Gospel Story Finder

When I was in an elders quorum presidency, we worked with several less-active families. In a personal interview with one couple, I asked, “Isn’t it about time you went to the temple with your family?”
I couldn’t believe their answer: they said yes.
We cried.
They were asked to speak about their “conversion” in a Saturday evening session of stake conference, and as they expressed their love, I cried. I thought I had used up all my tears by the time we went to the temple—until I saw them and their beautiful daughters kneel at the altar and be sealed for time and eternity.

As I stepped off the stand after speaking in sacrament meeting, one of my father’s dear friends complimented me on the talk. I really wanted to know how effective my presentation had been, and so I pressed him further. “Would you have any suggestions for me?” He indicated there was something that might prove helpful if I sincerely wanted to know. He then asked the question: “What did you say tonight that could not have been said by any Protestant minister?” I was a little taken back by that comment; and in the days that followed, I spent a great deal of time reflecting on what I had said.

More than 40 years have passed since that experience, and I think I can honestly say that I have never once given any kind of a Church presentation without always attempting to convey my testimony of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. How grateful I am for the insight, judgment, and concern that prompted his comment. How grateful I am that he was a true friend.

It’s a bright, sunny morning on June 26, 1999. The green grass at the Indiana State Capitol building is looking a little shabby. A trailer pulls up, and as 14-year-old Ryan Tripp unloads a lawn mower, it becomes obvious this is no ordinary lawn job.
There are green balloons on the lawn in the shape of a big ribbon—the symbol for organ donation—and Ryan is thronged by Indiana state officials and a large crowd. Flashing a smile, he talks from the podium about the importance of people becoming organ donors.
The idea for what turned out to be a two-year mission began on a spring day in 1997 when Ryan and his dad, Todd, were returning home after mowing church lawns around Parowan, Utah, his hometown. When their truck broke down, Ryan suggested they ride a lawn mower back to town. During the ride Ryan said, “Dad, why don’t we ride this lawn mower all the way to Salt Lake and mow the state capitol lawn?”
His dad replied, “Why don’t you ride it all the way to Washington, D.C., and mow the White House lawn!” Ryan began dreaming about his name appearing in the Guiness Book of World Records for the longest lawn mower ride in history.
But something was missing. Ryan and his family felt they needed a greater purpose for such an undertaking.
Shortly after, while Ryan’s father was getting his truck repaired, his mechanic, a neighbor, confided that their three-month-old daughter, Whitnie, had a rare disease requiring a liver transplant. The cost would be enormous, and the Penders had limited insurance and funds.
Ryan’s heart went out to the Penders. He wanted to help, but what could he do? Perhaps his goal to mow the White House lawn could work together with a fundraising project for Whitnie! Why not hand out cards to the people he met along the way asking for donations to be sent to a special fund? People could pledge money for each mile he drove.
The Tripp family members all wanted to help, and wheels were set in motion. They charted a course from Parowan to Washington, D.C.; they obtained local police permission for Ryan to drive the lawn mower along state and city roadways, and a large lawn mower manufacturer generously donated a machine. Ryan’s mom, Diane, his two sisters, Tiffany and Chantel, and his brother, Robbie, agreed to temporarily take over the lawn-mowing business.
On August 15, 1997, Ryan began his 3,116-mile cross-country lawn mower drive, with Grandpa and Grandma Meidlinger leading the procession by car and his dad following Ryan in their truck.
Sound like fun? Picture yourself driving a lawn mower at 10 mph, 10 to 12 hours a day, for 42 days through blistering heat, rain, and wind. For the first few weeks, Ryan had lots of fun. He signaled his dad on their walkie-talkies, waved to passing cars, listened to music on his CD player, looked at the scenery, and made all kinds of noises as he drove along.
Then he ran into a problem. One day he was particularly tired from their early morning starts and dozed off listening to his music. He awoke to the blasting horn of his father’s truck behind him, just as his lawn mower was careening off the side of the road. His CD days were over.
After that, the hours became long, and it seemed the cornfield-lined roads would never end. “Sometimes I got a little antsy and wanted to get off my lawn mower and go do things a normal boy would, especially when it rained. It got kind of hard to just sit there and drive along the road,” he recalls. The trek became a challenge to Ryan.
However, each challenge brings its own reward, and Ryan’s was time for serious thinking. He thought about his plans for the future; he thought about the importance of never giving up, of keeping promises and commitments; and he thought about how nice it was to have his dad so close. Reaching his father on his walkie-talkie at any time reminded him of talking to another Father: “It was kind of a lesson to me about how close my Heavenly Father is and how I can reach Him through prayer whenever I need something,” Ryan says.
Thinking about his own supportive family, Ryan’s thoughts often turned to little Whitnie. He understood her family’s love for her and knew he must do whatever was needed to help.
Ryan began to see a much greater purpose in this trip. Breaking records took a distant second to helping Whitnie. And as he thought about her, and others he learned about along the way, Ryan’s prayers took on new meaning. “My dad and I would pray every morning before we started and again when we got back to the hotel,” he says. They prayed for safety, for Whitnie, and for all the people needing transplants.
Finally, Ryan’s quest ended at the U.S. Capitol. Senator Orrin Hatch of Utah, other government officials, press members, and TV viewers watched as he mowed the Capitol Hill lawn. The trip was successful—Ryan broke the record and, more importantly, raised $15,000 for little Whitnie, who received her transplant that same year.
But Ryan didn’t see this as the end of his goal. Throughout his trip he had become increasingly concerned about the 63,500 people in America waiting for organ donors. So, even before he and his dad left Washington, D.C., they formulated a plan to further raise awareness for organ and tissue donation: they would mow every state capitol building lawn in the country, including those in Juneau, Alaska, and Honolulu, Hawaii.
Two summers later, on June 1, 1999, Ryan set out on his second mission. This time he had a lot more company—his mother, his sisters, his brother, his Grandpa and Grandma Tripp, and his Grandpa Meidlinger.
The next 72 days were a whirlwind of state capitol buildings, governors, news reporters, talk-show hosts, and families involved in organ donation. The stories they heard from the many recipients, donors, and donor-hopefuls, buoyed them up at each stop.
“One of the coolest stories was about a family in Kansas,” Ryan says. “I had been on local TV speaking about the importance of organ and tissue donation a few days before their daughter died. They told us because they were so touched by what I was doing, they decided to donate their daughter’s organs.”
Ryan encourages everyone he sees to set their goals high and work hard. “With Heavenly Father’s help, you can do anything,” he says, especially if it includes serving others. “It makes you feel so good inside, and you never know how many people you helped.”
Although Ryan met many good people and celebrities along the way, when asked who his hero is, Ryan replies, “There are a lot of role models out there, but my hero is my dad because he’s a good example to me, and he believes in my dreams. I’d like to be just like him when I grow up.”

So the who is really no problem, but what about the how? Basically all you have to do is fill out one of the subscription blanks in this magazine and send it in along with your money. But that still leaves you three possibilities: you can tell the recipient you are sending the subscription before you send it; you can just send in the subscription with your name as donor and a gift card will be sent to the recipient; or you can send the subscription anonymously. The seminary leaders suggested that the students check with their friends in advance to assure that no subscriptions would be wasted on someone who didn’t want one, but in practice everybody did it his own way. Kelly Manning, who was mentioned above, asked that his name be listed as donor but said nothing to the girls in advance. He felt that the element of surprise made the gift even more exciting. Shanna Grayson, on the other hand, sent an anonymous subscription to her nonmember cousins. A week later when visiting them, she saw the New Era on their coffee table and asked if they were reading it. They said they were and that they really enjoyed it.

All my life my parents taught me to pray, but as I began to grow up, I said my personal prayers only at night. I thought that was enough—until I entered Young Women.
When I was given the Personal Progress booklet, I read through all the goals. There was one that really caught my attention: a faith value experience said I should say my prayers in the morning as well as in the evening. “Why in the morning?” I asked myself. “That will be impossible for me.”
Time went by, and I was not fulfilling that goal. But I determined to do it, and even though it was difficult, I trusted in the Lord.
At first everything seemed the same. But something inside me began to change. I seemed to feel more sure in everything I did. The small fights I had with my family were not happening anymore. When I got up early for church, I did not feel exhausted. Instead I had a great desire to go.
Now I say my prayers every morning and evening, and my life really has changed.

• Berlin, Germany, Thursday, June 20: A very weary choir, running on the Spirit, love, and memory, performs two concerts, matinee and evening, in the glittering former Communist showcase, the restored Schauspielhaus. Tonight, more than 1,500 attenders foot-stamp uproarious ovations. The evening becomes doubly memorable for attenders when Herold Gregory, administrative assistant of the choir and former [1953 to 1957] mission president over East Germany, steps up to the microphone to wish all a good night and to announce that Germany’s lower house of parliament, the Bundestag, has just voted a few minutes ago to transfer its offices, the nation’s chancellor, and his cabinet from Bonn to Berlin. The response is ear-splitting!

Not long before Christmas Grandpa had another heart attack, and a few days later he died. I was very upset. Never again would I be able to go with him to the summer sheep camp.
Christmas morning at our house was quieter than usual because we were all thinking about Grandpa. I, for one, knew I’d never forget him. As we gathered around the tree, Dad handed me a package. I didn’t want to seem ungrateful, but I wasn’t in the mood for presents. I think he could tell, because he urged me to open it.
I couldn’t believe my eyes! It was the old Bible. Inside was a brief note from Grandpa. “I thought you might like this,” was all it said. So simple, and so like him.
As I stared at it, I had the feeling that Grandpa was there, watching me, waiting for my reaction. I smiled and pressed the Bible close to me. There were other presents waiting under the tree for me, but I knew none of them would be better than Grandpa’s Bible.

When he was President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, many people brought their problems to President John Taylor. He listened to the Holy Ghost and used his talents to help them. Once, two faithful brethren called on him. The two men were angry with each other.
Brother 1: President Taylor, we have had an argument and would like for you to hear our case.
Brother 2: Whatever you decide we will follow.
President Taylor: Brethren, before I hear your case, I would like to sing one of the songs of Zion.
The men agreed. President Taylor was a very talented singer. After singing the first hymn, President Taylor asked permission to sing another.
President Taylor: Brethren, I have never heard just one of the hymns of Zion without wanting to hear another.
Brother 1: All right, President Taylor.
After the second song, President Taylor wanted to sing a third hymn.
President Taylor: I heard there was luck in odd numbers.
Brothers 1 and 2: Yes, President, we’d like to hear another.
President Taylor: Now, brethren, I do not want to wear you out, but if you will forgive me and listen to one more hymn, I promise to stop singing and will hear your case.
After the fourth and final hymn, the two brethren were in tears.
President Taylor: Now, brothers, what is troubling you?
Brother 2: President, please excuse us. We are sorry to have taken your time.
President Taylor’s singing had helped them to reconcile their feelings. He later served as President of the Church from 1880 to 1887. His leadership and his ability to listen to the Holy Ghost and do as he was directed helped the Church progress.

After coming home, the Bollbachs served as Sunday School teachers for about ten years. Because Fritz could not read the lessons, Elli recorded the lesson manual and passages of scripture onto a tape. Fritz would then listen to the tape several times and would study with Elli for up to eight hours. “I searched out the questions and had them put on tape,” he says. “Then I learned them by heart so we could teach the class together.” They finally were released when Brother Bollbach became too sick to continue the weekly assignment.

Elder James E. Faust
“A very special young friend of mine served as a missionary of this Church in Japan. His dedication to missionary work and the Japanese people was so complete and full that, rather than spend all of the money his parents sent to him, he unselfishly made a regular contribution of part of his money to help another local Japanese missionary. … In time, as with most missionaries, the clothes of my young friend became threadbare and thin. In order for him to be able to come home, it was necessary for him to buy a second-hand suit from one of the other elders. His regular denial of himself, in order to share his substance with the local Japanese missionary, was a very closely guarded secret. He is a good example of the young elect of God of this Church, as are hundreds of thousands of others.”

In 2024, when my wife and I arrived on our mission in Tahiti, we were delighted to see her again—and even happier to learn she had returned to the Church two years earlier. She shared what prompted her return:
“You have to know that throughout my time away from the Church, I kept my testimony of the gospel and had a deep desire for my daughter, Kahaili, to grow up as I had—in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I wanted her to know that God lives, that He loves her, and that He has a plan for her to return to live with Him and her family if she kept His commandments. Yet I didn’t want to return to church myself. Quite contradictory, wasn’t it?
“Kahaili occasionally attended meetings with my mother, but this sporadic attendance wouldn’t adequately prepare her for baptism. In 2022, when Kahaili was six and a half, I realized we only had a year and a half to prepare. I say ‘we’ because this process meant I would have to become involved personally, not relying on my mother or anyone else.
“I asked her, ‘Kahaili, do you want to be baptized when you turn eight?’
“Without hesitation, she replied, ‘Yes, Mom, I want to be baptized!’
“Her enthusiasm amazed me, and in that outpouring of fervor, I found the courage to make the sacrifice and return to church.
“We attended that first Sunday alone. But soon after, my husband, Cyril (although not a member of the Church), joined us, feeling his place was with us. When Kahaili expressed her desire for her father to baptize her, I responded with a forced smile, ‘Well, ask your daddy. You never know!’—not believing for a moment it could happen. Her father replied, ‘If I can, my daughter, I will.’”
The Lord then intervened in Cyril’s life. His conversion came through reading Ether 12:4: “Wherefore, whoso believeth in God might with surety hope for a better world, yea, even a place at the right hand of God, which hope cometh of faith, maketh an anchor to the souls of men, which would make them sure and steadfast, always abounding in good works, being led to glorify God.”
This scripture about hope becoming an anchor resonated deeply with Cyril as he recalled nearly drowning in the Tuamotus lagoon years earlier. While he was fishing, his boat had drifted away when its anchor came loose. Despite swimming desperately to catch up, he grew exhausted. Miraculously, the boat’s anchor caught on a coral formation, stopping the boat so he could reach it. Cyril still describes this as a miracle that saved his life.
Like a rebirth, Cyril was baptized on March 28, 2024—his 50th birthday. The following month, he baptized Kahaili. The crowning moment came on April 12, 2025, when Sophronia, Cyril, and Kahaili were sealed in the Papeete Tahiti Temple. We had the privilege of attending this sacred ceremony.
I share this story to testify that there is always hope when family members stray from the Church. Even if it takes a quarter century, through faith in Jesus Christ, a miracle is always possible.

Just like Esther, Joseph Smith, Joseph of Egypt, and many other scriptural figures, you can have the courage to stop your friends from speaking inappropriately about others. I was going through the same situation, and I had the courage to talk to my friends in a loving and understanding way. In the end, they accepted and understood how important it is to use pure and worthy language! Besides reading the scriptures and praying, fasting helps a lot in those situations. Pray and ask with faith that our Heavenly Father will give you the courage to speak and touch the hearts of your friends.
Paola H., 17, San Salvador, El Salvador

Natasha was awakened by the bird’s singing. When she opened her eyes, the room was full of light. Outside, a sparrow sat on the little board Dad had put up as a feeder for birds. The sparrow spread its feathers and cleaned them, singing, “Chik-chirik-chik!” as if to say, “Don’t you see what a beautiful morning it is? How warm the sun is!”
Natasha felt happy, as if it were a holiday. Then she saw her new white dress with pink ruffles and smiled. Of course! It is a special day! It’s Sunday, and we are going to Church, she thought.
Natasha’s parents had recently been baptized, and next year she would turn eight and could be baptized herself. She loved going to church. Everybody there was friendly. She had already learned how to read the hymns and had memorized her favorites. She loved to sing them with Mom or when she was home alone.
Today Mom’s friend Valya was going to be baptized. That was why Mom had made the beautiful new dress for Natasha. “We will all congratulate Valya, and you will give her flowers. It is going to be a real celebration!” Mom had said when they purchased some beautiful blooms the day before. She was as excited as if the flowers were for her.
The door slowly opened, and Mom looked into the room. “You are not asleep?” she asked quietly.
“A bird woke me up!” Natasha said and laughed.
“What a beautiful day!” Mom turned to Natasha. “What shall we do now?”
“Let’s pray!” Natasha said happily, rolling out of bed.
They knelt, and Mom prayed out loud, Natasha silently repeating every word after her. Mom thanked Heavenly Father for the beautiful morning, for His love, and for the scriptures, and she asked for protection for Dad, who was out of town on business.
After they prayed, they read the scriptures together. Then, while Natasha washed up, Mom made hot chocolate. They never hurried on Sunday mornings. From their first Sunday as members, they had followed a plan Mom had thought of to make Sundays special: “Let’s all wake up a little early, enjoy slowly getting ready, then walk to church. We need no more than twenty minutes to get there.” Natasha always liked the walks to and from church. It was a time to talk about their blessings and the gospel.
Now, standing in front of the mirror, Natasha looked at herself in the beautiful dress and white knee-high socks with pink bows that were a present from Dad. Her shoes matched the pink borders on her dress. Everything looked perfect. “I look like I’m ready to go to a ball,” she giggled as she twirled around.
Mom handed her the flowers for Valya, and Natasha looked like a girl on a postcard. It was the prettiest dress she had had for a long time. Mom was also in a pretty white blouse and a full skirt. What a perfect day this would be!
They left their apartment, and while Mom was locking the door, Natasha saw her friend Sveta on the stairs, a new kitten in her hands.
“Oh, he’s so cute!” exclaimed Natasha.
“Do you want to see him jump?” Sveta asked. “Watch!” She quickly set the kitten down and dragged a scrap of material with a string tied to it in front of the kitten. “This is his ‘mouse.’”
The kitten jumped up and started hilariously chasing the ‘mouse.’ Sveta barely had time to pull it away from him. All of a sudden the ‘mouse’ was on Natasha’s dress. The kitten jumped up to get it, but he couldn’t hold on, so he slid down one of Natasha’s white socks and scrunched it up.
Sveta laughed happily, and so did Natasha. But as Natasha pulled up her sock, all the laughter stopped. There was a big run in it!
Natasha looked at Mom with tears in her eyes. Sveta mumbled an apology, then quickly picked up the kitten and took off down the stairs.
“Please don’t be sad because of such a little thing,” Mom said as she unlocked the door. “We’ll find something just as good for you to wear.” She quickly found another pair of white socks in Natasha’s drawer. “These will look fine with your dress.”
Natasha quickly changed, and they left again.
“It rained a little during the night,” Mom said, pointing to the small puddles on the pavement. She took a deep breath. “The air smells good, don’t you agree?”
Natasha also took a deep breath, and agreed. The beautiful day put her back in a good mood.
By the time they got to the corner, Natasha was singing. Then a young man on a motorcycle sped by, hitting a muddy puddle in front of them and splashing it on her face and dress. She heard her mom say, “Don’t open your eyes, Natasha, until I wipe them off for you.”
When Natasha opened her eyes and saw muddy water dripping off her dress, she didn’t want to believe it, so she closed her eyes again. “Why, Mom? Why? We prayed and we read the scriptures and we wanted this to be a perfect day for Valya’s baptism. Why is everything going wrong? Doesn’t Heavenly Father love us?”
Mom quickly put her finger up to Natasha’s lips. “Please don’t think that.” She knelt beside her daughter. “Prayer is not like money that you pay at the store and right then get something for yourself. Sometimes we don’t know why things happen, but usually we can use what happens to us to learn how to be more like our Heavenly Father.”
“It’s his fault!” Natasha angrily looked in the direction the motorcyclist had gone.
“I hope that he didn’t do it on purpose. Look—the puddle is very small. Who would have known that it is deep? Either way, we need to forgive him and go on. If we hurry home and change, we won’t be late to the meeting.” She smiled and took Natasha’s hand, and they ran home.
Mom had to change into another skirt and blouse too. Natasha put on a blue dress with small white flowers and plain blue socks.
Mom gently rinsed off the bouquet of flowers in the shower: “Look—the flowers got even prettier!” Mom smiled happily, as if the accident were a blessing.
Natasha also smiled and thought how great it was that she has such a good and kind mom. They ran to the trolley and made it to the meeting on time.
As they started to sing the first hymn, Natasha forgot all her problems. In front of her sat a thin, pale girl named Oksana, who was often ill. Natasha knew that Oksana’s life was hard. She lived with a little brother, who was also often sick, and their elderly grandma. Mom had given them a lot of her and Natasha’s clothes and, when she could afford it, bought them groceries too.
Natasha saw that Oksana’s dress was very old. It had been worn out in the sun so much that the designs on the shoulders had all faded away, and next to the collar was a carefully sewn-on patch. Natasha looked at her own dress. Even though she wasn’t wearing her new dress, she was very well-dressed compared to Oksana. Suddenly Natasha felt uncomfortable and her cheeks became hot. She thought of how ungrateful she had been for all the clothes she had. And she knew that she would have felt really uncomfortable around Oksana, who had so little, if she’d worn her new, white dress.
After sacrament meeting, Natasha quietly whispered to Mom, “Do you remember when you sewed my white dress, you said there would be enough material left for another one? Could we make a dress for Oksana?”
“Good thinking.” Mom quietly kissed Natasha’s cheek. “There’s even some pink ribbon left, but we will talk about it at home, OK?”
Natasha couldn’t answer. Her throat got all tight and her chest got really warm, so she could only nod.
For Primary, all the children went into another room with Sister Melikovná. They had a lesson, then sang hymns, drew, and learned a poem for family home evening.
After church was the baptismal service for Valya. Mom gave a talk about being grateful for the Church and the blessing it was in her life. Natasha realized that she didn’t need to be wearing a beautiful dress in order for a baptismal service to be perfect. She only needed to have a happy and grateful heart.

2. If I had to choose one principle that is most basic and vitally essential to effective communication, it would have to be sincerity. Do you really mean what you are saying? Are you really convinced of that particular principle? Audiences are highly perceptive to speakers, and if you are trying to convince them of a subject that you have not personally had a positive experience with, chances are you’ll not succeed.
I remember two examples of this. Shortly after joining the Church in New Jersey, my family and I moved to Vermont. Some of the members there were not highly educated as far as schooling was concerned, nor did they pretend to be anything but simple, strong, faithful workers in the kingdom. I remember one such individual who was called upon to speak at district conference. A native of Vermont, he was in his early sixties and obviously not skilled in the art of public speaking—but I’ll never forget his words.
He began by saying he had been having difficulty living an important commandment of the Lord, (Matt. 5:43) Evidently, his boss had been treating him quite harshly and seemed to delight in giving him all the undesirable work in the factory and refusing to consider him for a promotion.
In desperation he went to the Lord in prayer and sought his help in this unbearable situation. He related that as he continued in prayer his bitterness toward his boss began to subside and he actually began to like him!
Finally, after several weeks of continued prayer, this brother, standing erect and firmly grasping the pulpit, said through tear-laden eyes, “You know, brothers and sisters, I really began to love that man.” And from that time on their relationship improved and his life in and out of the factory changed for the better. A powerful message, simple, sincere, and straight from the heart.

One day, Jonalin Y. received an unexpected phone call.
The groundbreaking for the Pago Pago American Samoa Temple was coming up, and area leaders asked 16-year-old Jonalin to share her testimony of the temple during the groundbreaking ceremony. There was only one problem. Jonalin had never been to a temple. She’d always wanted to go to be sealed to her family, but she didn’t know if that would happen anytime soon.
“When they announced that the temple was being built here, I wasn’t as excited or enthusiastic as everyone else,” Jonalin says. “I thought there wasn’t a point to be excited, because my dad is a nonmember and can’t come with us into the temple. A temple wouldn’t change the fact that my family isn’t sealed.”
Because of this, Jonalin was confused about being asked to speak about the temple. It seemed like all her friends were more excited about the temple than she was and couldn’t wait to go there with their entire families. “I just remember thinking, ‘I’m the girl with a nonmember dad. Why me?’” Jonalin says.
Soon Jonalin’s feelings about the temple started to change. “What changed my heart was being picked to share my testimony,” she says. “It was like God’s way of helping me know the temple is a blessing. I knew it was His way to put my doubtful heart at ease.”
“I’ve heard the temple is nice, it’s peaceful,” she says. “I’d really like to feel that for myself. Preparing to share my testimony gave me the opportunity to think about how amazing it will be to have a temple built so close to home. And it gave me hope that one day, according to God’s timing, my family will be sealed in the temple.”
Jonalin does her best to trust in God’s timing instead of her own. “God works in mysterious ways,” she says. “He knew the right time to build a temple in American Samoa, a time when everyone is in despair because of the pandemic, a time when the temple is needed by so many, and a time when he knew of my longing for my family to be sealed. His timing is the perfect time.”

As president of the Barquisimeto (Venezuela) District, I constantly encouraged the members to get involved in genealogical research. I was busy in the work myself, but I was frustrated because some of the records of my parents and grandparents were in my native country of Peru. I tried hard to get information from my relatives there, but because they were not members of the Church, they weren’t too motivated to help me. The greatest problem was that my ancestors originally came from Europe. Not only did I not have the money to travel to Europe, I wasn’t even sure of the region my ancestors came from.
Time passed, and my work called for me to travel to the city of Valencia. It was during a time when I was being strongly tested, not only with respect to my testimony of the Church but also by other trials. In Valencia I learned of an author, Kepa De Derteano y Basterra, who shared my family name. One of the local members, Bob Steelheart, offered to help me locate the author which we did through checking the many books Derteano had published. On our first visit to Derteano’s home, we were unlucky. He and his wife were out. However, his daughter suggested I return later that night.
When we returned, Derteano was home and we had a very special meeting. We soon began to talk of our ancestors. Although we shared the same name, he was a Basque from Spain, and I a Peruvian. He showed me his genealogical records, and I was amazed to see that they went back to the 1500s. Then he really astounded me by telling me what had caused him to gather the records.
I said that I could provide the answer for him. I told him about the Church and the purposes of the vicarious work for the dead in the temples. I read to him 1 Peter 3:18–20 [1 Pet. 3:18–20], which tells of the Savior preaching the gospel in the spirit world. Then I shared with him parts of Doctrine and Covenants 138 [D&C 138], emphasizing the joy the spirits feel when they receive the gospel and their hope that their descendents would remember them since they cannot progress without us.
Derteano was overjoyed at hearing the reason behind his search. Now, sixty-three years old, he finally felt free of his obligation to his granduncle.
He gave me copies of all the birth and marriage records he had and also the names and addresses of other Derteanos in other parts of the world. My joy and feelings overflowed when together we found a common ancestor in the records, and thus I was able to connect my family tree to his.
Derteano gave me one of his books in which he wrote, “To Luis Roberto Derteano and Rosa Liliana, relatives I had been seeking throughout my life. Without a doubt something brought us together. Kepa De Derteano y Basterra.”

In February 2022, Sister Basilisa Nadreke Lotawa was asked by the Sigatoka Branch President (a lay church leader) to serve as a temple and family history specialist. Basilisa’s job was to urge her congregation to lift their spiritual eyes to the light of the temple and to prepare themselves for temple worship. She also had to learn how to do genealogical research then teach her fellow Saints how to identify their deceased ancestors in order to participate by proxy, temple ordinances on their behalf.
Basilisa, a young mother of three, shook her head and laughed. “I knew nothing about doing family history—nothing . . . and I’m too young to do it.” Still, wanting to serve the Lord, she sought the help of an experienced genealogist and was soon able to assist her branch members. With a new conviction and passion for family history, Basilisa expressed: “I am so blessed and honoured to participate in this glorious work. It has been marvelous, tremendous! I have seen miracles and wonders. The Lord provided a way for me to do the work and to help my branch.”
With young children in tow, Basilisa spent many hours at the computer in her chapel helping others to extend the branches of their family trees. She invited them—adults and youth—to find five deceased family members who needed proxy baptisms. Branch members caught her enthusiasm and found two hundred ancestors!
As for Basilisa, there is no doubt that her love for the temple and family history work—even at this busy stage of her life, will continue to bless her. She said: “I feel the same joy doing this [work] that I felt when I served my mission.” She and her branch now keep their eyes fixed firmly on the holy temple.

Imagine this scenario: Your friend hasn’t been herself lately. Usually she’s upbeat and fun, but now she doesn’t want to do things that she used to have fun doing. You were surprised when she decided to stay home rather than go to a dance last Saturday. Every time you see her now she seems sad, withdrawn, and irritable. And this has been going on for a while.
As you think about it, you realize your friend was always a good student, but last week she didn’t turn in her history paper for the third time in a row. It’s like she’s lost her motivation. She says she feels tired all the time but can’t fall asleep at night and mentions how she always feels sad but doesn’t know why. She’s been this way for a while, and you’re worried she might be depressed.

Eight young men in the Hamilton Ward, Stevensville Montana Stake, resolved a dilemma through their own initiative. The weight room at the high school was only open from 7:00 to 8:00 A.M., the time they were in seminary each morning. The bishop of their ward, Robert W. Wischmeier, offered the priests of his quorum the use of an old barn if they wanted to renovate it. “It was a mess back there,” the bishop reported.
The young men jumped at the chance. With volunteer labor and materials from people and businesses in the area, the barn was eventually converted into a weight room and opened for use to other high school students. And the young men can still attend seminary without missing their workouts.

Casey Heussner and Jared were approaching me at the same time, so I knew that something was up. Having been their Blazer patrol leader for several months, I could frequently read their actions.
“Mom,” Jared began. “We want J. J. Baird to start coming to our patrol meetings. We’ve been talking to him, and he really wants to come.”
“I thought you said that J. J. was mean and that in Primary class he always hit you,” I responded.
“He did at first,” Casey replied, “but that was only because he was afraid that we wouldn’t like him. Brother Lamb explained to us about J. J. He told us to be patient with him and be his friend.”
“Will you try once more? Will you call Sister Baird and see if it’s OK with her?” Jared asked.
“I’ll be glad to,” I said.
J. J. and his family had moved into our ward a few months earlier. As soon as I learned that one of the Baird boys was of Blazer age, I had called Sister Baird to make arrangements to get him involved in Scouting. She wasn’t sure that J. J. could keep up with the other Scouts, however, because he was moderately retarded. She felt that it would be better to wait until he became more comfortable in the new ward.
But I had promised the boys, so I decided to try again. Brother John Lamb, the Blazer A Primary teacher, invited me to observe his Primary class the following Sunday.
J. J. responded to John especially well. When John asked him to read a scripture, J. J. went to the front of the class and began fumbling through the words. Brother Lamb helped him over the harder ones. When J. J. had finished reading, Brother Lamb hugged him and said, “You did very well, J.J.”
J. J. earnestly responded, “So did you, John.”
I darted a glance at the other two Blazers. Neither of them snickered; both just waited for the lesson to continue, and I determined to make J. J. a part of the patrol.
I called Sister Baird again. When I assured her that Casey and Jared really wanted J. J. to be their friend, she agreed to give it a try.
Our first patrol meeting with J. J. involved a trip to a mineral show. J. J. picked up a rock that had a fish fossil in it and announced loudly, “Jared, this fish is dead.”
A few museum patrons chuckled. Ignoring them, Jared nodded his head and gently said, while displaying his own specimen, “I know, J. J. This one is too.”
Scouting has a merit program designed especially for boys who are marginally retarded. The requirements aren’t as difficult as the standard ones, enabling “special” Scouts to progress to First Class as their capabilities allow.
One afternoon the Blazers spent the whole meeting teaching J. J. the Scouting salute and the flag ceremony, two requirements for one of the badges he could earn. We were soon to have a court of honor, and they wanted to make sure that J. J. received an award.
The following Sunday we were at a special Scout fireside. When the colors were presented, J. J. stared intently at Jared and Casey. Once the two boys realized that they were being copied, they straightened up and saluted the flag perfectly. J. J. also saluted the flag perfectly.
J. J. knew that the other Scouts were earning merit badges. He was very interested in Casey’s Sports merit badge and wanted one too.
“I don’t think that you can get one, J.J.,” Casey told him, explaining, “You have to participate in two sports and be in a tournament.”
“I can do that, Casey,” J. J. pleaded. “I can run real good.” Casey looked to me for help, and I told J. J. that we would find something that he could do to earn his sports merit badge.
That same weekend I saw a notice in the paper about the Special Olympics and sent for information.
The Chandler City Special Olympics team practiced on Saturday mornings, so we changed our patrol meeting times to fit that schedule. Each week the Blazers met at the park to practice with the other athletes. J. J. participated in the actual events, while the other two boys timed the runners, measured softball throws, and cheered for everyone. Helping J. J. had become a patrol project.
The practices lasted three months. During that time, J. J. participated in the city meet and the county meet. He won first and second places in his two events—the softball throw and the 40-meter run.
Next, J. J. went to the state competition held at Arizona State University in Tempe. Its opening ceremonies included a parade of athletes, where each group passed by the cheering crowd. Then the Special Olympics flame was lit. Later, the athletes and their families were treated to a banquet.
The next morning the competition began. Jared, Casey, and I sat in the bleachers with the Baird family, searching the crowded field for J.J.’s red hair. We spied him just as he was beginning his first of three turns at the running broad jump. From where we sat, it looked like J. J. had made some very good jumps.
His next event was the 100-meter race. Competition for this meet was greater than it had been for the city and county meets. Although J. J. ran as fast as he could, he only placed fifth. Jared and Casey tried to make a big deal about J.J.’s fifth place ribbon, but he wouldn’t cheer up.
“What about the running broad jump,” I asked. “Did he win anything there?”
Brother Baird shook his head. “The judges say that they don’t have any record of his jumps, and no one can recall seeing him do any.”
We had been home about an hour when I answered a knock on our front door. J. J. and his family were standing on my doorstep, grinning. Hanging around J.J.’s neck was a Special Olympics gold medal!
“What happened!” I exclaimed with delight.
Brother Baird explained. “I remembered that I had filmed J.J.’s running broad jump with the video camera. I took it over and showed the footage to the judge. He searched again for J.J.’s score. Not only did he find it but he saw that J. J. had the longest jump of the day!”
“Tell Jared and Casey,” J. J. yelled from the car window as they drove away.
At the next court of honor, J. J. was especially honored. He was awarded several Scout badges, including his Tenderfoot badge and his Sports merit badge. And Jared and Casey had earned their Handicapped-Awareness merit badges.
I overheard the three Blazers congratulate each other after the court of honor. As Casey admired J.J.’s new merit badge, he declared, “Well, J.J., you’re a real Scout now.”
J.J., pointing to Casey’s merit badge, said, “So are you, Casey, so are you.”