Gospel Story Finder

Extended family, friends, neighbors, and ward members can be a source of great comfort or the cause of deep pain for families experiencing the trauma of drug abuse. One family, for example, found that most of their ward members had only criticism to offer, not support. “Some people told us we were too strict; others said we were too permissive,” says the mother. “It was really hard for awhile to not despair and keep going to church when we felt that people were against us.”

Another part of Elder Taylor’s prophecy likewise was quickly fulfilled. The Olympus had just entered the terrible Irish Sea when harsh headwinds whipped huge waves against the wooden vessel day and night. For three weeks many of the passengers were tossed-about and seasick, “suffering intensely from the distressing affliction.” Finally, when a calm day brought relief, the passengers felt the worst part of their voyage was behind them. But Captain Wilson’s trained eyes, making a careful survey of the horizon, spotted a rapidly approaching cloud. At first it was no bigger than a man’s hat, but it swelled and spread at an alarming rate.

Quickly the captain gathered both shifts of the crew on deck and ordered all sails immediately shortened. He allowed Brother Nowers and a 20-year-old carpenter from Dover, England, Edmund Fuller, to stay on deck and help the crew. (Later in the voyage Mr. Fuller fell in love with a Mormon girl, Adelaide Jelley, and he joined the Church and married her in St. Louis, Missouri.)

The sails were just hauled in and secured, and passengers gathered below deck, when the new storm struck the ship full force. The Olympus trembled and reeled “like a drunkard.” The violent wind snapped the foremast off and carried it overboard. Several men nearly went overboard with the broken mast, which hanging, by the ship’s side, had to be cut loose from its stays with axes. Torrents of wind and water cracked the mainmast at the deck.

Thrown on her side the Olympus became unmanageable. Into a fearfully dark night the ship struggled, battered by hurricane winds. Seams of the vessel cracked, letting water seep into the bottom of the ship.

Two hours after the storm began, about 8:00 P.M., four feet of water had poured into the hold and the ship’s pumps were started. Above, knee-deep waters rushed over the decks, causing Brother Nowers and Mr. Fuller to lash themselves to the pumps they were operating to keep from being washed overboard. Hour after hour the storm raged. And the Olympus took on more and more water.

By midnight the captain, crew, and men on deck were despondent because the storm showed no signs of abating. Brother Nowers heard the captain order Second Mate Hamilton to go below deck and tell the Mormon’s president, Elder Howell, that “if the God of the Mormons can do anything to save the ship and the people, they had better be calling on him to do so.” The captain confessed that despite the crew’s best efforts the Olympus was sinking at the rate of 30 centimeters per hour and that by daylight it would be on the bottom of the sea unless the storm ceased

The second mate asked Brother Nowers to accompany him below to deliver the message to the Mormons. As soon as the crashing waves allowed the two messengers unbarred the companionway and went below. They found Elder Howell in his bed and told him the captain’s appeal.

The Mormon leader answered calmly. “You may tell Captain Wilson that we are not going to the bottom of the ocean for we embarked from Liverpool on a voyage for New Orleans, Louisiana, and we will arrive safely in that port. Our God will protect us.” Mr. Hamilton returned to the deck and gave Captain Wilson the Mormons’ answer.

Brother Nowers, dripping wet, could not help noticing the absolute chaos below deck. Everywhere unsecured trunks and packages rolled and skidded from one side to the other as the ship swayed and rolled. Some passengers were crying. Others prayed. Others simply waited.

President Howell quickly arose, dressed, and called about a dozen brethren, including new convert Wilson Nowers, to his side. The leader instructed that each man in the circle take a turn to pray vocally that the Lord would spare the vessel. Elder Howell prayed last.

“While he was still engaged in prayer,” Brother Nowers said, “I noticed a significant change in the motion of the ship.” Instead of rolling and tossing, the Olympus “seemed to tremble as one suffering from the effects of a severe cold.” He could not believe the ship was sinking. But he also could not believe that the storm had so suddenly ceased.

After the final hearty “amen” President Howell sent the prayer circle members back to bed. Brother Nowers, however, returned to his pumping duties on deck. There, astonished, he found that “the storm had miraculously ceased; the wind had gone down, and the waves were stilled close around the ship, while in the distance the billows were still raging.” The Olympus trembled at so sudden a change.

Pumping continued until daylight. When the Sabbath day finally dawned, clear and bright, Captain Wilson admitted that he had done all he could do before calling on the Mormons and that only God’s hand had saved the sinking ship.

The year after I turned 12, several things changed in my life. I was ordained a deacon in the Aaronic Priesthood. I was old enough to join the Boy Scout troop in our ward. And I moved up from elementary school to junior high school.
Just beginning the seventh grade brought many new experiences. I rode a bus to school every day. I had seven teachers instead of one. I put my backpack, lunch sack, and jacket in a locker each morning—no more coat hooks or cubbyholes. And I had different books and papers for every class.
I was especially proud of the three-ring binder that had reams of blue-ruled notepaper and folders for each subject. By the time the first few weeks of school had gone by, each folder was thick with homework assignments, handouts, and other school papers.
Going to school with eighth-and ninth-grade students was one of the biggest changes of all. I often felt small and unnoticed as I hurried down the halls, dodging classmates and strangers who seemed much more confident than I ever felt.
In several of my classes, I sat with students who were two and even three years older than I was. My first-year Spanish class had students from all three grade levels: seventh, eighth, and ninth. One boy, a ninth-grader named Jared, was tall, liked to talk, and frequently said things that made the students and even our teacher, Mr. Bishop, laugh.
I wanted to do that, too, but there were so many new things all around me that I often felt shy and usually stayed quiet. I was not small, but many of my fellow seventh graders were bigger than I was, and all my friends from elementary had lunch at a different hour.
One thing that made it difficult for me to adjust and make new friends was that during this first year I endured my share of rough pranks that junior high school students often play. I remember one in particular.
I was walking by the school’s main office between classes, in an area where dozens of students were hurrying past in both directions. I had my usual armload of books, including my three-ring binder, nestled against my hip.
Suddenly another student stepped up behind me, reached out a hand, and gave the books a hard flip. They flew out of my grasp and slid across the floor ahead of me. When the binder landed, it snapped open and folders and papers went spinning everywhere.
It was hard not to cry as I got down on my hands and knees and tried to scoop everything up as quickly as I could. I felt certain everyone was watching me, which only made me feel worse. Then a ninth-grade girl knelt down beside me and asked if I was okay. She smiled, squeezed my arm, and started to help me gather my books and papers.
Following her example, a tall boy came over and asked me if I’d seen who had knocked my books out of my arms. It was Jared from first-year Spanish, and he too knelt down to help.
I never learned the ninth-grade girl’s name, but I’ve never forgotten her kindness. Her actions reminded me of the Book of Mormon story of King Benjamin, who taught his people to always treat each other with love. And like Ammon, the great Book of Mormon missionary, this unknown friend of mine set an example by her actions that others followed.

The young women in the Paradise Ward, Adelaide Australia Modbury Stake, found a great way to combine service and fun when they organized a Wake-a-thon.
The girls wanted to earn money for John Stevens, a member of their ward who had recently become a paraplegic, and his wife and children. Sixteen girls and six leaders committed friends, relatives, and neighbors to pledging money for every hour they stayed awake during a "sleep-over."
Then they designed activities through the night to focus on the seven different Young Women values. These activities included ironing clothes for busy mothers, writing to missionaries serving from their ward, preparing a Young Women sacrament program, and making toys for patients at a local children’s hospital. They also watched a movie about the true story of a paraplegic woman.
When the sun came up, the girls discovered they had stayed awake long enough to earn over $550, which was almost half the cost of a wheelchair. And they discovered that it is possible to serve and have fun at the same time.

While on a mission tour recently, I met a young missionary by the name of Elder Tshiambwe. He came from a small village in a remote part of Africa. He wanted to serve a mission but was unable to afford even the basic requirements, such as a passport, needed to prepare for a call to serve. He and his father came up with a plan. Using his bicycle, Elder Tshiambwe would transport bananas from the many small banana growers in the region to the markets in the larger villages. His banana transportation business earned him a small but steady income from which he was able to save for his mission. For several years he saved and planned for his mission. When he was finally ready, he received a call from the President of the Church to serve in his native country. He is now returned from his mission, but it is no surprise that he served with honor and distinction. He had learned in his youth that he was an agent, not an object. He had the ability to act, not simply be acted upon. Elder Tshiambwe was an agent with power to act and to take control of his life. I am confident that he will go forward and do many good things in his life as a result of these lessons learned.

“Mom, what are we doing for family night?” Benjamin asked as he and his younger brother, Sammy, walked into the kitchen for a drink.
“Do you mean Pioneer Night?” Mom said with a smile.
“What?” Benjamin asked. “I thought today was Monday. You know, family night.”
Mom nodded. “It’s Monday all right. But tonight we’re having a special Pioneer Night.”
Benjamin frowned a little. He liked family night. He wasn’t sure he wanted to do anything different.
“What’s Pioneer Night?” Sammy asked.
“Well,” Mom said, pulling out a kitchen chair and sitting down at the table with them, “one hundred and seventy years ago, Mormon pioneers crossed the plains in wagons and handcarts to get to Utah. On July 24, 1847, the first pioneers arrived in the Salt Lake Valley.”
“Wait. Isn’t today July 24th?” Benjamin asked.
“Exactly! It’s Pioneer Day. In Utah it’s even a state holiday,” Mom said. “There are parades and fireworks to honor the pioneers.”
“But we don’t live in Utah,” said Benjamin.
“Well, that just means we have to think of creative ways to celebrate,” said Mom. “So we’re having Pioneer Night. Will you help me get ready?”
Benjamin and Sammy nodded. As they helped Mom, Benjamin felt more and more excited. Soon Dad got home from work.
“What’s this?” he said when he saw the kitchen table set with checkered napkins, glass jars, and pie tins.
“It’s Pioneer Night!” Benjamin said, handing Dad a red bandana to tie around his neck. He and Sammy were both wearing cowboy hats from their costume box.
“This looks fun!” said Dad. Then he sniffed the air. “And something smells really good.” Mom was stirring a pot of stew at the stove.
“Before we eat, we have to make butter for the cornbread,” said Sammy.
Mom poured cream into a jar and screwed the lid on tight. After shaking for a few minutes, she handed the jar to Sammy. They all took turns shaking until there was a lump of butter inside!
After dinner they had a special family night. Dad showed them a black-and-white picture.
“This is Joseph Francis, your great-great-great grandpa,” Dad said. “He came to the United States with his family when he was 13 years old.”
Dad talked about how Joseph sailed from England and then worked in a factory to earn money to cross the plains. Benjamin couldn’t believe a boy who was just older than he was had done so many hard things.
Then Mom shared a story from her family history. “My mother, your grandma Hunsaker, met the missionaries when she was 13 years old. When she prayed to know if their message was true, she felt the Holy Ghost tell her to be baptized. Because of her decision, I grew up knowing about the gospel. My mother is a pioneer because she set a righteous example for others to follow.”
Benjamin liked that. Maybe there were ways he could be a pioneer! He was still thinking about it when Dad said it was time for the closing song and prayer.
“Now we can have the treat!” Sammy said. Mom handed everyone a cookie, some candies, and a few other yummy things. She showed them how to make wagons with marshmallows like white canvases on top.
“These wagons sure taste good,” Sammy said as he took a big bite. “I’m glad the pioneers went to Utah.”
Go to “Family Night Fun” to see how to make your own wagons!
“And I’m glad we don’t always have to make our own butter!” Benjamin said with a laugh. His life was different from the early pioneers, but he knew they all had one thing in common: they all believed in the gospel of Jesus Christ!

Illustration by Clayton Thompson
I sighed as I stared out the window at the freshly fallen snow, envisioning my siblings and myself building a larger-than-life snowman, laughing and tackling it to the ground moments later. But it was just wishful thinking this year—my family was not here for Christmas. My dad had to work, and my siblings, who were all older than me and married, were spending the holiday with their in-laws. It was just my mom and me that Christmas Eve.
My mom, ever the optimist, gave me an encouraging smile from across the room while she prepared our Christmas Eve dinner. Despite her efforts to make things feel normal without the rest of our family there, our house felt empty and lonely.
Shortly before dinner, a knock at our door signaled that our special guest had arrived. I opened the door to see a very shy, elderly widow hesitantly standing out in the cold. My mom had invited her over to join us for our Christmas Eve feast, and I could tell she felt as awkward as I did.
The normal clamor and jubilant conversation that usually filled the room during dinner was instead replaced by a mellow discussion. At one point, I looked around the room at the empty chairs and felt like crying. Just then the widow asked, “Do you miss your family?”
I nodded and looked into her eyes. Then I sensed it: she misses her family too!
I suddenly had an outpouring of love for this widow. She understood me. My attitude did a 180-degree turn as I realized I wasn’t alone. We shared a common bond of missing our families. This Christmas was far from normal, but sharing that moment with her brought me a new perspective—one filled with gratitude and love!
Later that evening we watched Joy to the World as part of our usual Christmas tradition. Sure, I had seen the film a dozen times, but this time it held new meaning for me. The Holy Ghost testified to me that the Savior, Jesus Christ, lived and died so that we might live again. Because of Him, I get to have my family forever. It didn’t matter so much that my family was not there that Christmas Eve—I had an eternity to spend with them!
I’m so grateful for the evening I shared with that sweet widow. We all feel lonely at times, but we can find joy knowing that our Savior will never abandon us and that He has provided a way for us to have everlasting happiness and to have our loved ones with us forever.

A true story from the USA.
We started getting ready for Easter a week early! Dad said the week before Easter is called Holy Week. Mom said there would be a little surprise on the kitchen table each day. Each one would help us remember Jesus Christ. I’m going to write about it all here in my journal!
Mom and Dad read the story of Palm Sunday in the scriptures. When Jesus Christ went to Jerusalem, the people waved palm branches and cried, “Hosanna!”
My sister Lucy held a picture of Jesus riding a donkey. The rest of us waved our paper branches. I felt happy imagining I was welcoming Jesus.
Jesus was upset that people were selling things in the temple, so He threw them out. We picked trash out of the bushes around the church. I’m glad we could help care for God’s house!
Mom read stories that Jesus Christ had told to people. We listened and used the clay to make things from the stories. Lucy made a sheep because Jesus is the Good Shepherd. I made a little oil lamp. It helped me remember to keep my heart full of faith.
Dad told us about how Mary gave Jesus Christ a special oil for His feet. Its smell filled the whole house.
We didn’t have this special oil. Instead, we used cinnamon to make a treat. Mom said that when we smelled the cinnamon as the treat was baking, we should think of what we could give to Jesus.
We lit the candles and sang a song, just like Jesus Christ and His disciples sang at the Last Supper. We ate pita bread and drank grape juice to remember the first sacrament. We also had pomegranates to remind us of Jesus’s blood, and olives for the garden of Gethsemane.
As we ate, thunder rumbled outside. I felt safe and thankful knowing Jesus has already faced the darkest storm.
We read about how Jesus Christ died for us. Then we took the empty flowerpot into the garden and tipped it on its side, like a tomb. We put soil and rocks around it but left the opening uncovered. Mom gave us a figure to represent Jesus’s body. We reverently wrapped it in a white cloth and placed it inside the flowerpot.
Even though it was just a flowerpot, I still felt sad covering the door with a stone.
Mom said that after Jesus Christ died, He set up missionary work in the spirit world. That way people who hadn’t learned His gospel on earth could still learn about Him. In temples, we can be baptized for people who didn’t get baptized before they died.
Lucy and I aren’t old enough to go inside the temple yet, but we helped cut out the printed name cards. Mom and Dad took turns doing temple work for the people on the cards and walking around the grounds with us. Even from the outside, the temple felt a little like heaven.
On Easter morning the stone in front of the flowerpot was gone and the cloth was empty. There was a card that said, He is risen!
I already knew that Jesus Christ is the reason for Easter. After celebrating Holy Week, I feel like I know Him a little better too.

Marvin J. Ashton was born on May 6, 1915, in Salt Lake City to Marvin O. and Rachel Grace Jeremy Ashton. His parents taught him the value of hard work. He raised rabbits and pigeons and worked on a two-acre produce farm raising and selling fruits and vegetables. His ward didn’t have a Scout troop, so he and four friends rode their horses to a neighboring ward and participated in its Scout program, advancing to the rank of Eagle. While in high school, he helped in his father’s hardware store. He continued to work while he attended the University of Utah, where he graduated with a degree in business administration.

Steven and Robert Van Wagenen, Crescent 8th Ward, Sandy Utah Crescent Stake. Steven, 17, is a senior in high school and Robert, 15, is a sophomore.

Steven, like Stacie, worked two jobs. He had been trying for some time to get on with a travelers’ check company that offered a good summer part-time job working with computers. This year he got the job. He also works all year around as a custodian at an elementary school near his home. He regularly puts money into savings for college and a mission.

Steven is interested in photography and wanted to buy a camera. He found a used one he wanted and decided to work and save for it. He estimated his budget and kept his expenses in general terms:

Estimate
Actual
Income
$800.00
$800.00
Expenses
tithing
80.00
80.00
savings
350.00
310.00
camera
290.00
290.00
new shoes
50.00
50.00
entertainment
30.00
45.00
miscellaneous
-0-
25.00
total
$800.00
$800.00

Steven reached his goal of buying his camera. He had trouble when he did not plan in a miscellaneous category to cover gas and lunches. That money had to come out of the amount he planned to save. He also bought a music tape and went over in his entertainment category. Writing down what he actually spent was a little surprising to Steven. “There’s probably $100 over the summer that I don’t even know where it went.”

But Steven can’t cut out everything fun or impulsive that he does with his money. He just needs to plan a miscellaneous category into his budget.

“We can show love for others by doing kind things. Do something nice for somebody you love, and leave a heart where they will find it,” Cassi’s teacher told them as she handed three red hearts to each class member.
Cassi took her hearts home. Mommy hadn’t had time to make her bed before church. Cassi made Mommy’s bed and put a heart on the pillow.
“Thank you!” Mommy hugged Cassi. “When you make my bed, I feel happy.” Cassi felt happy too.
Cassi’s dog, Floppy, was whining. He was thirsty. Cassi filled his dish and put a heart beside it. Floppy’s tail wagged back and forth as he drank. He was happy.
Cassie had one heart left. Who else did she love? Daddy, of course, but he was out of town for two whole weeks, and she wanted to do something else nice for someone sooner than that. She thought hard all week. She loved Heavenly Father, but how could she do something nice for Him?
On Sunday, Cassi knew what to do! She took her last heart to church to remind her of her plan. She listened to her teacher. She was reverent during sacrament meeting. And when she went home, she drew pictures of her favorite story in the Book of Mormon, put the last red heart with them, and gave them to Mommy to send to a missionary.

This widespread respect for Brother Vidal became apparent to missionaries laboring in Cajamarca, Peru, in late 1970. Hoping to overcome the opposition and religious superstition that greeted them, the missionaries arranged to use a municipal building to present a week-long exposition featuring displays and explanations of the Book of Mormon and its ties to ancient inhabitants of America.

The day before the much-publicized exposition was to open, city officials told the missionaries that a local religious leader had instructed them not to allow them to proceed. Frustrated and discouraged, the missionaries chanced to meet the head of the local bank, with whom they had earlier visited about the Church. Learning of their predicament, he telephoned Brother Vidal in Lima.

“Señor Vidal, I know you are a Mormon,” he said. “I have great respect for you. Some of your missionaries are in a difficult situation. I am willing to risk my influence in this community to help them if you tell me that theirs is a good cause.”

Brother Vidal urged the bank executive to help the missionaries. As a result, the exposition was a success.

Hanna twisted the dish towel and snapped it at the imaginary enemy in the middle of the kitchen. “Take that, Black Knight!”
Her friend Ashley leaned against the counter, holding her sides. “That towel makes a silly sword, but I’m sure you finished him off,” she laughed.
Hanna made a cape of the dish towel and put her foot on the imaginary evil knight.
Her mom peeked in. “Speaking of finishing things, girls, if you want me to drop you off at the skating rink, you’ll have to hustle. I’m leaving in ten minutes.”
Ashley jumped. “Let’s hurry.”
“Don’t worry,” said Hanna. “We’ll let the rest soak and drip dry.” She dumped the silverware and utensils into a bowl, squeezed in some soap, and turned on the tap. The mess was soon lost in bubbles. Hanna and Ashley turned over the clean, wet dishes and pots to dry.
“That looks better,” said Hanna. She doubted whether her mom would get angry in front of Ashley.
Hanna’s mom reappeared. She scowled at the dishes, but then smiled. “Well, let’s go.”
In the car, the girls talked about skating backward and about rounding corners on one leg. Hanna stopped in the middle of a sentence when her mom pulled to the curb, reached across their laps, and opened their door.
“What are you doing, Mom? We’re only halfway there. We’ll be late for our lesson.”
“I know,” said her mom.
Hanna looked confused, but Ashley tugged at her friend’s arm. “Come on, we’ll walk the rest of the way.” Then she thanked Hanna’s mom for the ride.
The car pulled away. Hanna stared at Ashley. “Why did you say thank you?”
“That’s just the kind of thing my mom would do. She calls it a ‘consequence,’” answered Ashley. “Remember, we only did half the dishes.”
“Yes, but we were counting on my Mom’s help,” objected Hanna.
“And she was counting on ours.”
“Now you sound like a parent,” Hanna said. She looked betrayed. “Consequence sounds like a fancy word adults would use instead of punishment.”
“In our family it isn’t. We have meetings where everyone decides what rules will make us a good family.” Ashley found it hard to explain. “Come to our family meeting tonight, Hanna. You’ll see what I mean.”
“Right after I do the dishes,” joked Hanna.
That evening Hanna cleaned up quickly. She was curious about family meetings. As she slipped through the gate that separated their yards, she thought about Ashley’s comments.
Ashley invited her in and told her that the family knew that she was there to watch. Then she led her to the kitchen, where the others had gathered. Beth, the oldest of the four children, had a notepad and pen. John was combing his hair, and Eric tapped the table edge as if it were a drum. Ashley’s mom and dad greeted her with smiles.
It doesn’t exactly look like a courtroom, thought Hanna. She took the empty seat and leaned forward.
After a prayer, John started. “Beth borrows my basketball and doesn’t let me know. I don’t mind sharing, but I’d like to be asked.”
“I know how you feel,” said Beth. “Ashley borrows my T-shirts without asking.”
Hanna waited for an argument to start.
“Sometimes we all forget to ask before we borrow. Let’s talk about consequences that would remind us to ask first,” Eric said.
“How about fifty lashes with a wet dish towel?” Ashley winked at Hanna. Everyone laughed. “Seriously,” she went on, “how about, whoever you borrow from gets to claim something of yours for a day?”
Everyone nodded. “That was easy,” said Beth, jotting down the decision.
“Here’s a problem that doesn’t seem simple,” said Ashley’s mom. “What should we do about people being late for dinner?”
“That seems easy to me,” snickered John. “The people who are on time get to eat it all.”
“That’s a consequence,” admitted Ashley’s dad. “But it’s too tough. We could keep a plate of food warm in the oven.”
“Then it would seem like my consequence,” said Mom, “especially if I want to clean up right after dinner.”
“The late person could have to settle for a cold sandwich,” suggested Eric.
“That doesn’t sound like a bad consequence to me.” Hanna wasn’t sure she should participate. Her face reddened. “I love peanut butter sandwiches.”
“Hanna is right,” said Dad. “Sometimes that consequence would seem more like a reward.”
“Mom did say that cleanup is harder if there are stragglers,” said Beth. “I think the consequence should involve cleanup.”
“That’s logical,” agreed John.
Mom smiled too. “How does this sound: anyone who is late for dinner will be responsible for putting away leftovers and clearing the table. And whoever misses the meal does the dishes alone.”
Everyone liked the idea. Beth added it to the family notebook.
“Does anyone else have a problem to work on today?” asked Dad.
“Just one,” said Eric. “I made a carrot cake and some cocoa. Now I have to find someone to eat them.”
“I think,” Hanna said, smiling at Ashley, “that we should get ready for an enjoyable consequence.”

I’m writing this to “Saying no in Utah” and “All alone” in the September 1988 Feedback. I first want to say that both of you are awesome, and I love you.
You see, I lived in California and Arizona until I was 16, and it was easy to say no, and when I did that I gained people’s respect. But at 16 I moved to Utah, thinking what most people think—that it was going to be Zion. I found out real quick that I was wrong. I still said no to my new friends (who were LDS) and got laughed at. I soon found myself with no friends. I was all alone. But after prayer, lots of prayer, I found four more people who were in the same boat. To the person who wrote “All alone,” there are lots of others in Utah like you, so get on your knees and find them.
I’m serving as a missionary now, and I’ve learned that people have the same idea about missionaries as they do about Utah. But now I can say no and keep my friends. The gospel is true.
Elder Darrin Van ValkenburgCalifornia Santa Rosa Mission

About 11 o’clock we drove up to the home of Mons Andersen, and out came Sister Christine Andersen to bid us welcome and put her arms around us one by one and kiss the rest of them. When my turn came, that was something I was not used to, so I didn’t know what to do. For some reason I didn’t run away. A host of neighbor children and aged folks came around us and shook hands with us. I guess they bid us welcome, for I could not understand a word of English. The children were at Sunday School but soon arrived home. They also kissed us welcome, and by that time I was kind of getting used to it. But they surely made us feel at home.
There was another striking thing that helped me on my way toward investigation. It was just when lots of fruit was ripe, such as strawberries, gooseberries, and early apples. Those who have met Sister Andersen know what a loving disposition she had. She said, “Go out and help yourselves.” If it had not been for her loving way, I could barely have thought she meant it. But she surely did. It was something different to what it was in Norway. I was getting closer to joining the church.
Now I hadn’t had time to think of what to do to earn a living in a strange land with a strange language. On Friday morning, July 26, 1872, there came a man to the house of Mons Andersen who wanted a boy to help him in the field. His name was Peter Petersen. My wages were $8.00 a month. I worked with him 20 months. I must now tell a little that happened in that time. It was customary at that time that newcomers should be rebaptized. So Peter Petersen’s wife, Karen Larsen Petersen, told me, “There will be baptisms today. So you must hitch up the horses and take these people down to the mill pond to be baptized. And you must be baptized too.” I told her I would be glad to take them down, but I was not ready for baptism yet.
That coming winter I started to go to school so I could learn a little English. I had also gone with Mons Andersen’s boys to Sunday School. Eischa Pack was the teacher at that time. They were reading in turns out of the Bible; but when it came my turn to read, Brother Pack would read my verse, and there was not even a moment wasted. I was glad although I could not understand what they said. Yet I got to enjoying Sunday School. Sister Karen Larsen Petersen became sick and died on February 7, 1873, and that ended my schooling at that time. But I learned enough so I got into the Third Reader.
Now I had been studying the gospel and praying about it. I knew Jesus’s answer to Nicodemus as we find recorded in the third chapter of John: “Except a man is born of water and of the Spirit he cannot enter into the kingdom of Heaven.” [John 3:5] So on August 30, 1873, I was baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints by Mons Andersen and confirmed by Abraham Lossee in Lehi.

I had an experience like yours. I wanted so much to be able to tell the bishop, but I thought he would have little respect for me as a member of his ward. I prayed about it for a long time. I was finally comforted enough by the Spirit to be able to tell the bishop about my problem. After I told him what I had done, he let me know that what I had done was wrong but that he still loved me and so does my Heavenly Father. He let me know that there is a way back and that is by repentance. Repentance is such a wonderful process. I beg you to give it a try. The Lord is waiting for you!
Name withheld

When it comes to tools for teaching about the gospel, orange juice may seem like an unusual choice. But for Kayden’s family, it’s been just that. Kayden and his family celebrate his victories with a glass of orange juice. Such an odd beverage of choice has garnered attention and allowed Kayden to share his standards with others. In fact, after Kayden won the world championship, his mom exclaimed, “Orange juice and root beer all around!” When somebody asked, “Can’t you stop being Mormon for just 10 minutes?” Kayden and his mom explained that, no, they could not loosen their standards for even a few minutes, because their standards are part of who they are and what they stand for.

I remember reading several years ago of a man who had gone into the wilderness area of the state of Montana with a companion on a big game hunt. The hunters came upon a grizzly bear at rather close range, and one of the men fired at the bear and wounded it. In a rage the huge animal charged the hunters. One of them, in panic and in a desperate attempt to save himself, climbed into the lower branches of a small tree close by. The tree was not large enough to support the man’s weight and hold him beyond the reach of the bear’s powerful claws and jaws. Before his companion could destroy the bear, it had inflicted such serious injuries on the hunter that it was necessary to amputate both his legs in order to save his life.

When we went to Mexico to preside over the Mexico City Mission, it was almost twenty years since I had served there as a missionary. I was excited to get back to those people whom I had learned to love so much. I especially wanted to go to Cuernavaca, Morelos, a beautiful city where I had labored as a missionary. I wanted to know if those marvelous people who formed that little branch years ago were still alive and active in the Church. I wanted them to meet my family, and I wanted my family to meet them.

I was very pleased to learn shortly after we arrived that a district conference was scheduled in Cuernavaca. We made it a point to arrive early so that we would have an opportunity to talk informally with the people. It was a thrilling experience to share that warm Mexican greeting with those great people I had know years before. The abrazo includes a hug and a pat on the back, and we went from one to another.

Among those I greeted was a gray-haired lady who would likely have been in her seventies. As she stepped from our abrazo, she said, “Do you remember me?”

I was embarrassed that I didn’t and apologized, “I’m sorry Ma’am, but I don’t remember you.”

She responded, “You should; you converted me.”

Then I was really embarrassed. We didn’t have that many converts back in those days, and I thought I remembered every one of them very well.

She said, “Don’t you remember the day when we rode on that turismo (a little limousine-type bus) from Mexico City to Cuernavaca?”

Then I remembered! I had been assigned to take a message from the mission office in Mexico City to the elders who were working in Cuernavaca, and I had sat by that lady on the bus. She asked me what I was doing in Mexico, we had a little conversation about the Church, I gave her an Articles of Faith card, and she gave me her name, address, and permission to give them to the missionaries in Cuernavaca. Three months later, she and some of her adult children were baptized into the Church. She became the president of the Relief Society in the branch and through all these years had been one of the faithful members of the Church in Cuernavaca.

She was invited to bear her testimony in one of the district meetings, and she said, “If I had been asked to be baptized the first day that I heard the gospel, I would have been baptized, because I knew that day that it was true.”

One time I went on a first date with a girl in my ward. The next morning we were the only two who showed up for our ward’s temple trip. We offered to help with whatever ordinance needed the most patrons … which turned out to be sealings.
I was so nervous, but to my surprise, doing vicarious sealings with a girl less than 12 hours after our first date wasn’t nearly as awkward as I thought it would be. If anything, that experience gave me more perspective on how important each aspect of temple work is—including sealings (read more in my digital article).