Gospel Story Finder

When he was just 10 years old, Joshua Dennis spent five days trapped in the pitch-black darkness of an abandoned mine. When rescuers finally heard his faint cry for help and pulled him out of the horrible darkness, he was disoriented, cold, and exhausted. Much to their surprise, he wasn’t afraid. Josh spent his time sleeping, yelling for help, and praying. “Someone was protecting me,” he explained. “I knew people were going to find me.”
Joshua’s simple but profound faith had been nurtured by his parents, who taught him that he had a Heavenly Father who knew where he was at all times. They taught him he had been born with the Light of Christ within him. Truly, Josh had been brought up in light and truth (see D&C 93:40) so that when he found himself huddled on a ledge 2,000 feet deep in a mine, he had drawn upon that light to sustain and comfort him, to give him courage and hope. Josh experienced what Abinadi taught when, speaking of Christ, he said, “He is the light and the life of the world; yea, a light that is endless, that can never be darkened” (Mosiah 16:9).
Remember little Josh Dennis? He is now Elder Dennis, serving a mission far away from the dark mine which held him captive. Now Elder Dennis finds his way along the narrow, unfamiliar paths of Honduras, sharing a message of hope, salvation, and light. What he teaches every day is the paradox he experienced as a young boy lost in a mine: that amidst encircling gloom, amidst the darkest possible circumstances, it is possible to feel hope, peace, and comfort—all because of the light which is stronger than all darkness, the light of Jesus Christ.

During lunchtime at school, I was talking to my friend, and he told me that he had never been to church or read the scriptures. I told him that I could give him the scriptures. So I went home and asked my mom if I could use the Book of Mormon that the missionaries had left us to give away. I wrote my testimony in the front and took it to school the next day. I gave it to my friend, and he said thank you. I felt good because I was being a missionary.
Brendan J., age 7, Nevada, USA

My stake was excited that the Palmyra New York Temple dedication was going to be broadcast at our stake center. The members seemed abuzz with anticipation. I was looking forward to it too, but for some reason I kept procrastinating getting my ticket.
Finally, on the day of the dedication, I talked to one of the counselors in the bishopric to get my ticket. He handed me a ticket, and without looking at it, I put it in my purse. During sacrament meeting, announcements were made about the dedication, but I tuned them out because I already had my ticket.
I went home that day and got lost in other activities. About 15 minutes before the dedication was to begin, I decided I should probably leave. I felt prepared as I put my white handkerchief in my purse and even double-checked to make sure my ticket was still there.
My family had left earlier to get good seats, warning me that I should come soon. I had planned to drive with them but hadn’t been ready, so I decided to go separately.
As I pulled into the church parking lot, I was surprised at how full it was. It was packed with cars, but there wasn’t a person in sight. At first I feared I was late, but I looked at my watch and I had five minutes before the dedication was to start.
I walked up the steps to the church and tried the door. It was locked. I was puzzled but remembered hearing somewhere that they were letting people in only through certain doors. I wasn’t sure which doors, so I decided to try them all. I went around the church, pulling at the doors, rattling them slightly, trying in frustration to open them.
As I approached the last set of doors, I felt my heart quicken. I tried the door, but it too was locked. I peered into the lobby, which was empty. The doors to the chapel were closed. I realized sadly that everyone was already inside, and I was alone outside—looking in.
As I walked dejectedly back to the car, I decided to double-check the time of the dedication. I fished through my purse until I found the ticket and saw that I had the time right. Anger ran through me at being locked out. Why wasn’t I able to go inside? I was missing this historic event!
I turned over the ticket and was surprised to see writing on the back. I read it with curiosity. Clearly printed was the instruction to be seated 30 minutes before the dedication started.
Why hadn’t I seen that before? I had never read the back of my ticket. I had placed it in my purse as soon as I received it. I hadn’t prepared in one of the simplest ways possible. As I sat in the car, too sad to move, I realized I was like one of the five foolish virgins in the parable of the ten virgins. I was left outside the wedding ceremony with a lamp that was out of oil, while the others were inside with the bridegroom.
Whenever I had read that story in Matthew 25, I wondered how the five women had been so foolish. I always thought that purchasing enough oil was such a simple thing to do. I knew the oil and lamps represented our testimonies and the Holy Spirit’s guidance (see D&C 45:57). I had thought I was prepared to attend the temple dedication, yet I wasn’t inside listening to the prophet.
Alone in the parking lot, I realized that having a ticket wasn’t enough. We have more to do than simply be present on the day Christ comes. We need to be prepared in every way, constantly filling our lamps, not just thinking we have enough oil.
As I drove back home, tears stung my eyes. It hurt to be alone, knowing that family and friends were inside being uplifted and I wasn’t able to go in with them. I promised myself that from then on I would do all I could to be prepared with plenty of oil. I want to be part of the joyful wedding party instead of being one of the unprepared locked outside.

His courageous and daring faith is shown in another incident. He was called to serve a mission in England. After a difficult journey from Far West, Elder Taylor arrived in New York with only one cent in his pocket. But he was the last man to plead poverty, and in answer to questions if he had money, he said he did. So the next day Elder Parley P. Pratt (the man who baptized him) approached him:
“Brother Taylor, I hear you have plenty of money?”
“Yes, Brother Pratt, that’s true.” “Well,” said Elder Pratt “I’m about to publish my ‘Voice of Warning’ and ‘Millennial Poems;’ I am very much in need of money, and if you could furnish me two or three hundred dollars I should be very much obliged.”
“Well, Brother Parley, you are welcome to anything I have, if it will be of service to you.” At that he put his hand in his pocket and gave Elder Pratt the penny. A good laugh followed and then Elder Pratt said, “But I thought you gave it out that you had plenty of money.” “Yes, and so I have,” replied Elder Taylor. “I am well clothed, you furnish me plenty to eat and drink and good lodging; with all these things and a penny over, as I owe nothing, is that not plenty?”
That evening at a council meeting of some of the brethren preparing to go to England, Elder Pratt proposed that the brethren assist Elder Taylor with means to pay his passage, since Wilford Woodruff was waiting for Elder Taylor to go with him. At the close of the meeting, Elder Taylor objected and said if they had anything they should give it to Parley Pratt because he had a family to support and needed money for publishing. Wilford Woodruff, a great man of faith himself, expressed regret at Elder Taylor’s position. Then said Elder Taylor: “Well, Brother Woodruff, if you think it best for me to go, I will accompany you.” “But where will you get the money?” asked Elder Woodruff. “Oh, there will be no difficulty about that. Go and take a passage for me on your vessel, and I will furnish you the means.” Elder Woodruff did as he was asked—and then from various persons who were moved upon by the Spirit of the Lord, voluntary donations, unasked for by Elder Taylor, came into him, sufficient for him to not only pay his passage but that of another elder.

I witnessed the righteousness and power of God in great glory, received through faithfulness to covenants and ordinances, in the life of a young Church member who was partially paralyzed in a horrific automobile accident. After this individual’s grueling months of recovery and adapting to a new lifestyle with restricted mobility, I met and talked with this stalwart soul. During our conversation I asked, “What has this experience helped you to learn?” The immediate response was, “I am not sad. I am not mad. And everything will be OK.”

While I can’t imagine what Joseph’s harrowing experience was like in Liberty Jail, I too have wondered where God is when I’ve waited on Him for answers, endured unfairness, and felt the disappointment of unfulfilled blessings.
A few years ago, I felt all of this profoundly.
In my early 20s, I was suddenly facing chronic health problems, struggles in my family, heartbreak from a failed relationship, and unmet expectations for my life, all while juggling anxiety and depression.
I was a mess—emotionally, spiritually, and physically.
I didn’t understand why I was experiencing so many challenges when I had always learned I would have joy if I lived as a disciple of Christ.
I did not feel joy.
Instead, I was bitter. I felt disconnected from Heavenly Father. All I could see were my troubles.
I read scriptures, prayed, and attended the temple. But I couldn’t shake my focus from my challenges.
I lived like this for months, feeling rigid in my negative feelings about life. In my mind, I had a right to be bitter! But one day I sat down to read my patriarchal blessing.
I have always been known for my optimism, humor, and zest for life, and when I read my blessing describing these qualities and my eternal potential, I realized that this sacred document was not describing who I was at the time.
I wept as I read about the promises Heavenly Father has in store for me, but I felt discouraged. How could I change and reconnect with my happy, faithful self this blessing was describing?
I realized how much I was letting my struggles—and the labels I had given myself because of them (chronically ill, chronically anxious, chronically forever alone … catch my drift?)—overshadow every good thing in my life.
I had lost sight of the truth that I am one of Heavenly Father’s beloved daughters and that He has great things in store for me.
This most powerful label was stated in the very first sentences of my patriarchal blessing.
President Russell M. Nelson has said, “If any label replaces your most important identifiers, the results can be spiritually suffocating.”
… Guilty.
“First and foremost, you are a child of God, a child of the covenant, and a disciple of Jesus Christ.”1
I realized I needed to change.
I had a desire to start doing life differently. So I started focusing on my divine identity, and I set goals. I believed that with faith in Christ and action on my part, I would see changes in my life. President Nelson also taught, “As we strive to live the higher laws of Jesus Christ, our hearts and our very natures begin to change.”2
So:
I went to the temple to feel the Spirit instead of feeling frustrated if I didn’t receive specific answers.
I read my scriptures with intention.
I prayed for help in changing my thoughts from hopelessness to hopefulness.
I kept a gratitude journal.
I exercised more.
I spent more time with loved ones and less time alone.
I strived to magnify my calling.
I met with a therapist who helped me gain helpful perspectives about living with chronic illnesses and managing anxiety.
Over time I witnessed miracles, like feeling more empathy toward others, feeling grateful and strengthened even on days when my chronic illness flares, and feeling hope even when challenges aren’t fully resolved.
As Sister Michelle D. Craig, First Counselor in the Young Women General Presidency, taught, “Trials do not mean that the plan is failing; they are part of the plan meant to help [us] seek God.”3
As I turned to Him, I felt different—and I still feel different—as I continue to shift my focus from my suffering to living joyfully as a disciple of Christ.4
My time in my figurative “Liberty Jail” showed me what happens when we choose Jesus Christ in our challenges—we are changed for the better. I cherish His enabling power that continues to help me become “a new creature” (see 2 Corinthians 5:17).
In times of anguish, I remind myself of God’s words to the Prophet Joseph Smith and think about how they might apply to me too:
“[Chakell], peace be unto thy soul; thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment;
“And then, if thou endure it well, God shall exalt thee on high” (Doctrine and Covenants 121:7–8).
These days, I have a zest for life again, despite ongoing challenges. I know as I follow Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ, I am offered security in my covenants, hope in promised blessings, perfect love, and rest.5 Our trials, and especially our ability to grow through them, are our biggest blessings when we choose to come unto Christ. He truly changes us from bitter to better.

As each person speaks, we come around the circle to Trevor, a young man with special challenges. He sits quietly, reluctant to participate in the discussion about testimonies. Spontaneously, one by one, his friends in the circle start telling good things about Trevor: how he is a good example, how he brings friends to church, how it is nice to know him and have him as a friend. It is a great moment. The kindness toward their friend is authentic. These teens have learned something special about treating someone with Christlike kindness. It is part of their testimonies. For them, having a testimony isn’t just something you talk about, it really is something you do. It is the way you live. It is the decisions you make. And these teens have found what it really means to have a testimony of Christ.

Several years ago I wanted to plan a family home evening focused on family history. Our children, then ages 9 through 13, were only vaguely aware of some of their ancestors, so I came up with a game that helped us all become better acquainted with our ancestors.
I prepared a six-generation pedigree chart on a large piece of paper, filling in only the children’s names and leaving the other spaces blank. (I made a key to the whole chart so I would know how it should look when completed.)
For each blank space on the chart, I made a separate card containing the ancestor’s full name and listing some information about that person. For example, one card read, “Ira Walter Gardner. I was born in 1849 in Sweetwater, Wyoming, while my parents were crossing the plains.”
As I passed out the cards, I explained the rules. Using the information on the cards, each person would deduce where on the chart his or her cards would go. At each turn they could ask me yes or no questions about their ancestor. As long as they got yes answers, they could continue to ask. If they put their card in the wrong space or got a no answer, their turn was over. The children caught on quickly, and soon the chart was complete.
We all enjoyed the game, and the children began to develop a greater appreciation for their forebears.

During the week, I studied the scriptures for seminary before I did my schoolwork. When I was too tired to do my homework or was having challenges at school, I opened my seminary manual, studied, and prayed. I found that when I did that, I could refresh my mind and focus better on my homework. I still apply this in my life. Today, whenever I have a hard time, I still read my scriptures or general conference talks to refresh my mind.
Many high school students in Korea spend most of their time going to school and studying late. We learned that when we took time out for seminary and Mutual activities, we felt refreshed and were blessed to do better with our schoolwork. The lessons I learned there also helped me in other situations while I was still in school.

When he was assigned to home teach a sister (whom we shall call Ruth Elliott), she was relatively new in the ward and Jay Lyman did not know her. By talking with her daughter who lived in another ward, and with others who could give him information about her, Brother Lyman was able to learn a little about Sister Elliott before he first called at her home.
Sister Elliott lived in a small apartment in a nice neighborhood. The apartment had been fashioned from the bedroom of a home and had its own outside door. The closet was used as the kitchen and was fitted with a small stove and a sink. The room was furnished with a broken-down upholstered chair in which Sister Elliott spent most of her time when she was not in bed. She seldom left the apartment and had no outside interests. Her days were spent alone at home.
This sister smoked and depended heavily on medications. Through the years her doctors had prescribed a number of medicines, and she continued to take many of them. Moreover, her appearance, manner, and conversation reflected a bitter attitude toward her life and circumstances. She harbored deep resentment toward her father and others, and an unfortunate incident with a Church member had wounded her deeply. Altogether, her life did not appear to be a pleasant one. Brother Lyman prayed fervently to know how best to serve this troubled sister.
Shortly after his call as her home teacher, an opportunity came. Her landlady was having the apartment painted, but Sister Elliott was responsible to move her furniture out to the patio before the work could be done. Brother Lyman and the ward’s high priests group leader moved the furniture out and then back in after the paint had dried. In this way they were able to be of service, although it was sad to see how little Sister Elliott owned and how meager her circumstances were.
On one occasion, while Sister Elliott had gone for a few days to visit with family members, Brother Lyman and his wife, Virginia, went to her apartment and “confiscated” the broken-down chair. It had a good frame, but needed new padding and fabric. Virginia did an excellent upholstering job on the chair, and they had it back in the apartment before Sister Elliott returned from her trip.
Brother Lyman and his junior companion visited this woman regularly, and Brother and Sister Lyman also went of ten to visit, to talk about the gospel, and to offer a simple prayer. Gradually, Sister Elliott began to accept and return their friendship, and they became closely involved in each other’s lives.
One spring, just prior to a surgery which their new friend needed, the Lymans spent many hours with her, on the phone or in person, taking her to church, to the doctor’s office, or shopping. They kept in touch daily. For a time she would call each night before going to bed; she was lonely and needed a listening ear, and they were somehow able to fill part of the void and provide a needed close association.
The Lymans were vacationing when Sister Elliott had the surgery, but they called her at the hospital to offer words of encouragement and cheer. She had received a priesthood blessing and felt that the Lord would watch over her. Moreover, following the operation she determined to stop smoking, which she did successfully.
Prior to his entering the mission field, a grandson had asked her to give up smoking—and she was able to accomplish the task through the help of the Lord and her own strong desire to please her missionary grandson.
As the months passed, Sister Elliott made new friends and found outside interests. Her church attendance improved, and she began to pay tithing. Brother Lyman recalls accompanying her to tithing settlement: at first she protested that she was ill and did not want to go, but he asked her to be ready and he picked her up. Returning home afterward she radiated happiness. She paid a full tithing for the first time in her life.
By now, her attitude toward life had changed dramatically. The bitterness was gone, replaced by a humble and contrite spirit. Those who had offended her were forgiven. Relations with her children improved, and there were changes in their attitude and behavior toward their mother, prompted by her increased tolerance and love for them.
This good sister was eventually able to move to a new apartment, furnish it attractively, and make new friends in her apartment building. A new physician, determined to correct her dependency on medication, insisted that she rely on her own strength to cope with problems and would not allow her to use medication for that purpose. Through his diligence and the power of the priesthood to bless and strengthen, she was able to endure a difficult period of withdrawal.
The blessings which have come to the “new” Sister Elliott have been many, including participation in the sacred temple ceremonies with her family and friends. Brother Lyman reports: “I am deeply grateful for the opportunity which has been mine to serve as her home teacher. Indeed, I loved the ‘old’ Sister Elliott as much as the ‘new’ Sister Elliott—but now I need not feel sad because of her meager and dreary life. Today it is full and pleasant, enriched by the blessings of gospel living.”

I asked him what stood out in his mind as the singular moment in President Monson’s ministry. I expected him to mention the meeting in Görlitz, the dedication of the country in 1975, the organization of the first stake, the dedication of the Freiberg Temple, or the meeting with Herr Honecker, East Germany’s highest Communist official, when President Monson asked permission for missionaries to enter the country and other missionaries to leave the country to serve in other lands. Given the death squads that patrolled the wall, the query sounded almost ludicrous, but Herr Honecker responded, “We have watched you all these years, and we trust you. Permission granted.” Which one of these events would Brother Burkhardt choose?

Tears began to flow down his cheeks as he responded: “It was December 2, 1979.” I couldn’t register in my mind a major event attached to that date. “Tell me about it,” I said.

“It was the day President Monson came to East Germany to give my wife, Inge, a blessing.” President Monson had a weekend without an assignment, and he flew from the United States to Germany for just that purpose. Sister Burkhardt had been in the hospital for nine weeks with complications from surgery, and her condition was deteriorating. President Monson had recorded in his journal, “We joined our faith and our prayers in providing her a blessing.”8 He had gone thousands of miles with his only free time in months—to the rescue.

Photograph courtesy of the author
In September 2021, our youngest son, Joey, passed away after living for only about two months. Despite prayers, fasting, priesthood blessings, and the monumental efforts of some of the best doctors in the world, little Joey’s body would not allow him to live.
During Joey’s last moments of life, my wife and I held him. As I watched him take his last breath, everything inside me broke. In desperation and deep anguish, I cried out to the Lord. In His mercy, He responded.
Immediately my anguish was replaced with an intense feeling of gratitude that is hard for me to describe with words. I felt overwhelmed with thanks that the Lord had given me a wonderful wife, four beautiful children, and covenants that bound them to me forever. I felt like Alma the Younger when he experienced joy as exquisite as the pain he had previously felt (see Alma 36:20).
As I basked in gratitude to the Lord, I received a profound spiritual impression. The anguish I felt for the death of my son helped me appreciate the anguish Heavenly Father must have felt when His Son died for me, and for the rest of God’s children, two thousand years ago. Because Jesus Christ died for us, I know I will see my son again.
In a small way, I better understood the sacrifice that Heavenly Father and His Son had made. Again, I felt grateful for the deep love of God.
During the time that has passed since our son’s death, I have often contemplated what I felt that day. The anguish, the gratitude, and the powerful spiritual impressions have changed me forever. I can truly testify that the trials of life give us experience and will be for our good (see Doctrine and Covenants 122:7) if we allow the Lord to be involved in our lives and hold on to our faith in the Savior and His Atonement.

Once I was helping my brother clean his room. He got frustrated with me and threw his soccer cleats at me. That made me angry. Later, when we were in our pajamas, I noticed a tan spot on my brother’s shoulder. I looked closer and saw that it was a scorpion! I remembered the soccer cleats and wondered if I should tell him about the scorpion or not. I decided not to, but then I thought, “He is my brother, no matter what.” So I told him and told my mom too. She flicked the scorpion off his shoulder. I’m glad I made the right choice.

Some time ago, Sister Haycock and I accompanied President and Sister Kimball, President and Sister Tanner, and others on a visit to the Holy Land for the dedication of the Orson Hyde Memorial Gardens. While there, we visited a number of places held sacred in the memory of Christians, and particularly Latter-day Saints, because we were walking where Jesus walked.
We visited the Garden Tomb, and after sitting with President and Sister Kimball inside the tomb, we came out into the sunshine and beauty of the garden. The cameramen who recorded the trip were anxious to get pictures of President Kimball walking in the garden, but I was concerned because the path was paved with flagstones, making it rough and uneven underfoot. I cautioned President Kimball to be careful and not fall. He responded quietly and with dignity: “Don’t worry, Arthur. I am used to walking on holy ground.”

When I was in my second year of secondary school, I met a boy named Marco Aurelio Granados Dávila. He wanted me to be his girlfriend, and he wanted to come to my house and ask my mom for her permission. I told him that in our Church, we don’t even date until we’re 16. But he kept insisting. Each time he insisted, I would tell him a little more about the gospel.
One day my mom advised me to invite him to our house. She talked to him, and then we both asked him to come to church. He accepted, and eventually the missionaries began to teach him the discussions. At one point, he asked if he would need to change religions. The missionaries told him yes. He didn’t seem to like the idea much, but he didn’t stop listening to the discussions.
And as he kept participating in the discussions, his desire to be baptized grew. Unfortunately, his mother was out of the country. Since he needed his mother’s permission to be baptized, his baptism didn’t take place for about a year. Meanwhile, he went to seminary, Sunday meetings, and youth activities.
Finally his mom came home, and he asked for her permission. She eventually agreed, and he was baptized on 8 July 1997.
Now we both try to share the gospel with our friends.

I am aware of how one bishop marshaled his resources to assist a man who came to him for help. The man had been happily married for years, but because of a later addiction to alcohol and drugs he was left without a job, home, or family. Hard years of living on the street had degraded and humiliated him. With tears streaming down his face, he pleaded with his bishop for help.
The ward welfare committee discussed this challenge. One man knew a dentist who might be willing to replace the man’s broken front teeth. The Relief Society president suggested that nutritious food from the bishops’ storehouse might improve his health. Another suggested that this man needed someone who could spend time with him daily and help him find the strength to overcome his addictions.
As the suggestions streamed in, the bishop realized that an entire ward of concerned brothers and sisters stood ready to help.
Soon the bishop began to notice improvements. Priesthood brethren gave the man a blessing. A charitable dentist replaced his broken teeth. Food from the bishops’ storehouse improved his health. A faithful elderly couple agreed to serve as special home teachers. They were with him daily to help him stick to his resolve.
Following established principles, this good brother offered to help others in the ward. Slowly his life began to improve. Gradually the look of desperation and misery gave way to one of joy and happiness. Although it was a painful process, he was able to free himself from his addictions. He became an active member in the Church. A life of destitution and misery turned into one of hope and happiness. This is the Lord’s way of caring for those in need.

A true story from Kenya.
One bright Easter Sunday, Ryan woke up early and ran to the kitchen. He could smell the coconut and spices from the mahamri Mum had just made. Ryan took a bite of one of the warm, fluffy triangle donuts. “Mum! It’s Easter! Can we watch the Jesus movie today?” he asked with a big smile.
Mum looked at him and smiled. “Of course!”
Ryan’s little brother, Liam, ran outside as Mum and Ryan sat down to watch the movie.
They saw Jesus Christ perform miracles and serve people. Then when the people hurt Jesus, Ryan’s eyes filled with tears.
“Mum, why did they do that to Jesus?” he asked sadly.
“He chose to suffer for us,” Mum said. “He loves us so much, Ryan. He died so we can live again.”
When the movie showed Jesus Christ’s Resurrection, Ryan smiled. “Look, Mum! He’s alive again!”
“That’s right,” Mum said. “He is risen! Just like the angel said in the Bible.”
Later, Ryan went outside to play. He saw Liam playing with sticks under the mango tree.
“Liam! I want to tell you a cool story,” Ryan said.
Liam waited as Ryan sat down under the mango tree. “Is it about cars?”
“No. Even better!” Ryan said. “It’s about Jesus. He died, but then He came back to life.”
“Really?” Liam asked.
“Yes! An angel said, ‘He is not here, for He is risen!’ That means we can live again too.”
“Wow!” Liam said. “Jesus really is strong.”
Ryan nodded. He thought about how much Jesus Christ loved him. It made his heart feel full and happy. He had shared the good news with his family, and that made his Easter even more special.

Meet Brother Astus (right) who followed a friend to the gathering place activities in the Calabar Nigeria Stake and enrolled in a video editing and photography class. Shortly thereafter, he began attending the Calabar institute as well. Astus’s talent for photography was recognized, and he began to cover all the single adult activities, institute activities, weddings and more. He not only fell in love with photography, but he fell in love with the restored gospel of Jesus Christ and was baptized.

Entering Roosevelt Junior High School in Salt Lake City required some important decisions for me. One September day I was confronted with new choices! What subjects to take? Thus far my schooling had been prescribed. We had gone at 9:00 A.M. and followed through the day with what was presented in our homeroom. Now we were to change classes each period, going from room to room. Should I take Algebra A and B, or a course called Mathematics? Or, something called General Science? English, physical education, and some selections were prescribed. But there was remarkable latitude in other choices. I could take U.S. History, or something called Civics. I could elect to study Spanish, Latin, or French. Some of us had the benefit of prior consultation with our parents. In line with their counsel, I was left with the choices I have indicated.
I also discussed my choices with two classmates. One was the son of a University of Utah professor of history. The other was a future doctor of medicine, whose older brothers had already attended the University of Utah and had gone through “the mill.” Both were wise young men. I benefited by discussion with them. After a few hours, I made my choices: Algebra A with Miss Cora D. Patterson, continuing the second semester with Algebra B, the binomial theorem, factoring, and other algebraic systems. I elected Spanish, a modern language, with Miss Grace Hogan as teacher. Assignments to stake conferences in Mexico and Latin-America have been assisted by that choice. Third period found me in U.S. History, a subject I dearly loved, with Miss M. Hulbert. Then came the luncheon break. Period four was physical education, under E. V. Howell. Period five in English brought Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar with Mrs. Jessie Hutchinson. Sixth period I elected music. I found my way to the room where Mrs. Matilda W. Cahoon presided.
This challenge of choices continued throughout high school and the university years following. The same process of consultation with parents and fellow students, prayer, study, and working it out in my own mind, produced the selections. In later years it was a great blessing to have elected in the ninth grade to study geometry, under Miss Snyder, and especially Ancient History under an excellent teacher, Miss Welthea M. Learned. I learned much of the history of the classical Middle East, Greece, and Rome and became acquainted with architectural and art forms that have enriched my life.

Let me take you to Huddlesfield, England, for a personal testimony of a sweet sister named Mina Kreslins. She was born in Amsterdam, Holland, into the Jewish faith. She had lost her parents and brothers and sisters during the wartime occupation of that country.
She tells in the testimony of her conversion, “I was bitter, and although I prayed, I just could not forgive.”
Then in early October 1983, her daughter Karla came into contact with the missionaries. Karla became interested in the gospel and was converted. She invited her mother, Mina Kreslins, to attend her baptism.
“It was at Karla’s baptism I felt the Spirit. It was so strong. I had never felt anything so beautiful in my whole life. I felt so elated and so wonderful, and I wanted to become part of it.”
The missionaries began teaching Sister Kreslins, and the Spirit bore witness to her of what they said. “When they told me about Joseph Smith and the Restoration, the Spirit was so strong, from my head to my feet. I knew then, with all my heart, that the Church was true and that I had to be part of it.”
“My baptism was beautiful. No words can describe the feeling I had as I came out of the water. I felt so clean—almost holy. When I received the Holy Ghost, I felt wonderful. I wanted to shout for joy. Finally, there was rest and relief from the horrors and the hating of those war-torn years.
“Now, since I have become a member of this beautiful Church, I have forgiven and I have no bitterness in my heart.”
Where would Mina Kreslins be today without the gospel?