Gospel Story Finder

Thomas Giles, a Welsh convert who joined the Church in 1844, also suffered much in his lifetime. He was a miner, and while he was digging coal in the mine, a large piece of coal hit him on the head and inflicted a wound nine inches long. The doctor who examined him said the injured man would not live longer than 24 hours. But then the elders came and administered to him. He was promised that he would get well, and that “even if he would never see again, he would live to do much good in the Church.” Brother Giles did indeed live but was blind the rest of his life. Within a month of his injury, “he was out traveling through the country attending to his ecclesiastical duties.”
In 1856 Brother Giles and his family immigrated to Utah, but before he left his homeland, the Welsh Saints presented him with a harp, which he learned to play skillfully. At Council Bluffs he joined a handcart company and headed west. “Though blind he pulled a handcart from Council Bluffs to Salt Lake City.” While crossing the plains his wife and two children died. “His sorrow was great and his heart almost broken, but his faith did not fail him. In the midst of his grief he said as did one of old, ‘The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away; blessed be the name of the Lord.’” When Brother Giles arrived in Salt Lake City, President Brigham Young, who had heard his story, loaned Brother Giles a valuable harp until his own arrived from Wales. Brother Giles “traveled from settlement to settlement in Utah, … gladdening the hearts of the people with his sweet music.”

by Ed Eaton
The huge Seattle Coliseum, built for the 1962 World’s Fair, proved too small for the 12-stake youth dance festival held there last spring. Nearly 2,400 young men and women from 96 wards filled the first several rows of the 14,000-seat coliseum as they awaited their turns to perform a variety of modern, folk, and conventional dances. The rest of the arena was packed with parents and friends who had first call on the free tickets.
When coordinator Susan Kinghorn of the Redmond Washington Stake and several ward specialists began planning the event, they anticipated about 800 youth, the number who had participated the last time such a large festival had been planned. But by opening night the number had swollen to 2,400 excited participants.
Elder James M. Paramore of the First Quorum of the Seventy addressed the youth during the first—and final—combined rehearsal. He spoke with them about personal commitment and pointed to the dedication President Kimball demonstrates in all he does.
“He decided early that his first commitment would be to the Lord,” said Elder Paramore. “There are no shortcuts.”
He also stressed President Kimball’s commitment to people, referring to the prophet’s frequent visits to the widows and the ill and the many letters he writes personally thanking people, “lifting them.”
“Commitment,” said Elder Paramore, “is doing what everyone else could do but doesn’t.”
Following the three-hour performance that night, Elder Paramore left his seat in the audience to join, arm-in-arm, with the youth as they sang, “I Am a Child of God.” It was an electric moment in the lives of the 14,000 members of the Church and their friends in the Seattle Coliseum.
Participating in the program were dancers from the Bellevue, Bremerton, Everett, Lynnwood, Federal Way, Puyallup, Mount Vernon, Redmond, Renton, Seattle, Seattle North, and Tacoma stakes in Washington.

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints has blessed the lives of Russians since at least 1895. In that year, Johan and Alma Lindelof were baptized in St. Petersburg. Years earlier, Brother Lindelof had heard the gospel preached in his native Finland when a missionary taught and baptized his mother. Later, Johan, a skilled goldsmith, and his wife, Alma, moved to Russia. Sixteen years later, Elder August Hoglund was sent to Russia in response to letters the Lindelofs had written to the Scandinavian Mission president. They were baptized in June 1895 in the Neva River in St. Petersburg.
After joining the Church, the Lindelofs were visited occasionally by missionaries. By 1903, when Elder Francis M. Lyman of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles offered two prayers of dedication in Russia, one in St. Petersburg and one in Moscow, two of the Lindelof children had also been baptized. Many felt the Lindelof family would play a prominent role in bringing the gospel to Russia. Had it not been for the Bolshevik Revolution in 1917, that expectation might have been realized.
In 1918, in an apparent attempt to dispossess the wealthy Lindelofs, the family was imprisoned in a labor camp, their home ravaged and their property confiscated. Of the seven children, only one son and one daughter survived. Two daughters are known to have died in exile. The fate of the other three children is unknown.1

Thelma Taylor was happy with her calling at her local family history center in Mesa, Arizona, USA. For 17 years she assisted, guided, and supported men and women in their quests to find their ancestors. A move to Coolidge, Arizona, in 2005, however, put 40 miles (64 km) between her and the family history center whose patrons she had faithfully served.

Nearly blind and unable to drive, the 83-year-old woman feared her inability to travel to Mesa would mean the end of her family history service. Then a thoughtful leader offered a solution to this problem in the form of a Church-service mission Sister Taylor could perform from home. Since 2006 she has served as a FamilySearch Support missionary for the Church, using her home computer to help people do their family history work.

“It has blessed me beyond my ability to count all the blessings,” she says of her experience. “I’ve grown so much in that area in family history and in my ability to serve.”

Though her eyesight is poor, Sister Taylor—who now supports six fellow missionaries—can increase the font size on her computer enough to read patrons’ e-mails and respond to their questions.

Sister Taylor didn’t learn how to operate a computer until she was 66 years old, but she says it is a beneficial, useful skill. “Your age doesn’t matter,” she said. “You’re not too old to learn how to use a computer.”

“This is an ideal situation for me because I can continue to learn and serve,” Sister Taylor said. She said her Church-service mission has helped her to feel useful at an age when her options are limited.

The work is fulfilling and contagious. “The spirit of this work gets into you and doesn’t turn you loose,” Sister Taylor said. “No matter your age, you can be of real service as a FamilySearch Support missionary.”

After another busy week, Elder Hutchinson, from the Merthyr Tydfil Stake, reported “I spent ten hours doing a service project in my stake, for the charity Save The Children. This meant I helped collect, load and unload lots of food items on to and off of a van ready to put into food parcels for children that had free school meals over half term. My body ached after, but it was worth it. I was physically exhausted, but it is always good to do a service project like this and to learn a little about how the Saviour served.”

I remember distinctly the time and place I found my spiritual second wind, my more sure witness of the Book of Mormon. I was in Scotland in my first assignment as a missionary in a little town called Barrhead just outside of Glasgow. I had been challenged by a Scotsman asking me how I knew the Book of Mormon was true. It was at that point I realized I had never received a sure witness or even put the book to the test as Moroni challenges us in Moroni 10:3–5. You first have to have a sincere desire to read the Book of Mormon; then you study and ponder the message with real intent and pray in faith, asking the Lord if it is true—something I had not yet done.
It was later one evening as I was kneeling by my bed in humble prayer that I received a feeling so powerful, so sweet, and so warm that it was as if I had just reached the crest of a hill in my spiritual race for truth and understanding. The Holy Ghost bore witness to my soul that the Book of Mormon was true. Like my physical second wind, no one can tell me that I imagined this witness. It was real! I knew it, and no one could take it away from me. From that point on, I had no problem bearing testimony of the Book of Mormon, living prophets, and the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. I could never deny it!

Whenever he was in New England, Brigham was anxious to visit and teach his many relatives there. In October, after he had returned to Kirtland, his cousin Willard Richards, who had read the Book of Mormon, visited him:
“I invited him to make his home at my house, which he did, and investigated thoroughly the principles and doctrines set forth by the Prophet and Elders of the Church. Dec. 31st, he requested baptism at my hands, which ordinance I administered to him in the presence of Elder Heber C. Kimball and others, who had spent the afternoon in cutting the ice to prepare for the ceremony.”16

Another way of saying what Alma taught came from an experience one of the General Authorities shared. He related how he spoke with a sister he knows who years earlier went through a divorce. She approached him to thank him for the counsel he gave her during her darkest hours. She reminded him what he had told her: “Now sister, don’t lose your eternal perspective. Always keep an eternal perspective.” She said that truth became her pillar of strength.

The lady from Waukegan elbowed her way through the crowd up to the booth by the Kodak display.
“Can I buy film here?” she asked.
“No, ma’am, but we do have a film shop just across from the Mormon pavilion.”
It was July 24, Pioneer Festival Day at Expo ’74 in Spokane, Washington, and not only was the Book of Mormon Pavilion useful as a convenient focal point when giving directions, but the Church-sponsored activities and programs were the center of a week’s worth of excellent entertainment and testimony-inspiring experiences.
That week at the world’s fair there were jugglers and a carver of totem poles from Alberta, a metal-drum band from Latin America performing on the platform over the river, a comedy show starring Jack Benny, and many more professional acts and entertainers. But the real stars of “Mormon Week” were the 2,000-plus colorfully clad young dancers, singers, and performers from more than 21 stakes of the Church in the West and the Northwest.
They were stars not only as they whirled about in the spotlight or sang in chorus on stage, but their faces also shone with the happy light within them as they rehearsed for long, hot hours in the Spokane Coliseum, sat in friendly groups talking and resting, visited the international displays at the fair, and soaked weary feet in the river that runs through the fairgrounds. They sensed themselves being watched 24 hours a day and had long ago resolved to be the kind of representatives the Church would be proud of. They succeeded.
“We’re always being watched,” said a young man from the Lewiston Idaho Stake, “especially if we make it a point to tell people we’re Mormons. And we do. So we learn to always remember that to our friends, not only do we represent the Church, we are the Church.”
Representing the Church well is a habit they’ve formed over all the years of their lives, and it was superbly demonstrated during the months of preparation that went into the program they presented at Expo. Active young people—they hold jobs, serve the community, and are busy and well-liked at their high schools—they found that practices had to be scheduled at 6:30 in the morning or 9:30 at night in order not to conflict with their other responsibilities. Many cut down on their summer earnings because of their active support of the dance festival. But that didn’t seem to be too important to them.
Denise Crump of the Spokane Washington Stake summed up their feelings when she said, “Just get involved. Some kids say they don’t have time to do it. But they should just take the time. It’s worth it.” And a chorus of her friends voiced their agreement.
Some had to drive for hours to attend rehearsals, but when you agree with Pat Ream of the Coeur D’Alene Idaho Stake (“The Church is great! It’s just great!”), any sacrifice seems worth it. And Pat’s story is a special one.
“The dance festival had a lot to do with my conversion,” she said. “I was a dancer before I was a member. I was able to get a lot closer to the kids than I ever had before, and it really helped in my decision to join the Church. I’ve been a member for one year, four months, and 24 days!”
Practices went on for months in the individual stakes, with leaders traveling from one group to the other to make sure that all of them were doing the dances the same way. Months and months of man-hours were involved. And it all came together on Tuesday morning, July 23.
The 2,000 young people met with Johnny Whitaker, the D’s, the Grandland Singers, and the leaders, and they took a million pieces of puzzle and created a beautiful, finished product. They rehearsed all day.
“And it worked,” said Bruce Nelson of the Spokane Stake. “One of the greatest experiences happened when we performed for the first time on Tuesday evening. Everything came off like it was planned. It was really fantastic! The theme of the whole thing was ‘Catch a Happy Feeling!’ And we caught it!” And so did those who came to observe. Favorable comments were heard on every side, and the young performers’ enthusiasm grew as the 24th and their second performance approached.
They were jubilant over their success, but the next morning their cups ran over. President Spencer W. Kimball was attending the fair, and he called a special devotional for their benefit. They gathered in the coliseum as early as their dance-weary bodies allowed them. They sat on the floor, in the bleachers, and anywhere they could find a space, all straining to see the prophet. They listened. He counseled.
“Today make up your minds,” he said. “You don’t wait until next Sunday and say, shall I go to priesthood meeting? You decide today. You don’t wait until you get a call from the Brethren to go on a mission. You start to save money now; you start today. You don’t wait until marriage is facing you, and you have made your proposal and decided the date, to decide where you are going to be married. That is all present in your minds from the time you are little. … Wouldn’t it be a great loss of time if every Sunday you had to say, shall I or shall I not go to sacrament meeting today? Shall we or shall we not have home evening today? What a lot of wasted effort! Settle it once and for all. I am going to go on a mission; I am going to be worthy to go on a mission. I am going to get the degree that I desire. I am going to live the commandments of the Lord and live for the glorious light.”
“I think my greatest thrill in being here,” responded Brenda Barrus of the Coeur D’Alene Idaho Stake, “was being around President Kimball. He portrays the spirit of it all.” And Pat Ream chimed in: “I love him.”
After the devotional some of the young people had more rehearsing to do because they had been asked to present a special number at a program honoring the Mormons that was held in the amphitheatre on the fairgrounds. And then the afternoon was theirs to use for relaxing, visiting the fair, making friends, and talking to people about the Church.
And at some point in the day they all came, in small groups and large groups, singly or in couples, to the golden structure built out over the Spokane River. Here they met another group of young Mormons who were taking part in the activities at the fair. They were not there to dance or sing; as a matter of fact, they came when the fair was opened in May and will serve there until it concludes this month. They are the 24 elders of the Washington Mission who teach and testify two-by-two in four-hour shifts at the Book of Mormon Pavilion. Theirs is a more serious assignment, but it is carried out with all the joy that comes from serving the Lord full-time.
“There are three groups of elders, eight in each group,” explained Elder John Barlow of Visalia, California. “The morning shift goes from 10:00 to 2:00. Then another group of elders will work from 2:00 to 6:00, and then another from 6:00 to 10:00. After we’re through with our shift here at the pavilion, we go out and do regular missionary work. We all have areas and wards we are assigned to, but for part of each day we have been called by the Lord through our mission president to labor here.”
All of the people who go through the pavilion are given cards to fill out. On those cards is a place for questions and a box to check if they are interested in hearing more about the Church. The missionaries have been able to contact many interested people in the area this way and also send some referrals to other missions.
Some weeks the ratio of members to nonmembers who visit the pavilion is very high, and some weeks there are very few members in the lines of interested fair-goers. On July 24, Pioneer Festival Day, the elder waiting in front of the pavilion asked the crowd, “How many of you are Mormons? Raise your hands.” Many hands went up.
One of the members from North Dakota who was waiting at the front of the line said, “Elder, you should be asking who the non-Mormons are.”
“Okay,” said the agreeable young missionary. “How many of you are not Mormons?”
Again many hands were seen waving in the air.
“Go to it, elder,” encouraged the man who had made the suggestion.
And that’s exactly what the elders do. Many visitors are touched by the impressive Book of Mormon display and by what they hear. One of the elders told of an older man who visited the pavilion. Suffering from an ailment that was causing him to slowly lose his sight, he asked, after seeing the presentation, if he could buy a copy of the Book of Mormon so he could read it while he was still able.
Another day two young children bought a copy of the book to give to their parents because they felt that what they had heard was true.
One of the participants in the dance festival who went through the pavilion remarked, “I especially liked the way they handled the introduction to the Book of Mormon. Because they spoke about other records on metal plates that have been found by archaeologists, people in my group had much less difficulty accepting the truth of the Book of Mormon story.
“At the end, instead of asking the elders if they really believed all that, several wanted to know where the plates are now and if copies of the translation are available to nonmembers. The elders sure answered those questions, especially the second one, in a hurry!”
And then there are those who are less profoundly affected, but who are affected favorably nevertheless. Many people who visit the pavilion, say the missionaries, are surprised and pleased to learn that Mormons are Christians and that they believe in the Bible. “One of the important things we have accomplished here,” said Elder Barlow, “is to change people’s attitudes toward the Church. They leave here with a good feeling.
“The theme of the fair,” he added, “is more or less environmental cleanup (‘Progress without Pollution’), and you can’t clean up the environment unless you also clean up your people. I usually tell visitors that one of the interesting things about this fair is that after it’s over everything is going to be recycled. What we are trying to do at this pavilion is to recycle people.”
Later that evening many of the people who were impressed with the Book of Mormon presentation, and many who just wanted to be delightfully entertained for an evening, gathered in the Spokane Coliseum to see the young Mormons who had performed to such acclaim the night before. They started arriving early. The Grandland Singers were there, Johnny Whitaker was there, the D’s were there, and so were the dancers. “Catch a Happy Feeling” they encouraged, and smiles of pleasure and enjoyment certainly seemed to be a contagious virus throughout the audience as the young people danced, and sang, and joked, and cheered.
All too soon the finale arrived. All of the performers rushed out onto the floor of the coliseum. A rainbow of talented youth whirled, and waved small green and gold flags, and danced their hearts out. They were answered with an ovation from those in attendance, but they were not quite through with the evening’s program. There was one more thing they wanted to do.
And there, standing before the capacity audience, the 2,000 colorfully costumed young dancers stood and sang from their hearts, “We thank thee, O God, for a prophet To guide us in these latter days.” As the hymn continued, the lights in the house were lowered, and a single spot shone on an elderly, white-haired gentleman in the audience. He rose to his feet and smiled his acknowledgment.
Then, with whoops and cheers, the dancers ran from the floor. The evening was over, and after several minutes of applause, the appreciative audience stood and started filing out. One nonmember remarked to his wife as they stepped out into the cool evening air, “I wonder who that gentleman in the spotlight was? Those young kids certainly seem to love him.” A festival participant who had hurried into the departing crowd to listen for comments and answer questions heard the statement and replied with quiet conviction, “He’s a prophet of God, sir.”
That’s what Mormon youth participation at the fair was all about—testimony building and testimony sharing, remembering the past and building for the future.

When I was 12, my local boys’ group went on a road trip with many stops from Elkhorn, Wisconsin, to Salt Lake City, Utah, USA. We arrived, and there it was: the big, beautiful Salt Lake Temple. I had never heard of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and knew nothing about temples, except that only members of the Church could enter them.
But something unusual happened. I heard a voice in my head clearly say, “You will enter that temple one day.” I thought it was strange, but I didn’t dwell on it.
Over a decade later, my mother’s best friend, Millee, had joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. My wife and I planned a trip to Colorado to find a location for my dental practice, and Millee encouraged us to visit Temple Square on our trip. My wife loved the idea, so we extended our trip to Salt Lake City.
When we arrived, we visited every building on Temple Square and spoke with the missionaries. We loved everything we learned and felt a peace we later would recognize as the Holy Spirit.
After the trip, we called Millee and told her we would be interested in joining the Church. She squealed with delight and invited us to chat with her and her husband, Bob. They helped us meet other members, which led us to attend an institute class and eventually meet with the missionaries.
We loved the teachings of the restored gospel and felt the Spirit. Bob baptized my wife and me, and he and Millee helped us prepare to enter the temple. One year later, they again showed their support by driving us almost 800 miles (1,290 km) to the Washington D.C. Temple to receive endowment and sealing ordinances.
As newlyweds, my wife and I both were stubborn. We would disagree and argue about things that didn’t really matter, and it had worn down our relationship. Our marriage wouldn’t have lasted if we had kept going down the road we were on.
But making eternal covenants in the house of the Lord has made all the difference. Our temple covenants changed the focus from “me” to “we.” We learned to value our eternal relationship instead of focusing on our own needs as individuals. Eventually, we became “of one heart and one mind” (Moses 7:18), which vastly improved our course, connection, and communication.
The temple and our relationship with Jesus Christ helped us see what really matters. We have been blessed with 4 daughters, 15 grandchildren, and 1 great-granddaughter—all of whom are here because of temple covenants.
President Russell M. Nelson taught: “Once we make a covenant with God, we leave neutral ground forever. God will not abandon His relationship with those who have forged such a bond with Him. In fact, all those who have made a covenant with God have access to a special kind of love and mercy.”
I have felt God’s love for me through my covenants. He has opened my eyes to all that is wonderful around me. I find joy and eternal perspective in my life through covenanting with Him.
The author lives in Utah, USA.

As LuAnn Spidel greeted friend after friend during the opening moments of the Gettysburg Pennsylvania Stake youth conference, she felt warm and happy. “How very lucky we are to have been born now, in this dispensation,” she thought to herself. She and the 400 other youths and counselors who had gathered at Gettysburg College were eagerly anticipating the weekend ahead—three days planned around the theme “Ye Chosen Generation.”
The youth conference was filled with variety from start to finish—beginning with a giant-banana-split-making contest. Four groups of ten each were given three gallons of vanilla ice cream, bananas, nuts, cherries, chocolate syrup, and a set of instructions. Within about three minutes the winning team had completed its construction! Pictures were then taken, after which the yummy banana and ice cream concoctions were devoured by their creators—truly a contest where no one could lose!
Sixty-seven seminars and workshops on a wide range of topics—the millennium, leadership, quilting, dancing, exercising, and communication skills (to name a few)—followed the opening social. Ping-Pong and chess tournaments, volleyball and basketball games, and a swim meet offered some diversion during the afternoon. That afternoon a casual dance was held in the ballroom, with juggler-ventriloquist Barry Jones of York Ward entertaining during intermission.
Friday’s activities included a bowling tournament, track meet, tour of the Gettysburg Battlefield, a special event patterned after the Truth or Consequences game show, and a formal dance.
Seminars on gospel-related subjects were presented Saturday morning, setting a spiritual tone for the testimony meeting and the tearful good-byes that followed. As the young men and women piled into buses and headed for home, they felt happy and fulfilled, realizing that although the conference had come to its close, the memories they had made would last forever.

When I was 17 I was the ward organist, and many times I would take my date to the church so that I could practice the organ, and she would sit and listen. This may well have been because I didn’t have any money, much more than because of her deep love for music, but we started a relationship in doing that and we found that we both liked music. I played the hymns and they brought a lovely spirit to our times together in a chapel as hymns were played with intermittent talk, perhaps followed by a five-cent ice cream cone when I took her home. Now, any one of you reading this might think these were strange kinds of dates, but the important thing in any generation is to find uplifting things you can enjoy together and do them! There’s nothing more boring—and potentially dangerous—than a date that starts out, “Well, what do you want to do?” Be creative, be enthusiastic, and prepare by thinking about the kinds of things that will help you get to know each other better. Decide well in advance where you are going, what you will do, and what time you will be home.

As a college student, I spent some time working in the Mutual program at the state training school for the mentally retarded in American Fork, Utah. I quickly learned to accept and love those people. They were remarkable people and their spirituality was stronger than their mental and physical weaknesses.
Except for Ethel—the victim of severe cerebral palsy. I found it very difficult to work with her, or around her. My pity—and my revulsion—were simply too great. She had to be strapped, hands and feet, to a metal frame to keep her from injuring herself. People told me she had a good mind, but it had taken the state workers nearly 40 years to discover that she had a mind at all, it was trapped in such a cruelly crippled body. The workers had finally taught her to speak, though I still could not understand her. I wondered why the Lord had left her here, forcing her to linger when she was obviously miserable.
One day I happened to attend a fast and testimony meeting at the school. At the very end of the meeting, Ethel asked to speak. I wondered why they allowed her to take up time when no one could understand what she said. Then Ethel spoke, clearly enough so that even I could understand her. She said, “I love life!”
I was very startled as I heard her say, “And I love my Heavenly Father!” I bowed my head and wept.
When Ethel finished her testimony, the “kids” sang the song that had fast become their favorite, “I am a child of God, and he has sent me here …” Each time I have heard it since, I have remembered Ethel and the beautiful lesson she taught me.

I remember as a deacon watching the priests as they would officiate at the sacrament table. One priest by the name of Barry had a lovely voice and would read the sacrament prayers with clear diction—as though he were competing in a speech contest. The other members of the ward, particularly the older sisters, would compliment him on his “golden voice.” I think he became a bit proud. Jack, another priest in the ward, was hearing impaired, which caused his speech to be unnatural in its sound. We deacons would twitter at times when Jack would bless the emblems. How we dared to do so is beyond me, for Jack had hands like a bear and could have crushed any one of us.

On one occasion Barry, with the beautiful voice, and Jack, with the awkward delivery, were assigned together at the sacrament table. The hymn was sung; the two priests broke the bread. Barry knelt to pray, and we closed our eyes. But nothing happened. Soon we deacons opened our eyes to see what was causing the delay. I shall ever remember the picture of Barry frantically searching the table for the little white card on which were printed the sacrament prayers. It was nowhere to be found. What to do? Barry’s face turned pink and then crimson as the congregation began to look in his direction.

Then Jack, with that bearlike hand, reached up and gently tugged Barry back onto the bench. He himself then knelt on the little footstool and began to pray: “O God, the Eternal Father, we ask thee in the name of thy Son, Jesus Christ, to bless and sanctify this bread to the souls of all those who partake of it.” He continued the prayer, and the bread was passed. Jack also blessed the water, and it was passed. What respect we deacons gained that day for Jack, who though handicapped in speech, had memorized the sacred prayers! Barry, too, had a new appreciation for Jack. A lasting bond of friendship had been established.

Recollecting times of fervent prayer during her childhood, Sister Smith continued: “The day I was to be baptized, my mother was delayed trying to find a place to park the car, so she sent me into the Salt Lake Tabernacle baptistry by myself. The sisters there helped me get ready, and I went into the baptistry and sat down. My mother wasn’t there yet. I was so nervous I could hardly sit still. The only thing I could think to do was to pray that Heavenly Father would make sure my mother would soon come to be with me. While I was praying, in she came, and I knew that my prayer had been answered.

A few weeks later I received my mission call. With excitement I read the words “Brazil Porto Alegre North Mission.” I could hardly wait to be among the Brazilian people, sharing the message of the restored gospel. I shared the news of my call with my extended family, ward members, and friends. I also noticed how many people were just as eager to know when I would go through the temple. Many had words of advice to offer me on how I should prepare myself mentally and spiritually before entering the house of the Lord.
During the next few months I made sure to attend temple preparation classes. I read my scriptures and prayed for a continuing reassurance of my decision to receive my endowment. The Spirit comforted me again and again. I also read the pamphlet Preparing to Enter the Holy Temple, written to assist those preparing to attend the temple for the first time. I was so grateful for the statements about the reverence and peace that prevail in the temple. During this time of preparation I gained a much stronger testimony of the sacred nature of the Lord’s house and the work that is performed inside.
I will always remember the sight of the temple the day I arrived to receive my endowment. I was filled with deep respect and reverence. I was humbled by the thought that I would go inside and make sacred covenants with my Father in Heaven.
I had arrived dressed in my Sunday best, knowing that my outward appearance reflected my inward respect for the house of the Lord.
“Welcome to the temple,” I was greeted as I showed my recommend and walked inside. Everything about the temple was beautiful. It felt like a piece of heaven on earth, and the friendly temple workers seemed like angels.
I remained in awe at the Spirit I felt. While I didn’t immediately understand everything that was taking place, I did realize the importance of the covenants I was making. It was clear to me why my bishop had spoken of the temple the way he had. The endowment I was receiving would extend not only far beyond the two years of my mission but even into the eternities. More meaningful to me than any of the advice I had received from various people was a scripture I had read as part of my preparation, “And that all people who shall enter upon the threshold of the Lord’s house may feel thy power, and feel constrained to acknowledge that thou hast sanctified it, and that it is thy house, a place of thy holiness” (D&C 109:13). I knew that the temple was the Lord’s house, sanctified and holy. I went expecting to feel God’s love, and I did.
Throughout my mission I frequently reflected on my first temple experience. I was also thankful for having attended the temple each week at the MTC. The blessings of the temple fortified me and gave me strength through difficult times. I was filled with the desire to serve and bring others to a knowledge of God’s plan. I wanted everyone I taught to have the same opportunity to make covenants with Heavenly Father and receive a greater understanding of His infinite love.
I am grateful for having realized that the temple will be a part of me forever and not something to simply check off before leaving on my mission. Since returning home from my mission, I have made temple attendance a priority in my life. The temple is a place of clarity and renewal for me. It is a place of holiness where I can feel God’s love for me and for all His children.

A Journey of Hope and Healing
A husband and wife share how pornography affected them and how they are addressing it:
Peace Will Come
After years of fighting a pornography addiction, I learned that repentance isn’t an event but a process. Looking back, I see God’s hand in my life, leading me along. The faith, prayers, and support of my wife and family helped me more than they will ever know. With God’s help, I hope to become the husband and father they have always deserved.
Through my struggles, Heavenly Father was preparing me and my family to receive greater joy and healing. I learned that the Savior alone is the source of strength and refuge that will provide healing and recovery. It was only when I turned to Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ with full purpose of heart that I was strengthened to overcome my addiction. It’s a daily exercise to put on the full armor of God and to fill my life with things that invite the Holy Ghost, but doing so has brought me peace and joy.

Jean-Olivier Smatti, a youth leader in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, said: “This week was a miracle. We had 86 young men and women including 15 who are investigating our Church. We had passport problems and even a tornado, but we know that our stay on Lifou was an incredible tool for missionary work. The locals were impressed by our youth, and they were so pleased to meet them.”

That testimony and the knowledge that prayers are heard and answered helped Vincent on another day. His brother Gaetan (13) wanted to go out into the backyard. He thought that the plate-glass back door was open, and ran through it, shattering the glass. The broken glass severely cut the nerves and arteries in both his arms. His sisters Sandra (19) and Sonia (17) were home. They quickly called for an ambulance and put pressure on Gaetan’s arteries to slow the bleeding.
Just then Vincent, Sophie (9), and Samantha (5) walked into the house. When they saw all the blood and broken glass, they were scared and started to cry. Vincent realized that his older sisters were doing all that could be done for Gaetan, so he led Sophie and Samantha upstairs and out of the way. “We were afraid that Gaetan would die,” Vincent said, “so we huddled together and prayed for him. After the prayer, we all felt much better, and I knew that everything would be OK.”
The ambulance and Sister Poulaert soon arrived. Gaetan was rushed to the hospital. Brother Poulaert was there and gave his son a priesthood blessing, after which Gaetan felt much better. After four hours of microsurgery to repair the nerves and arteries in his arms and hands and four days in the hospital, Gaetan was able to go home.
Vincent Poulaert and his family have learned that just as the Savior called on His Father for strength in difficult times, they can, too. They know and are grateful that Heavenly Father hears and answers their prayers.

“Father, where are you going?” George asked.
“To the duke’s court,” he was told.
“May I come too?”
“No,” his father said sternly.
George knew that his father had to be obeyed. But there were musicians at court, and George longed to hear them play. Father said that music was foolish child’s play, not work for men. George must become a lawyer and forget about music. His father didn’t know that George spent hours practicing in secret on a clavier (the “grandfather” of the modern piano).
But George needed to hear other musicians play, so he decided to go to the court at Weissenfels anyway. It couldn’t be very far from his home in Halle, (Saxony, Germany).
He watched as his father climbed into the carriage; then, as the horse pulled it down the street, George ran behind the carriage. By the time they reached the edge of town, George’s breath was coming in great gulps, and the carriage started to go faster. The distance between George and the carriage became greater, no matter how hard he ran.
Suddenly the carriage stopped. The driver climbed down, ran to the boy, picked him up, and carried him to the carriage.
“What are you trying to do?” his father scolded him. “A seven-year-old boy cannot run as far as Weissenfels. I told you that you could not come. Why did you disobey me? You may sit with the driver, but you’ll be punished when we get home.”
When they entered the castle, George heard music. He followed the sounds to a large room where a man was playing the organ. The boy listened happily until the last note died away. “May I play?” he asked.
“Only for a minute.”
George sat on the organ bench and began to play. He was thrilled at the beautiful tones that filled the room. Not until he had played the last note did the man speak to him. “Who are you?” the man asked.
“George Frideric Handel,” he answered.
“You play well. How old are you, and who is your teacher?”
“I’m seven, but I don’t have a teacher. My father doesn’t want me to be a musician.”
Just then George’s father entered the room. “I’m sorry, Your Grace,” he said to the man, who happened to be the duke, “if my son has disturbed you.”
“You are the boy’s father?” the duke asked. “He tells me that he has no music teacher. Don’t you realize that he is very talented? Get him a music teacher at once, and bring him to play for me again.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” George’s father said meekly.
When they returned home, George was sent to bed in disgrace. But the very next day Father arranged for the organist of the largest church in Halle to teach George, and he was allowed to prepare for a life in music. But George also respected his father’s desire for him to be a lawyer, and completed law school.