Gospel Story Finder

During my junior year of high school, my life began to get off track. I went to church only to pacify my parents, not because I wanted to. Toward the end of the year, nothing was going right—not at school, not at work, and especially not at home.
One day I went to my sister’s house. At that time her husband, Gerry, was in the bishopric. I began to tell them all the things that were going wrong in my life. After patiently listening, Gerry suggested I start reading the Book of Mormon 30 minutes a day. I had tried everything else, and nothing had worked, so I decided to give it a try. Gerry promised me if I truly tried to read for 30 minutes a day for a whole month, things would start to change for the better.
I started reading that very night. I think it was the longest half hour of my life. The next day was just a day; nothing great or horrible happened.
But change takes time. The next week was not an easy one. I missed the extra half hour of sleep, but I kept reading. Soon I started to notice that little things were working out better.
Then I received one of the biggest blessings I had ever had, although I didn’t recognize it at first. I had the opportunity to go to Ireland to work for the summer. I was already two weeks into my month of reading when I left, so I decided to continue the Book of Mormon test in Ireland and read every day.
My life began to change dramatically. I began to love the things I had detested. I looked forward to going to church at my little branch in Ireland. I gained a more positive outlook on life, and my testimony began to grow by leaps and bounds.
One day I wrote in my journal: Today was the most wonderful day. I woke up and went to church at 10:30. Today was our branch conference. It was the most spiritual meeting I have ever attended! I don’t think I have ever felt the Spirit so strongly before. The people here in Galway are the friendliest, most generous, most righteous people I have ever met. They give me strength. They are so firmly rooted in the gospel; I learn so much just by their examples. I think today is the first time I have ever known or felt absolutely positive that the gospel is right and true.
Reading the Book of Mormon was no longer a chore. It was something I began to look forward to every day.
My time in Ireland was soon up, and I had to return home. I knew that facing my home life and my old friends was going to be a great challenge.
When I got home, though, it wasn’t as bad as I thought. My mom and I actually saw eye to eye on a lot of things, and I grew to love her with all my heart. As the wrinkles in my home life began to iron out, so did the situation with my friends. I stopped hanging out with some of my old friends and started associating with a different group of girls. This change was hard, but I had a lot of support. My life took a complete turn.
Throughout this whole process, I had the scriptures and my sister to help me. My sister always knew when things were getting rough, and she wrote notes of encouragement. She gave me a compass to remind me of the changes I had made in my life and to encourage me to keep going in the right direction.
A few months later, time became harder to find, and scripture study became shorter and shorter. I found that my compass had grown cloudy.
My sister wrote me this note: You know, Trish, I feel that you are in a major war for your soul, and as much as I would like to be with you on the daily battlefront and as much as I talk about fighting for you, I realized last night that you are the only one who can win your war. You are the only one who can put on your armor every day by reading the Book of Mormon.
Once again I turned to the scriptures, increasing my reading to 30 minutes a day. And again, things turned around.
I know there is a battle raging each day for our souls. Satan wants to have us, but we have the tools to fight back. I know from experience that reading the Book of Mormon every day will keep us headed in the right direction. I know it helped me. I have a testimony of the power of the scriptures and all they can do for each of us. Take the challenge and find out for yourself.

I recall that when I was twenty years old, I went for an interview with the bishop to go on a mission. When I returned, my mother, all smiles, said, “Well, Ted, what did the bishop say?”
“He said I couldn’t go.”
“Why not?” my mother asked.
And I said, “Because we don’t have enough money.”
“If my father could leave two children and another to be born shortly after he left, you can go.”
I said, “I know that, but the bishop doesn’t.”
Parenthetically, I might say that he was doing his job right. He asked me if I had any money. I told him I had a few hundred dollars that I had earned that summer.
He said, “Then what?”
I said, “My dad would send it to me.”
He said, “Does your dad have it?”
I said, “No,” and he didn’t. We had lost our sheep herd during the Depression. My father was a livestock dealer buying lambs and wool on commission, and that was a very uncertain income.
The bishop said, “The Brethren have had some serious experiences, and so you cannot go unless you can guarantee that you’ll have sufficient money.”
I accepted that, and that’s what I told my mother.
That night we waited for Dad to come home and then held a family council. We concluded that we didn’t then have enough money—and that we wouldn’t, so far as we could see, anytime in the future. We decided to ask our neighbor, Tom Anderson, a rather wealthy man, if he would help. When we explained our situation, he said, “You tell the bishop that I will ‘back you.’”
Before the bishop opened his business the next morning, I was there waiting to tell him that Tom Anderson said he would back me. The bishop said, “That’s all I need to know.”
The interesting thing was that we never did have to call on Brother Anderson. My folks would send that check and with it a note, “This is for this month, and we’ll have the next month’s, too.”
I am a product of a household of faith. I learned faith in my home. I was taught it. It was drilled into me. I need that faith now as much as I ever did.

Illustration by Merrilee Liddiard
I awoke early one morning to get ready for work. While I usually love my job as a teacher, I was out of sorts and just wanted to crawl back under the covers and pretend it was bedtime again.
When I arrived at the high school, I tried to get my mind ready for work. I knew I needed to teach a math class soon, but my heart and head both felt dull and depressed. My emotions were all negative.
I decided to visit the restroom before class. Every once in a while, someone will post fliers in the restrooms with information for students and staff. Out of the corner of my eye, a flier caught my attention. It had a nice quote on it that read, “If you want to give a light to others, you have to glow yourself.”1 I was surprised to see that this quote came from President Thomas S. Monson (1927–2018).
I didn’t expect to see a quote from a prophet of God on the walls of the school. I live in a small town in Pennsylvania, USA, and I’m sure I’m one of a few, or possibly the only, member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in the school. I knew I was one of a few who would understand the importance of the words of President Monson—a man I had sustained for many years as the prophet. I felt that this message was meant for me. It softened my heart and lifted my mood. Gratitude for my testimony filled my heart, and Heavenly Father’s love surrounded me.
I wanted to pull the flier off the wall and keep it in my pocket all day to uplift me, but I had a quick realization. President Monson wasn’t just the prophet for me and other members of the Church—he was the prophet for the world. His words, like the words of President Russell M. Nelson today, are for everyone. A prophet’s words help and uplift all who will hear them. I took a picture of the quote with my phone and left the flier up for anyone else who might need it.
I’m grateful Heavenly Father put this message in my path. I want to give light to others. Through obedience and a closeness with our Savior, I can glow even on days when darkness would have me lose my way.

La Verkin, Utah—One night when I was sixteen years old, Father gave a Christmas party for his own children and their families and the nearest neighbors. We danced. My brothers were the musicians. We knew it was Father’s aim to end the party at ten o’clock, which he did right in the middle of a square-dance by ordering the musicians to stop. But Father didn’t know that my brothers had lifted me up to the clock many times that night. Each time I turned it back thirty minutes. It must have been past midnight when the party broke up.
“Julia’s Christmas,” from the Christian Olsen family record, Our Pioneer Heritage, 14 (1971): 199

There are living, breathing pioneers in French Polynesia. Lianna Tarahu, 14, of Hapiti, needs to look no further than her grandparents. They joined the Church many years ago and remember with fondness Elder John Fuhriman, the missionary who taught them.
Because of her grandparents, Lianna is the third generation in her family to be active in the Church. But Lianna, just like everyone, had to gain her own testimony.
“First of all, I was very blessed to be raised in the Church. My parents taught me all of my life the principles of the gospel. We have studied the scriptures together,” said Lianna. “There wasn’t a particular moment or one experience, but many things through the years that have helped my testimony grow little by little. Now I attend seminary and am learning a lot of wonderful things about the gospel. Because of seminary, when I serve a mission I will be much better prepared.”
Lianna is very serious about a mission. She said her favorite scripture is 1 Nephi 3:7, in which Nephi promises to go and do the things the Lord commands. Lianna says, “This promise is one I make also.” When asked what she will do if she is called to a faraway place, Lianna hesitates. She is the oldest of 11 brothers and sisters. She will miss her many family members, and they will miss her. Then she says: “It would make no difference. If the Lord calls me to America, to London, or to Bora Bora, I will serve.”
Taped in the front of Lianna’s scriptures is a copy of the pamphlet For the Strength of Youth. Of course, her copy is in French, so it’s called Soyez Fort, “Be Strong.” She looks at it often.
Is it difficult for her to follow the standards? Lianna gives one example. “It is very hot here, but we are told to be modest and wear dresses and blouses with sleeves,” Lianna says. “Sometimes it is difficult, but the standards are good and protect us. We learn many things we need to know to be Saints.”

Last Saturday, I had the experience of visiting Joe and Linda in their home in Boise, Idaho. They gave me permission to share their story with you in the hope that it might help someone who has to make a similar decision in his or her life. About three to four years ago, Joe was an alcoholic. Linda, while she did not drink, was codependent emotionally on the behavior of an alcoholic husband. She was nearing a nervous breakdown. She had made the decision to save herself and the children from the manipulative behavior of a husband suffering from alcoholism. So she left home, taking the children, except for a fourteen-year-old son.

Joe related to me the depression and despair he felt the night Linda left him. Somewhere in the middle of the night, about 2:00 or 3:00 a.m., Joe awoke. He reached out in prayer to his Heavenly Father and prayed until dawn. It was his Gethsemane. He cried out to the Lord and asked for help with his affliction and expressed love for his caring wife, who had confronted him with his abusive behavior.

When Joe arose in the early morning light, he made a commitment not to take another drink of alcohol. Joe has lived up to that commitment. His testimony as he talks with others in Alcoholics Anonymous is that God lives and answers prayers.

When her nine-year-old cousin rushed in, bleeding badly from an injured arm, Terri Edwards, 13, approached the emergency calmly and correctly.
The youngster had torn his arm severely on a piece of metal. Terri remembered the first-aid training she received at girls’ camp and used clean cloths to stop the bleeding. While she kept pressure on the boy’s arm, she told her sister to call for help. The boy was rushed to the hospital where he had emergency surgery.
Terri received a commendation from the Madison County sheriff for the correct manner in which she responded to the emergency. Terri is a member of the Rexburg Seventh Ward, Rexburg Idaho Stake.

A seminary open house by students in the Bonneville Seminary near Ogden, Utah, resulted in 126 referrals in just one evening, with 30 new families receiving lessons from stake and full-time missionaries.

“We had one baptism just a few days after the program.” That was the happy report of seminary instructor and program coordinator Richard Jackson. He said that when the program, which was centered around the mission of the Savior, was introduced to the students, the reaction was overwhelming. “We needed 60 students to participate and got nearly 200.”

The program depicted scenes from the Savior’s life, the restoration, and family home evenings. “We have seven families studying the gospel as a result of the family home evening section alone.”

The seminary students staffed the presentations, ran the lights and sounds, and helped as missionary aides. Six rooms in the building were used, and the only problem seemed to be that too many people turned out for the event!

One helper, sophomore Matthew Bell, said, “It’s great knowing you’re part of a program to help bring your friends into the Church.”

Lenore Scholfield, also a sophomore, said, “The program made me want to share the truth with my friends.”

Nancy Havens, a junior, said, “It helped me to talk with my friends about the Church. I know several who came and appeared to really be interested.”

Mitchell Halverson, who worked as a missionary aide, said, “Working on the program gave me a sense of responsibility and strengthened my testimony.”

Program participants noted that about three weeks were spent preparing the various scenes and coordinating the sound and lighting. Extensive use was made of seminary materials. Special showings of The First Vision were used to enhance the program.

A fireside was held the Sunday before the open house to acquaint students with ways to contact their friends concerning the activity. Other help came through local radio and newspaper coverage of the open house.

The three goals for the program were to put Christ into Christmas, help members realize the importance of missionary work, and share the gospel with nonmember friends. The open house was so successful that plans are being made to turn it into an annual event each December.

Back when COVID-19 hit Brazil, I started playing computer games with my friends between online classes. Initially, I played for one hour a day, but that eventually turned into 10 hours a day. This continued for days and months.
I used my father’s work computer for gaming, even though it wasn’t supposed to be used for that. My parents thought I was in class or studying. Even though I was with friends online, being alone on the computer made me feel isolated, tired, and less happy.
One day during class, a classmate called. We realized we had played all 100 games I had, and we wanted something new. But my father’s work computer had limited memory. When I tried to install a new game, the computer crashed.
I panicked. I was afraid my parents would find out. I took apart the computer piece by piece but didn’t see any problems, so I put everything back in place and tried turning it on. I knew I needed to clean the computer, so I spent hours uninstalling game after game—but nothing changed.
Later that day, my dad needed to do some work on his computer. I was really nervous. After a while, he called me over. There was the computer in front of him. Broken.
I couldn’t lie to my dad anymore. I confessed what I did.
The next day, my dad went to work with the broken computer. Instead of blaming me, he took responsibility for what I did. None of it was his fault, but he chose to lose credibility with his boss and take all the blame without me even asking him to. And that broke my heart.
I was so ashamed about what I had done that I started to struggle mentally. I didn’t want to wake up. I didn’t have the courage to talk to my parents.
But that Saturday, my father woke me up around 4:30 a.m., inviting me to go on a run. On the run, he said he had asked me to go with him so I could learn something he never wanted me to forget: resilience. He told me that resilience was the capacity to withstand or recover quickly from difficulties, to resolve the problem, and after resolving it, to stand up and keep going forward.
Because of my dad’s example at work and what he taught me about resilience, I had a glimpse of who Jesus Christ is and what He did for me. Christ gave me the opportunity to be forgiven for my sins. I learned that forgiveness is a gift and that the Savior’s expectation of me is to be resilient in the path of righteousness.
After that run, I started changing my mindset and habits. I realized that there is much more to life than playing games all day.
The next three years were challenging as I worked on my new habits, but with my parents’ help, I gradually started focusing on my future. I also discovered that I have a talent for communication and enjoy helping others.
Instead of spending all my time on video games, I began learning about becoming an entrepreneur. I started an Instagram channel and a YouTube page, and now I teach people what I have learned about becoming financially successful and investing in our best investment—ourselves.
Through all these experiences, I saw the hand of the Lord many times, especially finding forgiveness in my Savior’s sacrifice. There will be times that I will fail, but with resilience and the Atonement of Jesus Christ, I can become more like Him.

One rainy night in late November 1973, my companion and I were tracting in Manila, the Philippines, and we knocked on the door of Romeo and Naty Bautista. They let us in and listened politely to our short message. Naty didn’t speak English (and we only taught in English at that time), but Romeo did and was interested in having us come back. He also said that his younger sister, Avelia, who was living with them while going to college in Manila, would probably be interested.
As excited as young missionaries can be about new investigators, we eagerly waited for the return appointment several days later. The lesson went so well that we could hardly believe it. Romeo and Avelia listened attentively and asked questions. Naty listened but didn’t understand much of what we said. They were all receptive from the very beginning—a missionary’s dream!
After we left each lesson, Romeo would teach the lesson to his wife in Tagalog. They read the Book of Mormon in English together, slowly. They had two young daughters at the time: Ruth, a toddler, and Namie, a new baby.
In December 1973, I was fortunate to baptize and confirm Romeo and his sister Avelia. My companion and I were thrilled at the family’s faith and interest in the gospel, but we never could have predicted the eternal impact of their decision and the countless lives that would be blessed both immediately and years down the road.
Romeo and Avelia became faithful and strong members of the Makati Branch from the start. Soon after their baptisms, I returned home to Salt Lake City, Utah. In my excitement to come home, I didn’t even get Romeo’s mailing address to write a letter. There was no internet or cell phones in those days.
I soon met Susan, my eternal sweetheart. I taught, baptized, and married her in 1975, and we were sealed in the Salt Lake Temple in 1976. We had three children and became involved in various Church callings. I was also very involved in our family business. I often thought about the Bautista family and how they were doing, but I didn’t know of any way to contact them.
Then one special day in 1997, I received a letter from a Mrs. Avelia Wijtenberg, postmarked from Mackay, Queensland, Australia! I didn’t know any such person there, but when I read the letter, I learned that Romeo’s sister Avelia had met and married a Dutch-Australian man and had been living in Queensland for some years. She had found my old mailing address in her notebook one day while doing some spring cleaning.
Avelia and I began a letter-writing campaign, eager to know about what had happened to each other over the past several decades. She was also able to give me a mailing address for Romeo, who had moved to Tiwi, in the southern part of Luzon Island in the Philippines.
That year, as Romeo and I wrote back and forth, after 24 years of no contact, our old relationship was rekindled. Romeo said that he and Naty now had five children. Naty and the rest of the family had been baptized in the years after I returned home. Their eldest, Ruth, had served a mission in the Philippines Davao Mission, and the second and third daughters, Namie and Joan, were serving missions in northern Luzon and Guam, respectively. They had a fourth daughter, Lyn, who later served in the Philippines Baguio Mission, and finally, a son, John, who later served in the Philippines Cagayan de Oro Mission.
My wife and I requested the addresses of Namie and Joan and wrote to them on their missions. We had never met them and didn’t know them at all but felt such an instant bond that is difficult to describe in words. It was almost as though they were our own daughters! Through our letters, we rekindled a love for the Bautista family and especially for Namie and Joan—who were full of the Spirit, working hard as full-time missionaries. In a letter, Namie asked if she could telephone us on Christmas Day, as her parents didn’t have a telephone at the time. With the approval of her mission president, she called on Christmas Day in 1997, and we both just cried for several minutes. I then reminded her that an international long-distance collect call was too expensive to waste just crying to each other. We laughed and had a wonderful conversation, even with her limited English skills. She invited us to come to the Philippines the following summer for her homecoming talk.
In the summer of 1998, as Namie returned home from her mission, I made plans with my 16-year-old daughter to go to the Philippines. We arrived in Manila and met with Ruth. We attended the Manila Philippines Temple together. Then we flew south to her family’s home in Tiwi. It’s impossible to describe the joy of seeing Romeo and his family again. The deep bond of brotherhood was instantly renewed. We talked and hugged and reminisced; we ate together and read scriptures with his family each night we were there. They were such strong rocks of testimony in their small branch. We attended sacrament meeting in the Tiwi Branch and listened to Namie report on her mission. It was amazing. It was nearly celestial. Truly this was missionary heaven.
At that time, Romeo was serving as the branch president of the Tiwi Branch. He had been instrumental in bringing the gospel to his extended family in northern Luzon. Romeo took his family to the temple, where Naty and their children were sealed. Now all five of the children have been married and sealed in the Manila Temple. Several married returned missionaries. Joan was instrumental in converting her boyfriend. She waited with him for a year after his baptism and then married him in the Manila Temple. Naty died suddenly in 2007, but the family remained strongly rooted in the gospel. They are thankful for the sealing covenant and know they will see their beautiful wife and mother again if they are faithful.
Now there are more than 70 members of the Bautista family who are active in the Church. The family and extended family have accounted for 17 full-time missions and 14 temple marriages. Family members have also served as bishops and branch presidents; stake and district presidents; and Relief Society, Young Women, and Primary presidents and counselors! Romeo’s son, John, was a bishop in the Quezon City area. Ruth’s husband was a high councilor in that same stake. Lyn’s husband was also a branch president in Tiwi. The Bautista family surely is building a strong legacy of service and strength in the Philippines.
My wife and I served a senior mission in the Philippines San Pablo Mission from 2008 to 2010. One day at the temple in Manila, most of the Bautista family gathered for the marriage of John Bautista (Romeo’s son) to Sister Victorino, one of the sister missionaries from our San Pablo Mission who had completed her mission and recently returned home.
Our mission president asked if we would like to attend that joyous event, and we immediately made plans to be there. My wife knew of my relationship with the Bautista family but was completely blown away by how many family members there were and how much they loved her. She had 70 new friends for life.
I often think of Doctrine and Covenants 18:15: “And if it so be that you should labor all your days in crying repentance unto this people, and bring, save it be one soul unto me, how great shall be your joy with him in the kingdom of my Father!” Like a ripple in a pond, the influence of one soul, Romeo, has sent out waves of strong testimonies and Church service in the Philippines.
I was fortunate to help toss the pebble into the pond four decades ago with the baptisms of Romeo and Avelia. I have experienced unspeakable joy in my relationship with this great family, now into their third generation of gospel living. This is truly the ongoing legacy and joy of missionary work. This is a little bit of missionary heaven!

A home teaching visit is also more likely to be successful if an appointment is made in advance. To illustrate this point, let me share with you an experience I had some years ago. At that time the Missionary Executive Committee was comprised of Spencer W. Kimball, Gordon B. Hinckley, and Thomas S. Monson. One evening Brother and Sister Hinckley hosted a dinner in their home for the committee members and our wives. We had just finished a lovely meal when there was a knock at the door. President Hinckley opened the door and found one of his home teachers standing there. The home teacher said, “I know I didn’t make an appointment to come, and I don’t have with me my companion, but I felt I should come tonight. I didn’t know you would be entertaining company.”
President Hinckley graciously invited the home teacher to come in and sit down and to instruct three Apostles and our wives concerning our duty as members. With a bit of trepidation, the home teacher did his best. President Hinckley thanked him for coming, after which he made a hurried exit.

When I was a junior in high school, I struggled with my testimony of the Church. I loved school, my social life, and athletics. I was a “three-sporter”—football, wrestling, and baseball were my sports of choice. I loved competition and the social appreciation that came with a job well done.
Unfortunately, this love of social appreciation influenced me to get involved in other activities that were not as productive—activities that I knew were clearly not acceptable in my home or in the Church. But I felt like a popular kid at school, and if participating in certain activities provided this attention, then I wanted to be involved, regardless of the consequences.
One young woman in my high school could be described as my polar opposite. Her life was filled with the scriptures, seminary, prayer, and active attendance at church and Mutual. She was also captain of the drill team.
She and I were in the same ward, but I rarely saw her because I didn’t actively participate in the ward. We really didn’t speak much. She knew who I was and I knew who she was, but we just didn’t have a lot to talk about. Although I never told anyone, I had a great appreciation for her commitment to the gospel. In a way, I wanted it, but I wasn’t willing to go get it and give up what I needed to give up.
One day we were about to pass each other in the hall. I didn’t want to talk with her, so I tried not to make eye contact. Then she said, “Hi, Mike. Can I talk with you for a minute?” I didn’t know what she was doing. She continued, “Mike, I’ve had an impression that I need to share with you. I know that if you were to just give up some of the bad things you’re doing, then you could be such an incredible influence for good. I just felt like I needed to tell you that. See ya.”
She continued to walk down the hall in her direction and I in mine. But I was not the same. Her courage had planted a seed, and I started to reflect on my life and the truth of what she said. And then I started to change.
At the end of my senior year, someone presented me with the question “What’s so bad about being good?” My answer is nothing! Everything I have in life that is good can be attributed to my doing something good. I have never received something good from doing something bad. I am grateful for this young woman and her willingness to stand up and testify of truth.
I am now happily married in the temple and have six beautiful children. My wife and I are trying to teach our children what this young woman taught me: that being good is great and that it allows us to have a positive impact on so many around us.

The American Young Men and Young Women living in Bonn, Germany, hosted a night of Halloween activities for their German, Spanish, French, English, and Filipino friends.
“We gave a workshop called ‘How to Carve a Jack-o’-lantern,’” says Terri Lutz, a Laurel who helped to plan the activity.
Since carving pumpkins is an American tradition, most of the youth had never even heard of it, much less done it.
“As they plunged their hands inside the pumpkin to scoop the ‘goop’ out, you could tell that some of them were questioning this strange American tradition,” says Terri.
After the pumpkins were carved and everyone had a chance to clean up, they ate—what else?—pumpkin cookies and pumpkin bread!
The activity helped bring the youth closer together, says Terri. “We were able to overcome the language barrier and enjoy one another’s company.”

Perhaps a recent experience will give you a glimpse into how I feel about you and the supernal abilities with which you are endowed.
One day while I was speaking to a congregation in South America, I became exceedingly excited about my topic, and at a pivotal moment, I said, “As the mother of 10 children, I can tell you that …” And then I went on to complete my message.
I did not realize that I had said the word mother. My translator, assuming I had misspoken, changed the word mother to father, so the congregation never knew that I had referred to myself as mother. But my wife Wendy heard it, and she was delighted with my Freudian slip.
In that moment, the deep longing of my heart to make a difference in the world—like only a mother does—bubbled up from my heart. Through the years, whenever I have been asked why I chose to become a medical doctor, my answer has always been the same: “Because I could not choose to be a mother.”

It is a good thing I did, for a similar event occurred in my life with our youngest son, Clark.
Clark has always liked animals, birds, reptiles—anything that is alive. Sometimes that resulted in a little chaos in our home. One day in his boyhood he came home from Provo Canyon with a water snake, which he named Herman.
Right off the bat Herman got lost. Sister Monson found him in the silverware drawer. Water snakes have a way of being where you least expect them. Well, Clark moved Herman to the bathtub, put a plug in the drain, put a little water in, and had a sign taped to the back of the tub which read, “Don’t use this tub. It belongs to Herman.” So we had to use the other bathroom while Herman occupied that sequestered place.
But then one day, to our amazement, Herman disappeared. His name should have been Houdini. He was gone! So the next day Sister Monson cleaned up the tub and prepared it for normal use. Several days went by.
One evening I decided it was time to take a leisurely bath, so I filled the tub with a lot of warm water, and then I peacefully lay down in the tub for a few moments of relaxation. I was lying there just pondering, when the soapy water reached the level of the overflow drain and began to flow through it. Can you imagine my surprise when, with my eyes focused on that drain, Herman came swimming out, right for my face? I yelled out to my wife, “Frances! Here comes Herman!”
Well, Herman was captured again, put in a foolproof box, and we made a little excursion to Vivian Park in Provo Canyon and there released Herman into the beautiful waters of the South Fork Creek. Herman was never again to be seen by us.

And guess what! There’s a new girl named Debbie in our class at school. She has a funny accent and bright red hair. The boys call her “Carrot Top.”
One day while the three of us are walking into the cafeteria, Shiela says, “Look, there’s that new girl, Debbie.”
Laura and I glance across the crowded cafeteria to where the redhead sits eating alone. “She’s always by herself,” Shiela informs us. “It’s hard to be new. Let’s go eat lunch with her.”
“Good idea!” Laura and I say at the same time.
“Maybe we should make her some cookies after school,” Laura suggests with a smile. We all agree.
I smile too. It looks as though we are going to be secret pals to every new classmate. But that’s OK with me. I like doing it. You can never have enough friends.

I was baptised in 1968 at the Nottingham chapel, West Bridgford. I was 17 years old. It was not long before I was called to serve as a ward missionary. This was a challenge for me at the start, but after a short period of time I became more valiant in my call, and with the help of local full-time missionaries I began to find it easier to testify to the truthfulness of the gospel.
It was during this time that I would go out with the full-time missionaries on teaching appointments or tracting.
One day they invited me to join them in the Market Square, Nottingham. We called it “Slab Square”—Elder M. Russell Ballard (1928–2023) preached there as a young missionary. They were going to preach the gospel. They stood on a raised wall and started to preach the message of the Restoration. I was amazed when a small crowd gathered, and even more amazed when I found myself volunteering to do what they were doing. The crowd had grown to about 40, and I said a silent prayer and started to share the message of the Restoration. Individuals in the crowd started to respond with some very critical comments, until one gentleman seemed to shout with a very loud voice, “Give the lad a chance!”
It worked and I was able to finish my remarks. I’m not sure if this gentleman was a little the worse for drink but I was very grateful for his comments.
We left the Market Square and I’m not sure what good I did, but I always remember that day in Slab Square. It gave me the courage to stand up and testify, no matter what. I thought, “If I can do that, I can do anything.” Even today I think the Spirit moved not only upon me that day but also upon the gentleman who spoke up for me.

Let me tell of another person I met in Guatemala. He is John O’Donnal, the president of the Guatemala City Temple. He stood before a congregation and with a voice choked with emotion told his story.
As a young man he was graduated from the University of Arizona with a degree in agricultural science. He was employed by the U.S. Department of Agriculture and was sent to Guatemala to work on a project to develop the growth of natural rubber trees to meet a critical need during World War II.
As I remember his words, he said: “I was twenty-four years of age and unmarried when I came to Guatemala forty-three years ago. I had been raised with a love for the Savior and His teachings. During my work here, I walked day after day through these mountains and jungles among the native peoples of this land. I came to know them and to love them, and as I saw the poverty and darkness in which they lived, I wept for them. They were the purest people I had ever known, but they were without the light of the gospel. I cried to the Lord concerning them. I knew that their one sure hope lay in obtaining a knowledge of and a love for Jesus Christ, and in receiving the record of their forebears, which testifies of Him.
“In time I fell in love with a beautiful girl who had English and German blood and also the blood of Lehi, Laman, and Samuel. We were married and spent our honeymoon in a little house in the mountains among the native people. I told her that some day these people must hear the gospel and that they would rise in strength and beauty.
“In 1946 and again in 1947 I traveled to Salt Lake City, Utah, and pleaded with the President of the Church to send missionaries. Finally, in December 1947, the mission president and his counselors brought four elders to our house. The next day we drove onto a mountain where together we had the sacrament, and the mission president dedicated the land for the preaching of the restored gospel.
“My wife was the first native of Guatemala baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Today she stands at my side as the matron of this beautiful temple.”
He continued: “In 1956 I was in a serious accident and was taken to the hospital for major surgery. I almost lost my life, and in those circumstances I had a remarkable experience. The Lord showed me that a temple would be built in this land.
“Also, I was informed by a power beyond the power of man that I would not die but that my life would not be my own.”
His life has not been his own. As a scientist and administrator, he established and operated a large rubber plantation and built and operated a tire factory for one of the great rubber companies in the United States. But he did still yet a far more significant thing. In the spirit of the Master, he went about doing good. He worked sharing the gospel among the native peoples of Guatemala. For more than forty years he has lived with them, has spoken their language, has sorrowed with them in their sorrows, has taught them the everlasting gospel, and has been a quiet, unassuming, but magnificent pioneer in the development of the work of the Lord in that land.
When he walked the jungle trails alone, he was the only member of the Church in all that land. Today there are more than forty-four thousand of them. He nurtured the first little branch. Today there are eight stakes of Zion in Guatemala and many more in the surrounding nations of Central America. Once, a few members met in his home. Now beautiful chapels of the Church are seen throughout the land. On a hill above Guatemala City is a magnificent temple, atop whose tallest steeple is the figure of Moroni.

Every Sunday on their way home from church, the Amblers drove down Tate Street until it ended, turned left onto Clermont Avenue, then turned right onto Clarktown Road. Halfway down Clarktown Road Dad stopped the car, and the family got out and looked around. In January they saw a snow-covered meadow; in March, a muddy hole in the ground. In May the Amblers saw the wood and brick outline of a building.
“A new church.” Lissy sighed happily.
“Our new church,” Jude exulted.
“A new church that’s all ours,” Caddy echoed their feelings.
“The work’s progressing nicely,” Dad said as he walked closer to the building, his arms clasped behind his back.
Mom reached out to hug the children. “How nice it will be to not meet in that rented hall anymore.”
The hall was where the Amblers and the other members of the Accrington Branch went to meetings each Sunday. Anticipating the move into the new building seemed to make everyone in the branch even less satisfied with their present meeting place. Lissy, Jude, Caddy, and the other Primary children often complained about the hall.
“There’s no parking lot, and we have to park way down the street and walk for miles,” Madeleine complained.
“There’s just not enough room!” Lissy said each Sunday when she scrunched between her parents in sacrament meeting. “I feel like a sausage in a can!”
“We don’t have any classrooms, and even with the dividers Brothers Magnuson made, I can hear everybody’s lesson but mine,” Jude grumbled.
“The piano’s out of tune, and lots of the keys don’t even work!” Freddy lamented. “I sound horrible on this old thing.”
“The hall isn’t like any of the pictures in the Ensign or the lesson manuals,” Caddy said, looking longingly at a picture of a meetinghouse set in the middle of a lush green lawn.
The children complained so much and so loudly that the Primary president scolded them. “Why, when I was on my mission, I went to a branch of the Church that met in a small room above a restaurant, and we were glad to have it! You don’t know how lucky you are!”
But even she was happy when the new building was finished. The Saturday before their first Sunday meeting, the branch president gave the Primary children a special tour. They could hardly believe their eyes.
“Carpet on the floor!” Silvia rubbed her shoes back and forth.
“Cushioned benches to sit on.” Eva ran her hand over the polished wood. “They even have holders with new hymnbooks.”
“A gym!” Eva’s brother George jumped up and caught an imaginary ball. “Now we won’t have to go to the park or the elementary school when we want to play games.”
“A stage!” someone exclaimed.
“A drinking fountain my size!” Lily took a long drink of water.
“And this is the library,” the branch president said. The children smiled at the meetinghouse librarian, who was unpacking boxes of pictures, books, and magazines.
“How many classrooms are there?” Jude asked.
“Eight,” answered the branch president. “Now let’s go see the baptismal font.”
“A baptismal font!” Christina exclaimed. “We won’t have to drive all the way to Clinton Ward anymore for baptisms.”
“More than one piano—and I bet that they’re all in tune like this one!” Freddy played a scale, up and down. “And an organ too. Wow!”
“Next spring we’ll plant grass, trees, and flowers,” the branch president told them.
John pulled the door open, shaded his eyes, and craned his neck. “It has a steeple, too, so everyone will know that this is a church.”
“Yes,” said the branch president, “and when it’s completely finished and paid for, we’ll have a special meeting to dedicate it to Heavenly Father.”
All through the cold winter months Lissy, Jude, Caddy, and the other Primary children prepared for what they called “Dedication Sunday.” They talked about reverence and about how important it was to take good care of the new building. They learned special songs. They drew pictures of the things that they did at church and pinned them up to make wonderful, colorful classroom bulletin boards. And the day before the dedication all the children and their families cleaned the whole building until it sparkled.
Early the next morning the Amblers, dressed in their nicest clothes, drove down Clarktown Road to the meetinghouse. They sniffed the lovely flowers Mom had carefully arranged in vases the night before and packed in a large box. They breathed in the fresh spring air coming through the open windows.
“Do you remember when our new church wasn’t even here?” Lissy asked.
“And when there was just a big hole in the ground?” Jude added.
“But now it’s a beautiful church, and soon it will belong to Heavenly Father,” Caddy said eagerly.
“Yes, this is an important day,” Dad said, turning into the parking lot. “The stake president will be here with his counselors, and many other special people are coming.”
He stopped the car, and they got out and looked happily at their new meetinghouse. Mom and Dad held the hands of the three children as they went up the walk. “Oh, how good it is to finally have our very own building to meet in!” they all agreed.

Imagine you are a right-handed person and in a blink of an eye you were to start afresh using your left hand. How would that feel? Difficult, right? but not entirely impossible.
That is exactly how I felt when I was to switch from the physical institute class to the online institute class, especially during this period of the COVID-19 pandemic. It was funny at first, participating in the opening formalities via chats and voice notes but with time, the class seemed normal, except for being physically present. We prayed, discussed, and felt the Spirit as we all shared our thoughts and experiences.