Gospel Story Finder

Laurie learned this by trying to be more Christlike in her relationship with her husband. She had a need for order; her husband did not. She shed many tears after she repeatedly criticized her husband for his casual and not very tidy ways. However, Laurie realized that her feelings and actions were not in line with the Savior’s example. Rather than condemning her husband, she determined to work on her own attitude. She thought of how Christ would have handled such situations, and planned how she would react to her husband’s next offense. With a Christlike attitude, she found there was no room for fault-finding. She ceased to react unpleasantly. Though it took weeks before her husband’s untidiness no longer bothered her, she found that while she waited for her husband to come home each day, she found herself planning to listen to him, to join him in a few quiet moments, and to help him relax from the tensions of the day.

These actions did not decrease her need for order. But as she learned to deal with the problem cheerfully, this approach became second nature. As much as she wanted it, her husband never did improve enough to be considered tidy. But after a while it did not matter much, because she found that her ability to control her temper was enormously satisfying, far more than having all his socks in the dresser drawer. She had, in fact, come a long way toward achieving emotional integrity.

I think of a young man I know who, as a Christian, trying one church after another, could find none that taught of a modern prophet. Among the Jewish people he found reverent mention of prophets, and so he accepted and embraced the Jewish religion.
In the summer of 1964, he went to New York City and visited the World’s Fair. He entered the Mormon Pavilion and saw pictures of the prophets of the Old Testament. His heart warmed within him as he heard the missionaries speak with appreciation of these great men of ages past through whom Jehovah revealed his will. Then, as he progressed through the pavilion, he heard of modern prophets—of Joseph Smith, who was called a prophet, a seer, and a revelator. Something stirred within him. His spirit responded to the testimony of the missionaries. He was baptized. He served a mission in South America. He returned home and has since become the means of bringing his family and others into the Church. It is heartwarming to hear him testify that Joseph Smith was indeed a prophet of God and that all who have succeeded him have been legal successors in this high and sacred calling.

When my grandson Jack was 10, he played on a competitive soccer team. Jack talked with his parents and decided to honor the Sabbath and not to play in games on Sundays. He worried that he wasn’t getting better because he was missing those games. Jack’s little brother Charles knew he was worried. One day Charles said the family prayer. He asked Heavenly Father to help Jack not be worried about soccer. Charles knew that a great way to help his brother was to pray for him. He had faith that his prayer would help Jack.
We need help in this life, and Heavenly Father wants to give us that help. He loves us. He will listen when we pray!

Last year I had the opportunity to take part in a massive relief effort in the devastated city of Joplin, Missouri, which had been hit by a tornado. I saw and experienced many things, some of which are difficult to even put into words. One particular experience has caused me to do a great deal of pondering.
We were at a house that was completely devastated, searching through what seemed like endless piles of rubble and debris. We were merely trying to see if anything at all was salvageable in this heap of mostly indistinguishable remains that were once somebody’s personal belongings. Not much turned up, but in the midst of the work and the commotion, something caught my attention and caused me to pause for a moment. Among the rubble that we couldn’t distinguish, I discovered a picture of the Savior.
I stopped for a brief moment, put the picture with the other few salvaged items, and for the rest of the day continued to carry out the tasks we were assembled to perform.
On reflecting about this small and seemingly insignificant event, I’ve been reminded of a valuable lesson. There in the most devastated, most hopeless situation imaginable, among what seemingly couldn’t be salvaged, I found the Savior. His love was evident in the inspiring relief efforts that took place in Joplin, Missouri.
This small moment has reminded me that no matter how hopeless or lost we find ourselves in life, we can always find the Savior. In fact, the Savior Jesus Christ seemed to be the only thing that stood out from the surrounding devastation. I’m reminded of all the times I and others were helped through difficult times by the loving influence of Jesus Christ.

Brother Joseph Stucki, a faithful Church member, died Christmas Eve in 1927 after a short illness, leaving his wife with seven children, the eldest son being on a mission. Two of the children and a nephew she was rearing were later taken in death. Another son was also sent on a mission. This was accomplished by much hard work—taking in sewing and living on a few dollars per month from an insurance policy.
During this difficult time, flour was being distributed to needy members of the ward. Some of the young men had been asked to deliver it. A bag of flour was brought to Sister Stucki’s home. Since she felt that there were other families in the ward that needed that flour worse than she did, she declined to keep it, telling the young man that she was trying to teach her family to be independent and self-reliant. While worthy members of the Church should feel free to accept help from the Church proffered by the bishop, Sister Stucki was trying to teach the young man who came to her door a lesson. You see, the young man delivering the flour was her own son! All the surviving children attended college and became very successful people. They lived by the motto, “Make it do, or do without.”

One day at the hotel restaurant, another cook, for inappropriate reasons, tried to get dates with some of the waitresses there. He was mad because the waitresses, who were Latter-day Saints, refused to go out with him.
Remembering the missionaries I had met in Milan, I told the cook that the waitresses had a right to turn him down.
“So, are you a Mormon too?” he asked.
Because I liked the principles the missionaries had taught me and because I felt justified in defending the waitresses, I replied, “Yes.”
The next time the cook saw the waitresses, he told them I was a Latter-day Saint. They were excited. When we gathered for lunch, they began asking me questions about the Church in Milan. I told them about the city and that I had met the missionaries there. When our lunch arrived, I reached for a glass of wine on the table.
“What are you doing drinking wine?” one of the waitresses asked.
“Is there something wrong with that?” I said.
“Are you even active?” another one asked.
“In what sense?” I said.
“How were you dressed the day you were baptized?” they asked.
“I don’t remember,” I told them. “I was only a month old.”
They were extremely mad because they thought I was making fun of them. I assured them I wasn’t. I admitted that I wasn’t a member of the Church, but I told them that I liked the Book of Mormon and the gospel principles I had learned. Then I asked how I could learn more about their church.
The waitresses soon introduced me to the missionaries. They could hardly believe it when I finished the discussions and got baptized.

Illustration by Bradley Clark
Before I joined the Church, my husband became seriously ill. I prayed hard, asking God to let my husband live for the sake of our five children and the baby I was expecting. But my prayers were in vain.
When my husband died, my love for God and my faith and trust in Him died as well. I was overwhelmed with the responsibilities now on my shoulders. Fortunately, my parents were there to help.
One day a few years later, I heard a knock at my door. Two strangers stood there with friendly smiles and a book in their hands. They introduced themselves as missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I had never heard of their church. They left when I told them I was busy, but I continued to think about them.
The next day I saw them showing their book to a neighbor. Curious, I came closer. The missionaries noticed me and asked again if they could visit me. I was surprised by my answer: “Yes, anytime!”
As I listened to the missionary lessons and studied the Book of Mormon, I realized the mistakes I had made in life, repented of my sins, and grew closer to God. When my parents heard that the elders were teaching me, however, they were upset. They threatened to disown my children and me. The missionaries invited me to be baptized, but I refused because we couldn’t live without my parents’ help.
The day of my baptism I was nervous, but I entered the water and was baptized.
Before the elders left, they asked me to read 3 Nephi 13:31–34. When I read “seek ye first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you” (verse 33), I knew that Heavenly Father would provide if I put Him first and obeyed His commandments. When the missionaries returned, we scheduled my baptism.
The day of my baptism, my mother’s angry voice flashed into my mind. I was nervous, but I entered the water and was baptized. Afterward I was so happy, and when I was confirmed a member of the Church and given the gift of the Holy Ghost, I felt that my burdens had been lifted.
When my parents heard that I had joined the Church, they disowned me. But we reconciled a year later, after which my two sisters were baptized with our parents’ consent.
Three of my children eventually served full-time missions, and soon I will celebrate 40 years as a member of the Church. What great blessings I have—all thanks to two missionaries who knocked on my door, introduced me to the Book of Mormon, and helped restore my love for God and my faith and trust in Him.

The influence of your mother will bless you throughout life, especially when you serve as a missionary. Long years ago, Elder Frank Croft was serving in the state of Alabama. While preaching to the people, he was forcefully abducted by a vicious gang, to be whipped and lashed across his bare back. Elder Croft was ordered to remove his coat and shirt before he was tied to a tree. As he did so, a letter he had recently received from his mother fell to the ground. The vile leader of the gang picked up the letter. Elder Croft closed his eyes and uttered a silent prayer. The attacker read the letter from Elder Croft’s mother. From a copy of that letter, I quote:

“My beloved son, … remember the words of the Savior when He said, … ‘Blessed are ye when men shall revile you and persecute you and say all manner of evil against you falsely for my name’s sake. Rejoice and be exceedingly glad for you will have your reward in Heaven for so persecuted they the prophets which were before you.’ Also remember the Savior upon the cross suffering from the sins of the world when He had uttered these immortal words, ‘Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.’ Surely, my boy, they who are mistreating you … know not what they do or they would not do it. Sometime, somewhere, they will understand and then they will regret their action and they will honor you for the glorious work you are doing. So be patient, my son, love those who mistreat you and say all manner of evil against you and the Lord will bless you and magnify you. … Remember also, my son, that day and night, your mother is praying for you.”

Elder Croft watched the hateful man as he studied the letter. He would read a line or two, then sit and ponder. He arose to approach his captive. The man said: “Feller, you must have a wonderful mother. You see, I once had one, too.” Then addressing the mob, he said: “Men, after reading this Mormon’s mother’s letter, I just can’t go ahead with the job. Maybe we had better let him go.” Elder Croft was released without harm.

In junior high school we were all required to take a music class. In this class we all had to audition for the school choir. The teacher would call your name, and you would have to go stand in front of the sneering class, by yourself, and sing what you were asked to. The teacher called out the names Larson, and then Murphy, and then I knew that my time of reckoning was nigh. I started to panic and asked to be excused to get a drink of water. While I was out in the hall, I dreamed up the most elaborate plans for my instant escape. I wanted to run away, but my feet carried me back into class just in time to hear my name read. I walked slowly to the front of the room and was asked to sing one scale. That was all. My voice did not go nearly as high or quite as low as some of the others had, but at least it did not crack. I had wanted to sing more, to prove that I could miraculously do better, but I was told that I could now please take my seat. I was sure that I had not done well enough, but to my surprise, when the list of the choir members was posted, my name was on it. Now, singing is certainly not one of my stronger talents, yet my greatest victory was still to come.

One afternoon we were in the auditorium practicing for an upcoming concert. We were being arranged on the bleachers according to our height. I was near the top. Our director stood back to evaluate the scene, but she was not satisfied with our appearance. She told the girl who was next to me that she was not quite tall enough to stand on our row. The girl spoke up politely and said, “It helps me to stand here next to Gay because it’s easier to get the notes right.” At that moment I felt as if I had conquered all doubts.

Our talents need to be shared and it is through this that we find real happiness. “Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven” (Matthew 5:16).

Sixteen-year-old Dieke Mphuti of Welkom, South Africa, lost her parents years ago, leaving her to care for three younger siblings on her own. It was always daunting for her to find enough food, but COVID supply shortages and quarantines made it almost impossible. They were often hungry, scraping by only with the generosity of neighbors.

On a sunny day in August 2020, Dieke was surprised by a knock at her door. She opened it to find two strangers—one a Church representative from the area office in Johannesburg and the other an official from South Africa’s Department of Social Development.

The two organizations had teamed up to bring food to at-risk households. Relief washed over Dieke as she glimpsed the pile of cornmeal and other food staples, purchased with Church humanitarian funds. These would help her to sustain her family for several weeks until a government aid package could begin to take effect for her.

Dieke’s story is one of thousands of such experiences taking place across the world during the COVID pandemic thanks to your consecrated contributions.

Sofía woke up early. Today was very special. She was going to sell lemonade at her aunt and uncle’s garage sale! Mamá made a huge jug of lemonade for her.
Sofía made a sign. She wrote “Lemonade!” in orange and yellow letters. She taped it to a little table. Then she sat down to wait.
Soon a man came by. “May I have a cup?” he asked. He put some pesos in her jar.
“Sure!” Sofía said. She poured him a cup of lemonade
Little by little, people came to look at the garage sale. And little by little they bought the yummy lemonade. The morning passed happily. Soon all of the lemonade was gone.
Sofía shook her jar. The pesos jingled. She had so many!
“Good job!” Papá said.
Sofía had never had so much money before. “I’m going to buy a yo-yo!”
Papá smiled. “Do you know what Mamá and I do when we earn money?”
Sofía shook her head.
“We pay tithing,” Papá said. “Heavenly Father gave us everything. He asks that we give Him a little part back. We pay tithing because we love Him.”
Sofía smiled. She wanted to show Heavenly Father that she loved Him too.
Papá helped Sofía count her pesos. Whenever she counted to 10, she put one peso in an envelope. Papá helped her write numbers on a little white paper. They put the paper in the envelope with the pesos. Then they sealed it shut. Sofía was going to give it to the bishop tomorrow at church.
“How do you feel?” Papá asked Sofia.
“So happy! And I still have money for a yo-yo.” She felt Heavenly Father was happy with her choice.

If he so chose, Aleksandr Chervyakov could have it all materially. Nine years ago he founded his own food technology company. Clients come from all over Ukraine and even Russia to take advantage of his firm’s services. “Without the Church, I could have easily become one of those people who works all the time and earns more than enough money but lacks the blessings of a loving eternal family,” Brother Chervyakov admits.
Fortunately, when two young missionaries asked if he would like to know more about Jesus Christ, he said yes. He and his wife, Lyudmila, and daughter, Inna, were baptized in 1995. Since then he has reduced his time at work so that he can nurture relationships within his family as well as serve in the Church. He has been the branch president and is currently second counselor in the branch presidency. The Chervyakovs were sealed in the temple in August 1997.
“One thing that has helped us keep our priorities in order has been family home evening,” says Aleksandr. “It’s so easy to forget what is truly important. Monday nights provide a great opportunity to forget about everything that is not important and to concentrate on our family.”
He says of their family home evening activities: “We always read from the scriptures or from the Liahona. If there are any family-related issues, we discuss them. Right now the question is, Which university will Inna enter when she graduates next year? We have been discussing that a lot lately. And we have fun. I think it’s a great secret of life that being with one’s family is fun. Sometimes we even dance.”

Gary and I met at the corner of Walnut and Grove. There was nothing to do, so we just nodded at each other and kept walking along Walnut. At Ace’s Bike Shop a really neat racing bike was parked out front. I swung my leg over the seat and wiggled the handle bars back and forth a couple times.
Mr. Smith came outside. “Nice bike, Skip—it’s on sale this month too.”
I hopped off. “We’re just looking.”
Gary and I started walking away.
“Stop back any time,” Mr. Smith called. “Ask for me.”
I waved. “OK.”
At Wallace’s Used Books, we rummaged through the racks for a while, then went back outside.
“Which way?” Gary asked.
I nodded toward the alley. “Let’s go that way. It should take us to the park.”
Gary shrugged, and we walked along Reed Alley and watched the little kids playing. When we got to Nelson Street, I realized we’d taken the wrong alley to get to the park, so we sat on the low concrete wall that surrounds the fire station parking lot and watched firefighters wash their truck.
“Some summer this is going to be!” Gary said with a sigh. “This is boring, Skip! Plus, it’s hot!”
I frowned. “At least we’re not sitting in a classroom, so quit complaining!” I swung my legs back and forth, but inside I had to admit that Gary was right. It was boring. Then I saw an elderly woman across the street a half a block away from where we sat. Her front yard was tiny, but she must have had a hundred rose bushes. In front of her yard was a low stone wall that separated her yard from the sidewalk. The yard was so small and tight that she could barely turn around—at least with a lawn mower, and that’s what she was trying to do. Her lawn mower had to be one of the first ones ever made, and she looked like a good breeze would blow her away. She needed help!
“Let’s go give her a hand,” I suggested.
Gary frowned. “Who?” Then he saw her. “She’ll just tell us to mind our own business,” he muttered.
I shook my head and stood. “Naw. We’ll just tell her we want to help.” I started toward her. She struggled on. First she’d push the lawn mower six inches ahead, then drag it back and push again.
“What if we scare her and she has a heart attack?” Gary asked. “A lot of old people don’t like to be bothered. What if she thinks we want to rob her?”
I chuckled. “Get serious! Do we look like the criminal type?”
As we neared, she must have thought we did, because she eyed us suspiciously. When I stopped at her front steps, she looked really scared. I gave her my friendliest smile. “Want some help?” I offered.
She stared at me as if I had just dropped in from another planet. “I can manage,” she replied in a timid voice.
“Honestly,” I said as I touched the handle of the mower. “My buddy and I don’t have anything to do, and we need the exercise.”
She looked at me doubtfully but stepped aside. I mowed forward toward a rose trellis, then wriggled the mower to one side and took a long swipe at the yard. After I’d made about ten passes around the bushes and stopped just short of the stone wall, Gary pushed me aside.
“Here,” he grumbled, “I’ll cut some too.”
I wiped my sleeve across my face and stepped back. The old woman was still watching, still suspicious.
“Are you from around here?” she asked.
“I live on Duff Road,” I replied. “I’m Skip Geer. My buddy’s name is Gary Staley. He lives on Colfax.”
“Do you know the Markhams?” she asked hopefully. “They live on Duff.”
I shook my head. “No, but the Barnharts are my neighbors.” I blew upward at my face. “This is hot work,” I added.
“My nephew usually cuts it,” she said. “But he’s away this month, and I can’t afford to pay anyone to do it.”
I shrugged. “We don’t expect to be paid.”
“Can I give you some lemonade?”
I nodded. “Thanks. That’d be good.”
When she came back outside with a tray, Gary was still cutting, but she motioned to him to come and join me for lemonade. While we drank it, she stood near her front door, like she was still on guard.
“I don’t own much,” she said. “And I’m not in good health. My nephew wants me to get an operation the doctor says I should have, but I won’t do it. Once you get to be my age and they put you into a hospital, you end up in a nursing home or something! They won’t get me to give up my home,” she insisted. “Edmond, my husband, and I came here seventy-two years ago. He’s gone now, but as long as I can, I’m holding on to my home!”
Boy! I thought, She must be ninety, atleast! I finished my lemonade. Gary was still huffing, so I went back to the mower. By the time we pulled all the weeds from around the bushes, the woman was sitting on her front steps. She seemed more relaxed.
“I’ll get a trash bag,” she called as she struggled to her feet.
“Let’s pull the tall grass away from the front of her wall, too,” I suggested.
Gary frowned, but gave me a hand. When we were finally done, the woman acted like she wanted to keep talking, so we drank some more lemonade.
“All these houses weren’t here then,” she said, almost to herself. “Our yard went clear out to the middle of the road. Then they came along and paved the street. That’s when we had the wall and sidewalk put in.”
Gary and I listened. Sometimes we smiled or nodded. Finally she slowed down, and I could see her eyes beginning to droop in the heat, so I stood. “Where does the lawn mower go?” I asked.
“It goes in a little shed in back,” she replied. “But I’ll take care of that.”
“That’s OK,” I said. “I don’t mind.”
Finally Gary and I stood on the sidewalk, ready to leave.
“Here, boys,” she said as she dug a pair of scissors out of the pocket of her dress. “You’ve helped to make my day, and I want to give you each a rose.”
Gary and I walked away holding our roses. I knew Mom would like mine for the middle of the table. At the corner we looked back and waved.
“I’m glad we came up the wrong alley,” Gary said. “But I told you she’d think we were going to rob her. Did you see those scissors? She was ready to fight us off.”
I chuckled. “Maybe. It’s gotta be hard to get old. But she isn’t giving up! She’s going to hang on to her house. Good for her! Besides, I think we did come up the right alley, after all—she said we made her day.”
“But cutting her grass won’t help her keep her house,” Gary argued.
“I know, but like she said, it helped her get through today. And who knows, maybe that’s all the help any of us needs.”

A while ago I met a special boy, and this week I had the privilege of spending some time with him and his family. This boy has muscular atrophy. He is a remarkable young man, loved by everyone in the ward. He has always wanted to do the things the other fellows do. He has succeeded in Cub Scouting. He is now a First Class Scout and is progressing.
While Jay was a deacon, he passed the sacrament with the others. He can’t walk or stand on his feet, so his dad lined up with the other boys, holding Jay with his strong arm around his waist and helping him hold the tray, since his hands are not strong enough to support it. Jay’s father thus assisted his son from row to row as he passed the sacrament. Jay did a great job as a deacon collecting fast offerings too. His dad carried him from door to door. Can you imagine that scene on the doorstep?
Jay bears a strong testimony; his attitude and outlook are amazing. He gives talks and does well. He has sung in Church, and always when he does these things, his dad is there to hold him in his arms and stand by him and support him.
In all my life I never heard a sweeter story nor a more moving one. God bless such a father, and God bless such a son, and God bless us who have so much and who have yet a little time, that we may take another look at our boy or at the boy who needs some additional help outside his home. God bless you boys to appreciate your dads, to be patient and gracious and forgiving. God bless us all, boys and men, now and in the future, always to act in a way that will help others enjoy the special blessings God wants them to have.

For Shelley Gray, institute reassured her she could find Mormon friends at a non-LDS school. She didn’t know anyone when she came to Texas from Midvale, Utah. “But because I knew the institute was here, I felt safe,” she says.
And she was right. The first time she went to institute, everyone rushed to make friends with her. “If you make the first effort, you’ll just get sucked in,” she says. “We really stick together. There’s a lot of group dating, and there are tons of neat people here.”

May I share an experience that continues to teach me about how the Lord helps us learn, grow, and serve?

Some years ago, I was on a Church assignment reorganizing a stake in Florida. When my plane flight was delayed, I had a clear feeling there was something I could do with the extra minutes I had in the Orlando, Florida, airport.

In an airline lounge, I met a couple, and we began to chat together. I did not think they were members of our Church; each was holding a glass of red wine.

As the conversation turned naturally to family, I learned they had two sons.

“Tell me about your older son,” I asked. They said he was involved in some kind of military training in North Carolina.

I mentioned I had once lectured at Fort Bragg in North Carolina on international relations, my then-professional field. While there, I had learned about HALO parachute training—not Halo the video game but HALO, which stands for High Altitude, Low Opening.

A HALO-trained special forces soldier can jump out of a plane at high altitude, free fall, then open his parachute at the last minute to land—in the water. In the water, he can use a special scuba breathing apparatus which does not emit bubbles. Of course, to make detection even harder, all this is done at night.

The couple looked surprised. Their eyes got big. “That’s what our son does,” they said proudly. I commended their son’s courage, discipline, and skill. We then talked warmly about his (and their) patriotism and service to the country.

I asked about their second son. They said he liked music and was preparing for a musical production.

“What musical production?”

“Something called Less Miserabless,” they said.

“I see,” I said. “Which character is your son playing?”

“He’s playing someone called Gene Val Gene.”

I said, “I love Les Mis. When Victor Hugo first published Les Miserables in 1862, it was so popular, groups of workers pooled their limited wages to buy one copy to share.”

I said “Jean Val Jean is one of literature’s great examples of second chances, transformative redemption, forgiveness, keeping one’s word no matter what. And besides,” I added, “the music will make you laugh and cry, sometimes at the same time.”

“Is a Les Mis recording available?” the couple asked. We talked about the 10 th anniversary and 25 th anniversary Les Mis Dream Cast concerts. When we parted, I gave the couple my Church name card, and invited them to join me at a Tabernacle Choir concert when they next visited Salt Lake City. They later sent a nice note, and a Les Mis DVD.

When I think of that experience in Florida, and other similar experiences, I marvel at how the Lord helps us learn, grow, and serve in ways that seem individualized for our later needs and opportunities.

Think of it: HALO parachuting in North Carolina and Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables coming together in a laser-personalized conversation in a Florida airport.

It is almost as though the Lord is saying, “Gerrit, pay attention here. This is an opportunity to learn something you will need five years from now to talk with someone I will want you to meet.”

Hosea Stout, after his own journey to the Salt Lake Valley in 1848, commented in his diary:

Thus ends this long and tedious journey from the land of our enemies and I feel free and happy that I have escaped from their midst. But there is many a desolate and sandy plain to cross. Many a rugged sage bed to breakthrough. Many a hill and hollow to tug over and many a mountain and canyon to pass, and many frosty nights to endure in mid-summer.29

Stout seems to understand that his pioneering journeys were not over. He surely saw more than just physical travels ahead as he and the people sought to create a community of Saints in the western wilderness.

For the first few weeks the handcart company enjoyed good weather, but in October early snowstorms and bitter cold slowed down the pioneers.
Nellie’s family suffered along with the rest. Her mother became ill and had to be pulled for some distance in their cart. Nellie’s father slipped into the waters of one of the rivers they crossed, and because there was no dry clothing or warm shelter, he was bitterly cold. The family’s food supply grew scarce, and the snow hid any fuel that they might have gathered for a fire.
Nellie’s father died on October 22, 1856, from hunger and exposure to the cold. Five days later her mother died too. Graves could be dug only in the snow because the early winter had frozen the ground. Nellie and Maggie wearily and sadly walked on alone. They watched as more of the company died and the weather’s cold fierceness strengthened.
One day as Nellie and her sister made their way at the head of the group, two men appeared and motioned for them to come closer. At first the girls refused but soon decided that the men meant no harm. The men gave Nellie some money and instructed her to buy something to put on her feet at the trappers’ trading post they were nearing. Nellie gratefully accepted the money and the chance to cover her bare feet, which had long since grown numb with cold.
In Salt Lake City, President Brigham Young had called for volunteers to meet the handcart company on the plains. When the volunteers finally reached the company, near Laramie, Wyoming, they found the pitiful group nearly buried by the snow. Nellie’s feet were badly frozen. The rescue party gathered her and the remaining members of the company into their wagons and returned to Salt Lake, arriving on November 30.
Nearly everyone in the handcart company had endured painfully frozen feet, hands, and ears and had witnessed the deaths of family members and friends. The doctor had to amputate Nellie’s feet. There was no skin to cushion the bone, so she was left with throbbing sores that never healed.
Nellie and her sister eventually moved south from the Salt Lake Valley to Cedar City. Here Nellie married William Unthank and reared their six children. With a leather apron slid under her damaged legs, Nellie crawled about their small home on her knees, keeping it spotless.
Nellie willingly worked at whatever she could to help provide for her family. Along with other jobs, she took in other people’s clothes to wash, and made articles to sell to add to the family income. If anyone offered food or assistance, she insisted on repaying the favor. As a way of showing gratitude, she gathered her children once a year to clean the church meetinghouse. While the boys carried water, the girls washed windows, and Nellie scrubbed the floors.
William carved wooden “cup feet” for Nellie, but they only irritated her never-healing stumps. Later, through donations, wooden legs were given to Nellie, but these she only wore on special occasions, because they added to her constant pain.
Despite poverty and pain, Nellie rarely complained. She had come to know her Heavenly Father in her sufferings. From the shoes provided for her bare feet, the carriage sent when she couldn’t go on, help given to her through a lifetime of affliction, Nellie Pucell Unthank knew she could count on the Lord.

Bob:
The mission president called me and said, “Hey, I want you to be the second counselor in a branch.” A year and a half later, I was in the sealing room of the Hong Kong China Temple with the branch president I served with. He was going through the temple for the first time! He and his family had saved money and tried seven times to get to the temple, but there would be an accident, or someone would get sick. Something always came up. After seven years, they had saved only 40 dollars.
Three times on our mission, we were able to help Latter-day Saints in Cambodia attend the temple. We took lots of branch presidents who had been doing interviews for temple recommends but had never been to the temple themselves. At least in Cambodia, a senior couple would assist these families on their way to the temple. They need to have someone with them because they don’t know how to fly on a plane. Many haven’t even ridden on a bus! And now they’ve got to fly to Hong Kong and make their way to the temple. It was difficult for them to do that on their own. We are grateful for the Temple Patron Assistance Fund that helped take care of them.
Lori:
Being a member of the Church in Cambodia can be challenging. As a country, Cambodia doesn’t have a Sabbath mentality. Everybody who comes to church has to make sacrifices to be there.
Also, Cambodia is six percent Muslim and only two percent Christian—the rest are Buddhists. Shifting from a Buddhist lifestyle to a Christian lifestyle is very difficult. Some people still lose their jobs, and a lot of times they are shunned by others in the neighborhood.
Tithing is also a big deal. Buddhist monks will come around every morning and ask for rice or some money, and people are used to that. But to take your paycheck and take a slice of that for tithing is a big deal.
Many have had real trauma in their lives. Because of the Khmer Rouge, a communist regime that ruled Cambodia in the late ’70s, everyone over 40 has a personal horror story. I didn’t meet anyone who hadn’t been affected by it. Everyone had family members who were murdered. Even though they’ve been through so much, I couldn’t believe how resilient they were, how willing to try they were. But behind their resilience, many still have low self-esteem. Many don’t feel like they’re important or worth anything.
It was amazing to see how the gospel of Jesus Christ helped them bloom. When they’d find out that they are not only wonderful but also a child of God, they’d say, “You’re kidding? Now I have something to contribute.”
The Church is really going to blossom in Cambodia. Incredible people have been led to the Church. The Saints there are pioneers, and those who really embrace the gospel are blessed in so many ways because they get to know the Savior. It is really amazing.
We have a lot of members and very strong wards around a place called “Trash Mountain,” which is an open dump where people live. Members there are pickers and collectors. They make their money off of recycling plastic and aluminum that they get out of the dump. They live in teeny little houses that we have been to dozens of times.
Bob:
One day we could hear music blaring, and we noticed a tent was being set up. In Cambodia, that either means somebody is getting married or somebody has died.
Lori:
We found out that a mother of five or six kids had just died. There was no husband to speak of. The children just woke up and realized their mom was dead.
One daughter was just sobbing. Through a translator, she said, “I’m the oldest. I’ve got all these siblings. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
I just scooped her up in my arms. How could I not? This girl just lost her mother. I spoke to her in English and said, “I know you don’t understand me, but I promise you will see your mother again. You are going to be OK. You are not going to be left alone.”
So many experiences like this have given us a special connection with the people of Cambodia.
We felt that love back. The people in Cambodia showed us great kindness. We love them because they are children of God. They are our brothers and sisters.
With some people, I remember thinking, “I can’t wait until I see you in the next life, then I’ll really be able to tell you all the things I feel for you and the love I have for you, and what I admire about you, because I can’t say it now.”
Our mission has blessed us in so many ways. Some people say, “I don’t know if I can serve a mission. I can’t leave my grandkids.” We had five little grandsons when we left, ages five, four, three, two, one. Two granddaughters were born while we were gone. I’m going to save two of my Cambodian missionary name tags and give them to my baby girls so they will know that Grandma wasn’t there because Grandma was doing what the Lord needed her to do.
Bob:
There are many ways to serve the Lord as missionaries. We take to heart what Elder Jeffrey R. Holland said about senior missionary service. He said, “I promise you will do things for [your family] in the service of the Lord that, worlds without end, you could never do if you stayed home to hover over them. What greater gift could grandparents give their posterity than to say by deed as well as word, “In this family we serve missions!’ [“We Are All Enlisted,” Liahona, Nov. 2011, 46.]”
“When we found out we were called to serve in the Cambodia Phnom Penh Mission, we wept. We were excited!” Brother Bob Thurston says. “We wouldn’t have picked Cambodia, but what a gift! What a blessing!” Sister Thurston says.
The Thurstons feel a special connection to the people of Cambodia. “We love them, and we have felt that love back,” Sister Thurston says. “People in Cambodia have shown us great kindness.”
Of all the responsibilities the Thurstons had on their mission, they treasure most the opportunity to visit members in their homes.
Sister Thurston remembers looking at those she served in Cambodia and thinking, “I can’t wait until I see you in the next life, then I’ll really be able to tell you all the things I feel for you and the love I have for you.”

“We had a great desire and sense of urgency to go to the temple and there to have our family sealed for all time and eternity. As soon as we were able to go to the Salt Lake Temple following our first year in the Church, we eagerly went. The support of so many people who accompanied us was tremendous. The sealing for all time and eternity was one of the most glorious occasions of our lives.
“The reason for the urgency of going to the temple and being sealed as a family was realized when just two weeks later a tragic automobile accident claimed the life of our eleven-year-old daughter Kristin. As we stagger under the heavy loss and grieve her mortal absence in our lives, and as we examine and study the process of the accident, we know in our hearts that it was the will of Heavenly Father to call her spirit unto Himself. We are strengthened and comforted in the knowledge that her joy is full. We have gratitude in our hearts that the timing of our Heavenly Father was so kind and merciful.
“At a time such as this we can only ask questions and stand amazed as we ponder the answers: What if we had not joined the true church of Jesus Christ and given this gift to Kristin? What if we had delayed the conversion to a more convenient time? What if we had not gone to the temple with a sense of urgency when we did? What if we had not given Kristin the great joy of Primary, Sunday School, sacrament meetings and family home evenings?
“During the week before the accident Kristin had asked her mother if it would be possible for her to go back into the temple. She had loved it so.
“On a lonely Kansas cemetery there stands a gray monument. On it are the four names of our family. At the bottom are engraved these words: ‘This family is sealed for all time and eternity.’ Behind the tears of temporary loss our eyes show the clear and joyous knowledge that our decision was truly the correct decision.”