Gospel Story Finder

One rainy night in late November 1973, my companion and I were tracting in Manila, the Philippines, and we knocked on the door of Romeo and Naty Bautista. They let us in and listened politely to our short message. Naty didn’t speak English (and we only taught in English at that time), but Romeo did and was interested in having us come back. He also said that his younger sister, Avelia, who was living with them while going to college in Manila, would probably be interested.
As excited as young missionaries can be about new investigators, we eagerly waited for the return appointment several days later. The lesson went so well that we could hardly believe it. Romeo and Avelia listened attentively and asked questions. Naty listened but didn’t understand much of what we said. They were all receptive from the very beginning—a missionary’s dream!
After we left each lesson, Romeo would teach the lesson to his wife in Tagalog. They read the Book of Mormon in English together, slowly. They had two young daughters at the time: Ruth, a toddler, and Namie, a new baby.
In December 1973, I was fortunate to baptize and confirm Romeo and his sister Avelia. My companion and I were thrilled at the family’s faith and interest in the gospel, but we never could have predicted the eternal impact of their decision and the countless lives that would be blessed both immediately and years down the road.
Romeo and Avelia became faithful and strong members of the Makati Branch from the start. Soon after their baptisms, I returned home to Salt Lake City, Utah. In my excitement to come home, I didn’t even get Romeo’s mailing address to write a letter. There was no internet or cell phones in those days.
I soon met Susan, my eternal sweetheart. I taught, baptized, and married her in 1975, and we were sealed in the Salt Lake Temple in 1976. We had three children and became involved in various Church callings. I was also very involved in our family business. I often thought about the Bautista family and how they were doing, but I didn’t know of any way to contact them.
Then one special day in 1997, I received a letter from a Mrs. Avelia Wijtenberg, postmarked from Mackay, Queensland, Australia! I didn’t know any such person there, but when I read the letter, I learned that Romeo’s sister Avelia had met and married a Dutch-Australian man and had been living in Queensland for some years. She had found my old mailing address in her notebook one day while doing some spring cleaning.
Avelia and I began a letter-writing campaign, eager to know about what had happened to each other over the past several decades. She was also able to give me a mailing address for Romeo, who had moved to Tiwi, in the southern part of Luzon Island in the Philippines.
That year, as Romeo and I wrote back and forth, after 24 years of no contact, our old relationship was rekindled. Romeo said that he and Naty now had five children. Naty and the rest of the family had been baptized in the years after I returned home. Their eldest, Ruth, had served a mission in the Philippines Davao Mission, and the second and third daughters, Namie and Joan, were serving missions in northern Luzon and Guam, respectively. They had a fourth daughter, Lyn, who later served in the Philippines Baguio Mission, and finally, a son, John, who later served in the Philippines Cagayan de Oro Mission.
My wife and I requested the addresses of Namie and Joan and wrote to them on their missions. We had never met them and didn’t know them at all but felt such an instant bond that is difficult to describe in words. It was almost as though they were our own daughters! Through our letters, we rekindled a love for the Bautista family and especially for Namie and Joan—who were full of the Spirit, working hard as full-time missionaries. In a letter, Namie asked if she could telephone us on Christmas Day, as her parents didn’t have a telephone at the time. With the approval of her mission president, she called on Christmas Day in 1997, and we both just cried for several minutes. I then reminded her that an international long-distance collect call was too expensive to waste just crying to each other. We laughed and had a wonderful conversation, even with her limited English skills. She invited us to come to the Philippines the following summer for her homecoming talk.
In the summer of 1998, as Namie returned home from her mission, I made plans with my 16-year-old daughter to go to the Philippines. We arrived in Manila and met with Ruth. We attended the Manila Philippines Temple together. Then we flew south to her family’s home in Tiwi. It’s impossible to describe the joy of seeing Romeo and his family again. The deep bond of brotherhood was instantly renewed. We talked and hugged and reminisced; we ate together and read scriptures with his family each night we were there. They were such strong rocks of testimony in their small branch. We attended sacrament meeting in the Tiwi Branch and listened to Namie report on her mission. It was amazing. It was nearly celestial. Truly this was missionary heaven.
At that time, Romeo was serving as the branch president of the Tiwi Branch. He had been instrumental in bringing the gospel to his extended family in northern Luzon. Romeo took his family to the temple, where Naty and their children were sealed. Now all five of the children have been married and sealed in the Manila Temple. Several married returned missionaries. Joan was instrumental in converting her boyfriend. She waited with him for a year after his baptism and then married him in the Manila Temple. Naty died suddenly in 2007, but the family remained strongly rooted in the gospel. They are thankful for the sealing covenant and know they will see their beautiful wife and mother again if they are faithful.
Now there are more than 70 members of the Bautista family who are active in the Church. The family and extended family have accounted for 17 full-time missions and 14 temple marriages. Family members have also served as bishops and branch presidents; stake and district presidents; and Relief Society, Young Women, and Primary presidents and counselors! Romeo’s son, John, was a bishop in the Quezon City area. Ruth’s husband was a high councilor in that same stake. Lyn’s husband was also a branch president in Tiwi. The Bautista family surely is building a strong legacy of service and strength in the Philippines.
My wife and I served a senior mission in the Philippines San Pablo Mission from 2008 to 2010. One day at the temple in Manila, most of the Bautista family gathered for the marriage of John Bautista (Romeo’s son) to Sister Victorino, one of the sister missionaries from our San Pablo Mission who had completed her mission and recently returned home.
Our mission president asked if we would like to attend that joyous event, and we immediately made plans to be there. My wife knew of my relationship with the Bautista family but was completely blown away by how many family members there were and how much they loved her. She had 70 new friends for life.
I often think of Doctrine and Covenants 18:15: “And if it so be that you should labor all your days in crying repentance unto this people, and bring, save it be one soul unto me, how great shall be your joy with him in the kingdom of my Father!” Like a ripple in a pond, the influence of one soul, Romeo, has sent out waves of strong testimonies and Church service in the Philippines.
I was fortunate to help toss the pebble into the pond four decades ago with the baptisms of Romeo and Avelia. I have experienced unspeakable joy in my relationship with this great family, now into their third generation of gospel living. This is truly the ongoing legacy and joy of missionary work. This is a little bit of missionary heaven!

I know that Heavenly Father answers prayers. When my family lived in Germany, we went on a Volksmarch in our village. Volksmarch is where friends and neighbors enjoy time with each other by going on a nature walk together. My parents said that I could walk ahead of the group with one of my friends, and we started out on the long trail.
After a few minutes I could not see anyone in my family. I told my friend that I was going to stay on the trail and wait for them. Soon I could no longer see my friend or her family, and my parents still hadn’t come. I was all alone in the forest, and I felt scared. I decided to say a prayer that someone would find me.
In another part of the forest, my dad felt the Holy Ghost telling him, “Go look for your son.” He felt how much I needed him, so he turned right around and told my mom that he was going to look for me. A few minutes later my dad came running up the trail where I was waiting and found me. I was so glad to see my dad! When he told me about having a strong feeling that I needed help, I knew that Heavenly Father had answered my prayer.
I am so glad to know that wherever I am, I can talk to Heavenly Father. He will help me find my way.

Registration is from 9:00 A.M. to 12:00 noon. A sister missionary walks bravely into the room marked “Missionaries—Register Here.” She reports her name, pays a fee to cover meals, and is given a short briefing by a member of the mission presidency as well as written instructions relative to her future for the next eighteen months and instructions to attend her first meeting at 2:00 P.M. Now she somehow wrestles her suitcases upstairs—“Missionaries Only” territory. In her room are seven bunk beds with pink bedspreads, several closets, some mirrors, and another sister lying on one of the beds. She sits up.
“Is that all you brought? Oh no! I’ve overpacked!”
Downstairs two mothers wait, watching missionaries form small groups, shake hands, and ask, “Where are you going?”
Both mothers are smiling; they’re also keeping score.
“Look! There’s another lady missionary there.”
“That’s two we’ve seen.”
By the wall map of mission divisions a father points for his two children.
“Do you want to see where Richard is going?”
Then it’s two o’clock and time for the first meeting and the first rule of missionary life: Missionary time is five minutes early.
The hunt for assigned seats causes some confusion, but soon the missionaries get themselves properly distributed. Seated in front of the sisters are the missionary couples going into the field. One woman confides to the sister next to her, “Look at these clean looking kids. I call them kids. My husband says I will have to get used to calling them elders. You know, it’s exciting to watch them change.”
The meeting begins. “Elders and sisters …” Each meeting is opened and concluded with a song and a prayer. Today’s meeting begins with a welcome from the mission presidency. The group learns that the present group of missionaries represents twenty-seven states of the United States plus Australia and Canada.
Next, Sister Rawson speaks on housekeeping, personal habits, and grooming. Little-known facts of ministerial grooming emerge. The missionaries learn that they can remove grass stains with rubbing alcohol and ballpoint pen marks with hair spray. Then there are talks from the counselors in the mission presidency, President Rees and President Broberg.
After dinner the group is introduced to the missionary discussions, and then President Rawson talks to them about spirituality.
The missionaries then spend a half hour in temple preparation. A more serious mood settles upon them with a deeper realization of their relationship as missionaries to the plan of salvation.
Next comes an introduction to discussion memorization by the teaching director. A few mumbles follow his announcement of the “easy way” to do it.
“I think I have a congenital memorization inadequacy.”
“How about me? I almost failed Primary because I couldn’t memorize the Articles of Faith.”
But then the teaching director concludes his remarks with the fact that sixty percent of the previous group memorized all discussions while still in the Missionary Home and adds his testimony.
“Looks like it’s not impossible after all, doesn’t it?”
Ten-thirty is bedtime. There is a long line of sinks in the women’s dormitory, each equipped with a sister missionary.
“… because the Lord wants me here, that’s why.”
“My goal is to go through every temple in the world.”
“Everyone told me I’d probably be called to some place close, and now just think, Southern Italy. Wow!”
“If someone could just take my make-up case, it would take care of my six excess pounds of luggage.”
“My boyfriend said he’d wait for me, but …”
Back in their bedrooms the sisters kneel together in prayer and know the comfort of feeling their spirits united in a mutual goal: to teach the gospel of Jesus Christ. An exchange of good-nights closes the day, except for a whispered, “The top bunk? I’ve never slept in a bunk bed before.” The light goes out, because in a shorter time than could be possible it’s
“Elders and sisters, it’s 6:15. All hands on deck!” President Rawson’s voice comes through the intercom, and missionaries in various stages of alertness arise and turn to make their beds.
Breakfast is at 6:30 in the new Church Office Building, where all meals are served during the five-day stay in the Missionary Home. The elders extend the sisters the courtesy of allowing them to be first in line at the cafeteria.
“I’m glad the Church doesn’t practice women’s lib!”
“Is there a rule against perfume?”
During breakfast the sisters make the acquaintance of a sister missionary whose family is all grown and married and whose husband is dead. She has been called to the Alabama-Florida Mission and speaks proudly of her children, all of whom graduated from college and were married in the temple.
“The Lord has been so good to me; I could not possibly refuse this call.”
Following breakfast the missionaries meet in the Visitor’s Center for a tour. The Tabernacle Choir broadcast then provides a half hour of enjoyment and relaxation prior to the first classes.
At 10:15 the sisters meet with the wives of the mission presidency for orientation and a question and answer session. The rest of the morning is spent discussing goals, self-improvement, and how to get organized.
After lunch it’s discussion study again. All the teachers are returned missionaries who have been called and set apart to this position. Each has completed a three-month training course.
Sunday morning the teaching staff for the sister missionaries gathers in the dormitory study area for a meeting to review the results of the previous week, check weak points, and assign study groups of six to ten sisters. The supervisor encourages her staff to maintain their enthusiasm and love for the sisters and to stimulate them to strive to reach the goals they have set. A member of the teaching staff reflects on her appreciation for this special calling with the comment:
“Sunday is the best day of the week!”
Sacrament meeting concludes with the testimonies of recent converts and Lamanite missionaries. A convert of one year bears his testimony to a congregation quiet in contemplation and reverence.
There are a few minutes between dinner and the evening classes, so the sisters use the dormitory to discuss mission rules, passports, bicycles, the language, hometowns, and expected conduct.
“We should exercise for a few minutes every day.”
“Let’s run in place; it’s good for your heart.”
“You mean all that walking isn’t going to do anything for our hearts?”
Then it’s back to the discussions again. The sisters approach memorization of the discussions with a concept of key-wording to establish a broad outline of thought patterns and content rather than the mechanical memorization of words, phrases, and sentences.
The legendary Mr. Brown becomes Sister Brown as the sisters pair off to tackle the first discussion.
“I think I make a better Mr. Brown than Elder Jones.” They memorize the first two discussions on Sunday.
Then, after straining their memories for two hours on the discussions, the missionaries strain them again with a class on how to remember names. Finally, it’s time for family prayer, and the day closes in the same peace of spirit with which the missionaries plan to meet
The temple session begins at 6:45, so the sisters get up at 6:15. The automatic protests at the early hour are brief and overshadowed by a low-voiced exchange of reasons for wanting to be part of this aspect of the Lord’s work.
“Every time I open my eyes it hurts.”
“… share something beautiful …”
“… an overwhelming desire to serve the Lord.”
“… feeling of peace as I signed the final papers in the bishop’s office.”
Between the two temple sessions that they attend, the missionaries meet with President Lee in the temple, where he answers any questions they may have about the endowment ceremony and the temple.
A late lunch is followed by a return to the classrooms, where the elders and sisters learn about door approaches and the use of the Book of Mormon in proselyting.
After dinner they memorize discussions three and four.
Two and a half days after their first apprehensive and impatient hours in the Missionary Home, the missionaries begin to feel a sense of purpose and belonging caused by tangible actions as well as their strong desires and aspirations. With this positive assurance they face
The day begins for the sisters with a morning prayer and song, and then a trip to the mailbox. A disconsolate elder stares at his empty box.
“I guess nobody loves me.”
“Sure they do. They were just glad to get rid of you.”
“Yeah! My brother was wearing my clothes even before I left.”
Most of the day Tuesday is spent learning about some important practical matters such as companion relationships, investigator relationships, health problems, auto safety, mission organization, and the daily work schedule.
Sandwiched in between these subjects is a unique little class taught by a member of the mission presidency. It is called “Listening.” In it the missionaries are taught how to listen perceptively and compassionately to others.
After dinner the missionaries memorize discussions five, six, and seven. Actually they have spent every spare minute all day long in concentrated study of the discussions. The time is only a few minutes snatched here and there, but it’s enough for most to get the job done.
It’s been a long day, but time seems to go faster each day. Lights out at 10:30, and more quickly than ever it’s
Today is the last day in the Missionary Home. This evening many of the elders and sisters will leave in buses for the language training missions at Ricks College and BYU. Others will leave on Thursday morning flights for their mission fields.
Everyone looks forward to Wednesday morning, not because it’s their last but because that’s the day the General Authorities speak to them. These leaders bear moving witness of the divine mission of Joseph Smith, of the importance of modern apostles and prophets, of the truth of the gospel, and of the divinity of Christ. They also explain the order of Church government in priesthood correlation, and advise the missionaries regarding their personal conduct. The morning passes far too quickly.
After lunch there is a testimony meeting. It ends with the elders and sisters singing “God Be with You” with some tears but mostly a sense of hope and enthusiasm and minds and hearts filled with words to remember.
“Smile, elders and sisters! These are glad tidings!”
“If you want to have a certain quality, act as if you already had that quality.”
“I told the brethren that the Book of Mormon was the most correct of any book on earth and the keystone of our religion, and a man would get nearer to God by abiding by its precepts than by any other book.”—Joseph Smith
“The gospel makes bad men good and good men better; it changes human nature.”—David O. McKay
Each missionary takes from the Missionary Home his suitcases, packages, “mission library,” and two special gifts: the gospel and the chance to share it, and the knowledge that he is prepared to succeed.

“During [a] busy season of my life, Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin extended a call to me to serve as stake president.
“During my interview with him, many thoughts raced through my mind, not the least of which was the unsettling worry that I might not have the time this calling would require. Although I felt humbled and honored by the call, I briefly wondered if I could accept it. But it was only a fleeting thought because I knew that Elder Wirthlin was called of God and that he was doing the Lord’s work. What could I do but accept?
“There are times when we have to step into the darkness in faith, confident that God will place solid ground beneath our feet once we do. And so I accepted gladly, knowing that God would provide.”
President Dieter F. Uchtdorf, Second Counselor in the First Presidency, “The Why of Priesthood Service,” Liahona and Ensign, May 2012, 59.

My companion handed me an envelope and said, “Sister Jones, I think this is for you.” I looked at the return address and was pleased to see my cousin’s name printed neatly in the corner. I had just been transferred to a new city from the other side of southern France and didn’t think anyone back home in the United States was aware of my new address. I opened the envelope and read a short note in which my cousin said that she had recently received an e-mail from her French pen pal after eight years of no contact.
My cousin explained that although she and Céline had received each other’s address in their high school French and English classes, respectively, they had never actually written to each other. My cousin was therefore very surprised to receive Céline’s e-mail. She didn’t know if Céline lived in southern France where I was serving, but she included her name and address, asking me to contact her if possible.
Because I was new to the area, I handed the note to my companion and asked her if my cousin’s pen pal lived in the mission. “Not only does she live within mission boundaries,” she responded, “she lives in our district!” Excitedly, we called Céline to introduce ourselves, and she agreed to meet with us. We took the short train ride to Montauban.
As we stepped off the train, we were greeted warmly by Céline and her parents. They invited us to their home and asked us to share our message. As we taught them about the Book of Mormon and the Prophet Joseph Smith, the Spirit bore witness of the truthfulness of the restored gospel. The family expressed their appreciation for the values taught by the Church, and after a lengthy discussion we left them with a copy of the Book of Mormon, a prayer, and a promise to return.
That was the first of several visits with Céline and her family. My mission ended while they were still in the process of learning about the Church, but before I said good-bye to Céline, I asked her why she had decided to contact my cousin after eight years. Her response surprised me: “When I was cleaning out a drawer, I came across her address on a small piece of paper I thought I’d lost. I felt strongly that I needed to write to her.”
On the way home to our apartment I gazed out the train window and marveled at how a loving Father allowed a lost address to be found and an old connection to be made at the very time I was unexpectedly transferred to a new city for the last six weeks of my mission. He is mindful of all and will make miracles happen, even with such a small and simple thing as a pen pal’s address.

It all started with headaches. After a while, the headaches intensified and were happening daily. Sometimes they caused me to vomit. Because of this, my doctor requested an MRI.
The results of the MRI showed that I had a tumor called a germinoma in the central nervous system of my brain. When we first found out about the tumor in October 2023, we didn’t know if it was malignant (cancerous) or benign.
I underwent various surgeries, and they even completely removed the tumor. I returned home and everything seemed to be going well, but the biopsy took a long time to come back. A few weeks later, my headaches returned, so I got a CT scan.
When we received the CT scan results, we learned that in less than 20 days, the tumor in my brain had completely returned. The biopsy showed that the tumor was cancerous. My parents were very scared, but I remained calm. I believe that the Savior was already preparing and strengthening me.
After finding out the tumor was cancerous, my parents and I left our city and went to the specialized children’s cancer hospital in the state capital, Curitiba. The first part of my treatment took six months, between surgeries and chemotherapy.
I had another MRI in order to schedule the next surgery. The doctors expected that with the chemotherapy, the tumor should have shrunk to the size of a bean.
But the MRI showed that the tumor was totally gone! The Lord performed a miracle. The doctors hadn’t even considered this a possibility. I was so grateful for the miracles I experienced, but my journey continued to be hard.
At the beginning of this trial, I was sad because I was losing so many things. I had to stop going to school and church. I lost soccer, and I also lost contact with friends. I couldn’t attend seminary either.
I know that the Savior, through His Atonement, will make up for my losses. I don’t know how, I don’t know when, but I believe Jesus Christ will compensate for all these things I’ve lost.
I don’t know how, I don’t know when, but I believe Jesus Christ will compensate for all these things I’ve lost.
No one understands me as well as He does. My mother understands me very well, but not 100 percent, like the Savior understands me. So even though I was sad about everything I lost and everything that happened, the Savior was with me the whole time.
One way to overcome difficulties is by serving the Lord. Service has connected me with the Lord and helped me listen to His voice and follow Him.
This past year, we had an FSY conference, and although I couldn’t attend in person, the couple directing the session invited me to make a video sharing my testimony.
In my video I shared about how no matter what is happening in my life, I have the desire to do my part and serve others. I received 571 letters from youth who saw my video and were encouraged.
Gustavo’s family is a source of strength to him. He looks up to his older brother and sister, who are both returned missionaries.
I’m still facing my health challenge, but this experience has brought me much closer to the Savior and has taught me many things.
I’ve learned to have patience and to wait upon the Lord when dealing with bad news, bad experiences, or bad illnesses. I’ve learned to find joy in the small and simple things. I’ve learned to see the world with different eyes, to study the scriptures, and to commune with the Holy Spirit.
Something that helps me spiritually is always being in the scriptures. Even when I was hospitalized, after surgery or during chemotherapy, I stayed in touch with the scriptures or general conference talks. If I couldn’t read, I asked my mom to read to me, or I’d play the audio for myself.
Now I’m in the phase of radiotherapy, and while waiting for treatments, I use the FamilySearch Get Involved app. During radiation therapy, I like to think about scriptures from seminary. When we choose to put the Lord first, even in difficult times, it makes all the difference. I feel that the Lord is with me because I’ve drawn near to Him.
Jesus Christ is my Savior and my Friend. I know He knows everything I feel, have felt, and will feel. Everything will be made right through the Savior.

Several years ago, a student who had studied at the Brigham Young University Jerusalem Center wrote to me soon after returning to the United States. She reported a particular challenge regarding Sabbath work: “One of the most difficult things I had to do was tell my boss that I couldn’t work for him on Sundays anymore. The last two summers it didn’t bother me to work on Sunday, but because of the knowledge I’ve gained since then, there’s no way I could justify it now.”
Her admiration for her boss made telling him difficult. “I guess I didn’t want to tell him because he’s been so good to me; I’ve always been able to count on having a job there.”
It took her three days, including a day of fasting, to get up the courage. “All I wanted was for him to understand my position. I took an olivewood carving as a peace offering—just in case. Of course, the conversation centered around Jerusalem and everything I’d done in Israel. I tried to prepare him for why I couldn’t work on Sunday.
“The conversation eventually came around to my job. My nerves betrayed me and my voice got a little shaky, but finally my feelings came out. The Spirit must have been there because there were tears in his eyes, and it was hard for him to talk, too. He told me that he respected my decision and was glad that I stood up for what I believed in.
“He also explained that his beliefs were a little different from mine and that he had to be fair and treat all of his employees equally. He never did come out and say I wouldn’t be working for him any longer—but we both knew. It felt like a weight had been taken off my shoulders. I don’t have a job, but that’s okay; something will work out.”

I have discovered a profound and noteworthy fact. When girls hit high school age, fathers often hit bottom on daughters’ priority lists. It’s not that we stop loving our fathers; it’s that we have more important male individuals on our minds. Unfortunately, dad is sometimes forgotten for a while.
I was no exception to this phenomenon. During my senior year of high school, I met, dated, and was totally devoted to Mr. Wonderful. We attended most of the dances and other major school events together. But the summer after we graduated, Mike hit me with speech number 36. You know, the one that goes something like “We should date other people more often, but we can still be friends.”
I suppose this was Mike’s way of cutting the ties that bind and branching out a bit. After all, Mr. Wonderful should not hide his light under a bushel. He simply must sacrifice and share his wonderfulness with others. I know I sound bitter, but you see, the decision to part was one-sided (his), and the breakup shattered my little world. I cried my eyes into red puffiness.
Now parents are very perceptive people. Somehow they saw right through my heroic effort to carry on. (Maybe my chin dragging on the ground gave me away.)
“Is there anything wrong, dear?”
“No,” was my typical teenage answer.
Teenagers usually say no. They could be wounded and near death, and when you ask if anything is wrong, they will say no. Persistently and patiently, my parents got to the root of the problem.
They were reassuring and loving as they expressed their regret. Looking back now, I realize they were probably very happy, but they had the good sense to act woeful. My mother said something about these things happening to almost everyone at some time in their lives. She also said I would live through it. Dad added the old favorite, “Time heals all wounds.”
Now I knew all of this. I had said the same thing to girlfriends going through this same tragedy. But none of that lessens the pain at the time.
I went to work the next day feeling tired and dejected, and I tried to convince myself that I didn’t care. And every time the telephone rang, I pounced on it, hoping it would be Mike.
Around two that afternoon, a man in a uniform came up to the desk where I was working.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
“Are you Carol?” he said as he thumped a bouquet of beautiful flowers on the desk.
Oh, Mike, you’ve come to your senses, I thought as I grabbed the enclosed card and ripped it open.
“Can I be your new friend? Love, Dad.”
I will never forget the effect those simple words had on me. Each time I read that card, I felt love. My heart was full with the knowledge that my father loved me. He laughed and cried, hurt and rejoiced right along with me. He was concerned and interested in my life. But I had been too wrapped up in the hustle and bustle of my high school existence to include him, and that was my loss. My father climbed to the top of my priority list that day.

Prayer at Gethsemaneby Del Parson“For, behold, the Lord your Redeemer suffered death in the flesh; wherefore he suffered the pain of all men, that all men might repent and come unto him” (D&C 18:11).
Del Parson
Christ is my hero. I love to read about Him and His life. It is humbling to try to portray Him in art.
My art has been greatly influenced by the guidance given in my patriarchal blessing. It gave direction for my work. Early in my career, my wife and young daughter were in a car accident. At that time I felt as if the Holy Ghost showered me with comfort and God’s love. This love is what I try to express in my paintings of the Savior.

“At the end of the 1980s, … life was good [for me and my family], and everything seemed to be as it should be—until one day an old friend came to visit us.
“At the conclusion of his visit, he made a comment and asked a question that unsettled my convictions. He said, ‘Carlos, everything seems to be going well for you, your family, your career, and your service in the Church, but—’ and then came the question, ‘if you continue to live as you are living, will the blessings promised in your patriarchal blessing be fulfilled?’
“I had never thought about my patriarchal blessing in this way. I read it from time to time but never with the intent of looking toward the blessings promised in the future and evaluating how I was living in the present.
“After his visit, I turned my attention to my patriarchal blessing, wondering, ‘If we continue to live as we are living, will the promised blessings be fulfilled?’ After some pondering, I had the feeling that some changes were necessary.”

The March day felt almost like summer as Raybell walked down the quiet country road. Her parents had gone to dinner the night before and had brought her two fortune cookies that she carried in a paper bag. She wanted to give one to her best friend, Linda.
Raybell looked out over the fields that were just beginning to turn green and thought how very quiet and empty her little farming town was. The sun felt warm on her head and shoulders, and a meadowlark broke the lonely silence with its call from the telephone lines.
Raybell hurried up the long walkway to Linda’s house and knocked on the door. She waited and then knocked again. The house was silent. Maybe Linda’s family had gone into town. Raybell sat on the steps and waited for about ten minutes, though it seemed longer. Finally she got up and wandered across the road to the church, a white building with pine trees in front. She sat down on the church steps where she had a view of Linda’s house. She could also see Judy’s house across the field, and she began to think about what had happened after Primary one day last month.
Now Raybell sat on the steps in the warm sunshine and remembered the feelings of that day. Judy hadn’t spoken to her in the last month, but she had never been very friendly. Raybell looked across the field at Judy’s run-down house, surrounded by old, broken-down cars.
Raybell looked again at Judy’s old house. She looked at the paper sack sitting on the steps with the two fortune cookies in it. She picked it up and climbed through the fence into the damp, plowed field.
As Raybell approached the house, she saw Judy sitting on her rickety front steps wearing an old army shirt and baggy pants. She watched Raybell with a hostile expression, and Raybell wished she hadn’t come. She tried to smile.
“My mom and dad went out to eat last night—”
“So?” Judy said.
“Well, they brought these fortune cookies, and I thought we could open them and read our fortunes.” Judy’s expression was puzzled but not angry. “Judy, I’m really sorry about putting snow in your boots.” She stood there not knowing what else to say.
“What do I care if my boots are wet? It doesn’t bother me,” Judy said.
“Well, I’m sorry anyway. I’d hate it if my boots were all wet inside. I guess I’m not as tough as you.”
Judy shrugged her shoulders. “So are you going to give me one of those fortune cookies or not?”
“Oh, sure.” Raybell sat down on the steps and handed a cookie to Judy. They broke the cookies in half and read the slips of paper. “What does yours say?” Raybell asked.
Judy sat up very straight. “It says I will be rich and famous one day. How about yours?”
“‘You are a good leader and should consider politics or business,’” Raybell read. They both laughed.
Judy took a bite of her cookie. “I prefer chocolate cookies, but they’re not bad.”
“Me too,” Raybell said. They both laughed again. Raybell munched her cookie and thought that the spring sunshine felt even warmer here on Judy’s steps.

In 1975, the Bollbachs were surprised by another mission call, this time to the Germany Frankfurt Mission. About the same time, Elli discovered she had cancer. “No one can imagine the fear we felt,” Fritz explains. “Within one week, she underwent three operations. The curious thing was the blessing the bishop gave her. He said to her, ‘Elli, you will recover, and you will again go into the mission field with Fritz to serve God.’ We wondered how he could say such a thing.”
Sister Bollbach recuperated from the operations, and they served an eighteen-month mission in Pirmasens, Germany, near the French border.

At seventeen, John registered at Brigham Young College in Logan. Two years later he graduated, and soon after that, he boarded a train bound for Cambridge, Massachusetts, and Harvard University. The venture was financed by bank loans and mortgages against his mother’s property. It was at Harvard that John met his future wife, Leah Eudora Dunford, who attended classes there one summer. In 1894 John graduated in chemistry with highest honors and accepted a job as professor of chemistry and as chemist at the experiment station at Utah State Agricultural College (now Utah State University) in Logan.

I don’t know what to say! I was pleasantly surprised and happily shocked when I found the August 1987 contest issue of the New Era in my mailbox. I guess it came at the perfect time for me.
My older sister and I are both interested in drama. She is a wonderful actress and sister, but it seemed as though we were always competing against each other. I was beginning to think perhaps drama wasn’t really for me because of it, but your issue helped me to understand that we can share the drama field while at the same time we each have our own talents. For instance, she sings and I play the piano. She writes and I decorate. Even now the Lord is waiting for the right time in our lives to bless us with even more. Thank you for a wonderful magazine that adds so much to my life.
Name withheld

When I was just two years old, my older brother and I were walking near a large irrigation ditch on our farm. My father was keeping an eye on us as he fed the cattle. The next thing he knew, my brother was running up to him, crying out, “Rolfe’s in!”
Dad raced to the irrigation ditch. From my footprints, he could see that I had gone as close to the edge as I possibly could, and then my feet had slipped and I had fallen in. He ran along the ditch until he glimpsed my red sweater in the water. He was able to pull me out, apply first aid, and save my life. I had gotten as close to danger as I possibly could, and the results were almost tragic.

Other Activities. Wendy Bybee and her son James, of West Valley City, Utah, both blind from birth, have found that a helpful Church leader can make a great difference. “James used to have trouble in Scouting, but his current Blazer Scout leader is exceptional! She has spent extra time helping him learn to tie knots; she also prints up materials in larger print for him and always makes sure the announcements she sends home are in dark enough print for me to read. She has helped me find ways to help James earn merit badges so that it’s fair to him but doesn’t make the other boys think he’s getting off easy.”

When knights wore shining armor and fair damsels waved from castle walls, there lived in the tiny village of Bristol a boy named Darby. His mother tatted lace and his father carved spoons and bowls. Then he went about the countryside selling their wares. To help out, Darby also ran errands from sunrise to sunset.
Other boys grumbled and growled as they cleaned stables or fetched wood, but Darby did not complain. His pay might be a piece of fruit or a crust of bread—but no matter—he took it home and placed it on the table to be shared. His mother would hug him, and his father would smile proudly.
At night, the small family sat before the hearth and sang until sleep called them to their cots. Darby was a plain boy who did nothing great or famous, but he had a kind heart. And a kind heart, as everyone knows, is well worth having. Except sometimes people do not understand, and that is how it was with Darby.
One sunny day as he ran an errand, two knaves were raking outside a stable. As Darby approached, one poked the other in the ribs and murmured, “Watch!” Without a second thought, the cruel knave tripped Darby as he passed. The boys pointed and jeered as Darby sprawled in the dust-covered straw.
Darby’s anger began to rise. But he thought, it is better to see them laughing rather than scowling as they usually do. So he shrugged and brushed the dust from his clothes.
“Oh, look!” cried the other knave. “Darby’s stockings don’t match! One is purple and the other yellow. Darby should be in a circus!”
Darby blushed, for it was true. His only concern was that his feet and legs were covered, whatever the color.
As the day wore on, Darby stood outside the cobbler’s, waiting to run an errand. On the sill a window box of dainty flowers bloomed. He stood on tiptoe to smell their fragrance. As he did, a bucket of water was carelessly thrown from the window above and Darby stood dripping wet. A small crowd gathered to laugh as Darby pressed the water from his shirt and trousers.
“Oh, Darby!” Molly, the flower girl said with a frown. “You are a sight!”
The crowd moved on while Darby sat down to empty the water from his shoes.
“Don’t you care that everyone laughs at you, Darby?” Molly scolded.
Darby shrugged good-naturedly. “I like to see them happy.”
“There’s no use talking to you! Box a few ears!” Molly scolded. “That’ll stop their laughing.”
Darby looked up and smiled. “I am a sight, Molly, and it’s enough to make me laugh too!”
Molly shook her head and left Darby to himself.
The following day a proclamation was posted, and all the villagers gathered to read it. Darby strained his neck with the rest. “What does it say?” he asked.
“The duke is coming for the tournament at the end of the summer.” Thomas the butcher read. “And not only will he judge the jousts, he will also judge the beauty of our village.”
Darby made his way through the crowd and sat down on the green. What can I do to make the village more beautiful? he wondered.
Suddenly he leaped to his feet and ran off to find Molly. “Molly!” he shouted, as he ran to catch up with her. “Have you some flower seeds I can have?”
“I have a lot of seeds in these withered flowers, Darby, if you’d care to pick them out.” Molly smiled and handed him the wilted blooms. “I guess you’ve heard of the judging, but where will you plant the seeds? You’ve no plot of ground.”
“Aye, Molly, I’ve no plot to call my own, but the roadway belongs to everyone. Surely no one will care if I plant flowers there.”
“You’ve gone daft, Darby! The horses and carts will trample them into the dust, and the whole village will have another good laugh at your folly!”
“Better that than have them frown, Molly!” Darby shouted as he ran toward the open road.
Time passed and the village bustled with activity. New straw was laid upon the floors, and pennants were hung from the gables. Water was carefully drained into troughs, yards were tidied, and flowers waved from every window and garden.
Meanwhile Darby planted his seeds, and each day he went to tend them. He watered and weeded, and if a plant were trampled, he planted another in its place. Then when his flowers began to bloom, the knaves came to poke fun at Darby’s efforts. “The duke is going to judge the village, not the open road, Darby!” one of them shouted.
“We’ll pick them to decorate the lists,” another knave laughed and reached for a handful.
“Please don’t!” Darby cried. Then as the rascal knelt to pick the flowers, a tall shadow fell over him. With fearful eyes, the boy looked up. Gleaming in the sunlight, a knight in armor sat upon his horse. In his hand a long shiny lance pointed its sharp “finger” toward the sky. The boys trembled as he spoke.
“Who plants flowers here?” the knight asked.
“Not us! We would not be so foolish!” the boys exclaimed and pointed at Darby. “He planted them! He’s known for his witless behavior.”
“Then why are you knaves here?”
“To teach him a lesson,” one of them replied quickly.
“What lesson would you have him learn?” questioned the knight. “Kindness and compassion? Good cheer and hope?”
“No,” the knaves shook their heads. “We would teach him that no one plants flowers along the open road where they will be trampled.”
“They are not trampled,” the knight challenged, pointing to the nodding blooms.
“But … but, it’s just not done!” the knaves stammered.
The knight nodded. “But he has done it … hasn’t he? I have been sent to judge the beauty of the village, but I need look no further. This display before us is the most beautiful.”
“But you must see the village!” the knaves bleated. “These common flowers cannot compare with what grows there.”
“A whole garden of flowers could not compare with blooms planted in faith—planted where nothing grew before. What dreary spot have you knaves brightened?” the knight asked sharply.
The knaves hung their heads, but Darby looked up in surprise. He had not thought of it like that before. Yet, below the linden trees that lined the open road, flowers now waved in the bright sunlight, splashing the way with color.
There was no prize for Darby’s efforts, but when the tournaments were over and all the nobles were returning to their manors, the knight came to see Darby. “Darby of Bristol,” the knight said. “You are a fine, cheerful lad, but unappreciated here. You must come to court and join the jesters.”
“Are there many?” Darby asked.
“Oh, yes indeed,” the knight replied, nodding his head. “But you would be right at home among them.”
“Then your court has enough laughter already. I am not needed there, but here where my home is,” Darby declared with a smile. “And it would pain me to leave the ones I love.”
The knight understood. He saluted Darby then turned and left.
Darby stayed in Bristol. He planted more flowers and watered them. And the seeds of the flowers blew in the wind until the countryside all about was covered with blooms. Darby continued to run errands, and the villagers continued to laugh, but Darby took no offense. He knew that just as his thirsty flowers needed water, his village needed laughter, and in that way Darby felt very much appreciated.

When the flooding started, their parents told the boys that they were all going sandbagging. Jimmy and Paul moaned and groaned all day. But after their parents explained to them why they were doing it—to save people’s homes and businesses—the boys were anxious every morning to get to work. Each day for two weeks, they went sandbagging with their mom from 10:30 A.M. until 3:30 P.M., when they’d go home to eat. When their dad got home from work, they all went again from 5 P.M. until about 9 P.M. They were very grateful to the Red Cross, who brought food and water so that they could stay on the job.

Just over eight months ago, a monstrous hurricane swept into Florida. Jack Demaree of the Montgomery Alabama Stake and many like him drove over two thousand miles round trip, using their vacation time to assist the hurricane victims. He brought back an article from a Florida newspaper: “In hot, humid conditions Saturday, about 12,000 volunteers—including 9,000 Mormon church members from six states who brought chain saws, plywood and tar paper—swarmed into South Florida. … So many people [were] at work that only two hundred showed up Saturday morning for an outdoor prayer service … despite the … prediction that more than 5,000 would attend” (Sheryl Stolberg, “Tent Cities Begin to Fill In,” Ocala, Florida, newspaper, 6 Sept. 1992).
In my conversation with Brother Demaree about his experience, he said, “All I did was cut up trees that were blown down by the hurricane.”

By 1968 I had a wife and a son. We moved to Guatemala City so I could find better employment. On 20 November 1975, two young American women, simply dressed, knocked on our door. They said they had a message for my family. We made an appointment for them to come back at a later time.
I remember the first discussion clearly. One of the young women said a prayer, and then the other one began to talk about Joseph Smith. In her hands was a copy of the pamphlet I had read as a boy! My search for the truth had come to an end in my own living room.
No words can express what I felt at that moment. I wanted to snatch the pamphlet out of her hands. The sisters noticed the way I was looking at it and said they would leave it with me. When they gave me that precious pamphlet, I could hardly believe it. I put it in my shirt pocket to keep it near my heart.
Two days later the missionaries returned. When they saw the pamphlet in my pocket, they asked if I had read it. I told them they didn’t realize what it meant to me. I explained I had read it as a boy and had prayed to find it again.
On Sunday our family went to church. We arrived very early, and the sisters were surprised to see us. They hadn’t really invited us, just told us where the building was.
The sisters continued to teach us. Although they didn’t speak Spanish very well, they taught by the Holy Ghost. When they taught us about repentance, I felt something I had never felt before and started to cry. Then I realized we were all crying. I was convinced I had found the true Church.
My wife, Rosa Élida, had a similar experience. It happened when the sisters invited us to be baptized. “Sister Salguero,” they asked, “do you want to follow the Savior?” She realized right then that she did.
When I asked the Lord to help me find His Church, I promised I would serve Him. From the first time I went to church, I have faithfully attended and have tried to serve diligently. I have had many wonderful Church callings, including serving twice as bishop. My wife has served in the Primary and Relief Society and in the family history program. My eldest son served a full-time mission, and now his younger brother is preparing to serve. We have two daughters who are also active in the Church.
Whenever I am asked to speak in church, I try to communicate the joy I feel as a member of the Lord’s Church. I know that God lives and that through the Prophet Joseph Smith He has restored to us His gospel, His Church, and the authority of His priesthood.