Gospel Story Finder

Just before my mom passed away, she asked me to take care of her younger sister, who was in a hospital in Korea. My family and I lived in California, USA, so unfortunately there seemed to be no way to fulfill my mom’s compassionate last wish. Then my job unexpectedly relocated me to South Korea, and I had to be separated from my family for a year. Although I was concerned about living far from my family, I also anticipated visiting my aunt and my dad, who was in a Korean hospital suffering from Alzheimer’s disease.
I asked Heavenly Father for divine help in living away from my family. As I thought about the time I would spend in Korea, I resolved to visit my dad, my aunt, and the temple weekly as well as to pray for my family daily.
Once I was in Korea, the bishop of my new ward called me to be the Young Men president and the Gospel Doctrine teacher. My ward and the hospitals where my dad and aunt stayed were far from each other, and I had a very demanding job; but Heavenly Father blessed me with strength and stamina to magnify my callings and to keep my resolutions.
Soon after I started visiting my aunt, I discovered she rarely had any visitors. I decided to pick her up and have her stay with me on the weekends at my hotel, which had an extra room. However, I had a problem: should I take her with me to church on Sunday? I thought she would neither be interested in nor understand the meetings, and she would have to wait for hours after church for me to be done with meetings and other duties. But for some reason I felt I should take her.
That Sunday I took her with me, and, as expected, she had to wait for me afterward. After my meetings, I took her back to the hotel to eat. I noticed that she held a bag. I asked her about it, and she said a sister had given her some snacks.
Whenever I had duties after church, this sister—who did not know my aunt—always offered my aunt snacks. One week during my Sunday School lesson, a familiar voice volunteered to read a scripture. I had never imagined my aunt would volunteer, but a kind sister sitting next to my aunt had prompted her to read for the class. Although my aunt was not good at socializing because of her time isolated in the hospital, all the members kindly greeted and chatted with her.
Every Sunday evening I would take her back to the hospital and promise to pick her up the next weekend, which always brought a happy smile to her face.
One day a friend of mine shared a concern that my aunt might have a hard time when my visits suddenly stopped when I left Korea. As my scheduled departure from Korea came closer, I felt mixed emotions—happy to be soon reunited with my family but distressed and sad about leaving my aunt alone.
Finally, I explained to my aunt that I would not be able to visit her as often. She paused a moment, obviously disappointed. Then she tried to compose herself and asked if I could visit her again in a year. I cried and desperately asked Heavenly Father to help this lady.
On my last Sunday in Korea, the bishop asked if ward members could pick up my aunt on Sundays to bring her to church. He said that a number of members were willing to visit her on a regular basis—so many that they would have to organize and take turns. I could not believe his offer! This was the unexpected answer to my desperate prayers.
Since the members lived far away from my aunt’s hospital, I offered to leave some money for them to cover the travel expenses, but the members refused to take my money. They told me they would take turns visiting once a month, but I found out later that they actually visited every week. One faithful sister picks up my aunt every Friday to attend institute and have lunch. She even took her to a beauty shop for a haircut. Another sister, a single mother of two teenage children, volunteered to pick her up every Sunday morning. She cooks for my aunt, takes her for a walk, and listens to music with her. Most importantly, she tries to be a friend, and my aunt has finally opened up and comfortably chats with her and other members. Every Sunday evening the bishop picks up my aunt from a member’s home after his long day of Church meetings and other duties to take her back to the hospital. Every Thursday he sends a kind email to me to report their heavenly service for my aunt.
I believe that my mom saw the actions of faithful Latter-day Saints serving her younger sister. And now I know, more clearly than ever, why we call our fellow Church members “brothers” and “sisters.”

The brothers—Michael, Peter, and Matthias Lehmann—had spent their lives behind barbed wire and concrete walls, guarded by men who would shoot to kill anyone who tried to escape. It looked like a life sentence with no hope of parole.
Inmates of a maximum security prison? Hardly. The Lehmanns are an active LDS family whose only “crime” was being born in East Germany. And it looked like future generations of Lehmanns would also be born behind the barbed wire.
Then, suddenly, in November of 1989, the East German government collapsed. Guard towers stood deserted. And the Berlin Wall that had split East from West was hammered into a million pieces.
While many East Germans rushed to fill their shopping bags in the West, Peter, Matthias, and Michael Lehmann hurried to fill out their mission papers.
The young men’s parents, Rudolf and Ruth Lehmann, had joined the Church just months before the infamous wall was built in 1961. They proceeded to raise seven LDS sons in a country where families were small and atheism was the official religion. Like other East German citizens, the Lehmanns were told where they could and could not travel, what schools they could attend, what occupations they could pursue, and what they couldn’t read or say. They could practice their religion in their home, and they could meet in small branches, but government agents sometimes visited their meetings. They could have their scriptures, but other Church literature was stopped at the border. Proselyting was forbidden, and going on missions was out of the question. It was a challenging place in which to grow up as faithful Church members.
Peter Lehmann remembers being made fun of in citizenship classes in school. Everyone knew he was a Mormon. “In fact,” he says, “they probably knew more about my life than I did. We were watched. I think my family had a red dot on any record we had in any government office. We belonged to the Mormon church. We had seven sons. We were a different family.”
Michael Lehmann recalls: “My parents tried to raise me in a way that I wouldn’t talk about certain topics in public. They taught me to be careful in case I was near somebody who might have installed microphones or something like that. You never knew who to trust.”
In those conditions, people either dropped away from the Church completely, or they clung to it—and each other. It was a place where faith grew despite the surroundings. And, as President Spencer W. Kimball said, faith precedes miracles.
Most of the miracles were quiet ones: healings and the blessings that come from paying tithing and living the Word of Wisdom. And there was the miracle of developing and keeping a testimony in such a place.
Michael: “When I started going to school, I had a hard time with it because my parents told me about God, but everybody around me—students and teachers—tried to tell me there was no God at all.”
Peter: “In citizenship classes in school we were taught atheism as official policy. They made fun of religion in class and said if you belonged to a religious organization, you were working against the government. The government was more or less worshiped.”
Parents taught one thing; society often taught the opposite. Like LDS teens everywhere, the Lehmann brothers had to find out for themselves. “We had a really good home,” Peter recalls. “I kind of recognized the importance of doing what my parents wanted me to do. Still, with all of the experiences I had in school—people and teachers gave us a hard time and wanted me to get up and deny God—I said to myself, ‘We’re doing all this stuff. Why? There’s got to be something.’ I got on my knees and said, ‘I want to know for myself. I want to have the feeling in my heart.’
“I prayed and studied the Book of Mormon, and I got a testimony at that time, a little testimony that grew.”
Gaining a testimony is a major step. But what do you do when you know something is true and necessary—but it looks impossible to achieve? For example, what do you do when you have been taught how important temples are, yet you can’t travel to one? You do what the Lehmanns and other East German Saints did. You pray, and you live to be worthy of temple blessings someday in the future. And it looked like it would be a long way into the future.
But even faithful people can be surprised by blessings. And when the East German government announced in 1982 that the Church would be allowed to build a temple there, the members were grateful and astonished. “I was amazed,” says Michael simply. “From that time on, I knew everything else was possible.”
The brothers talk about the time they went with their father to see the temple while it was under construction. After work one night, they took off, riding their dilapidated bikes twenty-five miles through the hilly countryside. And when they got to the temple site, they just stood across the street from the rising walls and watched.
And they wept.
The four eldest Lehmann brothers had grown up in the Church, found occupations, married—all without real hope of first serving missions. And it looked like the three youngest would follow the same path.
Michael, oldest of the three, says, “In church, everybody talks about saving money for a mission, but because the wall was up, none of the younger people believed we would be able to go on missions.”
“My parents taught me to save money to go on a mission,” says Matthias, “and I did it, too. But I never really thought I’d be able to go.” His patriarchal blessing did say he would serve a mission, but he assumed it would be later in life. When he served as a stake missionary at the open house prior to the temple dedication, Matthias thought maybe that was the fulfillment of the blessing.
Then there was Peter, youngest of the sons. He knew something his brothers didn’t know. Peter received his patriarchal blessing in 1986, after the temple dedication. He talks about going to a small town on the Polish border, attending a small branch in a shabby rented building rich with the Spirit, and then going to the home of the patriarch.
“He told me that I would go on a full-time mission. I would serve in a different country and a different language, and it would be in my youth. I was crying, I felt so close to the Lord in that moment. Afterward, I read my patriarchal blessing every night. I prayed. And I started saving money for my mission. I knew I was going soon.”
Peter just didn’t know where he would be going. (He thought somehow it might be Russia, since he spoke that language fairly well.) And, for some reason, he shared his blessing with his parents but not his brothers. “I was kind of different in my family. I always said, ‘We’re going on a mission, and it’s going to be great. We’re going to change things.’ My brother Matthias was skeptical. But I had my patriarchal blessing. I knew.”
Still, Peter didn’t know how it would happen.
Then, not long before the hated wall came down, the East German government began to allow a few full-time missionaries into East Germany for the first time in fifty years. At the same time, a handful of East German missionaries were allowed out of the country to serve in other nations. For some reason, none of the Lehmanns were permitted to be part of that group.
But then came those November days that were replayed on TV screens all over the world. East Berliners sat atop the wall with hammers and iron bars, tearing apart a barrier that had already been undermined by faith and prayer.
Peter was the first to submit his mission papers. Matthias and Michael followed soon after. All three were called to missions in the United States: Michael in the Tennessee Nashville Mission, Matthias in the Idaho Boise Mission, and Peter in the Colorado Denver Mission.
They knew what it was like to become free. Now they were ready to help others tear down another kind of wall. Every conversion, every life changed, is another person set free spiritually. And that is the greatest freedom. Just ask the Lehmanns.

In the summer of 1980, I was nearing the end of my service in the Massachusetts Boston Mission. One evening we had an appointment to teach a promising young college student about the plan of salvation.
Several times during the course of the lesson, I was almost overwhelmed as the Holy Ghost repeatedly witnessed to me that the principles we were teaching were true. I remember praying almost out loud: “I already know this. I have taught this lesson numerous times these past two years. I am grateful to feel thy Spirit, but please witness to our investigator as well!”
A short time after this evening, I met with my mission president, and he informed me that my mother had been killed in a tragic automobile accident. Naturally, this sudden loss came as a tremendous shock to my family and our entire community. But once the emotions of the moment passed and I had occasion to reflect, I recalled with perfect clarity the powerful witness of the Spirit I’d received during that plan of salvation lesson. I knew that this was the work of a loving Heavenly Father preparing me for the loss that was to come.
A day never passes that I do not miss the teaching and companionship of my mother. But a day also never passes that I am not reminded of how a loving Heavenly Father carefully prepared me for that loss.

While serving as a member of the Seventy, Elder Shayne M. Bowen gave a conference address in which he told how angels blessed his family. After Elder Bowen swerved to avoid a car that crossed into his lane, the van carrying his family rolled over and landed on the passenger’s side. Their 10-year-old daughter, Emily, was trapped under the vehicle. Elder Bowen and a few others were able to miraculously lift the van onto its wheels. Although Emily was lifeless when the van was removed, she eventually made a full recovery. Elder Bowen said: “Those who lifted the van off of Emily observed that the van seemed to weigh nothing. I knew that heavenly angels had joined with earthly angels to lift the vehicle off of Emily’s body.”

At the time of the cholera epidemic, Thomas Barnardo was training at the London Hospital to become a medical missionary to China. He was also a good Christian and, after a busy day at the hospital, he would spend his evenings telling people in the streets of East London about the teachings of Jesus.
One evening he came across an old tumbledown donkey shed. With the help of a few friends he patched it up and opened it as a “ragged school” (the name given to schools for poor children in those days) and taught an ever-increasing number of East End children there every evening. Besides hearing lessons, the children had a place where they could be warm and sheltered for a few hours.
One night, after lessons were over and Dr. Barnardo was turning out the gas jets, he noticed that a boy called Jim remained behind. Jim pleaded to be allowed to stay as he had no home, no parents, and nowhere to go. The previous night he had slept in a hay cart. This shocked Dr. Barnardo. He knew there must be many other children in London who were homeless and hungry.
Dr. Barnardo took Jim back to his own lodgings, gave him a good meal, and then asked him if he knew of other children in the East End who also needed shelter.
Jim offered to show Dr. Barnardo lots of “lays” where boys and girls who had no homes were sleeping. Late that night the boy led Thomas down dark alleyways and into all sorts of unpleasant corners where children in tattered rags were sleeping, often with no cover over them.
A few days later Dr. Barnardo spoke at a meeting and told those who attended about the shameful condition of children in the city’s slum areas—children for whom no one cared.
The newspapers reported Dr. Barnardo’s words and many wealthy and important people accused him of making statements that were either untrue or greatly exaggerated. No one seemed interested in helping to change this sad situation. At a time when the doctor was most discouraged, the Earl of Shaftesbury, who was a great lover of children, came to his aid. Someone finally believed Dr. Barnardo!
The Earl organized a private dinner party and invited many of the people who had disputed Dr. Barnardo’s words. At the end of the meal the Earl arranged it so that Dr. Barnardo could take his critics by lantern light on a night tour of the lays and prove his claims.
At the very first lay visited, in Billingsgate Fish Market, were seventy-three homeless, hungry, and uncared-for boys huddled together under tarpaulins stretched over piles of fish boxes. Many more were sleeping in empty barrels. Long before the tour was over Dr. Barnardo had convinced the doubters.
Shortly after this experience, the Earl of Shaftesbury suggested that Dr. Barnardo give up the idea of becoming a medical missionary in China and help the slum children instead. It was a difficult decision for the doctor to make and he prayed for guidance.
Shortly afterward he received a letter from a wealthy Member of Parliament offering to provide £ 1,000 (about $2,000) toward a home for destitute children if, instead of going to China, Dr. Barnardo would remain in London to run it.
He believed this to be an answer to prayer, and opened his first home for boys in Stepney Causeway. Three years later he married and used a wedding gift of a large house to set up a home for girls. His work was blessed and other homes followed.
Today the Barnardo homes house the largest family in the world. At least 8,000 children are being cared for in 100 homes. During the past 100 years, more than 200,000 children have been given a temporary home.
One day, shortly after the first Barnardo Home was opened, a pale and ragged boy asked Dr. Barnardo to take him in. Regretfully, Barnardo had to refuse, for the house was already full. He gave the lad, known as Carrots, some money and asked him to come back later. Carrots never returned, for during that week he died from cold and hunger.
Barnardo vowed that he would never let such a thing happen again. Without delay he had erected over the door of the home a signboard that read, “No Destitute Child Ever Refused Admission.” From that day to this, no matter what the hour of day or night, that pledge has been honored.
Barnardo’s doors are always open and no deserving child is ever turned away.
“Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not …” (Luke 18:16.)

Gérald Caussé was still establishing his career in the food-distribution industry in France at age 33 when the president of his company called him aside. He had noticed Gérald’s spiritual convictions and his ability to make sound judgments and unify employees—traits developed through activity, service, and leadership in the Church. The president concluded that Gérald was a man he could trust.
To his surprise, Gérald was soon given the responsibility of managing 1,800 employees. By the time he was called to serve as a General Authority Seventy a decade later, in April 2008, he was managing several food-distribution companies.

Sister Patience Kaloobhai wanted the 2018 Light the World campaign to be different. She wanted to fully participate in the suggested service activities and to have the Spirit of Christmas abide with her and her family.
She felt inspired to share daily thoughts on her social media platforms. Almost immediately, a few friends began asking her about this “Light the World thing” that was constantly on her social media timeline. But she wanted to do more than just share, and so she looked for opportunities to participate in the service activities herself. She had been teaching her seven-year-old son, William, that Christmas is not only about Christmas trees and presents and wanted her own service to be an example of that.
One morning on a quick errand, as she made her way across the bridge to the bus rank in Gaborone, she observed that there was an elderly lady with two children trying to get two big suitcases to the other side of the bridge. She was carrying the infant on her back and the two heavy suitcases on each hand while the toddler trudged behind—at times holding on to her dress. She would take a few steps, then turn to be sure that the toddler was staying close to her amongst the fast-moving crowd. Whenever she stopped, she would relieve her hands from the heavy suitcases that she was carrying. This flustered lady and toddler would often get in the way of the oncoming crowd—people who were not at all pleased with this slow-moving elderly lady and her child. In the hot December Gaborone heat, this old lady kept her eyes to the ground as she would take three steps, rest and start all over again. As Sister Kaloobhai watched, she wondered if the woman would ever make it across to the other side of the bridge and the bus rank.
“Can I help you, Mama?” Sister Kaloobhai asked the elderly lady.
“Yes please,” the clearly relieved lady replied, handing Sister Kaloobhai one suitcase and wiping beads of sweat from her face. She seemed close to tears and clearly overwhelmed. Sister Kaloobhai smiled, took the suitcase and also held out her hand to the toddler who grasped it—and the two women walked over the bridge. As they walked to the bus rank, the elderly lady expressed gratitude that someone, a stranger, felt pity and was willing to help in a moment of need. She remarked that nowadays, it is rare to find someone who will go out of their way to assist—and especially in this case where Sister Kaloobhai had to deviate from her intended destination to assist. For some reason, Sister Kaloobhai felt that what she had originally set out to do was not so important as helping this lady and her children. After all, she could finish her errands after this. As she helped the older lady, her luggage, and children onto the bus, Sister Kaloobhai suddenly remembered that week’s Light the World suggestion to light her faith by being the answer to someone’s prayer.

I stood in line at a gas station. In front of me, a mother with two small children asked for $3 worth of gas and two vanilla ice cream cones.
At first glance I could see that they had very little. The children were barefoot and wearing tattered clothing.
I heard the woman place what seemed to be an infinite number of coins on the counter to pay her bill.
After paying for my gas, I walked out and glanced at the mother’s car. It was an older model that likely got very poor gas mileage.
I felt a twinge of sympathy for this mother of two, but I started my motorcycle and went on with my day.
Less than a minute into my ride on the highway, a voice came to me: “Go help her.” The prompting came twice.
I shook my head, thinking that she had probably already left. What would I say to her anyway?
The voice came clearly a third time: “Go help her!”
I turned back toward the service station, trying to figure out what I was going to say if she was still there.
Upon arriving, I saw that her car doors were open. She was in the driver’s seat, and her two small children were enjoying their ice cream in the backseat.
I offered a small prayer, asking Heavenly Father what I should say. The same voice said to me, “Introduce yourself and ask if she needs help.” I approached her car and introduced myself. I shared with her that I felt impressed to ask her if she needed help.
She began to cry and said, “I just finished praying to Jesus, asking Him to send someone to help me.”
Heavenly Father had answered her prayer. I paid to fill up her tank with gas and gave her the phone number of someone in our elders quorum who was hiring at the time. I do not know what happened with this young mother afterward, but I am grateful I followed the prompting to help her.

When Gordon and Del (Spencer’s older brothers) gathered hay … they would take pitchforks full of Hay and toss them up on the wagon and Spencer would tromp the hay down. The older boys liked to reach the wagon at the same time, both with huge forks of hay. One would toss his hay on top of Spencer, knocking him down, then the other would add his load. They would laugh while Spencer picked himself out, infuriated, threatening terrible punishments when he grew up. …

Occasionally he would enjoy a minor revenge. One hot Monday afternoon, hearing the bell ring for the beginning of Primary classes across the fields, Spencer, said, “I’ve got to go to Primary.” As Spencer told the story years later: “They said, ‘You’re not going to Primary.’ I said, ‘If Pa were here, he’d let me go to Primary.’ And they said, ‘Well, Pa is not here, and this is one time you’re not going to Primary.’ Gordon was seven years older than I was and Dell was five. … They kept throwing the hay up and it all piled in the center of the wagon. They said, ‘What’s the matter with you up there?’ There was no sound. They looked off across the field and I was halfway to the meeting-house.
Reminiscing about his mother, who died when he was still a boy, President Kimball said, when I just got home from school, I would hang my cap on the hook by the door over the wash dish and call, Mother Ma! Ma!’ But when I found her in the house and she asked me what I wanted, I just said, ‘Nothing.’ I just wanted to know she was home.”
Though his mother was gone, Spencer kept a place for her in his heart. His father was conscious of this. Nine years after Olive’s (his mother’s) death Andrew inscribed a gift copy of the Pearl of Great Price, “Andrew Kimball and Olive Woolley Kimball to Spencer Woolley Kimball, January 25, 1915.” Inside the book cover Spencer attached a picture of his dear mother.
“My mother was faultless,” Spencer (once) wrote. “She was a saint … , the model of perfection. Who,” he asked, “could even mention one virtue that she had not possessed?” She seemed holy “when the light would shine through her light red hair and make a halo.” Spencer was young when she died, and he grew up remembering her as he had seen her when he was eleven years of age.”

Vetséra Lapierre, 14, also from Quebec City, says she will always remember her first trip to the Toronto Temple to do baptisms for the dead. “I was so happy just to be with so many young members of the Church, the joy of it filled my eyes with tears of gratitude,” she explains. “It was something I had dreamed of for years, and now my dream was coming true. When we walked in the doors of the house of the Lord, I immediately felt a perfect peace, a spiritual strength that grew and grew as we did the baptisms. That feeling has stayed with me ever since. Now when I face a temptation, I remember how I felt in the temple. I always want to feel that peace, and I want to return to the temple again and again.”

Some time later I was called to be a member of the high council and assigned to the López Arellano Ward, the ward Brother Durón now attended. One Sunday I was in Sunday School in this ward, and the teacher asked class members to share personal experiences regarding service.
I happened to be seated to the left of a sister named Adela Rosa de Santos. She started to tell how the man at her right, Brother Durón, had served as her home teacher when she and her family were new members of the Church. She told how his kind service had given them strength and encouragement when they needed it and how he had blessed their lives. She concluded by saying, “If it weren’t for you, Brother Durón, I wouldn’t be here.”
I could hardly believe my ears. Sister Adela’s daughter, Suyapa, was the missionary who had knocked on my door five years earlier, and now I was a member of the Church and my life had been filled with the richest possible blessings. I had been given the opportunity to serve a mission, the privilege of receiving my temple ordinances, and the glorious hope of having an eternal family.
At that moment I learned that 20 years before, a humble man who was true to his commitment to serve others had unknowingly labored for the welfare of my soul. I was filled with a joy that is hard to express and with love for my brother, Fidel Durón. I had once thought I didn’t have anything to thank Brother Durón for. Now I considered myself to be first and foremost on the list the bishop had asked us to make.
That special meeting for Brother Durón was never held, because he returned to the Fesitranh Ward for a time. We now have a beautiful friendship. I have so many reasons to be grateful to Jesus Christ for all He has done for me and also to Brother Durón for the love he showed me 20 years before he ever met me.

Consider the example of this young deacon in the Aaronic Priesthood as shared in his talk in the Benin Ikpopan Stake conference, where I recently presided. The young deacon, Nelson Wonodi, had always admired how young men dressed and served at the sacrament table every Sunday. I share his first day experience with approval from his parents in his words:
“Ever since I was a little boy, I watched the young men in my ward pass the sacrament, and I longed for the day when I could do the same. I would sit in my seat, staring at them thinking, ‘One day, that’s going to be me.’ I even practiced at home, carefully pretending to pass an imaginary tray to my family members, just to make sure I got it right! Then, finally, my day came. I had received the Aaronic Priesthood and was asked to pass the sacrament for the first time. I was so excited … but then something strange happened. As I stood there, holding the tray, looking out at the congregation, my legs started shaking, and my hands felt sweaty. I thought to myself, ‘Wow, is this me? Or am I dreaming?’ It felt surreal. Here I was, finally doing what I had dreamed of for years, but suddenly, I realized just how sacred this responsibility was. This wasn’t just a routine or something I had seen others do. It was real, it was sacred, and it was my privilege to help others remember the Savior”.
Fortunately, a caring congregant, noticing the predicament of the anxious young man, stretched forth her hand, took the tray, and passed it on, thus emboldening young Nelson to continue and successfully accomplish that assignment. Nelson testified that his life of service is preparing him to serve a mission at a later day.

Although David Day of Bristol, England, is just 13, he already has some significant performances to his credit. He was chosen from hundreds of entries to play the piano in Royal Albert Hall in a national music festival organized by the Scout and Guide Association.
“The concert at Royal Albert Hall was the biggest thing I’ve ever done,” said David. “I was nervous.” His nervousness did not show as he performed for a large audience that included his parents, two sisters, brother, and grandparents.
David has also appeared in a Children’s Royal Variety Show, performing before Princess Margaret. David began playing at the age of six. At age eight he was called to be the junior Sunday School pianist. A year later he played the organ in stake conference.
Currently David serves as the ward organist and first counselor in the deacons quorum presidency in the Bristol Fourth Ward.

I ended up in the Orient, flying the same kind of bombers that my brother flew in England. My mission, as it turned out, was in teaching the gospel in Japan as a serviceman.
Perhaps the hardest challenge of war is living with uncertainties, not knowing how it will end or if we can go ahead with our lives.
I was issued a small serviceman’s Book of Mormon that would fit into my pocket. I carried it everywhere; I read it; and it became part of me. Things that had been a question became certain to me.
The certainties of the gospel, the truth, once you understand it, will see you through these difficult times.
It was four years before we could return to our lives. But I had learned and had a sure testimony that God is our Father, that we are His children, and that the restored gospel of Jesus Christ is true.

A few years ago, Sister Joyce Audrey Evans, a young mother in Belfast, Northern Ireland, was having trouble with a pregnancy. She went to the hospital, where one of the nurses told her she would probably lose the baby. Sister Evans replied: “But I can’t give up. … You have to give me hope.” Sister Evans later recalled: “I couldn’t give up hope until all reason for hope was gone. It was something I owed to my unborn child.”

Three days later she had a miscarriage. She wrote: “For one long moment, I felt nothing. Then a profound feeling of peace flowed through me. With the peace came understanding. I knew now why I couldn’t give up hope in spite of all the circumstances: you either live in hope or you live in despair. Without hope, you cannot endure to the end. I had looked for an answer to prayers and was not disappointed; I was healed in body and rewarded with a spirit of peace. Never before had I felt so close to my Heavenly Father; never before had I felt such peace. …

“The miracle of peace was not the only blessing to come from this experience. Some weeks later, I fell to thinking about the child I had lost. The Spirit brought to my mind the words from Genesis 4:25 [Gen. 4:25]: ‘And she bare a son, and called his name Seth: For God, said she, hath appointed me another seed. …’

“A few months later, I became pregnant again. When my son was born, he was declared to be ‘perfect.’” He was named Evan Seth.

My wife, Harriet, is a wonderful example of this. When we were living in Germany, she would find a way to work Church-related topics into her conversations with friends and acquaintances. For example, when someone asked about her weekend, she would say, “This Sunday we had an impressive experience in our church! A 16-year-old young man gave a beautiful talk in front of 200 people of our congregation about living a clean life.” Or, “I learned about a 90-year-old woman who knitted more than 500 blankets and gave them to our Church’s humanitarian program to be shipped to people in need all around the world.”

More often than not, the people who heard this wanted to know more. They asked questions. And that led to opportunities to talk about the gospel in a natural, confident, nonpushy way.

Picture a small, one-room apartment which is home for a family of six. The room is dirty and cluttered. The family has not been to church in years.

As the ward welfare committee discussed the family’s needs, there was a feeling of discouragement, for bishops, over the years, had helped the family often. In the discussion, a new idea began to dawn. Perhaps, if the committee called upon the resources of the Lord’s storehouse—the talents and skills of ward members—even this difficult situation could be assisted.

The committee first focused on future possibilities as well as immediate needs. As possibilities turned to reality, hope and optimism replaced gloom and depression. Filled with hope, the family committed to help improve their own situation. The committee also went to work. A hairstylist gave the family haircuts. A dentist volunteered, and for the first time in years, a mother was not embarrassed to smile. A new pair of glasses allowed this mother to once again read to her children. A financial specialist worked with the family in budgeting their funds. A three-year-old received much needed physical therapy.

Slowly the family began to believe their life could be different. The apartment, once dirty and disorganized, began to show signs of order and cleanliness. Curtains went up on the windows. Just a year later, invitations were extended by this family to an open house for their three-bedroom home.

A wounded family was found by the side of the road, a family suffering just as much as the traveler from Jerusalem in Jesus’ day. The family’s cries were heard, and their wounds were bound. The modern good Samaritans followed the divine injunction to “go, and do thou likewise.” Spiritual lives were also rescued. Today, this family is active in the Church and preparing to receive the blessings of the temple.

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

What is the record of Church service of Joseph Smith, Sr.? When he accepted the restored gospel, he found himself. Although previously skeptical of all organized religion, he believed at once in his son’s visions. He physically protected the Prophet during the translation of the plates and became a witness of the Book of Mormon after seeing and handling the plates. He then brought people into the Church as a missionary to the northeastern United States and to his family. In 1833 he was called as Patriarch to the Church. There were other offices: member of the first high council in 1834 and even counselor in the First Presidency for a short time in 1836. But Mormon diaries show that his greatest impact on his fellow Church members was through the blessings given as Patriarch. Many of those blessings were prophetic for Church members who came west. A young college student who attended blessing meetings in Kirtland, Ohio, was Lorenzo Snow, then a nonmember and later president of the Church. His sister, Eliza R. Snow, had induced him to come from Oberlin College to study with the competent Hebrew instructor employed by the Church for the missionaries. She had hoped that he would be exposed to Mormonism while studying Hebrew, and it was Joseph Smith, Sr., who impressed him most toward conversion. For Lorenzo felt his strong inspiration and discerned the appropriateness of instruction given to different people. In recalling his first impressions, Lorenzo Snow later said: “I looked at Father Smith and silently asked myself the question: Can that man be a deceiver? His every appearance answered in the negative. … I had never seen age so prepossessing.”11 His strong convictions attracted strong men to the Church. The most influential Smith of the second generation in Utah was George A., cousin of the Prophet and counselor to Brigham Young. His Uncle Joseph, the Patriarch, visited northern New York to meet initial ridicule of the Book of Mormon even from his family, most of whom were later converted. George A. Smith, then a bright and brash teenager, began to read the Book of Mormon but with the purpose of gathering devastating objections against it. The sequel was not as he expected. In his own words: “On the return of my Uncle Joseph, I undertook to argue with him upon the subject, but he so successfully removed my objections and enlightened my mind, that I have never since ceased to advocate its divine authority.”12 Other converts left records that show the unquestionable sincerity and deep convictions of Joseph Smith, Sr. His total loyalty to the restored church is itself a strong argument for the authenticity of the prophetic mission of his son.

Let me mention an experience that fits directly into this subject. I had the opportunity of serving a full-time mission in Tonga almost 30 years ago. I had two wonderful mission presidents. When I arrived, the first one said, “I’ve got just the place for you. It’s a small island several hundred miles from here. It is nearly seven miles around with about 700 people on it. There are no white people there, and no one speaks English. I want you to go up there and not come back until you know the discussions and know how to speak Tongan.”

Well, I went; and to put it mildly, there were lots of problems. I had a wonderful native companion. Despite the problems—or more correctly, because of the problems—there was a lot of growth. At one time we came close to literally starving to death because of a hurricane and a wrecked boat. On another occasion we were subject to some serious physical threats and actual abuse. At one time we went a little over four months without mail. Things have changed now. But we learned to live with the challenges at hand. We kept moving. Even though there were only 700 people in a very limited area, even though I didn’t know the language, we kept moving, we kept doing something. Sometimes we made mistakes. (Although, whenever there was the possibility of our doing something seriously wrong, the Lord let us know in no uncertain terms that it was wrong and we did not do it. I assure you that if you are striving to do the right, the Lord will let you know if you are starting to do something wrong. So listen!) I am sure there was even more good we could have done, but at least we never stopped. We kept going. We did something; and that’s important.

The facts are that when I left that little island after 13 months I was alive and well. I knew the discussions. I knew the language. Many souls had been baptized. I had been present when many infants had been born and when several people had died. I held some in my arms as they passed away. I learned quite a lot about life; but most important, I came away knowing at least three things (and we can all come away from our life’s experiences knowing these things):

1. I knew that God lived and that he had all knowledge and all power and that he was literally the Father of our spirits. I knew that he loved each of us personally and individually and that he especially watches over his missionaries.

2. I knew that Jesus Christ was his Son, our Savior and Redeemer, a real person, a true friend, one who gave his life for us, one who loves us and one whom we can love in a way that defies human comprehension, one through whom we can look forward to a glorious resurrection of our bodies and a forgiveness of our sins and an eventual opportunity to stand in the presence of our Father in Heaven cleansed and pure. I plead with you to love him with all your hearts. You will be a better person and you will be on the path of knowing your mission and calling in life. And that’s the third point.

3. I knew that God had a mission for me and for all men and all women. I didn’t know exactly what it was in every detail, and that didn’t matter. I knew where to start. I knew I had to live more closely in tune with him. I knew I had to do better. I knew the path, and that was the important thing. I knew I could trust him. I knew our purpose here was to fulfill our mission. I knew that he would, in his own way and according to his timing, let me know what other things he would have me do to fulfill this mission so I could receive the joy that comes therefrom. I have not been disappointed and neither will you.