress to go with the bracelet. Then I had a scary thought. If someone recognized the bracelet, I’d have to give it back. So I picked a blue dress with long sleeves. I pushed the bracelet way up under my sleeve. I worked it clear up over my elbow and pushed it to the very top of my arm. No one would see it there.
Usually I liked school, but not that day. It was too warm for my long-sleeved dress, and wearing the bracelet way up on my arm was uncomfortable. At recess I didn’t feel like playing, so I stayed in.
When the bell rang for the end of recess, I hurried to the drinking fountain and bumped into Stella. I noticed she was wearing a string of beads that were exactly the same pearly pink as the bracelet on my arm. I caught my breath. “Oh, Stella, where did you get such pretty beads?”
“My aunt sent them to me. She sent me a bracelet too, but I lost it.”
“Where did you lose it?” I asked.
“On the way home yesterday. I searched all the way up and down the sidewalk both ways, but it’s gone. I hope one of my friends finds it.”
I didn’t know what to do now. It felt like the bracelet was making a rash on my arm to punish me for hiding it.
Back at my seat I realized why it had been hard to say my prayers last night. It was because I wasn’t being honest. But now, all I wanted was to give Stella her bracelet.
The classroom was buzzing like a beehive. It wasn’t a nice, quiet place like my bedroom, but all at once I wanted to pray. From deep down in my heart I told Heavenly Father how sorry I was. I asked Him to forgive me and to please help me do the right thing with the bracelet. I suddenly felt good inside, and I began to gently work the bracelet down my arm, past my elbow, and onto my wrist.
As we left the school building, I stepped alongside Stella and handed her the pink bracelet. “You found it!” She squealed and gave me a hug.
“You said you hoped a friend would find it for you.” I smiled. “Well, that friend just happened to be my papa.”

When I was a freshman at BYU my older sister played the violin in the orchestra. The violinist sitting next to her was Jean's older sister. These two friends thought it would be a good idea for their younger brother and sister to go on a blind date. Neither of us wanted to go because we had never met each other. However, we trusted our older sisters and finally agreed to go to a dance together. I was not that good of a dancer, nor conversationalist but slowly over the course of the evening I began to feel an attraction to Jean which I could not explain.

We ended up dating quite a bit, writing to each other during my three year mission and five years from that first date we were married in the Los Angeles Temple. It was not until I gained more experience in life that I was able to identify what attracted me so strongly and quickly to Jean. It was the power of the purity of her life, which drew me to her and still continues to do so and will forever.

My wonderful neighbor and visiting teacher shared the following experience with me: She and a long-time friend exercise daily by walking together early in the morning.

In the summer, they enjoy the beauty of a well-developed local nature trail--the Teton River Trail--that wanders pleasantly alongside the river.

At one point, they observed that their enjoyment of the trail was fading as the litter along the path was increasing. Their initial reaction was to question why the offenders wouldn't pick up their own trash. Their second reaction was "We ought to do something about this!"

They began to bring grocery bags on their morning walks and filled the bags with trash as they walked.

Eventually, they brought large trash bags with them to finish the task. Their pleasure and enjoyment of the beautiful trail resumed, as did the spiritual nature of the trail.

Next, be confident that He sends angels to be with you and with those you love.

President Nelson testifies that angels are real and that they are near. Elder Jeffrey R. Holland once said, “In the gospel of Jesus Christ you have help from both sides of the veil, and you must never forget that. When disappointment and discouragement strike—and they will—you remember and never forget that if our eyes could be opened we would see horses and chariots of fire as far as the eye can see riding at reckless speed to come to our protection.” [17] This is especially reassuring as there are so many of us who are far from family or feeling the weight of life’s challenges

Sometimes angels are heavenly beings sent to protect, comfort, or guide. Other times, they are earthly angels—unit mates, professors, friends—who show up just when we need them most. Either way, God is actively sending help.

I’ve experienced this personally. There have been times when I prayed for strength and a friend reached out unexpectedly, offering exactly the encouragement I needed. Was that a coincidence? No. That was God sending an angel.

For those of you who are far from home, know that your loved ones are not alone. God sends angels to watch over them just as He sends angels to watch over you.

All that day Randy and I waited for the neurosurgeon to arrive with word about our baby’s test results. When he finally came at 10:30 P.M., he spoke in a cold, deliberate voice:
“Your daughter has no chance for a normal life,” he said bluntly. “She has no brain.”
Mere words can’t describe how we felt. I was stunned by his callousness as he continued, seemingly oblivious of the torture Randy and I were suffering.
“Her brain simply never formed. All she has is the brain stem, which is the bare minimum necessary to keep her alive. It controls all the involuntary functions—the heart, respiration, digestive system, and reflexes. She will never roll over or crawl or walk. She will not advance in any way. She’s blind and deaf. She will never respond to you in any way, and she will have to be fed through a tube.”
He guessed that she would live about six months at the most.
When he walked out of that hospital room, all our hopes for our baby girl left with him. Randy and I threw our arms around each other and struggled to pull our shattered emotions back together. We had tried to prepare ourselves for the news that she might be retarded, but we had never dreamed it would be this. It felt like the entire weight of the world had crashed down on top of us.
When Abby Ruth, as we named her, was three days old I had held her only a few times, and that all-important bonding relationship between mother and child hadn’t taken place. Late that night, feeling forced into making a decision that I didn’t want to make, I walked down to the intensive care nursery to see her. I stood next to her bassinet and watched her stare blankly into space. One of the nurses came to stand next to me, and I shook my head sadly.
“The poor little thing doesn’t have any idea of what’s going on, does she?” I asked quietly.
The nurse turned to me and spoke with conviction. “Maybe her mind doesn’t know, but her spirit does.”
That simple statement hit me with a tremendous impact. Why hadn’t I thought of that before?
Later that night I dreamed that a beautiful young woman with long, waving blonde hair and dressed in a flowing white robe came walking toward me through a mist, with arms outstretched to greet me. I knew then that when my time comes and I leave this world, Abby will be there waiting for me in all her perfection. Knowing that, how could I turn away from her in her hour of need?