Gospel Story Finder

Carl (names have been changed) had recently been assigned to minister to Gus. Trying to find some common ground, Carl learned that Gus shared his interest in writing. So Carl invited him to go to the meeting of a local writers’ group. In the end, neither of them ever had time for the group, but the invitation led to a great conversation, which led to going to lunch together every few weeks—which helped form a friendship that Gus could rely on when later he needed help.

Can you remember the last time you wore your old snow boots, the ones that are now a size or two too small? How about those cross-trainers you bought and then decided that you really needed running shoes instead?
Youth in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, knew that there were plenty of perfectly good pairs of shoes in the closets of the members in their stake, shoes that were going to waste. So they requested donations from each ward and were overwhelmed when 1,200 pairs of shoes arrived at the stake center. But after the initial shock wore off, the youth got to work cleaning, polishing, and disinfecting the shoes for people who might otherwise go barefoot.
“The most enjoyable thing was to think that we’re sending these shoes to someone who really needs them,” says Paula Williams, a Laurel from the Lakeland First Ward.
The shoes are now being distributed to orphans in Romania and other countries. Shoes and boots were also donated to local charities in the Coeur d’Alene area.

The late Elder Matthew Cowley, who was a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, once recounted the Saturday afternoon experience of a grandfather as hand in hand he took his small granddaughter on a birthday visit—not to the zoo or to the movies but to the temple grounds. With permission of the groundskeeper, the two walked to the large doors of the temple. He suggested that she place her hand on the sturdy wall and then on the massive door. Tenderly he then said to her, “Remember that this day you touched the temple. One day you will go inside.” His gift to the little one was not candy or ice cream but an experience far more significant and everlasting—an appreciation of the house of the Lord. She had touched the temple, and the temple had touched her.

One day after school, one of our daughters came into a teenage son’s room. It looked as if a big wind had blown through. He was sitting in the midst of it all. She felt the anger rising within, but remembered her resolution to look for the good. Searching desperately, her eye finally looked upward. “Your ceiling’s really clean, Adam!” she was able to say quite honestly. He laughed; he got the message, and he cleaned up the room.

Stewart tapped his mom on the wrist. “When will Daddy be done? I’m hungry.”
“In just a few minutes, Stew.”
“What’s he doing in there, anyway? I want to go home.”
“Daddy’s talking to the bishop.”
“Why?”
“He’s answering questions like, ‘Do you tell the truth?’ ‘Are you kind to your family members?’ ‘Do you follow the prophet?’ Questions like that.”
“Why?”
“When Daddy answers questions like those, the bishop knows whether or not he is a commandment-keeper. If he is a commandment-keeper, he’ll get a special piece of paper, called a temple recommend. Only Church members with temple recommends can go inside the temple.”
“Oh.”
The bishop’s door opened, and Stewart’s daddy stepped out. He shook the bishop’s hand and smiled. “Your turn,” he said, looking at Mommy.
“I’ll be right back, Stew.”
Stewart sat quietly in his seat, thinking.
“So tonight’s the night for chocolate chip cookies, right Stew?” Daddy asked.
Stewart looked up. “Yes.”
“Are you going to help me bake them?”
“Yep.”
There was silence.
“Dad, are you a commandment-keeper?”
“I try to keep the commandments, Son. Sometimes I make mistakes, but I repent and try harder. It’s hard to be a commandment-keeper, but I do my best.”
“Did you get a temple rec– … rec– What’s that word?”
“Temple recommend. Here. Do you want to see it?” Daddy handed Stewart a small piece of paper.
Stewart looked at it carefully. “What does it say?”
“Well, I still have to talk to the stake president. But right now, it has the bishop’s name, and my name. And at the bottom, it says that I’m worthy to enter the temple.”
“Because you’re a commandment-keeper?”
“Right.”
Before long, Stewart’s mom opened the bishop’s door.
“Come on,” said Daddy. “Let’s go home and get those cookies ready to bake and eat!”
Riding home in the car, Stewart was quiet. Mom looked into the rearview mirror and saw that he looked sad. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
At a stoplight, Daddy turned to the backseat. “Stew, what’s the matter? Aren’t you excited about making our treats?”
“I wanted to tell the bishop I keep the commandments. I wanted my own special paper.”
Mommy and Daddy looked at each other.
“You wanted a temple recommend?” Daddy asked.
“Aren’t I good at keeping the commandments?”
“You’re very good at keeping the commandments. But you have to be twelve to go inside a temple. When you’re twelve, you’re old enough to get your own recommend and do baptisms for the dead,” Dad explained.
“So I don’t get a paper like yours till I’m twelve?”
“No.”
Stew looked out the window. Daddy and Mommy quietly looked ahead. Then Daddy had an idea. “Hey! You can still have a piece of paper that says you keep the commandments! After we get the cookies started, you come into my office!”
Stew gave his dad a cautious smile. “OK.”
Once at home, the family set to work on the cookies right away. When the first batch went into the oven, Stewart went to his dad’s office.
“Have a seat, Son. I’ll sit here, across from you.”
Stew climbed into a chair and got comfortable.
“Now let’s start with a prayer.” Daddy folded his arms and Stew followed. Daddy asked Heavenly Father that His Spirit would be with them as they talked. He told the Lord that he loved his little boy. Stew felt happy inside.
When the prayer was finished, the questions began. Daddy looked Stewart in the eyes. “First, do you believe in Jesus Christ?”
“Yes I do.”
“I do, too, Stew. He’s my very best friend. Now, do you believe that the scriptures are true, and do you read them every day?”
“Well, Mommy reads them to me, but yesterday we both forgot.”
“Do you read them most days?”
“Yes.”
“That’s great. Reading the scriptures is one of the best ways to learn about Jesus Christ. Do you say your prayers?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Wonderful. How do you feel when you pray?”
“I feel glad because Heavenly Father can hear me and answer me.”
“Yes, He likes it when we pray to Him. The more we pray, the more He can help us. And you and I need lots of help, don’t we?”
“Yes.”
“Do you believe that Gordon B. Hinckley is a true prophet?”
“I know he is a prophet.”
“How do you know?”
“Because that’s what you told me.”
“Heavenly Father will tell you, too, if you ask Him. I’ve asked Heavenly Father, and He’s told me,” Daddy said. “Now, do you tell the truth?”
Stew frowned. “Well, I lied about that mess in the kitchen. But you already knew that.”
“I remember. You blamed a friend for the mess, and it was really you who did it.”
Stewart’s shoulders drooped. “So I guess I’m not a commandment-keeper?”
“Well, did you repent of telling that lie?”
“I told you and Nathan I was sorry.”
“Did you really feel sorry? Sorry enough to want to tell the truth from now on?”
“Yes.”
“If we repent when we make mistakes,
Heavenly Father forgives us and forgets about the mistake. We’re still commandment-keepers, as long as we keep trying and keep repenting.”
Stewart sat tall again. He felt thankful for repentance.
Daddy asked more questions about the commandments: “Are you good to your parents?” “Do you keep Sunday special for remembering Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ?” “Do you pay tithing?” “Do you stay away from dangerous foods and drinks?”
Soon Stewart had answered every question. Daddy held out his hand. “Congratulations! You are a commandment-keeper.”
Shaking hands with his dad, Stewart beamed.
Daddy wrote some words on a small note card and handed it to Stew. “This piece of paper says that you’re a commandment-keeper. Right now, you’re not old enough to go into the temple, but you are worthy enough. That’s terrific!”
Stewart smiled, put the note card in his pocket, and said, “When I’m twelve, I’m going straight to the temple.”
“Great!”
“But right now”—Stewart grinned—“I’m only five, and I’m going straight to the kitchen. I can smell those yummy cookies and I’m starving.”
“Me too! Let’s go.”

It was still early on Sunday morning as Dad called the family together.
“Where’s Mom?” six-year-old Katie asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
“That’s what I need to talk to all of you about,” Dad answered. “I took Mom to the airport this morning. Grandpa called late last night to tell us that Grandma is very sick. Mom has gone to help them.”
“Is Grandma going to die?” Melanie asked, her eyes filling with tears.
“I don’t know, sweetheart.” Dad put his arm around her. “Grandpa doesn’t know exactly what’s wrong. Mom will call us after she arrives and has a chance to talk to the doctor. Meanwhile, there is something we can do to help.”
“We can pray for Grandma,” Katie said, kneeling and folding her arms.
“Exactly right, honey,” Dad said. “And we can fast for Grandma today, too. Let’s begin our fast with a prayer. Would you offer it for us, Katie?”
The little family knelt together, and Katie prayed, “Heavenly Father, please bless Grandma. Bless Grandpa, too, so he won’t worry too much. And help Mama so she can come home soon. We are fasting for them today.”
Everyone felt peaceful as Katie finished the prayer and they prepared to go to church.
At home after church, Dad pulled two big photo albums from the shelf and told the children about some of the pictures. They talked all afternoon about their many happy memories of Grandma. Then, when it was time to end their fast and have supper, they knelt to give thanks for the day and to once again ask for a special blessing for Grandma.
Mom telephoned just as the children were getting ready for bed. “Grandma is going to be just fine,” she said. “I’ll stay to help Grandpa for a few days while Grandma rests. I’ll be home by Friday.”
After everyone had told Mom about their day and their fast for Grandma, they gathered again for family prayer. “Before we pray,” Dad said, “tell me what you learned today about fasting and prayer.”
“Heavenly Father answered our prayers,” Rachel responded.
“That’s true,” Dad said. “We know that He always answers our prayers. Sometimes the answer is yes, as it was today.”
“Sometimes it’s no, “ Melanie put in, “like when I prayed for my team to win the tournament and we lost.”
“That’s right, Melanie,” Dad said. “Sometimes the answer is ‘no.’ And sometimes the answer is ‘not yet—just wait and be patient.’ But Heavenly Father always answers our prayers in the way that is best for us. Did you learn anything else?”
Katie said, “Fasting helped me feel close to Heavenly Father.”
Natalie added, “Fasting today wasn’t as hard as it usually is. I didn’t even feel hungry! Is that because we were fasting for Grandma, not just going without food?”
Dad nodded. “Fasting helps us learn to control our bodies and it helps us develop faith. When we are baptized, we make a sacred promise to Heavenly Father that we will bear one another’s burdens and comfort those who need comfort. We have surely kept that covenant today as we fasted and prayed for Grandma.”
That night, family prayer was a prayer of gratitude—for Grandma feeling better, that Mom was coming home soon, and for keeping their baptismal covenant through fasting and prayer.

“Before I was born, my parents migrated from Germany to America. Life was challenging and they had to work hard to provide for us little ones as we came along
“During a diphtheria epidemic, my little sister and I both became very ill. The doctor who came told my parents that he had only enough medicine for one, and that a decision would have to be made.
“For some reason, I received the medication and lived. A couple of days later, my little sister died.
“I still remember my father placing her in the little wooden coffin. The neighbors could only come and look through the window, because we were quarantined and everyone was terribly afraid of the contagion.
“I was so small that father had to lift me up to see over that crude little coffin and look upon the face of my childhood playmate for the last time in this mortal existence. Then father went out, got up on the wagon seat, tenderly lifted the coffin onto his lap, and rode away, all alone, to the nearby cemetery.
“Years later, after completing my first month of medical practice, my nurse prepared bills for all my patients. As I saw them sitting there on the desk, that childhood memory passed before me. I remembered also how my parents had later paid the doctor with potatoes and other produce. I asked myself, as I had often asked before: ‘Why was my life preserved instead of hers?’ With that question still on my lips, I swept the stack of bills into the wastebasket and told my nurse that we would keep good records on the books and if people wished to pay me, they would do so; but we would not follow the usual practice of billing patients.”

On 28 October 1985 Elder Thomas S. Monson of the Quorum of the Twelve held a conference for the Saints in the Snederflers’ apartment in Prague, attended by 56 people. “I thought the floor of our apartment was not going to be able to hold us all!” laughs Sister Snederfler. “But it was a wonderful meeting.”

“Elder Monson dedicated our apartment and the entire building for the gathering of the Saints in Prague and Czechoslovakia,” says Brother Snederfler. “It was a marvelous spiritual experience from which all present received new strength and dedication to build up and expand the kingdom of God.” At that time, Elder Monson also ordained Jirí a high priest. “I felt the presence of the Holy Spirit and another command from God to serve better and with gladness in my heart.”

A short history will illustrate this point: Isaac of Ghana returned honorably from his full-time mission with the desire to continue on the covenant path, and he knew that meant finding a young woman to whom he could be sealed in the temple. He came to know Edema, a wonderful returned missionary from Nigeria. The two fell in love and wanted to be sealed in the Ghana Accra Temple. Isaac did not have a job, and Edema’s extended family presented a list. Isaac’s parents were both deceased, and his uncle forbade him from getting married, telling him that he was crazy to think of marriage when he did not even have a job. Isaac prayed about what to do and heard these words spoken to his mind: “You should not fear man more than God.” So, he went to his uncle and told him that he respected him, but that he respected God more and would put God first. So, he and Edema decided to be sealed and set the date. Then, miracles began to happen. Isaac was offered a job. With the help of Edema’s mother, they did not need to be concerned about the list. They were sealed in the temple and are happy in their marriage.

In this short history, we see that Isaac and Edema faced strong opposition and difficult trials. Because they had decided to put God first, the opposition they faced became an opportunity to choose the right. Once they moved forward in faith, they had hope, the expectation of good things to come; the miracles followed.

“When I was about nine years old, I remember Grandpa sitting in his big overstuffed chair. He allowed me to stand behind him and comb his beautiful hair. I would part it in the middle then comb it back in different ways. Sometimes I would part his hair on the side and try a new style, and I would comb it down over his face in the process. He was very patient and let me comb it until my arms were tired.”
“The things I remember about Grandpa were the great stories he would make up and tell to my sister and me as we sat at his feet. They were long adventure stories—real whoppers—almost like science fiction. My sister and I were always part of the tales.
“In one of his stories we were all riding in a car in the desert and discovered a big underground cave. In the back of the cave we found all kinds of jewels and valuable treasures. There was lots of food there for us to eat. The water in the bottom of the cave was boiling hot, but luckily we discovered a speedboat that kept us safe from the heat of the water. We all got into the boat and rode down the river. In his stories like this one, we always found a giant or two or something else exciting. Often we fought these giants and we always won, my grandpa, my sister, and I. We could listen for hours to these exciting stories. There was no television where we lived, but we certainly didn’t miss it.
“Grandpa was always learning there in his armchair, reading a book by lamplight. Nephi was his favorite prophet. He always said he wanted to live and to be like Nephi.”
One of the choicest experiences this man related to me was about a horse. Because he was a commanding officer in the Canadian Cavalry, a horse was very important to him:
“I looked around for the best horse in the area to buy. I loved horses—I always had. I finally found just the right one. I paid seventy-five dollars for this horse, which was a lot of money in those days. I quickly picked an excellent horseman who was an expert in horse training. He worked and worked with Steamboat, as I called him, and before long, he was not only the best-looking horse in the Canadian Cavalry, but also the best trained. I could tell him to lie down, to roll over, or to come to me, and this horse immediately obeyed. I was so very pleased.
“We were in Cardston at the time and I had enjoyed riding Steamboat for a couple of years when one day a Colonel Walker from Winnipeg visited our headquarters there. His main mission was to buy a fine horse for the general. He didn’t tell me this at first, but just said:
“‘I hear you have a fine horse.’
“‘He’s a dandy!’ I answered.
“Then he asked to take a ride on Steamboat and I said, ‘All right.’
“When he returned from a short ride, he dismounted and asked, ‘How much would you take for this horse?’
“I was sure he was joking with me, so I quickly replied, in jest, ‘Oh, five hundred dollars.’ This was an outrageous sum.
“‘Sold,’ he said.
“I was stunned! ‘But I was just joking, this horse is my pride and joy,’ I stammered.
“Colonel Walker stood straight and tall and said, ‘You told me the price, I will pay it, so we have just made a deal.’
“I was brokenhearted for a long time at the loss of my joy, Steamboat, my friend.
“About a year later,” he concluded, “while I was in England visiting our headquarters there, I was invited to inspect their horse stables. As I was walking down a row of stalls, I saw my great friend in one of them. ‘Steamer,’ I shouted.
“The horse jumped like he’d been shot. I climbed into the stall, threw my arms around that horse and cried and cried. An old friend is hard to forget.”
As I personally met with this great man, I asked him to tell me what he remembered about his boyhood. Some of the childhood experiences he related were humorous.
“My brother Bud and I had a lot of fun as children. He liked to tease and play jokes on me. One day we chased a weasel down a hole. We used a shovel and tried to dig him out, but with no luck. Bud told me that if I put my hand down the hole, maybe I could grab the animal and pull it out. I believed him, and thrust my hand as far down the hole as I could. But the weasel bit my finger so hard that it almost took the end of it off. After that I decided to be a little more careful whenever Bud told me to do something.
“My brother pestered me with jokes all through our childhood. I did get back at him once, though. I remember we were sleeping in the basement of a barn at the time. Bud had been reading a book about ghosts and ghost stories. One day I got the idea to ask my cousin to put an old sheet over himself and hide down in the basement of the barn until Bud came home. I then hid outside and watched and waited. Sure enough, Bud came along and went in through the barn door and started down the basement. When he saw my cousin, he came screaming out of the barn, running as fast as he could. It was a long time after that before Bud would sleep down there again.”
This apostle of the Lord also told me how important prayer and his testimony had always been to him. One last recollection sums up his feelings:
“
If I had a bad dream in the night when I was young, I would awaken and call out, ‘Mother, are you there?’ Since mother’s room was next to mine, she would hear me and answer quickly, ‘Yes, Son, I’m here.’
“Years later when I left for a mission to England, my mother reminded me that she wouldn’t be there to answer when I called but that our Heavenly Father would always be there.
“Many times on my mission and throughout my life I have called out: ‘Father, are you there?’”
The handsome elderly man with beautiful white hair, meditated for a few moments. Then quietly he said, “Always, I have received an answer.”

Once there were two boys who lived next door to each other. Although they were of the same age, they couldn’t seem to get along together. Then one day, everything started to change. Here are the testimonies they recently gave at the Applewood Ward, Arvada Colorado Stake, where they are both deacons.
“Dear brothers and sisters, my talk today is on friendship, and the story I want to tell you is about how a boy and I became true friends. This boy’s name is Matt. I used to call him ‘Mean Matt,’ and he would get mad and start fighting with me. We would get in fist fights or throw rocks at each other. I would beat him for fun and for revenge. Sometimes he would go home with a swollen eye or a bleeding nose.
“I would always attract the attention of this friend and try to make him very jealous. Sometimes he would get angry and try to get revenge, but I won most of our fights. But often, underneath it all, he made me feel jealous—once he got a new bike, and he did things with his family. Then one night he invited me over to a meeting called family home evening. That’s when I became interested in the Church. I was later baptized.
“This story is a true story about my next-door neighbor Matt Taylor. We both became very active in the Church. We enjoy Scouting, and now we do things together without any fights or trouble. I am thankful Matt brought me into the Church, and I hope that you can bring someone into the Church so they can have the same feeling I have.” (Shawn Bell.)

Illustration by Wilson Ong
I was watching TV when my mother called to tell me that her brother, my 92-year-old Uncle Floyd, and his wife, Aunt Millie, were sick with the flu and had no food in their house. Neither was well enough to go to the store to get anything. Uncle Floyd and Aunt Millie had no other family nearby, so they had no one to help them.
My mother wondered if I could help. I am the only member of the Church in that part of my family, and I had been called on in situations before. The problem was that I lived in Utah, USA, and my aunt and uncle were in Hemet, California, USA.
I told my mom to give me a few minutes to think about what to do. I had a friend who lived near Hemet, so I called and asked if she knew anyone in Hemet. She told me about a lady she served with at the Redlands California Temple named Sister Dunn who was a Relief Society president there.
When Sister Dunn answered the phone, I began, “Hi, Sister Dunn. You don’t know me, but my name is Nancy Little, and I live in Utah. I’m a member of the Church, but my aunt and uncle who live in Hemet are not. They are ill and have no food in their house.” I told her where they lived, which was far from where she was, and explained that I just wanted to get information about a restaurant near them that might deliver food.
Instead, Sister Dunn insisted that she and her husband would take food to my aunt and uncle. They happened to have some homemade soup and bread, and her mother had just made cookies. I protested but she persisted.
A few hours later, Sister Dunn called and assured me that all was well. My mother called later to tell me what Uncle Floyd had said of their visit. He said, “Angels arrived at my home named Mr. and Mrs. Dunn. They came with armloads of food: fruits, vegetables, homemade soup, bread, and cookies. They were the best cookies I have ever eaten.” The Dunns visited with my uncle, helped them with their needs, and then Brother Dunn carried my frail Aunt Millie, who suffered from Alzheimer’s disease, from her bed to a chair in the kitchen so that Sister Dunn could feed her.
When Uncle Floyd called my mother to tell her about the visit, he wept. He said he had never met such kind and caring people. He told my mom that I was lucky to live in Utah and be surrounded by “all those Mormons.”
Four days after the visit, Uncle Floyd walked out to his mailbox and slipped and fell. He hit his head and died four days later. With the exception of a homecare nurse, Brother and Sister Dunn were the last people my uncle saw before he died.
I am grateful for the Christlike example of one of my Relief Society sisters who lived hundreds of miles away, someone I have still never met, who helped my aunt and uncle.

I was moving sprinkler pipes on a section of our farm in northern California, USA. This particular day was a treat because Dad was there to help me. When we finished, we jumped on our all-terrain vehicles (ATVs) and headed for home with dinner on our minds. Dad led the way.
Our farm was bordered on one side by the Pit River. We rode on the edge of the field so we wouldn’t flatten the alfalfa with the big tires on our ATVs. The field was on our right, and the river, at the bottom of a steep embankment, was on our left. We couldn’t see very well because it was misty.
We were cruising along fairly fast when I veered off the trail and hit a clump of sagebrush with my right rear tire. The impact forced me to turn the ATV sharply to the left toward the river and down the embankment. I tried stopping, but the bank was too steep and I was going too fast. I thought for sure I was going in the river. Fortunately, there was a tree on the bank right in my path. The next thing I knew, I was looking down at the ATV—from the tree! I was as scared as I had ever been.
I felt that I had just had a brush with death, but other than a few scratches and bruises, I was unhurt. After I calmed down and took a few breaths, I realized there was no way I was going to get the ATV back up the bank by myself. I kept expecting my dad to poke his head over the edge of the embankment, looking for me, but he didn’t. That made me feel even worse.
I scrambled to the top of the bank, but my dad was nowhere in sight. I said a silent prayer to my Father in Heaven, asking Him to send Dad back to get me. Then I started walking. Meanwhile, Dad was almost home when he thought he heard me call out to him. He looked back for the first time since we had left the field. Only then did he notice that I wasn’t behind him. He knew something was wrong and came looking for me until he found me.
Dad later told me that he had heard me say, “Dad, I need you!” At the time, he was more than two miles (3 km) away. I knew then that a loving Father in Heaven had heard my prayer and let my father know that I needed his help.
I am grateful for the Holy Ghost and the whisperings of truth and guidance that we receive from Him. I am also grateful for a loving father who had lived his life in such a way that the Holy Ghost could talk to him and be heard.

Ninety-nine percent of the students at the Church’s Liahona High School are members of the Church. Sione Tu‘alau Latu, who attended in the 1950s, was not. Like many students not of our faith who attend, Sione gained a testimony and was baptized. He remembers: “I came from a poor family with nine children. We lived on a small island. My father died before I was born, and I wanted to do something to help. I decided to try and go to the Church College [now Brigham Young University—Hawaii], but I knew I would have to pass a difficult government exam. I was afraid. I had been taught that if you fast and pray, the Lord will give you the answer. So I began to look for a place to pray in private. On my way home from school, I passed a taro field with its tall, broad-leafed plants. I thought, If Joseph Smith can pray in a grove of trees and get an answer to his prayers, then I can pray here and get an answer to my prayers. I began to fast and returned to the taro patch. I made sure nobody was around, and then I knelt beneath the broad taro leaves. I prayed for what seemed like a long time. I felt so close to my Heavenly Father. When I got up, my shirt was wet with tears.”

Sione Latu passed the test and got a scholarship. “I knew these things came to me in answer to my prayer under the taro plant,” he remembers. “I knelt and thanked the Lord and promised Him I would come back and help my family and my country.”

Brother Latu did come back and has served his people as a longtime Church leader and a gifted businessman. He is well suited for his calling as director of public affairs for the Church, where he sees the growing positive effect Latter-day Saints are having on the nation of Tonga.

Everyone goes to retirement homes around Christmas, so why not try it at a different time of year, like Thanksgiving? So thought the Beehives of the Fairview Ward, York Pennsylvania Stake. Instead of Christmas carols, they sang Thanksgiving hymns to the residents and then visited with them awhile.
It was an especially good experience for Beehive president Audrey Parks, whose great-grandmother lives in that home. It was also interesting for Beehive Wendy Rock, who is blind and received a lot of attention from the elderly residents when she began reading from her braille hymnbook.
Several of the girls make frequent trips back to the home to visit the friends they made the day before Thanksgiving.

My wife and I love this scripture so much that she painted it on a wall in our living room, below a beautiful white porcelain Christus. They are a constant reminder for us to live Christ-centered lives.
One day, our son was reading the scriptures with his family. Our seven-year-old grandson Clatie read, “‘And we talk of Christ, we rejoice in Christ’—Hey, that’s what Granny and Grandpa have on their wall!” Now that’s one of his favorite scriptures.

It was Thursday night, Mom and Dad’s regular night to work at the Cardston temple. I was in my teens, like you young women. My grandmother, who was living with us, was away, so I would be home alone. As they left, Dad hugged me and said, “Now, Sharon, be in good company.”
I thought, “What is he thinking? Doesn’t he know I’ll be here by myself?” And then I realized—that is exactly what he was thinking.
Standing in holy places is all about being in good company, whether you are alone or with others. It’s being where the Holy Ghost is our companion—alone or in a crowd. When we determine within ourselves that we will control our thoughts and our actions and be the best we can possibly be, the best of life will come to us.

While I was on a Navy ship headed toward Japan, I attended Church meetings. Only a few Church members were on that tour of duty, but they could always answer my questions. When you are raised in the Church and hear the gospel, the Holy Ghost will help you remember what you’ve been taught so that you can teach other people.
I decided I wanted to be baptized. Back then a person usually investigated the Church for a year. Although I had only been investigating it for five months, the members on the ship felt that I was ready to be baptized. So on February 25, 1952, I was baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Because it was February, it was extremely cold outside where I was baptized. In fact, there was a layer of ice on top of the baptismal font!

After finishing my studies in technical administration, I worked with a young executive who later became my husband. What a marvelous time of my life it was! But one month after our wedding, as my husband and I were traveling from Bogotá, Colombia, where we lived, to visit my parents in Duitama, we were involved in an automobile accident. The accident took my husband’s life and left me with amnesia. I couldn’t remember anything of the previous six years, couldn’t walk, and couldn’t move my left arm.
After months of physical therapy, I was finally able to walk again and move my arm somewhat. Gradually, my memory returned to the point that six years after the accident I could recall the events of my life except for two years: the one preceding the accident and the one following it. Still, my previous capabilities were much diminished. I had trouble converting my thoughts into words, and I found it difficult to repeat something after hearing it. Because I easily forgot details, some people took advantage of my lapses.
Eventually, the doctors felt they had done all they could. I tried to appear happy and enthusiastic, but I often felt frustrated and angry. What was I to do with my life?
When I was at my lowest point, I read in the scriptures where the Lord promises that we will not be tried above that which we can bear (see 1 Cor. 10:13; D&C 64:20). I prayed for a testimony of this promise.
I finally returned to the company where I had worked before the accident. Since I could not handle my old job, I worked at less demanding assignments—but even these tasks proved difficult. Nevertheless, I didn’t give up. I fought to complete my six-month contract. As I did, a marvelous feeling of hope illuminated my spirit, inspiring me to keep trying to improve my capabilities.
By staying close to the Lord, I reestablished confidence in myself and could feel the influence of the Holy Ghost in my life. This influence soon led me to consider serving a mission. I know some people thought my desire foolish, but when I spoke with the branch president, he gave me the courage I needed. To prepare myself, I decided to read the Book of Mormon in its entirety—something I had not yet accomplished in my 12 years as a member.
However, my poor memory posed a real challenge. After starting with 1 Nephi at least 10 times and not being able to remember a thing I had read, I knew I needed a different approach. I prayed to find a solution, and soon a method entered my mind: I would write a summary of each chapter as I read it.
I bought a notebook and read the first chapter of 1 Nephi. Since I had only a vague idea of what I had just read, I read the chapter again. Only then was I able to summarize in my notebook the main ideas in that chapter.
Prayerfully, I moved on. After completing 1 Nephi, I found I no longer had to read each chapter twice; once was enough to write a good summary. I read the entire Book of Mormon this way. When I finished, I was left with a strong spiritual witness that the book is true, and I could also testify that the Lord strengthens us if we turn to Him.
I next completed the missionary health form, and I answered each question honestly, even though the answers could frustrate my desire to be a missionary. How great was my joy when I received a call to serve in the Colombia Cali Mission! There I discovered the truth of another of the Lord’s promises, found in 1 Nephi 3:7: “The Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them.”
After I returned from my mission, I came to live with my parents on a farm where we grow products to sell. I have also developed a talent for knitting, which allows me to earn money and leaves me time for spiritual growth. I live a happy and productive life.
Of course, I would have preferred not to have had the accident, but I recognize the tremendous growth I have experienced because of it. I’ve learned that we may lose our dreams and hopes, even our loved ones, and our talents, riches, and strength might disappear—but the Lord will always support us. He gives us new dreams to replace those we have lost. In spite of all the difficulties we encounter, the Lord can help us move forward. He compensates—and He always keeps His promises.

As a 14-year-old, Rick became fascinated with engineering design and seemed to have some aptitude for the work. He began researching design engineering and drafting. He read about it, talked to his school teachers and career guidance counselor, and interviewed engineers in his ward and stake. The more he learned, the more it appealed to him.
As part of his investigation he met a man who owned a small mechanical engineering firm. The gentleman was willing to hire Rick part-time in the summers. Rick found he really loved computer-assisted design. During his senior year of high school, he designed a piece of equipment that the company now produces and markets.