Gospel Story Finder

I’ve always known that I needed to go on a mission. I also knew that the prophets had commanded every worthy young man to serve. I just wasn’t sure if I could do it. My family, not being well off, had to struggle when my older brother served his mission. It just didn’t feel right to cause my family to suffer for me.
I started to read the Book of Mormon again, but this time 1 Nephi 3:7 [1 Ne. 3:7] impressed me in a way that it had not before. I must have read or heard the story of Nephi getting the plates from Laban a hundred times. It was his reply to his father’s request that moved me. “The Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them.” My answer was that the Lord would prepare the way, and I must then walk it.
How would He do it? The only answer I could come up with was by “small and simple” means (Alma 37:6). It wasn’t much to go on. I decided to put my trust in the Lord and let Him use me to further his work.
After this, I began to feel a desire to finish our garage. I could not understand the reason for this desire, nor could I ignore it. It was a task I felt had to be done right then. I set about the steps for completing the task.
I started putting the insulation in the walls. This helped the work progress faster, but soon I was in need of another roll of insulation. I purchased the insulation, put it up, and rested.
A couple of days later I was out there with my drill and a bag of screws. My task now was to finish the walls with some scrap pieces of plywood. The wood required very little cutting and soon all of the walls were done.
I knew that the ceiling needed to be done, and I did not have the money for that. The Lord, however, saw to it that the funds were made available. My dad received a surprise bonus check from work that covered the cost of the sheetrock and insulation for the ceiling of the garage. I worked with my dad and younger brothers for the next few nights putting up the sheetrock. It took a little time and a lot of patience, but we finished the job. I was then able to look and admire the completed work.
A couple of months later, I received my mission call. I went to the missionary training center and then to the Arkansas Little Rock Mission. The work done on that garage was forgotten as I now worked for the Lord. Winter came as it always does, and my mom was surprised at the utility bill. It was very low for that time of year. The drop in the electric bill in our all-electric house in Provo, Utah, was the result of the work done on the garage.
I have paused to look back and see how the Lord led me. He placed a desire in me to finish the garage and would not let me rest until the work spread to those in my family. It was only by a joint effort that it was ever completed. The money saved by this work now helped support me on my mission.
I now truly know that the Lord will prepare the way. Still, the principle is the same for us as for Nephi. We must listen to the Spirit, even if we are told to do something as trivial as finishing a garage. The Lord knows what will make things work out for the best. We need to have the faith to follow.

One day I decided to make a Christmas wish list because I was so excited about Christmas. I made a fancy title and used Santa Claus hats as bullet points.
My older brother came into the room to print off his list. I didn’t really care about his list because mine was going to be so fantastic. Mine had color and Santa Claus hats, and his was only black and white.
I wanted a lot of stuff: a pogo stick, pens, a puppy, a cat, etc. When I was done, I put my list on the fridge. My brother’s list was already hanging up. It said, “This year I would like to use half my Christmas money to give to others.”
I was amazed at what my brother was doing with his Christmas money. I couldn’t believe it. My brother who gets in fights with me a lot was giving instead of getting.
My Christmas list now seemed small and almost useless. Maybe I could do the same thing. I would be helping others, and I would feel good about myself. There’s a center near my home that helps children. I asked my mom if I could make some blankets for the kids there for Christmas. I hope I can give just like my brother.
I learned a lot more than I probably have ever learned about Christmas. Jesus Christ gave His life for us, so why should we not give to others in need? We don’t need all our wants. This year I will think more about Christ and what He did for us than I ever have. And I will focus on giving instead of getting.

United in their resolve to be true to their call from the prophet, the company headed into the desert toward 50-Mile Spring. Since there was no road, the pioneers cut their own through what one man described as “the roughest country I ever saw a wagon go over.” Mostly rock and nearly void of foliage, the land was a combination of gulches and straight-walled chasms more than 100 meters deep.
At 50-Mile Spring, President Smith divided the company into three work groups: one to work at the crevice, one to build a road from the crevice to the river 1.2 kilometers away, and one to build a ferry. For the next six weeks, all three groups worked simultaneously. “I don’t think I ever [saw] … men go to work with more of a will to do something than that crowd did,” wrote Cornelius I. Decker of the group who worked to widen the narrow crevice. “We were all young men; … we did make dirt and rock fly.” Two blacksmith forges were established at “the Hole” so that blacksmiths could keep tools sharp as men cut solid rock. Several men were lowered by rope in half-barrels over the 14-meter cliff. While dangling in midair, they drilled holes in the cliff and filled them with blasting powder. Work continued in snow storms as well as in sunshine.
The second group constructed a road over virtually impassable land. The steep upper third of the road was a serious challenge; among the problems the workers had to solve was how to create a section of road along the face of a 15-meter rock wall. First they blasted a ledge along the wall, then extended the ledge outward. This was done by hammering staves into holes drilled parallel to the ledge. Logs, rocks, and gravel were piled into the resulting area to build up a shelf just wide enough to accommodate a wagon.
The third group built a ferry wide enough to carry two wagons at a time across the Colorado River. Part of this group also began work on a road eastward.
On 26 January 1880, everything was ready.
Elizabeth M. Decker wrote of the first wagons to go down through “the Hole”: “Coming down the hole in the rock to get to the river … is almost strait down, the cliffs on each side are five hundred ft. [about 155 meters] high and there is just room enough for a wagon to go down. It nearly scared me to death. The first wagon I saw go down they put the brake on and … [chained the rear wheels together so they slid as a unit instead of rolled] and had a big rope fastened to the wagon and about ten men holding back on it and they went down like they would smash everything. I’ll never forget that day.”
The wagon of Joseph Stanford Smith was the last of 26 wagons to pass through Hole-in-the-Rock that day. Brother Smith, known as Stanford, had helped others all day while his wife and three children sat on a pile of quilts in the snow and watched. Apparently not realizing that men would be coming to help them, Stanford and his wife, Belle, thought they were stranded. So they determined to bring their wagon down by themselves. Belle sat their three-year-old son on the quilts, placed the baby between his legs, and told them not to move until their father came back for them. Ada, the oldest, sat in front of her brothers and said a prayer.
Belle and one of the horses pulled on the ropes tied to the back of the wagon as Stanford braced his legs against the dashboard and gently urged the lead horses on. As soon as they started down, the anchor horse fell. Belle caught her foot in the rocks and broke free several times before she too fell and was dragged along with the horse down the steep slope. By the time the wagon stopped, a jagged rock had torn into Belle’s leg from heel to hip. Stanford ran to her to see if she was all right. With pioneer tenacity, Belle told him she had “crow-hopped” all the way down. Stanford helped her into the wagon, cleaned her cut, and then climbed back up for the children. As he passed his horse, which was dazed but alive, Stanford took off his hat and waved it in the air as a salute to his wife. They had made it!
After crossing the Colorado River by ferry, the company still faced more than 240 kilometers of rugged ground. Elizabeth M. Decker described this land in a letter to her parents. “It’s the roughest country you or anybody else ever seen; it’s nothing in the world but rocks and holes, hills, and hollows. The mountains are just one solid rock as smooth as an apple.” Because the land turned out to be rougher than anticipated, the journey took much longer than expected—six months instead of six weeks—making the so-called shortcut extremely arduous. Two babies were born along the way. Supplies had to be brought in to the company by mule train. On 6 April 1880, the exhausted company came upon a few acres of good farmland near a small river. They named the spot Bluff City.
Though travel worn, the pioneers had remained true to their resolve to follow the prophet and move forward, and they had endured the hardships in good spirits. As one member of the company recalled, “In a camp … moving … through extremely rough country, one would naturally look for some trouble and a few accidents, but this was not the case. All was hustle and harmony.”
The road created by this pioneer company served as the major highway in and out of the area for about one year. Westward traffic heading back up the steep corridor through Hole-in-the-Rock required each wagon to have a six-horse team.
By 1882 the road had fallen into disuse, but the pioneers had done what they had set out to do—establish a settlement in a remote area of the proposed state of Deseret. Though the area today remains somewhat isolated, it stands as a legacy of those faithful and tenacious pioneers who cut their way through solid rock in obedience to a prophet’s call.

In 1967, a friend of the Simonets in Nancy, Francine Babin, and her children, were baptized. Her husband, Jean-Albert, was baptized six months later. “When Francine read the Book of Mormon,” says Brother Babin, “it was as though the sun exploded inside of her. She is normally rather quiet, but after the missionaries taught her the gospel, she could not stop talking about it.”

Like the Simonet children, the five Babin children are examples of the strength that second-generation members bring to the Church. They are bringing up their children and serving as leaders in Paris, Versailles, and Mantes-la-Jolie.

A wonderful example of this philosophy was shared by Arthur Gordon many years ago in a national magazine. He wrote:
“When I was around thirteen and my brother ten, Father had promised to take us to the circus. But at lunchtime there was a phone call; some urgent business required his attention downtown. We braced ourselves for disappointment. Then we heard him say [into the phone], ‘No, I won’t be down. It’ll have to wait.’
“When he came back to the table, Mother smiled. ‘The circus keeps coming back, you know.’
“ ‘I know,’ said Father. ‘But childhood doesn’t.’ ”

“I am grateful I was home that Saturday in 2005. My first wife, Dantzel, and I had completed our household chores and decided to relax for a few minutes. We sat on the couch, held hands, and began watching a program on television.
“Within a few moments, Dantzel suddenly and unexpectedly slipped peacefully into eternity. My efforts to revive her proved fruitless. Shock and sorrow overwhelmed me. My best friend of nearly 60 years was gone.
“Ten years earlier, I had lost a daughter to cancer. Emily was only 37 years old. In 2019, I lost a second precious daughter to that dread disease. Wendy was only 67.
“At those times of loss, how grateful I was for my testimony of the Lord Jesus Christ. In His victory over the grave, we see the promise of our own resurrection.
“‘All power is given unto me in heaven and in earth’ (Matthew 28:18), the Savior declared following His Resurrection. That power includes the keys of the Resurrection. I know He will use those keys to raise Dantzel, Emily, and Wendy, just as He will use those keys to raise the rest of the human family.
“For God’s children, resurrection means that aging, deterioration, and decay will be done away. ‘This mortal shall put on immortality’ (Mosiah 16:10), and ‘the spirit and the body shall be reunited again in its perfect form’ (Alma 11:43).
“Resurrection also makes possible another reuniting—the reuniting of families. We live together in love, so we weep when a loved one dies (see Doctrine and Covenants 42:45). But like Mary Magdalene, we can have our tears of sorrow turn into tears of joy as we anticipate the future from the perspective of an eternal family.”

A cooling breeze was starting up, and I could feel it lapping at the edges of something smoldering inside me.
“What’s the matter, Missy?” Leatrice asked. “You seem mad at somebody.”
We were kneeling on the damp lake bank beside the dock watching black fish, small shiny ones, darting among the green seaweed. Our knees were wet and cool, and the sun was shining warm on our backs.
Lee was dropping pebbles, trying to bomb the fish. “I wish we could stay here all summer,” she said. “Don’t you?” I didn’t answer, and she kept plopping little rocks into the water. Soon she stood up and came over to where I was.
I still didn’t answer, and Lee went over to the lawn by the cabin. She was good about minding her own business. She knew my problem wasn’t with her.
A little breeze was coming from the west. I walked into it, out to the end of the dock, and stood. The water was deep there. If I fell in, what would happen? A dumb question. Of course I’d just dog-paddle to shore. But what if I didn’t know how to swim? What then?
Behind me there was a new noise. I turned and Lee was coming, rowing the old tin boat. She pulled to the dock, and I stepped in over the side, staying low. She turned us with the oars and started rowing across the lake, north toward the Canada shore. She fastened her life jacket. It was a faded orange. I picked up the other one, a little wet from the boat’s bottom.
She rowed a long time without saying anything. We were facing backward, so the sun was in our faces.
“Did you tell Mom and Dad where we were going?” I asked.
“Yes,”
“What were they doing?”
“Mom is asleep with the baby. Dad is still reading those Columbus books for his talk.”
“Of course he is. He’s always reading, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, like you.”
It was true. Dad and I were a lot alike. In some things anyway. But I didn’t want to say that. Instead I said, “He probably is reading, unless he’s too busy yelling at somebody.”
Leatrice looked at me. “What do you mean, Missy? Dad doesn’t do that.”
“He sure used to. And John told me he remembers when Dad would really throw his weight around. Back when John was little. I sort of remember it too.”
“That doesn’t sound like the dad I know,” Lee said. She looked right at me, like she was trying to see inside. “I asked Dad to come out here with us, but he told me, ‘Not now.’”
“I could’ve saved you the trouble.”
We were getting out quite far. There were small waves now. Faint voices came from somewhere on the west shore. We carefully switched places, and I took the oars. I rowed hard until I began to sweat, even in the breeze. I was overdoing it and getting tired and less steady. Suddenly, I missed the water with the right oar. The left one caught and unbalanced me. I fell off the seat into the bottom of the boat. The fall hurt my elbow and scared me a little, but then I started laughing.
I was near Lee’s feet. She pulled the oars in, and then sat in the bottom of the boat with me. We stretched our legs up over the bow seat. The boat rocked gently in the water, like a cradle.
“What do they remind you of?” Lee pointed up at clouds high overhead, fluffy masses drifting east, each looking different from the others.
“That one looks like an old man with a beard. Do you see him?”
“No,” she said.
“Well, it does. He looks faraway, thinking his own thoughts.”
“Who is it?”
“Maybe Heavenly Father. That’s how he is. Faraway.”
“How do you know?”
“I just know,” I said.
“I don’t think it’s like that.”
“Well, I do. It’s like nothing is any use. I can’t manage to feel any other way.” I shifted positions, and it made the boat rock a little.
We lay for a long time, drifting, not talking. Finally Leatrice rowed home. As we were beaching the boat, it came to me that I should tell her something else that had been bothering me. “You know, Lee, in my Young Women class, Sister Norland asked me a question. We were pretending to be New Testament people. She said it would help us learn prayer language. She said, ‘Missy, doth thy father love thee?’ I was going to say ‘Yes, Sister Norland,’ but what came out was ‘Maybe, sometimes.’”
Lee took my hands in hers. Her eyes were a little wet. “Missy, it bothers me what you said before about Dad. Even if that was all true once, I don’t think you need to feel hard toward him. He was young, too. It’s got to be hard at first to learn to be a dad. You and I will probably need some forgiveness too for the mistakes we’ll make while we’re learning to be moms.”
Coming from her, it sounded right, like the truth.
That night we went to bed early, the little kids first, then Mom and Dad. Today had been the first day of vacation without rain. Leatrice said her prayers. I decided I better try. I didn’t kneel, but I tried to pray on the bed. “Help me get over this alone feeling … ,” but I didn’t feel any different after.
I lay and watched the trees’ shadows on the screen and the wall and thought about the world and the moon, floating in space alone, making their slow endless circuits, maybe running forever on automatic. Some of the Founding Fathers, I’d read, called it Deism—that God had set it all going and gone away. About there I faded off to sleep.
When I woke up, I couldn’t tell how much time had passed. The shadows and the moonlight were still there outside. Our bedroom door was ajar, and a faint shifting light was coming into the room. A mosquito was whining near my ear. I didn’t know if it was that or the feeble light that had disturbed me. I got up and looked into the living room where the little kids were asleep on the couches and on blankets on the floor.
Dad was kneeling by the cone fireplace in the center of the room. He was reaching inside it, doing something. I went over to him. “What’s wrong?”
“Hold the flashlight for me, Missy, will you? Mosquitoes are coming down the stovepipe.”
“So that’s how they’re sneaking in! We checked all the screens. Boy, aren’t they tricky?”
“It’s the first night with no fire. That must be why they’re bothering us now but not before.”
I wadded up papers and handed them to Dad. He pushed the last one into place and stood up. “That should keep the little devils out. I found them on the baby’s face.”
“Were they biting you, Dad?”
“No, I heard somebody crying out in their sleep. That’s how I knew. I heard it from the other room.”
That hit me. Sometimes I’d thought he didn’t hear much of anything from us.
“Pretty smart, Dad, your figuring out how they were getting in.”
“Thanks, Missy.” He put his arm around me and squeezed. It startled me. It had been a long time since he’d done that. It did feel good though.
“Good night. Remember to say your prayers.”
I went back into the bedroom and stood by the window. The moon was up there, floating and still. And there were night sounds, an insect orchestra pulsating. I could hear it through the closed window. I hadn’t heard it while I was asleep, and I hadn’t wakened when the little children cried out. Dad had. Why had he heard, and I hadn’t? Somehow that struck me as a necessary question. I stood and thought about it, but why it could be important wasn’t clear in my sleepiness.
I thought about my father and other fathers, and as I stood at the window the words came, those that my teacher Miss Carroll had us memorize:
Doubt thou the stars are fire;
Doubt that the sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar;
But never doubt I love.
In class Hamlet’s words had bothered me. Now I said them over several times. It seemed presuming and even arrogant to claim to be that faithful. Such lovely words, but could they be true for any man?
I went over and got back into bed. From there I could still see the moon, just right to show through my window. Oddly, it no longer seemed so distant and impersonal, but warmer and nearer. The moon sailed, and I drifted off to sleep.
Some indefinite time later, I again found myself awake. I was still hanging to a dream. There had been a powerful song in it, already undefined and indistinct, but the force of the music remained with me. And suddenly I had a comforting, understanding feeling. It was surprisingly strong, and it came to me like a revelation—that really there is a being who is as reliable, as fully reliable, in His love as Hamlet had claimed to be.
I lay still awhile and savored that amazing thought. Perhaps half an hour went by. The moon was past my window. I slipped from under the covers and knelt by the bed. I prayed, still cherishing the warmth of the new feeling. And with it I recognized another extraordinary impression, that I was being heard. The perception was almost tangible.
Leatrice said something in her sleep before I got into the bed, but she didn’t wake up. I thought I’d lay there in the moonlight and listen to the outside sounds and watch the shadows. And think about fathers.
But I didn’t. I went right to sleep.

Listen to a real example of this. Elder Richard G. Scott of the First Quorum of the Seventy graduated from George Washington University in 1950 with a degree in mechanical engineering and then left immediately on a thirty-one month mission to Uruguay. He recalls: "Professors and friends tried to dissuade me from accepting a mission call, counseling that it would severely hamper my budding engineering career. But shortly after my mission, I was selected for the infant Naval Nuclear Program. (The field was top secret and initial training was given by the pioneer scientists at Oakridge, Tennessee.) At a meeting I was sent to direct, I found that one of the professors who had counseled me against going on a mission was in a significantly lesser program position than I. It was a powerful testimony to me of how the Lord blessed me as I put my priorities straight." (Ensign, May 1977, pp. 102–3.)

The English seaside town of Blackpool may seem ordinary by day. But when its famous lights come on at night, its streets are transformed into a place of beauty.
Elder Jo Folkett may seem like an ordinary Englishman at first. But the light of the Spirit has transformed his life and is helping him lead others to the beauty of the gospel.
Elder Jolyon Soames Folkett is from the Glenfield Ward, Leicester Stake, England. The only paraplegic missionary in a wheelchair in the British Isles, Elder Folkett has overcome many obstacles to be where he is.
Early in his mission, Elder Folkett felt pride in his accomplishment of serving. “I used to think, ‘I’m pretty remarkable, coming on a mission like this,’” he said. “‘I had a good excuse not to come, but here I am.’”
Then, during an early-morning Book of Mormon study session, he read Mosiah 2:21–24. “It was about serving,” he says, smiling. “It says that even if we serve the Lord with all our souls, we’ll still be in his debt. It says that the Lord requires us to do all he commands, and not be proud—whatever our circumstance.
“That really humbled me. I thought, ‘I’m not so remarkable, am I? I’m only doing what’s required.’”
“Doing what’s required” has been Jo’s guideline for the last five years. Before that, his legs were the same as most people’s—active. Then came a blood clot in his spine. Only one in a million people ever suffer from this problem. Usually they are middle-aged, and they suffer brain damage—or death.
Jo survived, perfectly normal except for his legs.
Despite frequent hospitalization, he has become more and more cheerful. And as he has relied on priesthood blessings, he has developed a testimony that now makes him a powerful missionary.
Looking back, Jo has a clear picture of that critical moment in his life. “I was prepared, through promptings of the Spirit, for the information that my legs would always be paralysed,” he says. “So when the doctor solemnly said, ‘I have something to tell you,’ I thought it must be, ‘Sorry, there’s no hope. You’re going to die.’ When he said, ‘You’ll never walk again,’ it was a relief. I could accept that.”
That was the easy part. But adapting and learning to do everything differently has not been so easy. So Jo developed ways of dealing with setbacks. His favourite saying when things get tough is, “You can either laugh or cry. But if you laugh, people like you better.”
Jo did progress, becoming more and more independent and mobile.
His testimony also became independent. Although he had been brought up in the Church, Jo had gone through a less-active stage earlier in life. He drifted in with the wrong crowd and did some things he regretted. Gradually, through the influence of missionaries, and to keep his mum happy, he returned to the Church.
“It was while I was in the hospital that I decided to find out for sure whether the Church is true,” he says. “I had plenty of opportunity to fast and pray in there as my visits lengthened into months.” (His spine began curving, needing replacement with bones from his ribs.)
At the end of his first fast, the Aylesbury Ward bishop came to visit Jo and offered to take him for a ride. “We entered a beautiful woodland area,” Jo recalls. “As we drove slowly through it, I was reminded of Joseph Smith’s first vision. I had the strongest impression of God’s hand in all that beauty. The feeling also came clearly—this is the Savior’s church, and I should go on a mission.”
Jo’s testimony never wavered after that.
Later, as he participated in his home ward in a class discussion on missions, his yearning for service came sharply into focus. The teacher, not wanting him to feel left out or embarrassed by the emphasis on serving missions, made the comment, “Of course, Jo is excused. He won’t be able to go in a wheelchair.”
“That really motivated me,” exclaims Elder Folkett. “My immediate reaction was, ‘Oh, yes, I will!’” Soon after that, Jo received his patriarchal blessing, which confirmed his decision; it stated that he would serve and proselyte.
Before Jo left for the England Manchester Mission, it became evident just how much his new positive attitude toward life was affecting him. He took part in—and won—several national paraplegic sporting events. He also applied for a training job at his local council offices. They agreed to take him—even after he told them he wouldn’t be available to start for another two years. They accepted his explanation, promising to keep the vacancy especially for him during his mission.
For Jo, blessings such as these outweigh the hardships in his life. He has even found advantages to serving in a wheelchair. “I must be the only missionary to get through two years with one pair of shoes,” he jokes. “These are as good as new!”
There are a few disadvantages, however, such as the number of new tires needed for his special wheelchair. Jo saved up for a lightweight, thin-tired sports model wheelchair before he left on his mission. The smaller chair makes tracting easier and has allowed him to develop the art of wheelies, crowd navigation, and step bouncing to breathtaking degrees.
He has another saying: “You can do anything you want, if it’s possible. Dean Beale from Weston-super-Mare, England, says he appreciates such attitudes from his companion. “After working with Elder Folkett,” he says, “I’ve come to realize that many of the people who blame God for the afflictions of others are not the victims themselves. The victims are often the ones who have faith and humility.”
As Elder Folkett says, “Life is not supposed to be easy. It’s a tough testing ground. But if we behave ourselves and follow God’s plan, then we’ll get the blessings in the end.”
Often the blessings come long before the end, while you’re in the service of the Lord. Jo has seen that happen many times on his mission—such as the day he met Kevin Smith.
Kevin had become interested in the Church through the fine example of a young Latter-day Saint woman in his office, and he had requested a copy of the Book of Mormon from the Blackpool Ward. Jo and his companion volunteered to deliver the scripture to him.
“At that point I wasn’t sufficiently interested in the Church to have missionaries in my home,” says Kevin, who has been confined to a wheelchair for the past sixteen years. “I had a stereotyped image of Mormon elders—tall, fresh young American lads straight out of college, wearing stylish suits, with toothpaste-advertisement smiles. I probably wouldn’t have opened the door if they had looked like that. But here were two down-to-earth people, one just as surprised as I was at the sight of a wheelchair.”
“Kevin is such a great guy,” exclaims Elder Folkett, who was surprised to find his investigator in a wheelchair. “Even before we got to his house the first time, I felt that something good would happen.”
Elder Folkett and Kevin got along well from the moment they met, and Jo baptized Kevin not long after that first discussion.
The power of Jo’s example has eternal possibilities. Members who have been less-active have returned to church because of his example. He has shared the gospel with everyone who is willing to listen. And his mission president delights in his “good, cheerful spirit.”
Just as Blackpool’s lights brighten the shadows, so too does Elder Jo Folkett’s bright faith enrich the lives of those he meets.
There’s a sparkle to his testimony that knows no handicap, travels beyond boundaries, and turns barriers into blessings.

It’s 7:00 P.M., and you’re on problem number four of your math homework. The first three problems have taken 20 minutes. Your sister pokes her head in the room and says, “Come on. Family home evening’s about to start.” What do you do?
If you’re Tracy Brook, 15, of the Ottawa Ontario Stake, you drop your pencil and go. She says, “When I have a lot of homework, at first I think, ‘Oh, I don’t have time for family home evening.’ But then after family night is finished, I feel a lot better.”
Why does Tracy feel this way? Because family home evening blesses her life. “It strengthens everyone’s testimony,” she says. “We get to understand more about the Church and the scriptures.”

His invitation stuck with me, and ever since then, I have been seeking to know for myself. I have been trying to know—really know—that President Nelson is God’s prophet here on the earth.
And let me tell you, it has been quite the journey.
Study and prayer have played a big role in this process. For example, I decided to read all of President Nelson’s general conference talks since he became a General Authority (there are a lot of them). I also studied all the devotional addresses he has given to young adults, university students, and other audiences. This helped me know more about President Nelson and what is important to him.
I also searched the scriptures for guidance. One verse that stuck out was Matthew 7:16, where Christ gives us the ultimate way to discern whether someone is His prophet: “Ye shall know them by their fruits.”
When I read this, I realized that the best way to know if President Nelson is a prophet is to follow his teachings and then watch for the fruits. I decided to study each general conference talk President Nelson has given since becoming the prophet and identify at least one thing in each talk that he has asked us to do. Here are just a few examples:
October 2020: “As you study your scriptures during the next six months, I encourage you to make a list of all that the Lord has promised He will do for covenant Israel. … Ponder these promises. Talk about them with your family and friends. Then live and watch for these promises to be fulfilled in your own life.” 1
April 2020: “Let us fast, pray, and unite our faith once again. Let us prayerfully plead for relief from this global pandemic.” 2
October 2019: “I entreat you to study prayerfully all the truths you can find about priesthood power. … As your understanding increases and as you exercise faith in the Lord and His priesthood power, your ability to draw upon this spiritual treasure that the Lord has made available will increase.” 3
April 2019: “Identify what stops you from repenting. And then, change! Repent!” 4
October 2018: “I promise you that if we will do our best to restore the correct name of the Lord’s Church, He whose Church this is will pour down His power and blessings upon the heads of the Latter-day Saints, the likes of which we have never seen.” 5
April 2018: “I plead with you to increase your spiritual capacity to receive revelation.” 6
As I reviewed these invitations from President Nelson, I realized that I didn’t take all of them seriously when I first heard them. In some cases, I had even forgotten the invitation altogether. I resolved to do better and set specific goals for myself to follow President Nelson’s counsel.
As a result, I have experienced many fruits. I feel an extra measure of priesthood power; I feel closer to my family; and I feel closer to my Savior, Jesus Christ. I am definitely not perfect and still have a long way to go in following all of President Nelson’s counsel, but my efforts thus far have only made my life better.
In order to understand the answers I’ve received, it has been useful for me to study teachings about personal revelation from Elder David A. Bednar of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. He likens the first pattern of revelation to a light switch, which allows light to flood a room immediately. Similarly, revelation can come suddenly, in one moment. And the second pattern of revelation he likens to a sunrise, in which the light comes more gradually and steadily. 7
For me, as I’ve been studying President Nelson and his teachings, I have noticed the sun rising gradually.
As I’ve studied, as I’ve prayed, and as I’ve done what President Nelson has asked me to do, my faith has grown “line upon line, precept upon precept” (see 2 Nephi 28:30). I may not have experienced a light-switch moment of revelation, but as a result of my praying and studying, I can truly say that I have faith that President Nelson is the Lord’s prophet here on the earth.
Finding answers to our questions will take work on our part, but I know that all of us can receive a personal witness of President Nelson’s divine calling and answers to any other questions we might have about the gospel.
Throughout this experience, I have learned and gained so much faith. And I am forever grateful that the Lord has blessed us with modern prophets on the earth. I know that if we hearken unto their words, great blessings are in store for both us and our families.

A few years after Henry Bennion Eyring became president of Ricks College (now Brigham Young University–Idaho), he was offered a high-paying, prestige-filled job in southern California.
“It sounds like a great opportunity,” President Spencer W. Kimball told him as Henry described the offer and its benefits. “If we ever needed you, we would know where you were.”
Henry had expected President Kimball, his uncle, to ask him to stay on at Ricks. Instead, it became obvious that Henry and his wife, Kathleen, were to pray and fast about their decision, which they did. Within a week, the Spirit whispered to Henry that he would have the privilege of staying at Ricks College “a little longer.”
He called Jeffrey R. Holland, then Commissioner of the Church Educational System, and told him that he had turned down the job offer. That evening Henry received a phone call from President Kimball.
“I understand you’ve decided to stay,” said President Kimball.
“Yes,” replied Henry.
“Do you think you’ve made a sacrifice?” asked President Kimball.
“No,” said Henry.
“That’s right!” President Kimball assured him. With that, President Kimball ended the conversation.

Mom, why do we have to pull these old weeds, anyway?” Vanessa whined, pushing back the hair from her sweaty forehead. “Weeds, weeds, weeds! It’s such a waste of time. They’ll just grow again next week, and I’ll have to pull them up all over again.” She stabbed the trowel into the dark brown soil for emphasis.
Her mother smiled at eleven-year-old Vanessa’s impatience.
“I wish that the garden plants would grow but not the weeds,” Vanessa said. “Wouldn’t that be easy?”
“It would be easy,” Mom agreed, “but where’s the challenge? What could we learn from that?”
“What do we learn now, except how to get bug bites, sunburn, and blisters?”
“Actually you’ve learned a great deal. For example, you know that things must happen in proper order. We must plant seeds when and where they’ll be able to do their best,” Mom explained.
“I wonder if Heavenly Father ‘plants’ our spirits in certain bodies, at certain times, in certain places, so that we can do our best?” Vanessa wondered aloud.
“That’s an interesting thought. I’ve pondered things like that, too,” Mom said as she planted peas neatly in a row.
“Maybe I had to be born to this particular family, in this place, at the exact time that I was born, in order for me to develop and reach my full potential,” Vanessa said thoughtfully. “OK, we do learn things from gardening,” she admitted. When she saw the triumphant look on her mother’s face, she added, “But I still don’t understand why we have to go to all this trouble to have homegrown vegetables. Store-bought ones are just as good if you ask me.”
“A half hour a day isn’t much time to spend when you consider all the rewards,” Mom said. “By the end of the summer you’ll see what I mean.”
Each day after school, Mom and Vanessa got on their gardening clothes and worked side by side in the garden. One afternoon in late spring they transplanted tomato seedlings. After working in silence for some time, Vanessa said, “Plants need sun, air, water, and nutrients from the soil. We need sun, air, water, and nutrients from food. Mom, would we die without the sun?” They talked for twenty minutes about the similarities and differences between plant needs and human needs.
During other gardening sessions, Vanessa told her mother about school, her friends, her hopes and plans for the future, her worries and fears. She began to look forward to these talks.
Sometimes while they gardened, Mom told Vanessa stories about what it was like to grow up on a farm. One day she said, “My mother used to tell me: ‘You reap what you sow. If you plant cucumber seeds, you get cucumber vines and cucumber blossoms, and, eventually, cucumbers. You’ll never get cauliflower from cucumber seeds. If we sow acts of kindness, we reap friendship and happiness.’”
“But if we sow evil and unkindness, then we reap the consequences—unhappiness and sadness,” Vanessa added. They were silent for a few minutes before Vanessa asked, “It can take a long time to see the results of what you’ve sown, can’t it, Mom?” She was thinking of a girl who had started at their school before Christmas and was extremely shy. Vanessa had been nice to her, but it had taken until February to get the girl to respond. But Vanessa’s persistence paid off; the girls were now good friends.
One day in June, after three days of rain, the weeds suddenly shot up tall. “We have to pluck out the bad plants so that the good ones won’t be robbed of the nutrients, moisture, and root space. Does that remind you of a scripture story?” Mom asked.
“You mean when Christ will take all the wicked and burn them as stubble, and the good people won’t be bothered anymore by their evil influence?”
“Good! You’ve been reading,” Mom said, nodding approvingly.
“It also reminds me of the parable about the seed falling on the rocky soil, getting choked by weeds, or growing in good soil,” Vanessa continued. “We have to try to get sin out of our lives so that the seed of faith can grow in good soil within us.”
“I think she’s got it!” said Mom, laughing along with her daughter.
Once when Vanessa complained about all the work, Mom said, “It’s not much different from having neighbors or friends.”
“I don’t see the connection,” said Vanessa.
“If someone has a need, we serve them. Later, they—or someone else—may help us. Right now it’s our turn to help the vegetable plants. But in a few months, they’ll be serving us—on our dinner table!”
In July there were two weeks with no rain. Vanessa’s arms became stronger and stronger from carrying buckets of water. She prayed for rain and hurried out early each morning to check the plants. When it finally did rain, she danced barefoot in the backyard.
Late in the summer, Mom said, “Vanessa, have you noticed what a trim figure and lovely, healthy glow you have? It couldn’t possibly be from working in the garden, could it?” Her eyes twinkled merrily.
Vanessa realized that her mother was right. She felt prettier, healthier, and stronger than she’d ever felt before. Mom’s right, she thought. You do get a lot from gardening—more than just vegetables.
By the end of August the whole family was involved in canning and freezing the garden’s harvest. Still, there were more vegetables than they could possibly use. “Dad, wouldn’t someone at your work or one of our neighbors love a basket of fresh zucchini or tomatoes?” Vanessa suggested.
They canned spaghetti sauce, and Vanessa could hardly wait to invite the new neighbors for dinner. When they arrived, Vanessa sat down with them and told them all the wonderful benefits of gardening.
Mom winked at Dad as Vanessa enthusiastically added, “Tonight we’re having spaghetti with sauce made from our own vegetables. And salad and zucchini, all from our garden. Mmmm! You’ll love them. They’re lots better than store-bought vegetables!”

I was born in Bogotá, Colombia. My parents taught me to believe in God, and for that I am very grateful. But like every human being, I made mistakes, and these mistakes slowly weakened my relationships with my family. Due to tension in my home and with the motivation of seeking a better life, I decided to take a vacation in Fusagasuga, a town close to Bogotá. While I was there, my problems continued.
One day I went out for a walk, wondering if I should seek help. Finally I asked God to help me; I felt that was the right thing to do.
After a few days I met a young woman who told me about the church she was attending. What she said made me curious and hopeful. I asked if I could attend one of her church’s meetings.
On arriving I was welcomed by kind people. They introduced me to the missionaries, who gave me the first discussion and a Book of Mormon.
At the end of my vacation I went back to Bogotá, where I was in an accident and injured my leg. Because I could not walk well, I started to read the book the missionaries had given me. It was then that I found answers to many questions I had about the purpose of life and the correct way to worship God. The teachings of Nephi and Mosiah and others gave me the desire to talk with the missionaries about this Church.
Because of my accident it was difficult to move about, but the desire to learn more was so great I went to Fusagasuga in search of the missionaries. When I found them, they gave me the address of some missionaries close to my home, and I returned.
The day the cast was taken off my leg, even though I still could not walk well, I looked for the nearest Latter-day Saint Church building. I found the missionaries there—as if they were waiting for me. Elders Castro, Mamani, and Duran answered my many questions and invited me to join the kingdom of God.
Every time we talked, I felt that this was the right road and that God had answered my pleas for help. Like many, I sought the truth on my knees; the nicest part of the gospel message was that I could know the truth for myself. Two months later, on 4 June 1994, I was baptized.

Despite the cost of the trip, Brother Mateo; his wife, Altagracia; and three of their children were sealed in the temple in 2001. Since then they have sacrificed to save enough to visit the temple at least twice each year.
The work and the sacrifices, both physical and spiritual, are worth it to Brother Mateo.
“It’s not hard when you know what the purpose is,” he says. “We’re fighting for something more sublime than wordly things.”

The Lodi 2nd Ward Primary, Lodi California Stake, celebrated President Thomas S. Monson’s birthday with service. Each child completed an act of service and then filled out a card describing their service. Some children helped their family take food to a neighbor, others shared school supplies with kids that didn’t have any, and lots of kids helped around the house. These cards were sent to President Monson for his birthday. They also had a birthday party and made the rainbow cake President Monson’s mother made for him when he was a boy, featured in the August 2012 issue of the Friend.

When my family moved here in August 2016 as part of the U.S. military, we were overwhelmed with new weather and a new culture, but we also met wonderful people and began to experience the strong presence of the gospel here.
After we adjusted to our new ward for a few weeks, our bishop invited us to attend the Talofofo Group, located in the village of Talofofo, several miles away from the chapel. Here a group of faithful saints met outside under a canopy each Sunday.
There were many challenges when meeting outside: the heat, dogs, rain, mud, mosquitos, ants, chickens, and so on. Regardless of these challenges, I have never felt the Spirit so strongly before. It reminds me of how the Saints in the time of Joseph Smith met outdoors in open weather, lacking necessities, with many distractions.
The Saints in the group feel like family, and I love each one of them as my brothers and sisters.

One day I was working in my office at Brigham Young University, counseling students with academic problems. It was February 15, 1980. A phone call came from Salt Lake City to inform me that President Kimball wanted me to come to his home that same afternoon at 4:00 P.M. When I went home for lunch I told my wife that President Kimball wanted to see me, she laughed and thought I was teasing her. My heart pounded with excitement as I sat in the presence of the prophet and heard him say: “You have been selected to be the president of the first temple in Asia.” What an honor and privilege to be called to such a sacred responsibility! Quickly my mind went over my weaknesses and inabilities. My lack of understanding in the language and other shortcomings seemed insurmountable. Then, the scriptures in 1st Nephi 3:7 came to mind. “I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save He shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the things which he commandeth them.” [1 Ne. 3:7] This gave me courage to accept the call.
Since that day many exciting things have happened. The selecting of Yukus Inouye as first counselor and Yasuhiro Matsushita as second counselor and recorder has added strength and balance to the temple presidency. Being set apart as the president of the temple and then given the sealing power by President Kimball, who was assisted by President Tanner and President Romney, was an unforgettable experience. Putting our home and personal affairs in order came next. Following that we received training from faithful and devoted workers in the Salt Lake, Provo, and Hawaii temples. We were now several steps closer to returning to Japan.
On July 8, 1980 we arrived at Narita airport. Many friends were there to meet us, carrying a banner of greeting. When we saw the words, “Welcome Home,” our hearts felt a special glow, for we truly felt like we were coming home and we were thrilled to be here. The temple was more beautiful and much larger than we had imagined. We express our deepest gratitude to all the dedicated members and nonmembers who have labored hard and long to build this magnificent structure. They have been guided and strengthened by the spirit of the Lord to construct an extraordinary monument to Him. I am sure He is pleased with their labors.

In Liverpool, New York, USA, as Primary president Melissa Fisk attended ward council meeting, she gained insight into its power. When she reached inside her bag for a notebook, she came across a picture of 28 Primary children on the steps of the Palmyra New York Temple. All were covered with wasp stings. For a moment, the picture pulled her attention away from the meeting, and she focused briefly on the day the ward Primary had gone to Palmyra to enjoy the sacred feeling of the temple grounds. Unfortunately, when the children spread out their blankets, they had accidentally upset a wasps’ nest.
After everyone had been cared for, the leaders invited the children to touch the temple. The children refused because they were afraid that there might be more wasps. So parents and leaders stood in a line and created a path to the temple. This gave the children courage to move forward.
As Melissa turned her attention back to the ward council meeting, she thought, “If only everyone could be surrounded by such loving friends and leaders as they progress toward the temple.”
Her thoughts were interrupted as she heard the Relief Society president comment on a sister in need: “She wasn’t at church last Sunday. I’ll make sure her visiting teachers let her know about the upcoming temple trip.”
“They’ve got some hard things going on right now,” added the elders quorum president. “I’ll follow up with their home teachers and see if there’s anything we can do.”
“The young women could help with babysitting,” said the Young Women president.
As Melissa looked at the faces of the members of the ward council, she saw genuine affection and concern. A smile spread across her face. “The Lord has prepared ways for His children to be protected and loved,” she thought. “The ward council!”
Just as in Joplin, Puerto Francisco de Orellana, and Liverpool, Church leaders worldwide continue to discover the blessings of ward and branch councils. As they do, they will harness the extraordinary power of these councils to help the Lord bless His children and accomplish His work.

The Bountiful (Utah) 42nd Ward wanted to give the shirts off their backs, but instead they arranged to buy some. New white shirts were purchased to be given to native missionaries entering the Chilean Missionary Training Center.
President Dave Lloyd, a member of the Bountiful Utah Mueller Park Stake, was serving as president of the Chilean Missionary Training Center. He and his wife returned to the United States while he underwent surgery. When President and sister Lloyd returned to Chile, they took the donated shirts and ties with them to aid missionaries entering the mission field in Chile.