Gospel Story Finder

A little over a year ago a couple came into my office carrying a little boy. The father said to me, “My wife and I have been fasting for two days, and we’ve brought our little boy up for a blessing. You are the one we’ve been sent to.” I said, “What’s the matter with him?” They said he was born blind, deaf and dumb, no coordination of his muscles, couldn’t even crawl at the age of five years. I said to myself, “This is it. ‘This kind cometh not out save by fasting and by prayer.’” I had implicit faith in the fasting and the prayers of those parents. I blessed that child, and a few weeks later I received a letter: “Brother Cowley, we wish you could see our little boy now. He’s crawling. When we throw a ball across the floor he races after it on his hands and knees. He can see. When we clap our hands over his head he jumps. He can hear.” Medical science had laid the burden down. God had taken over. The little boy was rapidly recovering or really getting what he’d never had.

I had always planned on serving a mission when I turned 20, the age of missionaries at the time. After playing two seasons of football at Utah State University, I had a difficult decision to make. I knew that, at that time, very few returned missionaries played football after their missions. I had put a lot of effort into football, and I loved the game. I decided to delay my mission a few months so I could play one more season and then serve a mission. By the end of that season, I had won the starting quarterback position for the next year.
My coach was surprised and disappointed that after all my hard work in football, I was going to leave. He encouraged me to stay and play my final season. He couldn’t understand why I would walk away from this opportunity. I listened to his comments and his logic, but I told him that I could not wait another year to go on my mission. If I did, I feared I would miss my opportunity to serve a mission. After all my hard work in football, I said good-bye to the team and left for Great Britain to serve the Lord.
I never regretted that decision. I learned so many things on my mission. To witness people embracing the gospel was an incredible experience, which shaped the rest of my life in many important ways. My mission helped make me into the person I am today and had far greater impact on me than football ever could have.
As it turns out, when I returned from my mission, I got the chance to play football again. Although it was unexpected, I played my final year and achieved more than I believe I could have done before my mission. I was given incredible opportunities that probably would not have come about had I chosen to further delay or even forego my mission.

For a couple of weeks I had been noticing a small tremor in my right hand. I persuaded myself it was only stress. Raising seven children can be a challenge, but when five of those children have multiple disabilities, life can be overwhelming at times. My schedule was filled with doctors’ appointments, therapies, daily medication routines, and the constant challenge of helping children struggle with seizures, mental retardation, bipolar disorder, and congenital heart disease.
My husband, Ron, had recently been called as bishop of our ward. We were grateful for his opportunity to serve and prayed daily that he would be able to bless the lives of those in our ward. Little did I realize that we would be the ones receiving the blessings.
Finally, I could ignore the tremor no more and sought medical help. As I left the doctor’s office that day, my life had changed forever. Parkinson’s disease was the diagnosis. Questions and fears flooded my mind. How would the disease progress? How would I care for my family? How would I continue to support Ron in his new calling? I longed for answers and desperately needed peace and comfort. The Savior’s words came to my mind: “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid” (John 14:27).
Over the years I had become comfortable with the idea that the Lord had given me my quota of trials; I thought my life would be spent caring for my children with their special needs. I did not resent this idea and even felt great peace and joy as I looked to my future. We had accepted the challenges and disabilities of both our sons, along with raising our two beautiful daughters. We even felt the strong desire to add to our family by adopting three more children with special needs. Each time we entered the adoption process, we experienced miracles as we were guided through each step of the way. There have been tremendous challenges but also tremendous blessings.
In the weeks following my diagnosis I often found myself on my knees, pleading with the Lord. I learned that Parkinson’s is a progressive disease and that I would continue to lose control of my muscles. The more I read, the more frightened I became. I spent many sleepless nights. I also felt an impression from the first words of the diagnosis that there would be no miracles to remove this trial from me and that I needed to learn something from this experience. I felt so alone and wondered if the Lord was displeased with me, if He still loved me.
Then one night, as Ron was getting ready to go to Mutual, there was a knock at our door. We opened the door and found a delicious meal left anonymously on our front porch. A loving note stated that every week on this night a dinner would arrive. As I tasted the goodness of this delicious meal, not only was my body fed, but my spirit also. I realized I am not alone and the Lord does love me. I tasted again of the sweet peace He has promised us. I was grateful for these dear secret angels who honored their baptismal covenants “to mourn with those that mourn” and “comfort those that stand in need of comfort” (Mosiah 18:9). I knew that through the ministering of these “earthly angels” I would find the strength to make it through each day.
It has now been more than three years since we found that first dinner. Every Mutual night since then we have received a wonderful meal, always left anonymously on our front porch. Ward boundaries have changed, and people have moved in and out of our ward. But the meals continue to come. Often I have struggled with a particularly difficult day, forgetting it is our “Secret Angels Day.” And then the doorbell rings, and I find another delicious gift of love.
My disease continues to progress, and there are still many unanswered questions. But I know I am not alone. I have felt the peace that comes from trusting the Lord and accepting His will. I know that many of the trials we encounter in this life are for our good and help turn our weaknesses into strengths. I also know that we do not have to bear our trials alone. The Lord always answers our prayers, but often the answers come through those who are willing to serve and be His “secret angels.”

So when Steve Sargent failed to receive an athletic scholarship, his life came apart, right? Wrong. He had another dream beyond that of athletic stardom. He wanted to serve the Lord on a mission. He had already completed four years of seminary. He had read the scriptures, maintained his personal worthiness, and tried to save some money. Now he was ready to fine tune himself before the big event.

Attending BYU on an academic scholarship, he took a missionary preparation class. His parents recall, “When he wrote home from the Y he would say, ‘I can hardly wait to get out. I wish I were in the mission field!’ That was six months ahead of time. When they extended missionary service from 18 months to two years, we thought he might be a little disappointed, but he just said, ‘Boy that’s great!’ There was also a lot of hard personal prayer. And a lot of discussion with his roommates and others who were preparing for missions.”

Finally, his papers came. He went shopping, visited the doctor and dentist, spoke at a marvelous farewell, hugged his hugs, and said his goodbyes.
The MTC was wonderful, all except for getting up at 6:30, but Steve mastered that as he had mastered the spiral pass and the jump shot. Then came the mission field and the realization that missionary work is tough. As tough as football or basketball.
“I’d say it’s harder,” Elder Sargent insists. “Maybe not physically, although physically it wears you down sometimes too. But mentally it’s a lot tougher. You need to put out more effort to be a good missionary than to be a good quarterback.
“Everybody says in their homecoming talk how great it was, so I always expected to spend 24 hours a day on a spiritual high. I soon found out that it isn’t like that. There’s a lot of hard work involved, but when you see the results it’s worth it.”
And then, there was always the language barrier. “The first two weeks I thought they were speaking Chinese.” But his ear soon adjusted, and his tongue got used to its new assignment. “I feel that the Lord’s really helped me a lot in picking up the language.”
The initial hard times brought Steve closer to his family. His dad says, “You suffer with him when he’s down, and you just want to be there and put your arms around him and say, ‘It’s okay.’ We’ve drawn closer to Steve through the hard times than through the good. We know that he has to go through the refiner’s fire in order to learn. We want him to learn to struggle and sacrifice, but at the same time, we pray that the Lord is gentle with him so that it’s a positive struggle after all is said and done, so that he progresses in his testimony and understanding of people and love and commitment to them.”
Brother Sargent’s prayers have been answered. Steve found that every sacrifice was more than matched by a blessing. If the mission field was harder than he expected, it was more rewarding too. The letters he writes home make glad reading for his parents. “I’m really feeling a lot more love for my Father in Heaven and for Jesus Christ. I set a goal to focus my thoughts on Christ when I’m down and thinking about other things. I know that I will grow to love him even more as my mission goes on. When I think about it, I just get warm all over and feel great. There are still plenty of rough times, but I know whom I can always rely on.”
But after all is said and done, there still aren’t any newspaper clippings. Isn’t missionary work a little boring after athletic stardom? “Missionary work is awesome! The rewards are far greater than the rewards of athletics. A touchdown is thrilling, but it doesn’t compare to a baptism.”
There has been personal growth too. Some of it Steve probably can’t even see because he’s too close to himself. Some of it he can. “I can see life a lot clearer. I know why we’re here. I can see the plan that our Father in Heaven has given us in order to be able to live with him again and become like him. It’s neat to finally see that plan come into focus and really understand what he has done for us.
“I’m a much different person than I was just a few months ago. If I hadn’t come on a mission I’d still be thinking sports were the most important thing in life. I might have learned this in time anyway, but it comes a lot faster on a mission.”
Of course Steve still loves sports too. “I’m sure they’ll have athletics in the next life,” he says.
Steve’s love has grown along with his understanding. He wrote home: “This last week I actually started to enjoy my mission. It happened after I got the tape from home. And I’d been praying quite a bit. I really realized how much my family means to me. I’m just overjoyed to be alive. Our family is so special, and I love you all so much. I realize that the love I feel for you is the thing I need to share with these people.”
As an athlete, Steve prepared carefully for each game, and afterward he would evaluate his preparation so he could do better next time. How does he evaluate his mission preparation? “I think we should prepare when we’re younger. I thought I was pretty well prepared, but our preparation can never be equal to the importance of the task. I wish I had saved more money too, because I feel that I could have placed less of a burden on my parents. I especially wish I’d studied the scriptures more. They are so great.”
Steve has expressed the bottom line on mission preparation. It’s impossible to prepare as well as the calling deserves. Still, mission president Eduardo Ayala is pretty pleased with Elder Sargent just as he is. “He’s one of the most impressive missionaries I’ve ever seen. He is always enthusiastic. He is an excellent companion. He works very hard. Nothing discourages him. And furthermore he lives the law of consecration in every sense. It’s a pleasure to work with him.”
Nice words, but don’t look for them in the newspaper. Don’t look for any of Steve’s hard, wonderful mission in the newspaper. Look for it in the smiling faces of those to whom he brings the gospel. Look for it in the person he becomes. Look for it in all the good he does throughout his whole life and beyond. Look for it when the sports clippings have all turned to dust, and you will find it. Because it will be written in the hearts of people, and people last forever.

Evan, a young Primary-age boy, decided to spend his summer vacation from school gathering supplies for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to donate to his local food bank. He found the project on the JustServe website. Young Evan enlisted his entire school class to help collect over 700 jars of jelly! Let the people you serve know that your concern for them is rooted in your love of God and your desire to treat your neighbor as yourself.

I come from a small village in Sicily, Italy, where the lemons bloom and the boundaries between the fields are marked by green rows of prickly pears bristling with thorns bearing the sweetest of fruits. I remember with pleasure the years I spent there preparing to become a Catholic priest. After entering seminary at age ten, I completed my high school and advanced theological studies in various cities in Sicily. I was a good student and seminarian.
But my story, now told in old age, is one of sorrow as well as joy. After having spent a lifetime in anguished searching, I dedicate this brief account of my conversion to all believers of good faith, Christian or non-Christian, and especially to those who are searching for the restored Christian church.
After I was ordained a priest in 1950, my faith in the Catholic Church started to waiver. At a certain point, I thought I had lost my faith altogether. This was the first of many crises of belief to follow. However, I spoke of this to no one; I don’t know whether any of my colleagues or superiors were ever aware of my internal anguish. Externally, I continued to carry on as before: I said mass, prayed in public, and administered the sacrament regularly. My superiors conferred positions of trust upon me. Among other things, I was appointed Dean of the Seminary and became a preacher much in demand.
But I was deeply unhappy, because my old faith had collapsed inside me. I requested the opportunity to pursue further theological studies at the Pontifical University in Rome, hoping to dispel my doubts. My request was granted, and I spent four years obtaining my doctorate in the Department of Dogmatic Theology.
But instead of dispelling my doubts and strengthening my faith, the experience had the opposite effect. Thus, I returned to Sicily with another doctorate—but with a faith that was literally in pieces.
I no long viewed my situation as a passing crisis, but as a permanent reality. Deeply unhappy, I envied those uneducated believers who maintained their simple faith. Not only was I enduring the internal anguish of religious doubt, but I was also facing a moral and professional quandary: How could I remain in the service of a church whose teachings I did not believe?
When someone advised me to use caution and to prayerfully continue my studies, I enrolled in the Department of Letters and Philosophy at the state university. For four more years I analyzed my questions. But my faith only continued to deteriorate.
I could find no answers to my major problem: As a result of my historical research on my church, I was certain that an apostasy had occurred as early as the end of the first century after Christ. But how could I reconcile that fact with the never-changing nature of God? Surely, I reasoned, when God established his church, he wouldn’t have let it vanish forever after lasting only one century; it must endure eternally. But where was the solution to the apostasy? Surely there must be another Christian church that had inherited the doctrine of the true church of Christ.
After achieving yet another degree, I arrived at a crossroads. Only two possibilities existed: continue on as a priest of a church that clashed with my conscience, or leave my church and my profession in order to remain consistent with my religious convictions.
I knew very well that the first option was ethically immoral, but it certainly would be the most convenient. And I knew that the second option would create enormous difficulties. But at that point, I did not hesitate. On 25 September 1965, I gave my official and final adieu to my church and my profession.
As I expected, my decision created an enormous void around me; even close relatives ostracized me. Alone and without money, I left for northern Italy, where I began a new life. There, I quickly found a job as a teacher of letters in a technical institute in Bologna.
In my free time, I continued my research, first embarking on a study of Protestantism that left me even more disillusioned and bitter than before. Not one church seemed to possess the requirements of the true church of Jesus Christ. If the Book of Mormon had come into my hands at that time, or if someone had told me about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, perhaps my journey would have ended there.
Unfortunately, that didn’t happen. I went on to study other religions besides Christianity—Islam, Buddhism, and Hinduism—eventually neglecting my search for the true church of Jesus Christ. Instead, I became an expert in Oriental philosophy and came to believe that perhaps one religion was as good as another. As a result of all my study, I seemed to have fallen into religious indifference.
But, thanks to the grace of the Lord, I still believed in God and in his divinity. And I never completely lost my faith in the divinity of Jesus Christ. For this reason, I continued to search for Him.
In the meantime, I had married. My wife, Ines, had been reared in a Catholic home but was not a practicing church member. We decided not to instruct our two children in any religion, leaving the choice to them.
With the passing of years, I had grown closer to Christ. I had started praying regularly and reading the Bible again. I was a Christian without a church—but still engaged in the search for the true church of Jesus Christ.
By this time I was old, past sixty. It was at this time that the good Lord took pity on me, sending me premonitions, in the form of dreams, that my chance would soon arrive.
On a clear September morning, I had just left my car when I saw two boys at a distance. They watched me as though they recognized me and were waiting for me. Strangely enough, I didn’t assume the defensive stance that I normally used in order to shun the annoying approaches of sellers or missionaries. Much to my surprise, I felt drawn to them, as though I, too, had been waiting to meet them for a long time. Although they were strangers, I was open and friendly to these clean, sincere young men.
They were two Mormon missionaries. When I found this out, it hit me like a thunderbolt, and I listened to them with great joy in my heart. I felt that God had finally answered my questions. I willingly took a Book of Mormon from them and started reading it with anticipation later that evening.
Sitting alone at my desk with that book, I felt overcome with joy and tenderness. Sweet feelings that I had never known before made me feel almost lightheaded in a semi-conscious state that lasted for perhaps an hour.
God gave me the inner assurance that I would find in that book the truth I had been seeking for so many years. The reading of the Book of Mormon bound me immediately. The Book of Mormon and the Bible both pointed me toward a single divine revelation: the Christian church, which had fallen into apostasy, had been restored! Christ had not abandoned his church after all—it was man who had been the author of the Apostasy, and now the Lord had again placed his church upon the earth! Even I, in my small way, felt that I had been restored. My long night, which had lasted for many years, was finally at an end!
Thanks to God, I was finally happy. My testimony grew every day as I continued to study the scriptures and to discuss the doctrine with the missionaries and the branch president, Ezio Caramia. A few months after meeting the missionaries, I was baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Adding to my happiness, my wife also decided to be baptized a few months later.
I later received the Aaronic Priesthood and then the Melchizedek Priesthood. And I testify today, with absolute certainty, that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the true and only church of Jesus Christ. I am also grateful for my testimony of a living prophet and of the modern-day Twelve Apostles.
This is my joyful testimony, molded from much suffering, which I offer humbly to all those whom it may help. The Church is eternal, as are all the works of God. It is his masterpiece.

Graduation day was approaching. There were finals to prepare for, college applications to finish, and homework assignments to complete. Life was crazy! Then there was the church stuff: read my scriptures, pray, go to seminary, and serve in the priests quorum. I felt like the weight of the world was on my shoulders. Lastly, many of my friends relied on me for support. They were having problems and needed someone to talk to. I couldn’t keep up with everything, and unfortunately, the first thing to go was scripture reading.
One day I felt especially overwhelmed. Everything happening in my life just seemed to take over. I felt like I had no control. I went to my bedroom to escape. I sat on my bed and tried to forget about everything for a few minutes.
While I was sitting there, I had the impression to pray. I got on my knees, bowed my head, and prayed to Heavenly Father. I explained that I needed help, that I could not do everything by myself.
After closing my prayer, I looked across my bedroom. I could see the corner of my scripture case underneath a pile of schoolbooks. I felt ashamed that I had neglected the scriptures so much. As I looked at them, I felt the peace of the Spirit. I knew I could find an answer in the scriptures.
As I thumbed through my scriptures, I read Helaman 12:1, which states, “And thus we can behold how false, and also the unsteadiness of the hearts of the children of men; yea, we can see that the Lord in his great infinite goodness doth bless and prosper those who put their trust in him.”
This verse spoke to me strongly. I had been trying to do everything myself. If I would really put my trust in the Lord, He would bless and prosper me. I needed to prioritize my life and make sure that I made time for the important things, like reading my scriptures.
I have remembered this verse throughout my life. It has helped me to remember the Lord and that He is mindful of us and will help us if we put our trust in Him.

“Roberto,” Mamá called. “Time for dinner!”
Roberto forgot all about the cars he was playing with and ran to the table. Papá and Carlos were already sitting in their places. Roberto could smell his favorite food, a steaming bowl of fideos. He climbed into his seat and reached for the slippery noodles.
“Roberto, did you forget something?” Papá asked.
Roberto slid down and raced to the bathroom. He washed his hands and dried them quickly. Mamá was just sitting down at the table when Roberto got back. He climbed up on the chair beside her and reached for the noodles again.
This time Mamá stopped him. “Roberto, have you forgotten something?” Roberto looked around. Everyone’s arms were folded, and Carlos was bowing his head. Roberto folded his arms and bowed his head too. Papá asked Carlos to pray.
Roberto heard Carlos thank Heavenly Father for the food, but then Roberto began to think about Mamá’s yummy fideos and he didn’t listen to the rest of the prayer. As soon as Carlos said “Amen,” Roberto grabbed the serving spoon. He piled the noodles on his plate until Mamá took the spoon away.
“Eat that much,” she said. “Then if you’re still hungry, you can have more.”
When he finished all the noodles on his plate, Roberto wasn’t hungry at all. He couldn’t eat one more bite, not even when Mamá brought out the flan she had made for dessert. He watched Carlos smile as he spooned the custard into his bowl. Roberto wished everyone would hurry and finish so that he could go back to his cars.
At last Papá leaned back and smiled at Mamá. “That was wonderful,” he said. “Thank you.”
“Yes, thank you, Mamá,” said Carlos.
“May I be excused?” Roberto asked.
Roberto played until bedtime. Carlos helped him make buildings and houses out of blocks. They made tunnels to drive their cars under. They were almost done making a city when Mamá announced, “Bedtime.”
After their prayers, Papá told Roberto and Carlos a story. It was a story from the Bible about when Jesus Christ helped ten men who were lepers. “Do you know what a leper is, Roberto?” Papá asked.
“A big cat!”
Papá laughed. “No, that’s a leopard. Lepers are people who are very sick—so sick that sometimes they have to go away and live by themselves. The Savior made the lepers well again so they could go home and live with their families. But only one of the men remembered to say thank you.”
“Oh,” Roberto said. “Why?”
“I don’t know why they didn’t thank Jesus. What do you think, Carlos?”
Carlos thought for a moment. “I think they were so happy to go home that they forgot all about it.”
Papá nodded. “And what do you think, Roberto?”
Roberto suddenly jumped out of his bed. “Just a minute,” he said. “I remembered something.” He ran downstairs.
Mamá was putting away the dinner dishes. She was surprised to see Roberto. “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?”
“I have to tell you something first. You made my favorite food for me, but I forgot to say gracias (thank you).”
Mamá smiled. “You’re welcome. I like to do things for you, especially when you remember to say thank you.”
Roberto ran back upstairs to his bedroom. Carlos was listening to Papá finish the story. “Thank you for playing with me today,” Roberto told Carlos. “And thank you, Papá, for telling me stories about Jesus.”
“You’re welcome,” Papá said and turned off the light. “Good night, Roberto. Good night, Carlos.”
But Roberto didn’t go right to sleep. He lay still and thought of the many things he was thankful for. He felt happy, and he wished he could give Heavenly Father a hug. At last he slipped out of bed and said another prayer. This time he really meant it when he thanked Heavenly Father for fideos, and for Mamá, Papá, and Carlos. “And gracias,” he added, “for helping me remember to say gracias.”

Many families throughout the world struggle financially, especially during times of economic crisis.1 The impact of such a crisis was felt in our local ward several years ago, as we saw several families in need of assistance. At the beginning of that year, our bishop shared with us an invitation from our stake president to give a generous fast offering to help those in need.
Although our leaders asked us to look at our individual situations and consider if we were able to be more generous with our fast offerings, they did not specify how much we should give. However, the Spirit reminded us of the counsel given years ago by President Marion G. Romney (1897–1988), First Counselor in the First Presidency. He said: “I am a firm believer that you cannot give to the Church and to the building up of the kingdom of God and be any poorer financially. … A person could not give a crust to the Lord without receiving a loaf in return. That’s been my experience. If the members of the Church would double their fast-offering contributions, the spirituality in the Church would double. We need to keep that in mind and be liberal in our contributions.”2
We knew it would be a sacrifice for our family to increase our fast offerings, but we considered President Romney’s teaching and promise carefully. As a family, we had been blessed abundantly and we felt a strong desire to increase our fast offerings.
Moreover, we wanted our family to overcome the tendency to be selfish. Because we live in a society so focused on acquiring things and filling our own desires, we were concerned that our children might grow up selfish. But we had hope in President Spencer W. Kimball’s (1895–1985) words: “Upon practicing the law of the fast, one finds a personal well-spring of power to overcome self-indulgence and selfishness.”3
Within the first three months of giving a more generous fast offering, we began to see many blessings. We were able to spend less on groceries, and our gas tank seemed to stay full longer. Our children asked for fewer things, and the selfishness in our home almost disappeared.
For example, when we contributed to the local food drive, our children began encouraging us to give more. When we did our annual inventory of our food supply, we found that we actually had two years’ worth of food. Additionally, in the past it would take us one month to go through a 50-pound (22.7 kg) bag of rice. Now the same bag of rice lasted us two months. It seemed like our food storage was multiplying.
We were reminded of the story of the widow of Zarephath. During a time of famine, the prophet Elijah called upon a widow, who had no means to feed him, to provide him with water and bread. Her response was, “As the Lord thy God liveth, I have not a cake, but an handful of meal in a barrel, and a little oil in a cruse: and, behold, I am gathering two sticks, that I may go in and dress it for me and my son, that we may eat it, and die” (1 Kings 17:12).
The prophet promised her that “the barrel of meal shall not waste, neither shall the cruse of oil fail. …
“And she went and did according to the saying of Elijah: and she, and he, and her house, did eat many days” (1 Kings 17:14–15). Her barrel, which had enough for one last meal for her family, was multiplied to allow her family and others to eat many days. The same type of miracle—based on our own offering—was occurring in our family.
During financial difficulties, giving a generous fast offering and helping care for the needy can be difficult, particularly when we are—like the widow of Zarephath—among the needy. Giving a generous fast offering, no matter the amount, requires faith in the Lord and His promise to care for us. But the Lord fulfills His promises, and our family’s experience taught us that the more we are willing to share, the more we are blessed.
As President Romney said: “Don’t give just for the benefit of the poor, but give for your own welfare. Give enough so that you can give yourself into the kingdom of God through consecrating of your means and your time.”4 Giving a more generous fast offering helped our family find joy in caring for the poor and strength in our own spiritual welfare.
Our willingness to give a crust has brought us many loaves in return. Our willingness to give generous fast offerings more than doubled our food storage. Indeed, the Lord’s power to multiply five loaves and two fishes to feed 5,000 men, besides women and children, with enough fragments to fill 12 baskets (see Matthew 14:16–21), is the same power that filled the barrel for the widow of Zarephath and multiplied our family’s food storage. Still, our greatest benefit has not come in the form of multiplying food but in the decrease of selfishness and increase of spirituality in our home.
It is our witness that as we contribute generously to the fast offering funds of the Church, including when our means are limited, the Lord will magnify our efforts and bless us beyond our understanding.

My wife, Joan, and I have had the privilege of living in various parts of the world among wonderful people who rely daily on the Lord for their most basic temporal needs. Those who take the leap of faith to pay their tithing testify that the windows of heaven are opened to them. I remember a faithful father in the Philippines telling of paying his meager tithing to the bishop one Sunday and then leading his children home from church, knowing full well that there was no food for them. As they were walking along, a huge breadfruit dropped from a tree right in front of them. He immediately looked up and thanked God for opening the windows of heaven and sending him a breadfruit to feed his children.

A few years ago my family and I took a vacation from our home in Arizona to the Midwest. We drove through many states, including Kansas, Texas, Arkansas, Missouri, and Illinois.
Our vacation was going very well, and we were learning to enjoy each other’s company during the long van rides from place to place.
One evening we pulled into a fast-food restaurant in Missouri, all anxious to grab a bite to eat. As we got out of our van, I suddenly had a silent but powerful impression that I should look at the back tire on our van. I started to walk toward the restaurant, but I couldn’t shake the feeling. I looked back over my shoulder and then stopped. Again the impression came to my mind: “Check the back tire.” It was so forceful I couldn’t ignore it.
As I approached the rear of the van, I heard a hissing sound. Sure enough, our right rear tire had a leak and was quickly going flat. I ran to get my dad, who had already gone in with the rest of the family.
My father took the van to a gas station down the road before the tire went completely flat. Since the tire wasn’t damaged, the repair was inexpensive and quick. We were able to have the flat fixed just minutes before the service station closed for the night. I don’t know what would have happened if I had ignored the prompting. But I do know that because I responded, we were able to continue our trip safely and conveniently.
Ever since that incident, I’ve always felt reassured of the power of the Holy Ghost and how truly blessed we are as members of the Church to have that special line of communication. I am grateful for that experience, for it will stay with me, forever reminding me that our Father in Heaven loves, cares about, and watches out for all of His children.

To find real happiness, we must focus outside ourselves. Many have come into the Church—or at least have come to know and respect the Church—because someone made the effort to reach outward. I share with you a treasured family experience which had its beginning back in 1959, when I was called to preside over the Canadian Mission in Toronto.
Our daughter, Ann, turned five shortly after we arrived in Canada. She saw the missionaries going about their work, and she too wanted to be a missionary. My wife demonstrated understanding by permitting Ann to take to class a few copies of the Children’s Friend [now called the Friend]. That wasn’t sufficient for Ann. She also wanted to take with her a copy of the Book of Mormon so that she might talk to her teacher, Miss Pepper, about the Church.
Just a few years ago, long years after our return from Toronto, we came home from a vacation and found in our mailbox a note from Miss Pepper which read:
Dear Ann:
Think back many years ago. I was your schoolteacher in Toronto, Canada. I was impressed by the copies of the Children’s Friend which you brought to school. I was impressed by your dedication to a book called the Book of Mormon.
I made a commitment that one day I would come to Salt Lake City and see why you talked as you did and why you believed in the manner you believed. Today I had the privilege of going through your visitors’ center on Temple Square. Thanks to a five-year-old girl who had an understanding of that which she believed, I now have a better understanding of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Miss Pepper died not too long after that visit to Salt Lake City. How happy Ann was when she attended the Jordan River Utah Temple and performed the temple work for her beloved teacher to whom she had reached out so many years ago.

I am a Boy Scout. At one meeting, a boy in my patrol wanted to bet me a dollar that I would not make a hoop on my next shot. I know betting isn’t good, so I told him that I don’t bet. Lucky for me, he didn’t call me a chicken or anything. Also lucky for me that I didn’t bet. For one thing, I would have had a guilty conscience. I would also have felt embarrassed because I would be one dollar poorer than I am today!
Sadek Sabbah, age 11Chandler, Arizona

For example, there was a young soldier on sentry duty one day. His foul-mouthed sergeant, whom he generally avoided, approached him. The recruit steeled himself for the customary barrage of profanity that he would later have to scour from his mind. Instead his sergeant said, “You’re a Mormon, aren’t you?” The recruit nodded in the affirmative, with some surprise, only to be stunned by the next observation: “I could tell because you don’t swear.” The private gulped inwardly as he took quick inventory. The sergeant continued: “You know what gets me about you guys? You are good when you don’t have to be!”
Another time in the military a whole delegation of LDS college men went through summer training. As they moved from one field demonstration to another, each hour they endured the military instructors who began each session with a dirty joke. One NCO unintentionally prefaced the inevitable lewd story by asking, “Anyone object to a joke?” There was a split second of intense silence while the opportunity ran through the group. Then quickly from the back came a solitary but solid, “Yes.” The cadreman looked up in shocked surprise, immediately becoming defensive. Intending to intimidate such an upstart, he fired back, “Well, leave if you don’t like it.” Again a second of silence—followed by a decision. Then three-fourths of the group voted with their feet.
The military experience is like other forays into secularism that LDS youth are facing today. They are away from home with carnal options on every hand—gambling, profanity, pornography, immorality, and bug-out-ism. Such crass enticements successfully ensnare the uncommitted, but thousands of others choose to swim against the current. One young priest, during his first week away from home, confronted some returned missionaries in his barracks who appeared more sophisticated. Why weren’t they saying their prayers, he queried. His challenge encouraged them all to overcome their smoothly disguised fears of censure. They joined after lights out for a family prayer each night. Soon they discovered that their Mormon compatriots throughout the post were doing the same in small scattered groups; they even included their fellow nonmember squad members. The result was a brotherhood—blessing when sick, counseling when troubled, and bolstering each other during competition—instead of the harassing, cutting, and undermining that are so common in basic training. This higher life occurs without leaders or instructions; it emerges from being “anxiously engaged in a good cause,” from conviction, from feeling the power of God within. All over the globe, many Mormon youth seek out each other. Their spiritual adventures are legion. They often reach out to friends who have followed the carnal path into deprivation. Their example, caring, and persistence have supported many through a transformation that has led them into the Melchizedek Priesthood, the temple, sometimes mission calls—in other words, into their eternal potential.

“Class, I have a surprise for you,” Mrs. Taylor said as she walked to the front of the room.
Evelyn looked up from her test, grinning. There was a big “A+” at the top.
“You all did so well on your tests that tomorrow we’ll watch a movie as a reward,” Mrs. Taylor said, writing three movie titles on the board. “Here are the options we can vote on,” she said over everyone’s cheers.
Evelyn bounced in her seat, trying to see what the titles were. The first two movies were some of her favorites. She leaned over to her friend Katy. “Which one are you going to vote for?”
“Definitely number three,” Katy said. “My parents wouldn’t let us watch it at home, so I never got to see it.”
Evelyn looked at the board again and saw the name of the third movie. Her heart started to pound. Evelyn had heard of this movie, and she knew it was one she wouldn’t feel right about watching. What if her class voted for it?
“Who would like to vote for option one?” Mrs. Taylor asked.
Evelyn stretched her hand high and looked around. She bit her lip nervously. Only two other people were voting.
Mrs. Taylor made tally marks on the board. “Option two?”
Evelyn’s heart sank. Only three hands went up.
“And option three?”
Fifteen hands shot up. Evelyn slumped down in her seat, a sick feeling settling in her stomach. How could she get out of watching that movie if everyone else wanted to?
When she got home, Evelyn went straight to her room and let her backpack fall to the floor with a heavy thunk. The sick feeling had stuck with her the entire day. “I wish I actually could be sick,” she thought. “Then I wouldn’t have to go to school tomorrow.”
Evelyn pulled her test out of her backpack and stared at it, clutching it in her hands. “The movie was supposed to be a reward, not a punishment!” she thought, angrily crumpling the test up and stuffing it under her bed. Tears welled up in her eyes. She knelt by her bed and started to cry. Then she started to pray. She choked out a few tangled sentences, asking Heavenly Father to take the problem away, but after a while her prayer changed. “Please help me to make this better. I don’t want to see a movie that will make me feel bad, and I hope that my friends and teacher will understand.”
Evelyn finished her prayer. The trembling, sick feeling had disappeared. She didn’t even feel afraid anymore.
Jumping to her feet, Evelyn raced out of her room to find Mom. She had an idea.
The next day, Evelyn walked into class. In one hand she held a note from Mom explaining how watching the movie would make Evelyn feel uncomfortable. In the other hand she carried three of her favorite movies. Evelyn handed the note to Mrs. Taylor and watched her read it.
“Thank you for letting me know how you feel,” Mrs. Taylor said.
“My mom says it’s OK for me to go sit in with another class while the movie is playing,” Evelyn said. “But I also brought some other movies in case everyone would like to watch one of them instead.”
Mrs. Taylor smiled and reached for the stack of movies. “A movie is not much of a reward if we can’t all enjoy it,” she said.
Mrs. Taylor wrote the new titles on the board. “Class, I’d like to vote again on the movie for today. I have some new options for you.”
Evelyn went and sat at her desk, happy she wouldn’t have to miss out on the class reward. But the best reward of all was knowing that Heavenly Father had taken away her fear and given her courage to do what was right.

On 26 April 2022, Malachi Fullwood and Jas Flynn both opened their mission calls with family and friends. Excited at the chance to serve in the Armenia/Georgia Mission and the Finland Helsinki Mission, respectively, it was a joyous and emotional day.
It was also a day of celebration for the Meltham Ward of the Huddersfield Stake. Once Elder Fullwood and Elder Flynn left for the MTC in August and September, they became the eighth and ninth concurrent serving missionaries from the ward.
In the hills made famous by Last of the Summer Wine1, the villages that make up this rural ward support Elder Jacob Turner (Alpine-German Speaking Mission), Elder Joseph Flynn (Germany Berlin Mission), Elder Isaac Casper (England Manchester Mission), Sister Eva Cooper (England Manchester Mission), Sister Grace Cooper (England London Mission – Spanish speaking), Elder Luca Everson (Hungary Romania Mission), and Elder Ben Williams (France Paris Mission) —alongside Elder Fullwood and Elder Flynn.
Bishop Adam Quesne said, “With eight families having children serving missions, it is a great privilege and blessing for the rest of the ward to support and love those missionaries too.
“Adapted from a famous proverb: ‘it takes a [ward] to raise a [missionary]’. In the last year we have also had missionaries return from Brazil, Sweden, Russia and Ukraine. It has been an incredible experience to learn of the new cultures, hear the languages and see the growth in these young men and young women as they have served the Lord and their brothers and sisters across the world”.

“During the spring of 1972 I found myself in the dilemma of deciding to get married or to serve a two-year mission, After much consideration, prayer, visits to the bishop, and discussions with the girl I had chosen, I decided to serve my God. We concluded that if our union was meant to be, she would be there after my mission.
“Mission life seems to quicken the process of maturity. The young man grows into manhood, acquiring such qualities as self-discipline and the ability to work hard and enjoy his work. He learns how to budget finances effectively, how to really communicate with others, being mindful of their feelings, and how to reposition himself in others’ shoes and learn to love them despite their faults. He learns how to build confidence, character, and control, and most important in the case of marriage, he learns how to get along with a companion 24 hours a day. Aren’t these qualities that any good LDS girl would want in a husband? My mission has opened my eyes to many things I never before realized in regard to preparing for marriage.
Elder Jerry HattonCalifornia Sacramento Mission

Dear brothers and sisters, when our son was in the Provo Missionary Training Center, Sister Gong mailed fresh-baked bread to him and his missionary companions. Here are some of the missionary thank-you notes Sister Gong received: “Sister Gong, that bread was a taste of home.” “Sister Gong, all I can say is wow. That bread is the best thing to enter my mouth since my mother’s enchiladas.” But this is my favorite: “Sister Gong, the bread was wonderful.” He then jokingly continued, “Keep me in mind if things don’t work out between you and Mr. Gong.”

6. Listen for spiritual promptings. We can be alert for opportunities to help our children welcome the Spirit’s influence—opportunities for them to feel gratitude, to reflect on blessings, to receive inspiration. One mother shared a story that illustrates the way parents can give gentle guidance in situations like these.

After a school carnival, her younger sons, Richard and Joe, were excited that they each had won a twenty-five-cent balsa-wood airplane, and her oldest son, Sam, was elated at having won two of them. But as the boys climbed into bed, Richard accidentally knelt on his airplane and broke it into pieces. He seemed inconsolable. The mother suggested that Sam share one of his planes. “Mom,” he replied, “how could you ask me to do something so hard?”

Gently, she reminded him of the gift of the Holy Ghost he had received after baptism. “Listen to your heart,” she added. “You will be able to decide what to do.”

A few minutes later, Richard wiped away his tears as he thanked Sam for the gift. And Sam wrote in his journal: “When I was getting the airplane for Rich, I felt a smile and a warm feeling in my heart. It was so warm I was about to burst. I could barely sleep that night ‘cause I felt that super amazing burst in my heart.” He told his mother that he knew the Holy Ghost had helped him make the decision.

Our stake president extended an inspired challenge. He told the members of the stake that if we wanted to have the influence of the gospel present in all of our homes, especially the homes of less-active members, we needed to read the Liahona (Spanish) magazine.
He encouraged each family to get their own subscription. Once the active members had subscriptions, they prayed for guidance to find other families to help. Each family found a less-active family to buy a gift subscription for. Now some of the wards have 100 percent of the families subscribing.
The wonderful part of this challenge is the blessing the Liahona has been in reactivating less-active members. The spirit in our meetings has also increased. When we share what we have with everyone around us, we all receive the blessing of being more sensitive to the Spirit. Thank you for a testimony-building magazine.
William MimbelaLima Peru Central StakeLima, Peru