Gospel Story Finder

“Mama, look at this one!” Joshua pointed to the Christmas tree. It was tall and skinny, with perfect green needles.
Mama paused and looked at the price tag. She shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.”
Joshua sighed and kept walking. The market was crowded with stalls of food and Christmas trees. It was crowded with families buying trees and ingredients to make delicious treats, like bûche de Noël (Yule log dessert). Mama had brought Joshua with her to buy some food, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off the Christmas trees. Some of the trees were tall and thin. Others were short and round. Joshua even saw one that was just his height!
Mama said they didn’t have a lot of money this year. They probably wouldn’t be able to buy a tree. That made Joshua a little sad. Whenever he went to the marketplace with Mama, he kept looking for the perfect Christmas tree. Maybe, just maybe, they could find a tree to take home.
Joshua held Mama’s hand as they walked to the next row of trees. Joshua gasped. There it was—the perfect tree!
He ran ahead and put a hand on the tree. It wasn’t very green. It was missing clumps of needles. It wasn’t too tall. In fact, it was bent far over, like an old man leaning on a cane.
“Mama, it’s perfect!” Joshua said. “Can we take it home? Please?”
Mama glanced at the price tag. “Well, it’s not too many euros. And I think we can fit it in the car.”
Joshua could hardly wait. He kept playing with the sleeves of his coat as he waited for Mama to pay for the tree. Then a nice man helped them place the tree in the car. When they were finally home, his stepbrother, Matthieu, and Papa helped take the tree from the car. They carried the tree inside and set it in the corner of their front room.
“First, we need to do the lights,” Matthieu said.
It was hard to hang the lights up since the tree was so bent over. Matthieu put the lights on the top. Joshua put them on the bottom. Next they hung the ornaments. Finally Papa helped Joshua place the star on the top.
Papa plugged in the lights and put an arm around Mama. Joshua smiled at the tree. The tree’s lights made the whole room feel warm and cozy. He sat underneath the tree and looked up at the brightly colored ornaments. The tree didn’t look as bent over and sad now. It was beautiful. It was perfect.
“It’s a perfect Jesus tree,” Joshua said.
“What do you mean?” Mama asked.
“Our tree is just like Jesus,” Joshua said. “Jesus was born in a poor, dirty manger. Our tree was poor and sad in the marketplace. But now the tree is beautiful and grand, just like how Jesus became a beautiful king.”
“Our perfect Jesus tree,” Papa said. “I love that.”
Joshua smiled. This was going to be a very special Christmas.

My friends and I decided to give it a try. After a few attempts, we added a significant new component. In addition to becoming more observant ourselves, we shared our selfies with members of our extended families. This helped us to connect with them as we shared our everyday discoveries.
After talking about these “awe walks” for a few weeks, one sister in my ward commented: “Some of us are very involved in family history. This is a good way to supplement our own personal history by talking about our personal insights and observations.”
Another sister, who missed seeing family members during the coronavirus pandemic, said: “During COVID, I felt more alone and isolated than I had in years. Even our children and grandchildren stayed away so that we wouldn’t get the virus. We missed seeing them and talking about their plans. We thought sending these selfies with brief comments could be a good way to express gratitude for our blessings without being preachy.”
Initially, family members didn’t quite know how to respond. Mostly they gave one-word replies like “Nice” or “Interesting.” But as we continued, we received more comments and had conversations with extended family members that otherwise would never have occurred to us.

Benny’s mind raced back to the day of Charlie Roger’s birthday party when they played Pin the Tail on the Donkey. Benny remembered how he had walked in what seemed to be a straight line toward the donkey, but when he pinned the tail on, it was far to the right. Most of the other boys and girls walked far to the right too.
That night Benny had asked his father, “Why do we turn to the right when we think we’re going straight?”
“When we can’t see,” his father told him, “we move to the right or left because our bodies are not perfectly balanced. Most right-handed people tend to turn to the right because the muscles on that side of their bodies are better developed and slightly heavier.
“When we can see, we compensate for this imbalance without thinking. But in a fog, for instance, people often walk in circles when they think they are going straight.”
What’s true of fog must be true of a snowstorm, thought Benny. I’ll have to concentrate on moving to the left and hope we’ll end up at the cabin.
“Come on,” he said to Gordy. “Let’s go on now.”
Benny started out again, moving slightly to his left. After traveling for a while, he felt a tug on the scarf. He realized that Gordy was signaling for him to stop.
“What’s the matter?” Benny called above the noise of the wind.
“You keep going too far to the left!” Gordy exclaimed. “We should have gone straight. Now we’re lost and we’ll never find the cabin.”
“We’ll find it, Gordy,” Benny promised him. “Just trust me, and we’ll be there soon.”
When they started out again, Benny felt Gordy following reluctantly. The snow continued to swirl around them in thick clouds, and all Benny could see was a heavy mist of white. Even when he turned back to encourage Gordy, he could barely see his friend through the whirling snowflakes.
Before long Benny felt a tug on the scarf and turned to hear Gordy call, “We’re lost. What will we do?”
“No, we’re not lost,” Benny answered. “We’re almost there.”
Benny’s voice was strong against the wind and sounded full of confidence, but inside he was beginning to wonder if he hadn’t made a mistake. Yet he knew they had to keep moving.
Benny quickly moved one snowshoe ahead of the other, giving a little tug on the scarf. Gordy followed silently.
Suddenly Benny stopped. “There’s the cabin!” he shouted. “I see a little light over to the right.”
He felt the tension on the scarf relax as Gordy called, “Oh, Benny, I see it too!”
The boys hurried in the direction of the light, stumbling a little from fatigue and cold.
“We were right on top of it!” Benny said as the boys circled around to the front porch.
Benny could hear his father’s voice calling through the storm.
“We’re here on the porch, Dad!” Benny answered.
Swinging a lantern, Benny’s father came around from the back of the cabin.
“I’m certainly glad to see both of you,” he said, holding up the light to see the boys. “I’ve been calling and calling for you ever since the storm started. I didn’t dare move out of sight of the cabin, for I knew it wouldn’t help if I got lost too.”
“Well, I thought we were lost,” said Gordy, “but Benny knew just where to go.”
“You can tell me all about it when you’ve changed your clothes and had some hot chocolate,” Benny’s father said. “The important thing is that you’re here.”
As the boys hurried into the warm cabin, they looked at each other and smiled. “You’re right, Dad,” Benny said. “The important thing is that we’re here.”

When 250 Latter-day Saint young people from all across Sweden returned home from a four-day youth conference at the beginning of this year, they could say they literally “had a ball.” “Bolliaden 1977” was held in Falun, Sweden, and though the name means a sports event of many ball games, they also participated in spiritual and social activities that strengthened not only their muscles but their testimonies.
Sponsored by the Sundsvall District, the conference attracted people from both the Sweden Stockholm and Sweden Göteborg missions, pitting them against each other in several games of basketball and volleyball and joining them together for workshops, service projects, a dance festival, and a testimony meeting.
The conference began in a family home evening with the theme of love and marriage, during which discussions were held and a film, “For Time and All Eternity,” was shown. With 5,000 members in the well-populated country, the conversation often turned to the problems of dating in and out of the Church. The young Swedes reaffirmed their goals of temple marriage, and the evening ended with a dance.
Tuesday was spent mostly in competition and preparation for the next day’s championship games. Both boys and girls’ teams had cheering sections and a prize was awarded to the Sweden Stockholm Mission for the best cheering group. Even after an exhausting day, the youth found the energy to dance that night at the “Grand Ball,” which featured a live dance band.
After the championship tournament Wednesday, service projects included visits to hospitals and homes for the aged. The afternoon brought workshops in genealogy and food storage, which were “much appreciated,” according to program committee chairman Kristina Palm. Later they gathered for dinner and prepared for an eagerly anticipated festival of drama, music, and dancing. Like other youth in the Church, Swedish young people love to perform, and the program included tap-dancing, musical numbers, and skits from the various wards and branches. “The festival was so much fun and the performances were all good,” reported participant Signhild Arnegard.
But the best was yet to come. As the conference drew to a close, a testimony meeting was held and “there was a long line, because we all wanted to bear our testimonies,” said Kristina. “One could feel the strong spirit that was present,” added Signhild. “I am so thankful to my Heavenly Father that I may live in these days when the gospel has been restored to earth.”
Executive secretary in the Sundsvall District, Eric Martinsson, summed up the feelings of the organizers of “Bolliaden” when he said, “We are so deeply thankful to the Lord that everything went so well and that ‘Bolliaden’ was such a success for our district. Our reward came as we listened to grateful young people bearing their testimonies. These wonderful young people are the future of the Church.”

When I was 15, my elder sister Swarupa met a couple from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints serving as missionaries in Rajahmundry, India, and soon she was taking the missionary discussions. Although the name of the Church seemed strange to me and I didn’t understand or speak much English, I listened in on some of the discussions. I felt good about the teachings, and eventually the two of us were baptized. Later my other sister and my brother were also baptized.

Renewed commitment is evident everywhere. In Humacao, branch president Angel Rodríquez-Negrón says, “We want to make the Humacao Branch as close to heaven as possible. This desire to succeed is in the hearts and minds of the people. We need to follow the handbook. It’s all there.”
Members of this small but enthusiastic branch planned an open house featuring nine booths, each showing a different facet of the gospel. Only one visitor came, but members were not discouraged.
“We grew so much by reviewing the basic doctrine and we had so much fun that it really drew us together,” says Maritza Reyes. “We kept our good attitude, and we used our booths later at our branch picnic, where many people saw them.”

Grandma was 75 years old when she initiated a “12 days of Christmas” secret Santa project with her Sunday School class of 14-year-olds. “How would you like to do something nice for someone?” she asked. Each person in the class, including Grandma, would secretly take treats to Brother Johnson, who had recently lost his wife. “Sometimes,” Grandma had said, “people may feel alone and need service even if they are not poor.”
Brother Johnson’s house was set far back from the road, and there was a wrought iron fence surrounding the property. On the night of her first turn, Grandma parked down the street and stealthily crept up to the door. She placed the package, rang the bell, and suddenly realized she couldn’t run fast enough to get away. She quickly crouched behind the car and held her breath. Brother Johnson came to the door, picked up the package, and looked around.
He stepped out into the night to get a better look and came up to the car. Grandma slumped down behind the bumper, scarcely breathing. Brother Johnson gave up the search and went back into the house. Grandma was safe this time.
On the night of her second turn, she found the gates locked. Somewhat relieved that she wouldn’t need to crouch behind the car again, she hung the gift on the gate and returned home.
On the night of her third visit, we received a call. “Please,” she said, “would you come and help me deliver my secret Santa gift?” We accepted and started toward the house with the gift. We started to laugh when we saw how challenging this house was to approach.
In church that Sunday, Brother Johnson expressed his gratitude that the gifts had made him feel the love of the ward on his first Christmas alone. Grandma will always be our example of compassion and charity and has taught us that you’re never too old to serve.

My father was called to preside over the East German Mission at the outbreak of World War II. At this time, he was also drafted into the German army. He directed the affairs of the mission from the battlefield through his two counselors.
One Sabbath before Christmas, he felt very lonely, stationed in Denmark away from his family, and wanted to worship God in sacrament meeting. He didn’t know whether a Church branch existed in Esbjerg, but he assumed there might be one somewhere in the city. He didn’t speak the language, but, dressed in his full military uniform, he hummed the tune of a favorite hymn as he walked on a city street. He hoped he would attract someone’s attention who could lead him to the Church.
Sure enough, as a little girl passed my father, she asked him in Danish, “Mormon?” and, seeing him nod his head, she led him to the branch meetinghouse.
My father risked his life, realizing that if he were discovered by Nazi officials among enemy people in their worship services, he could face a charge of treason, punishable by death. He also took a risk by surrendering his weapon belt to the branch president at the door and by accepting an invitation to deliver a Christmas message during sacrament meeting in another enemy tongue—English.
A young Danish girl who was a member of the branch wrote to my mother about the strange experience of having an enemy soldier in their midst:
Last night I visited the branch. There was a German there, your husband. Even though many Danish people hate Germans, we learned to love this man. He spoke to the congregation in English, and William Orum Peterson translated. Your husband related how only a month ago, he had lost everything he had, and the mission home had been destroyed. But he was thankful that his wife and children were safe. He then gave testimony of the truthfulness of the Church. It was wonderful to see a man in the uniform we hated speak with so much love for us. He was happy to be among the Saints.

I scanned my planning sheet and wondered how my companion and I were ever going to do it. How could I have forgotten that we had missionary exchanges this week? Poland had been newly opened for missionary work, and most of the members were young in age and in their knowledge of the gospel. The members of this small branch were so excited to learn, and we, as missionaries, were doing our best to teach them.
Sunday meetings had just ended. Small groups socialized around the apartment where we met, as I reviewed our plans for the coming week. We had several discussions already scheduled—something rare at that time—and they all seemed to be set for one day. I had agreed we would take a member with us.
I remembered back to a month ago when Kasha, a member with cerebral palsy, approached me so hopefully. She wore a big grin as she walked over on her crutches.
“Sister McGregor, would you please take me out to do missionary work for a day?” she had asked.
I adored Kasha and would have done anything for her, but I wondered how we would get around. No missionaries or members had cars, so our main mode of transportation would be our feet or the bus. If walking was painful for her, wouldn’t climbing bus stairs all day be worse? But there she stood, waiting for a reply. I had picked a date out of the air. The day fell in our busy week, and I desperately wanted to change it.
I picked my way over to Kasha and showed her our schedule. Her eyes glowed with excitement. I explained to her how all these appointments were scattered throughout the city and asked her how we were going to get around. She looked at me as if I had forgotten something obvious and explained that the bus was usually a pretty good way. I quickly decided that if she wasn’t worried about it, then I shouldn’t be either—but I wasn’t entirely convinced.
We picked her up in the morning and practically hoisted her onto the bus while the driver glared at us for slowing him up. There were no seats, so on our way to our first appointment, we supported Kasha on the swaying bus. Getting off wasn’t much better, and walking was slow and tedious over broken sidewalks and cobblestones. As we sat through our first discussion, Kasha taught two young women with love, testimony, and the Spirit. She was an incredible missionary.
Obstacles other than cobblestones arose as the day continued. Bus drivers had agreed to strike that day, and around noon buses, parked end to end, began to fill the streets of the city. The bus drivers refused to move them.
We walked slowly from place to place, and Kasha did her best to be cheerful. We caught taxis on the edges of the city when we could, and my companion and I physically supported her as much as she would let us.
It was getting late as we inched up the walk to Kasha’s apartment after the long day. Our discussions had been wonderful, but I was looking forward to bed. Kasha suddenly stopped on the walk, forcing me to stop also.
“Oh no!” my mind raced. “I’m going to have to carry her!”
“I’m not tired, Sister McGregor,” Kasha said. “At the end of every single day I’m tired and hurting. I’m usually in bed by now. But today, walking all over the city doing the Lord’s work, I feel like I could keep going and going.” She continued her labored walk home.
I learned a great lesson walking to Kasha’s apartment that night. When we are doing the Lord’s work, He will assist us no matter our weaknesses or disabilities. My disabilities are not the same as Kasha’s, but when I worry that I’m not quite up to what the Lord wants me to do, I think about Kasha.
She had all she needed on her day of missionary work and a little more.

When I was a Beehive, I always went to church on Sundays, but I didn’t always go to Mutual. I had a good friend my own age, but I felt like I didn’t really fit in with the older girls, especially at combined Young Women activities. On top of that, I was frequently busy with homework and other responsibilities. Sometimes I would go for several weeks without attending Mutual.
Then one day I got a card in the mail. It was from Danielle, the Laurel class president. I opened the card and read the note inside. It said:
Dear Diane,
I hope you’re doing well. You are an amazing girl, and I’ve had so much fun getting to know you at camp and at church. I’ve missed seeing you at Young Women activities. I hope you will be able to come to more activities soon. You have so much to share. Good luck with everything!
Love, Danielle
Wow. One of the other girls—a Laurel, no less—actually cared that I hadn’t been going to Mutual. I was a little embarrassed that she had taken the trouble to write me a note, but more than that, I was grateful that she had shown me Christlike love in such a thoughtful way. Danielle was trying to help me realize that I could contribute something to Mutual activities and that she was truly interested in getting to know me.
It had an effect on me. I started going to activities more frequently—and I started enjoying them too. As I got to know the other girls, we learned more about each other and became friends. I learned to enjoy spending time with people who have different interests than I have as we learned about the gospel, served others, and participated in lots of fun activities together.
Years later, when I was called to be the Laurel class president, I remembered Danielle’s example and tried to help everyone feel welcome and included. I know that reaching out to others can be difficult, especially if you don’t know them very well. However, I also know that extending a hand of friendship can be exactly what someone else needs to feel valued and included.

What are you making?” Cassie asked her older brother as he opened the oven door.
“Some cookies for the baseball game. I figure, since we just moved here, it wouldn’t hurt to go the extra mile to get to know the kids,” Chris explained.
“I’m going to make something too!”
“What are you going to make?”
Cassie thought a bit before a smile spread across her face. “It’s a secret, but I’ll give you a hint—it starts with F.”
Chris grinned. “So what ingredients do you need for your secret recipe?”
“Ingredients?”
“The things you use to make your recipe,” Chris explained. “Ingredients are very important. Use the wrong ones, and your recipe won’t turn out. Good luck.” He grabbed his mitt and the plate of cookies, then ran out the door.
Cassie got the plastic bucket out from under the sink. “Since I’m making an F recipe, I’ll need things that start with F,” she reasoned. She carried the bucket outside, where her mother was weeding.
“Flowers!” Cassie exclaimed, “Can I have some?”
“You may have all the dandelions you want,” her mother replied, gazing at their lawn in exasperation. “Pick away.”
It wasn’t long before the bottom of Cassie’s bucket was covered with yellow flowers. “I’m making an important recipe,” she told her mother. “Can I go down the street?”
“Yes, but don’t leave the block. You aren’t used to this neighborhood yet, and I don’t want you to get lost. I’ll keep an eye on you from the yard.”
Cassie carried her bucket out the gate. She still needed more ingredients for her recipe.
“Who are you, and what are you doing?” someone asked.
Cassie looked up to see a girl about her age looking at her.
“I’m Cassie, and I’m making a recipe. I need ingredients that start with the letter F.”
“My name is Rachel. I live next door. How about a flamingo? We have a plastic one in our front yard.”
“Great!” Cassie exclaimed. Soon a plastic flamingo was sticking out of her pail. She walked down the street with Rachel, the pink head bobbing with their steps.
“What are you doing?” said a voice. They turned to see a boy on a bicycle.
“This is Cassie,” Rachel told him. “She’s making a letter-F recipe. We have flowers and a flamingo for ingredients. Can you think of anything else, Steven?”
“Frogs! Come with me to the pond. There are lots of frogs there.”
He walked along with them, pushing his bike, to the pond near the corner.
While they were catching frogs and putting them into the bucket, three more kids came up. Rachel introduced them as Benjamin, Eric, and Kathryn. They seemed happy to meet Cassie and were eager to help with the recipe.
“Flowers, frogs, and a flamingo,” Eric said. “How about adding french fries? I have a couple in my pocket.” He tossed them into the bucket.
“What else?” Cassie asked.
“Ferns? Kathryn shouted, plucking some that grew near the pond. “But I think we’ll have to forget about the frogs. They’ve all jumped out.”
“Ferns, flamingo, flowers, french fries—can you think of anything else?” Cassie asked.
“I have a toy fire engine,” Benjamin said. “Let’s go to my house and get it.”
They followed him home, looking like a small parade. The fire engine went into the bucket, nearly filling it.
“Now come to my house,” Cassie said. “We can finish the recipe there.”
Her mother met them at the gate. “Cassie, what are you doing, and who are these children with you?”
“We’re making a recipe,” Cassie explained. “We need a few more ingredients, but we don’t know what.”
Her mother smiled. “Well, how about a snack? There are some bananas in the kitchen.”
“Fruit? Kathryn declared. “That’s perfect!”
All the children followed Carrie into the kitchen. Soon they came back outside with a bunch of bananas nestled among the other things in the bucket. Then they sat on the porch and ate the bananas.
Cassie’s mother looked in the bucket, then at her daughter. “That’s a rather strange recipe,” she remarked. “I’ve never seen such unusual ingredients. What are you making?”
Cassie looked at her mother and smiled. “Friends,” she said.

Six years ago our family was traveling at night just outside the city of Oxford. As is often the case with young children, we needed to stop, so we found a service station with an array of shops and restaurants. With precision, we filed out of the car, visited the services, and filed back in, resuming our journey.
Fifteen minutes later our eldest son asked a significant question: “Where is Jasper?” Jasper sits on his own at the back of the car. We assumed he had fallen asleep or was hiding or playing a trick on us.
As his brother inspected the back of the car more closely, we discovered our five-year-old son was not there. Our hearts filled with dread. As we made our way back to the service station, we pleaded with Heavenly Father that Jasper would be kept safe. We called the police and informed them of the situation.
When we anxiously arrived, more than 40 minutes later, we found two police vehicles in the car park, lights flashing. Inside one of them was Jasper, playing with the buttons. I will never forget the joy we felt in being reunited with him.
As this incident with Jasper has played in my mind over the years, I have reflected on the divine identity and importance of God’s children, the redemptive power of Jesus Christ, and the perfect love of a Father in Heaven, who knows you and me. I hope to bear witness of these truths today.
For the record, Jasper is witty, affectionate, intelligent, and rambunctious. But the key to this story is he is mine. He is my son, and I love him more than he will ever know. If an imperfect, earthly father feels this way about his child, can you imagine how a perfect, glorified, loving Heavenly Father feels about you?

Laura was excited to start kindergarten. She couldn’t wait to go to school with her big brother, Sam. Sam was going to be in third grade.
A few weeks before school started, Mom and Dad talked to Sam and Laura. “Laura,” Dad said, “the schools have made a change. Kindergarteners will go to their own school now.”
Laura chewed on her lip. “Can I still ride the bus with Sam?”
Mom shook her head. “I’m sorry, Laura, but your school is on the other side of town. You’ll ride a different bus.”
Laura tried to be brave, but her lower lip trembled. How could she go to school without her big brother? She and Sam were best friends.
Sam put his arm around Laura’s shoulder. “It’ll be all right,” he said.
That night Sam came into Laura’s room. “Let’s say a special prayer,” he said.
Sam and Laura knelt down.
“Heavenly Father,” Sam prayed, “please bless Laura that she will feel happy about starting school. Help her learn things and make new friends.” Sam closed the prayer in the name of Jesus Christ.
Laura threw her arms around Sam’s neck. She felt better already.
When it came time to start school, Laura was still a little nervous, but she thought about Sam’s prayer. That morning, Dad gave Laura a blessing.
Laura waved goodbye to Mom, Dad, and Sam. She climbed onto the school bus. She knew Heavenly Father would help her.

Elder Daniel Cottam, of the Italy Rome Mission, said, “So I’m serving as one of the older missionaries in my group. I’m 22 right now, 20 when I started the mission. That is due to a few reasons. Number one, the band of course; I couldn’t go leaving them alone and miss out on all the fun. Another reason is that I am extremely shy, so a mission for me wasn’t always a guarantee in my mind. I also had very long hair and a beard and didn’t want to give them up; they were very much part of who I was and made me feel different and look cool. But the decision to serve a mission was largely thanks to my family, their wonderful examples and encouragement. Always being in the Church, I suppose I’ve never had a huge conversion experience. All the lessons at Church, things I’d heard from my parents over the years, my own studies and prayers allowed me to really put my trust in the Lord, put the band on hold, have my hair cut and overcome my social awkwardness. A test of faith, but worth it! The mission experience has been amazing! I have learnt and grown so much and come to a true and firm knowledge of the gospel and of my Saviour, so many blessings. If we had stayed as a band putting off the mission, I don’t think the band would have been quite so successful. Now we have met so many people who already love the music we have made and are excited for when we get back, a nice side blessing of building up the fan base all over the world!”

Reading the conversion accounts can’t help but touch you. How can anyone remain unexcited as he follows Brother John Staley’s account of when he first heard about the Church after being a Catholic priest for twenty-five years: “Never having heard that term before, I had to ask her, ‘What is a Latter-day Saint?’ She replied, ‘I’m one, a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. …’
“From that point our discussions in theology veered sharply away from Catholicism as she adroitly led me into a new search by quoting from Lorenzo Snow, a past president of her Church: ‘As man is, God once was; as God is, man may become.’ My spring was unsprung! President Snow had outdistanced Tellhard by a spiritual light-year! His was the most profound set of words I had heard in my life—and all my adult years had been spent studying theology, philosophy, and sociology!
“… What a vision this opened! What excitement shook me! This struck at the heart of my difficulties as a Catholic theologian and sociologist. Snow’s statement went further than anything I had dreamed. I had considered Tellhard as one of the great contemporary thinkers, and here in twelve short words was a vision that eclipsed his farthest reach.”

Just before my family was ready to leave for sacrament meeting, I got my finger stuck inside the end of a baseball bat. I pulled and pulled, but it would not come out. When my mom tried to get it out, it began to hurt and swell. I did not want to pull anymore. We decided to say a prayer and ask for Heavenly Father’s help. Right after we prayed, my mom had an idea. She poured some cooking oil on my finger. Finally, after some effort it popped out, and we were able to make it to church on time. I know that Heavenly Father answers our prayers.

A couple of years ago, my grandson Christian was turning eight and planning his baptismal service with great anticipation. He asked his mother if I could be one of the speakers and share my conversion story. When I asked him why he wanted me to do that, he replied, “Grandma, that is so important. Do you realize that if you hadn’t accepted the gospel, I wouldn’t be getting baptized? I wouldn’t even be who I am.”

I don’t know if missionaries realize the far-reaching impact of their work. In my own family, the blessings of the gospel have now touched four generations. Didn’t President Gordon B. Hinckley say that “when we save a girl, we save generations”? I got married in the temple and have eight children. They are all faithful members of the Church, endowed in the temple. Six of them are now married and have their own children. At present there are 34 of us. And that is not all. Both my husband and I served missions, and our two sons and three of our six daughters have also served missions. Collectively we have helped hundreds embrace the gospel in many countries. Some of those converts and their children have also served missions.

Missionary work is the lifeblood of the Church. There is no greater work, no more important work. It blesses the lives of all those who participate in it. It will continue blessing future generations.

During a visiting teaching visit, Martha, a member of our ward, told my wife and her companion never to come back again. She had decided to stop coming to church. One of the visiting teachers asked Martha if they could sing a hymn together this one last time, and she agreed. As they sang, something special happened. Little by little, the Spirit began to fill the room. Each of them felt it. Martha’s heart began to soften. With her eyes filled with tears, she expressed to her visiting teachers the feelings of her heart. At that moment, she realized that she knew that the gospel was true. She now thanked her visiting teachers and expressed a desire for them to return. From that day forward, she received them with joy.

Martha began to attend church with her young daughter. For years they attended regularly, with Martha never losing hope that her husband might eventually choose to join them. At last the day came when the Lord touched his heart, and he began to attend with them, as did their other daughter soon thereafter. This family began to feel the true joy that comes from having gospel blessings in their home. Martha has since served faithfully as our ward Relief Society president, and her husband has served well in several callings within the stake. All this began with the singing of a hymn, a small and simple thing that touched Martha’s heart.

Throughout her life, our youngest daughter, Joéll, has been a good influence on our family. She was the one who reminded us to have family prayer. She was the one who tried to get us excited about family home evening. She devised treasure hunts; she fixed treats; she would do anything to try to get the family excited about having family home evening. Occasionally her older brothers resisted, but even as they were resisting, there was a respect for what she was trying to do.

This kind of family closeness can continue even after you grow up and leave home. While my wife and I were on our mission, our married children did a lot to support us. They stuck together and held monthly family home evenings. They published a monthly family letter that we all sent back and forth. None of them ever complained about our absence, and it was evident that their testimonies brought them closer together as siblings and to us.

Not even death should separate loving family members for long. The First Presidency and the Council of the Twelve Apostles issued a proclamation to the world concerning families. Part of it states: “The divine plan of happiness enables family relationships to [continue] beyond the grave. Sacred ordinances and covenants available in holy temples make it possible for individuals to return to the presence of God and for families to be united eternally.”

Last November, I had the privilege of being invited—along with President Henry B. Eyring and Bishop Gérald Caussé—to attend a colloquium on marriage and family at the Vatican in Rome, Italy. In attendance were religious representatives from 14 different faiths and from six of the seven continents, all of whom had been invited to express their beliefs on what is happening to the family in today’s world.
Pope Francis opened the first session of the assembly with this statement: “We now live in a culture of the temporary, in which more and more people are simply giving up on marriage as a public commitment. This revolution in manners and morals has often flown the flag of freedom, but in fact it has brought spiritual and material devastation to countless human beings, especially the poorest and most vulnerable. … It is always they who suffer the most in this crisis.”1
In referring to those of the rising generation, he said it is important that they “do not give themselves over to the poisonous [mentality] of the temporary, but rather be revolutionaries with the courage to seek true and lasting love, going against the common pattern”; this must be done.2
This was followed by three days of presentation and discussion with religious leaders addressing the subject of marriage between a man and a woman. As I listened to the widest imaginable variety of worldwide religious leaders, I heard them agree completely with each other and express support for one another’s beliefs on the sanctity of the institution of marriage and of the importance of families as the basic unit of society. I felt a powerful sense of commonality and unity with them.
There were many who saw and expressed this unity, and they did so in a variety of ways. One of my favorites was when a Muslim scholar from Iran quoted two paragraphs verbatim from our very own proclamation on the family.
During the colloquium, I observed that when various faiths and denominations and religions are united on marriage and family, they are also united on the values and loyalty and commitment which are naturally associated with family units. It was remarkable for me to see how marriage and family-centered priorities cut across and superseded any political, economic, or religious differences. When it comes to love of spouse and hopes, worries, and dreams for children, we are all the same.
It was marvelous to be in meetings with worldwide presenters as they universally addressed their feelings of the importance of marriage between a man and a woman. Each of their addresses was followed by testimonies from other religious leaders. President Henry B. Eyring gave a final testimony at the colloquium. He bore powerful witness to the beauty of a committed marriage and to our belief in the promised blessing of eternal families.
President Eyring’s testimony was a fitting benediction to those three special days.