Gospel Story Finder

My parents always felt that it was important for me to get an education. When I was a junior in high school, I wanted to buy a car. It was the prettiest car I’d ever seen, a white 1950 Oldsmobile convertible, and its price was four hundred dollars. I had just four hundred dollars in my bank account. This is going to work out great, I thought.

When I told my mom about my plan, she asked, “How will you get to college?” Then she said, “I believe that if you will save your money and go to college, you will be able to buy an even nicer car.” I thought and prayed about it and decided that she was right. I saved my money and went on to college. Then, when I had finished the “twenty-second grade” and had my bachelor’s, master’s, and doctoral degrees, I bought an old classic convertible. I still drive this car. It reminds me that if you are patient, follow good counsel, and follow the Spirit’s guidance to do what’s right, there will be all kinds of rewards.

Buying and acquiring things when you are young is unwise. Invest in yourself with education. And the kind of education we will need most through the eternities is spiritual.

One day they felt impressed to go to the farthest part of the town, out along the edges of the sugarcane fields. As they walked down the street, they saw two men sitting on their porch, and they stopped to talk with them. This was the first time they met Julian and his son, Victor. Julian immediately invited them in to have some yuca with butter and listened to the message they had to share. He was interested and asked them to come back and teach him more.
The following day the elders were in the town center doing street contacting when they met Carmen, Julian’s partner. As they started talking with her, they learned that Julian had told her all about what he had learned the day before. The elders returned that afternoon and taught Julian and Carmen how families were part of God’s plan. They learned that the couple had been together for over 30 years, with children and grandchildren, but had never gotten married. The elders asked what they thought about getting married. At first, Carmen was eager, and Julian was hesitant. Two weeks later, when they were married, he was emotional about finally being married to the woman of his dreams.

Kirkland Ward, Seattle East Stake youth were inspired to “learn more” about the gospel when two full-time missionaries substituted in teaching Sunday School. A series of missionary firesides were started with the young people bringing their nonmember friends to hear the missionary lessons. The crowds grew, testimonies were strengthened, and the Church has gained many new converts. “I was taught by the youth and converted by the spirit,” said Mary Trimble, a new member, “and it’s great that this ward is this enthusiastic about their religion.” Sunny Schubert said, “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if every ward would spread the truth this way also? We youth loved it”

I was serving as a missionary in France when the world collapsed and COVID-19 hurled the whole country into a strict lockdown. I have struggled with depression throughout my life, so I worried that the confining circumstances would cause me to slip into a depressive episode. But the first week of quarantine—the week leading up to the historical April 2020 general conference—was one of the most spiritual weeks of my life.
Looking back, the experiences I had that week felt like the Lord was fortifying me for a storm.
Elder Gary E. Stevenson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles gave a talk that conference about the repairs that would be made to the Salt Lake Temple’s foundations. He likened the remodeling to our own lives and asked us to consider this question:
“What are the foundational elements of my spiritual and emotional character that will allow me and my family to remain steadfast and immovable, even to withstand the earthshaking and tumultuous seismic events that will surely take place in our lives?”
As I listened to his talk, the Spirit impressed on me that, like the temple, I was going to be broken down in certain ways during the next period of my life. But I also felt that if I turned to the Lord during these challenges, He would help me strengthen my foundation of faith.
As expected, I soon grew depressed, and it wasn’t long before I felt trapped in an endless cycle of suicidal ideation. I felt torn down mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.
After two months of quarantine, things got a little better. Thanks to changes in my circumstances, like antidepressant medication and the end of lockdown, I started to feel better mentally. But soon after, I started feeling sick and noticed three large lumps at the base of my throat.
At first I ignored the bumps, but when my symptoms worsened, it became clear that I could no longer stay in the mission field. I returned home, where I was promptly diagnosed with blood cancer—Hodgkin’s lymphoma.
Because my antidepressants had a bit of an emotional numbing effect, I felt pretty apathetic as I started six months of chemotherapy.
But even so, I began to break down physically.
A year after my chemotherapy treatment ended, I was starting to feel better physically. I was back at college and making plans. But the searing spiritual pain and numbness I had felt on my mission and during chemotherapy had now turned into a general feeling of indifference about Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.
I was struggling with my feelings about what I had gone through and felt as if They had abandoned me when I was at my lowest.
But Heavenly Father knew what paths I needed to take so I could heal.
I felt like I was grappling with the rubble and remains of my once-strong faith and my once-vibrant personality. I felt so disconnected from myself. My heart was softening toward the Lord’s attempts to reach out to me, but spiritually I felt guilty, anxious, and unworthy because of my indifference toward the gospel.
After pondering my spiritual health for a few months, I was prompted to make small spiritual changes in my life. I had ignored the pain for a while, but I wanted to address the hurt I felt in my soul because of the challenges I had experienced.
Soon I could see Heavenly Father’s hand in my life. Without knowing how spiritually numb I was feeling, friends and loved ones brought up the topic of healing. One of them even shared a devotional address by Elaine S. Marshall.
Reluctantly, I read it.
I don’t think it was a coincidence that the treatment for my cancer required six months of chemotherapy. The effects of chemo are drastic, dramatic, and demanding. Interestingly, learning to let my body heal physically taught me a key principle of spiritual healing—how to draw upon Jesus Christ’s grace and allow myself time and space to heal my relationship with Him and Heavenly Father.
The first step I took toward spiritual healing was finding a desire to connect with God. Alma taught me how to start when he said, “Exercise a particle of faith, yea, even if ye can no more than desire to believe, let this desire work in you, even until ye believe in a manner that ye can give place for a portion of my words” (Alma 32:27).
I testify from personal experience that this teaching is true.
Similar to Alma’s experience, my desire to feel the Spirit and the joy of the gospel again set off a whole trajectory shift that took me through the process of healing. Since then, the Savior has helped me to reconcile my past feelings as I’ve learned to let go of my resentments toward God, Him, and my own weaknesses.
Because of Him, parts of myself that I thought I had lost in the mists of my trials—like my personality, my desires, and my love for the gospel—have been returned to me and have made me feel whole, renewed, and restored.
Pain and challenges changed me, but as I found healing through Jesus Christ, I truly rebuilt my foundation of faith on Him. As time passes and I heal, I see that because of Jesus Christ, I can learn to have joy despite my struggles. I now understand that the most important part of going through a trial isn’t what breaks us down or the pain we feel—it’s what follows as we experience healing and reconstruction through the Savior’s grace.

Last year the missionaries knocked on their door and were invited to come inside. After the missionaries taught the family, Mother decided that she wanted to join the Church, and knew that it would help her teach the gospel to her family. Father decided that he needed to obey the Word of Wisdom so that he could be baptized too. Both parents were baptized on July 10, 1991. About a week later, Loli was baptized by her father. The Primary children sang at her baptism. A few weeks after that, Pili decided that she was ready to be baptized too. She knew that it was important for her family to become an eternal family. When Pili was confirmed, she could feel the Holy Spirit in her heart.

As a teenage boy I watched my six-week-old sister, Carol, struggle with whooping cough at a time when there were no antibiotics. I came home one night from having been a grease monkey [mechanic] at a bus depot and saw the light was on. It was about four o’clock in the morning. I knew it meant trouble. As I came in, Carol was laid out on the round dining room table, and Dad was waiting for a neighbor to come to join in blessing her. I thought she was gone. It seemed to me she had quit breathing. Then I watched the power of the priesthood, and I watched her start breathing again. That experience let me know the reality of the priesthood at a very young age. Our prayers for her were answered.

Some prayers are answered dramatically, as with Carol. With others we must wait. But if we do that, in those waiting moments there will come to us special things.

Eight-year-old Betsy left her home on the Indian reservation to live for the school year with a white family. There was much for Betsy’s new family to learn about her and her Indian ways, and there was much for Betsy to learn too. Her new white sister understood Betsy best, even though some children at school were unkind to both of them.

After a few months Betsy unexpectedly had to return to her Indian family because they needed her. No one knew if she would ever return to her white family, but eventually Betsy let the white sister know of her love.

In addition to collecting offerings, deacons have helped the needy by donating muscle power: painting houses, raking leaves, shoveling walks, running errands. Illustrative is a case that took place near the turn of the century when deacons aided two families in their ward:
“On the tenth of May, the Deacon’s quorum, with the consent of the Bishopric, assembled at the beet field of Sister __________, whose husband had recently died. The quorum with the aid of relatives, to the number of sixty-eight, went to work, and they cultivated and thinned nine acres of beets before they quit the field. This work lifted a heavy load off the family of Sister __________, was in great distress at the time.
“A few days later, the Deacons went to the farm of Sister __________, a widow, and thinned several acres of beets for her also.”

Steve Crandall sat bolt upright in bed.
“Your mother’s pains have started.” His father’s face was lined with worried creases. “Can you come help me clear the road to the highway?”
Steve was already struggling to pull on long underwear, sweaters, socks, pants, parka, boots, muffler, gloves. His heart was racing.
Shoveling snow, opening the garage door, starting the jeep, hitching the drag, swinging open the jeep door for his father—Steve fumbled with numb fingers while his heart beat with the fury of the wind swirling up the snow drifts.
Through the roar and clanking of the old jeep, his father shouted, “Take it easy, Steve. We’ll make it. Your mother has had nine kids before this, including you.”
Steve was glad to be able to hide his face in the parka hood. He was quiet for a moment. Then he let his memory wander and thought back to the time when Mom had Julie. There had been no special precautions that time; Dad had just helped Mom to the car, and they drove off to the hospital.
That seemed a long time ago and many miles away in a place where everything was so much different. This was Alaska. It was 50° F. below zero. The hospital was 51 miles away, and there was no telephone in their house. This time Dad paused to give Mom a priesthood blessing before helping her to the car. This time, Dad, Steve, and his two sisters prayed together in the car that they would make it down the road before the baby came. But this time, too, when it was all over and little Rachael took her place in the Crandall clan, 16-year-old Steve felt older somehow. It was as if he had been a part of something that was much more real than he had ever experienced before.
That is how everything has become since Steve’s family moved a year ago into their little log house in the wilds near Fairbanks. There are six other families within five miles in the woods where they live, but it is more than 30 miles into town and about 15 miles to the Eielson Air Force Base. They have no electricity or telephone, their close neighbors are the lynx, fox, and bear, and their television set is the view from their window of the Alaska Mountain Range shrouded by dense spruce forests. Life is simple.
But hewn down to its basic elements, life also seems richer. The isolation in the harsh climate has brought the family closer than ever before. Working together, playing together, worshiping together—they share more of life than ever before.
“B.J., Steve, Susan, David, Danny, Becky, Julie, Jesse … time for breakfast,” comes the call from the kitchen every morning. (Rachael is already in the high chair and Susie is away at college.) Soon the sounds of padding feet fill the kitchen, and everyone is poised for the new day. Over hot cakes the daily planning session begins. There is school for Steve and the little ones, and work for Dad at the air force base. There is work for 19-year-old B.J. (Billie Joe) and home Primary for both her and Mom in the afternoon. Then there is dinner together and home evening that night.
And there are always plenty of chores for everyone. Most of the summer is spent getting ready for the winter. And most of the winter is spent coping with the cold that can freeze bare flesh in less than a minute and the darkness that can linger into depression. With ten children and no electricity, the chores are given a twist of creativity.
The five-mile stretch of dirt road that leads to the highway is not maintained by the state, so one of Steve’s jobs is to help the men in the neighborhood pack down the snow during the winter by the use of a flat device called a drag. It seems that this always needs to be done at the least convenient times, such as when Mom is in labor or when it is time to go to church.
Another of Steve’s jobs is to keep the car from freezing up at night. “We had one garage, not insulated or anything, just plywood sides, with a wood stove in it,” he explained. “We would just pull the car in there every night, and I’d build a fire. I had to put enough wood in there so the fire would last all night. The car was only frozen up one time the whole winter.” His brown eyes glisten with pride he knows is well-earned.
Steve’s expertise with wood burning stoves has unexpectedly come in handy at other times too. When the kitchen stove was on the blink one morning, he stoked up the basement stove so his mother and sisters, huddling in their parkas, could cook hotcakes for the family in the pitch black 32-degree basement air. Some of the younger brothers and sisters were assigned to run the hotcakes upstairs before the chill reached through and through.
As the days wear on, it seems that work has a way of turning into fun for the Crandall family. Family home evening, a chore for many families, is as easy as the summer rain on the flower-dotted flat lands for Steve’s family.
One night when it was time for home evening, Steve suggested, “Let’s do something exciting tonight—like kickball or something.”
So Becky and Julie went outside to set up bases while the older girls stayed to clean up the dinner dishes. It wasn’t long before eight-year-old Becky flew through the door, her face ashen and her voice trembling in fright. “There’s a bear out there! There’s a bear out there!”
Suddenly everyone was bumping shoulders on the porch trying to catch a good view of the bear. There he was, foraging through the bushes, pausing for a moment to watch the commotion on the Crandalls’ porch. Suddenly, a neighbor pointed his rifle out the side window and fired at the bear several times. The injured bear began to lumber away. Quickly Dad and Steve grabbed their guns to help out. “You don’t leave a wounded bear up here. They can get vicious,” Dad explained.
They never caught the bear that night. But when Mom asked, “Was that enough excitement for you, Steve?” laughter filled the tiny house.
Excitement and laughter seldom leave Steve’s house. The Crandalls live life to the fullest, with an intensity that shows even in their recreation. Steve and 11-year-old Danny once entered a local 26-mile marathon cross-country race. When Steve gave out early and quit the race, Danny kept going. He finished third in his category, the youngest of the contestants. “One of us had to finish,” he said with his head bowed.
By far, Church work is given the most serious attention by the Crandalls. Everyone has at least one Church job, and so the gospel is a cooperative effort. With Dad in the branch presidency, Mom a teacher in the Relief Society, B.J. a teacher in the Primary, and Steve a member of the planning committee for the all-Alaska youth conference, the family car is kept hopping. During spring breakup, when the snow melts and the road to the highway becomes as muddy as the sludge from a gold miner’s pan, attending church services becomes a challenge. The four-wheel drive jeep is the only vehicle that can navigate the muddy stretches of road to the air force base chapel.
“There’s the whole family in that little bitty 1943 jeep,” Mom laughs. “We all get into our grubs; everybody climbs into the jeep. We strap a suitcase full of our good clothes onto the hood along with Daddy’s briefcase, and off we go to church. It’s funny!”
Church meetings are worth the effort, though. The closeness of the Crandalls seems to be shared by other families in the branch. And it spills over into the greater branch family. A willing hand is always outstretched. Making the most of each moment is their byword. One day Steve forgot his shirt for meeting, so another boy loaned him one of his. Although two of Steve could have fit into the shirt, one very relieved Steve could attend his meetings. B.J. tells of one experience she had with the Young Adults in the area:
“One night after I had not been to Young Adults for three weeks, they all came to my house for a party!” She shook her head in wonder.
The pioneer spirit shows in little ways. At dances, beneath the elegant gowns, girls wear mukluks, sealskin boots. After a shipment of fabric comes into the general store, everyone shows up at church and school with shirts, dresses, and skirts of the same fabric. And this spirit shows in big ways, too. When the hay is ready to harvest, everyone comes to help. Eggs and milk are shared by all.
“The whole branch is close.” Dad sums it up well. With little else to hold onto, that gospel love is like an iron rod in the vast wilderness. “The people up here have to live like the Mormon pioneers. They share. They work together,” Dad explains.
Steve agrees. His life is painted in pioneer panorama, but with strokes that show a Master’s gentle touch. Last year when winter was fierce, the whole family gathered in the front room, some of the smaller members in Dad’s arms. They read from the scriptures by the flickering light of kerosene lamps. Through the front window, Steve could see the bright lights of the Aurora Borealis dancing silent approval over the warm scene. This is life at its best—a candle on a very cold hillside.

Elder Kikuchi served a three-and-one-half-year mission, which included one six-month extension as a full-time proselyting missionary and another twelve-month extension as a labor missionary. Less than two weeks after returning home in 1964, he married Toshiko Koshiya. She had joined the Church when she was young—after two years of study—and she had met Yoshihiko not long after his baptism.
With Yoshihiko’s marriage came another key transition in his life—the young couple moved from the quiet, traditional area of northern Japan to the fast-moving, “western” metropolis of Tokyo. Yoshihiko was soon a husband, a new father, a university student in business psychology, later a full-time employee of a cookware firm, and branch president of West Branch, which later became Tokyo Third Ward. He calls this time the greatest growing period of his life.
Quiet and unassuming, Sister Kikuchi recalls those days with fondness: “We had many blessings. Yoshihiko was working so hard every minute.” Indeed, the drive he had shown as a youngster had not diminished; he was now getting about four hours’ sleep a night. “He never complained,” continues Sister Kikuchi, not mentioning her own hard work and faithfulness, both crucial during that time.

One day last summer, Spencer J. was riding home from a summer vacation with his parents and family when he decided that the time in the car was perfect for planning some of his goals for the upcoming year. He and his family came up with a great list of goals that would help him plan for school, work on getting in better shape, and fulfill his duty to God.
His goals for school included working hard to get straight A’s, befriending people at school who seem lonely, and tutoring a student who is struggling in classes. He also wanted to run for an Arizona State President of Student Government, which he was later elected to. That goal could have been intimidating because he had to give a speech in front of 2,000 people. But, as Spencer says, “It would be an awesome experience to talk to other states about what they are doing with their student governments.”
Spencer wanted to get in better physical shape. He decided to make a goal to ride his bike at least four miles about three days a week to prepare for a mission. Then he listed that he would like to run two miles at least once a week. He also would participate with the track and tennis teams.
As a priest in the Aaronic Priesthood, Spencer worked with his quorum leaders to set a goal to help make the sacrament more meaningful by being prepared to bless the sacrament, saying the prayers with more feeling, and inviting others who don’t often participate in the blessing of the sacrament to bless it with him.
Carrying out these personal goals has made Spencer happier, healthier, and more prepared for the challenges and opportunities he will face in the future.

Do you have a favorite thing you like to collect, like beads or baseball cards? Finlay T., age eight, likes to collect something too. But he doesn’t keep what he collects—he gives it away. And what he gives away would usually be dumped in the trash! Can you guess what it is?
I collect used postage stamps from letters that have traveled all over the world. Then I give them to charities that sell stamps to raise money to help children in different countries. Whenever I hear the mail plop onto the doormat of our home, I can’t wait to carefully tear off the postage stamps to add to the collection.
I live with my mum and dad and my sisters, Emily and Georgia. Sometimes we trim and sort stamps together. It’s hard work, and sometimes my hands ache from cutting and counting. But then I remember why I’m doing it. I enjoy helping because I know that each stamp I collect helps someone in need.

President Oaks taught us that “Family bonds are also strengthened by family stories, creating family traditions, and sharing sacred experiences.”[4]
One tradition we established was on the morning of our children’s baptisms. We would wake them up before sunrise. Still in their pajamas, my husband would wrap them in a blanket and drive them 45 minutes to the Nashville Tennessee Temple.

During the drive on narrow, rural roads, they would talk about the road signs indicating the curves ahead and "no passing" zones. He would then drive over the rumble strips on the edge of the road to demonstrate the warnings provided from veering off. He drew parallels between all of these markers and the teachings of Jesus Christ and His prophets. Following the road signs brought them safely to the temple; following the Savior would bring them safely to their heavenly home. Upon arriving, he walked them to the temple doors to see smiling temple workers dressed in white standing inside. Then, they watched the sun rise, discussing how baptism is like a new dawn. It was a truly memorable morning.

It was 30 years ago this summer that my wife, Kerstine, and I first met at a family home evening group activity at the Smith Fieldhouse. As the weeks passed, Kerstine would mysteriously show up at my table at the Deseret Towers cafeteria whenever I was eating lunch, which was often at a different time each day. I quite liked that, but I wasn’t really interested in pursuing anything serious until my elders quorum president pulled me aside one day. After listing off some of Kerstine’s great qualities, he asked me to help him find a way to enjoy having lunch with her on a regular basis like I was doing. Suddenly I got very interested, and the rest is history.

Both of us well remember our first few months of marriage—we lived in a studio apartment south of campus that was tucked under Mexican and Italian restaurants and a bakery. We have many interesting memories of the place, including the black, oozy slime that crept out of the shower drain each morning. Our oldest son, David, was conceived shortly after we were married. Morning sickness mixed with the smells wafting down from the eateries above made for particularly poignant memories. Much like now, it was a time of economic uncertainty. We started our lives together in the midst of long gas lines due to oil shortages, two back-to-back recessions, double-digit inflation, and double-digit interest rates. But we moved forward with our family in faith that all would work out.

At the time, I was teaching Japanese to missionaries at the MTC. Our rent was $110 per month, including utilities. I was making about $250 per month. So we were set—both of us attended BYU until complications with pregnancy and a premature baby postponed Kerstine’s schooling until many years later.

Like many of you now, I was seeking inspiration and struggling to decide what to major in and what career path I should pursue. It wasn’t until I started taking child development and psychology classes from wonderful BYU faculty mentors that I discovered my academic passion, which led me to a research and university teaching career.

After nine years of postmarriage “camping out”—as some relatives used to call it—we left graduate school behind.

Just four months after moving into this new ward, Dad fell and broke his hip while visiting a family member in St. George in southern Utah. This accident required surgery and an extended stay in a care facility 250 miles (400 km) from his new home. When we told his ministering brother about the incident, he immediately contacted the Primary president, who started a letter-writing and picture-coloring campaign with the Primary children and other ward members. They sent him mail and coloring pages almost every day. The abundance of attention led the workers at the St. George nursing home to ask if he was some sort of celebrity, as they had never had a patient receive so much mail. Since this was during the height of COVID, he couldn’t have visitors, so this daily written interaction was a gift of service beyond description.

The youth of the Bountiful Utah Central Stake were planning a youth conference for the first week in June. They were planning some exciting events right in their own area. They planned a day at a water slide, an evening barbecue, a day of workshops, a dance, and more. It was going to be great fun. But the week before their youth conference, mud slides and floodwaters had inundated dozens of homes in Bountiful. It didn’t seem quite right to be planning an activity when so many people needed help. The youth decided to cancel their youth conference and offer their time and strength in helping their neighbors.
Julie Merrill, Lisa and Lori Dearden, Michelle Reading, Jim Summers, Bob Foster, Betsy Ann Wiscombe, and Adam Birmingham and nearly 100 percent of the youth in their wards turned out dressed in old clothes and with shovels over their shoulders to be assigned a home to help clean. This group was shown to a home where mud had filled the bottom level.
At first the group gingerly waded into the mud careful not to get too much on their clothes, but as bucket after bucket was filled and lifted in a bucket brigade out of the house, they didn’t hesitate to get dirty. As the group was working, one boy called out, “I know a song we should sing. We should sing, ‘Give Said the Little Stream.’” His suggestion was met with groans. The heavy mud started to take its toll on young muscles, but their good spirits won out. Someone missed the bucket with a shovelful of mud. Another retaliated, and soon everyone was yelling to stop the mud fight, but since everyone was already covered, it did little damage.
The youth went back the next day and the next until the home they were working on was as clean as they could get it and ready for reconstruction work.
How did they feel about shoveling mud instead of having fun at their youth conference? Julie Merrill said, “It was nice to help other people. I was worn out, but I felt like I was helping. I didn’t really mind the change of plans.” Lori Dearden actually preferred the change of plans. “I’m still a Beehive so I couldn’t go to some of the joint activities at the youth conference, so I didn’t mind the change of plans. It was hard work, but we were really excited to finally see the floor. We left it really clean with all the walls washed down. It felt good to help.”

A young boy and his parents are on the Brooklyn with other Latter-day Saints going to California in 1846. A storm came up so terrible that the captain of the ship told them to prepare to die. But they had faith that they would be all right, and the storm finally ended.
Once the hatches were unbattened, the children rushed up on deck like buckshot exploding out of a shotgun. There seemed to be magic in the breeze as the ship sailed quickly along. How good it was to see the sun and to breathe fresh air again! We forgot all about the bumps and bruises from being banged about like marbles in a leather pouch.

I own only one pair of pants—a pair of neat black jeans. It may sound unusual, but that silly fact has brought me much joy. After college, I had to move out of my apartment in Finland, and since I had planned a two-month trip to the United States, I had to figure out what to do with all my belongings. So I made an inventory of everything I owned and realized that I actually needed much less than I had. After some honest contemplation, I decided to sell my excess belongings before moving out. I loved how it felt, and though it has been a few years, the feeling of not having many belongings is incredibly liberating to this day.
When I was deciding which clothes to get rid of and which ones to keep, I held on to only as much as I felt I actually needed, and also which items I enjoyed the most. I realized that in possessing a lot of something, like clothing, I had a harder time appreciating it. After committing to the pants that I really liked and actually used, I felt greater joy wearing them. This applied to many of my other belongings too.

A month ago in Brazil, I met Aroldo Cavalcante. He was baptized at age 21, the first member of the Church in his family. His faith burned brightly, and he immediately began preparing to serve a mission. Sadly, Aroldo’s mother was diagnosed with cancer. Three months later, only days before she died, she spoke to Aroldo of her greatest concern: There were no relatives to help. Aroldo would need to take full responsibility for his two younger sisters and his younger brother. He solemnly made this promise to his dying mother.

By day he worked in a bank, and at night he attended the university. He continued to keep his baptismal covenants, but his hopes for a full-time mission were gone. His mission would be caring for his family.

Months later while preparing a sacrament meeting talk, Aroldo studied the words that Samuel reprovingly spoke to King Saul: “To obey,” he read, “is better than [to] sacrifice.”10 Aroldo received the seemingly impossible impression that he needed to obey the prophet’s call to serve a mission. Undaunted by the obstacles before him, he moved forward with enormous faith.

Aroldo saved every Brazilian cruzeiro he could. At age 23, he received his mission call. He told his brother how much to withdraw each month from his account for the family. Aroldo still did not have enough money to pay the full cost of his mission and the living expenses for his brother and sisters, but with faith he entered the MTC. A week later he received the first of many blessings. The bank that had employed Elder Cavalcante unexpectedly doubled the money he was to receive as he concluded his work. This miracle, along with others, provided the needed income for his mission and his family during his absence.

Twenty years later, Brother Cavalcante is now serving as the president of the Recife Brazil Boa Viagem Stake. Looking back, he said of those days, “As I tried to live righteously, I felt the Savior’s love and guidance. My faith grew, allowing me to overcome many challenges.”11 Aroldo’s faith did not come by chance, but by choice.

The forest here is calm and quiet, especially in the evening. A cool breeze, like a hymn being sung, whispers through the pines. It seems as though this grove has always been a sacred place, the kind of refuge from the world that a clearing in the woods provides.
As peaceful as the forest is, though, the young men and women gathered here seem just as reverent. They speak in quiet tones, but with gladness. They have just spent several hours in the Stockholm Sweden Temple, the house of the Lord.
“Being in the temple makes me feel clean and happy,” says Thor Andre Erak, sixteen.
Lillian Nilsen, seventeen, agrees. “Everyone who comes to the temple gets a stronger testimony because of the spirit here,” she says. “When you do baptisms for the dead, you have a feeling you’re doing them for someone, that maybe they will become members of the Church. It’s missionary work in a powerful way.”
This particular group of your Latter-day Saints is from the Oslo Second Ward, Oslo Norway Stake. But they could just as easily have been from remote islands in Finland, or from the port cities of Denmark, or from busy downtown Stockholm, just minutes up the freeway. The truth is, young people come to the temple from throughout the northland.
“This is my second trip,” says Charlotte Marie Lundkvist, twelve. “The last time we came with the whole stake, and I was baptized for forty-five people. Then we went to the temple president’s house and had a fireside. He told us about a man who was paralyzed and couldn’t do things for himself. He had to rely on other people. That’s what we’re doing here. People in the spirit world can’t do this for themselves. They have to rely on other people.”
“They may be watching, just waiting for someone to do this work for them,” says Kristina Arsnes, thirteen. “I would be really thankful if I were in that situation and someone were to do it for me.”
The spire of the Stockholm Temple stretches straight and tall, bright white against the greens and browns of the trees. Here in its shadow, it’s natural to talk about missions, families, promises, and eternity—about things that are, as the scriptures say, everlasting. (See D&C 79:1.)
But those who come from far away aren’t the only ones who benefit from the temple. The youth who live right next door, in the little town of Vasterhaninge, say the temple has been a great blessing to their community.
“I ride by the temple on the bus,” says Roy Gunnarsson, seventeen. “Of course, a lot of people toured the building before it was dedicated. But I still hear people talking about it almost every day, even little children. The most common reaction when they see it is, ‘Wow, what a beautiful building!’ When they find out I know what it is, they want to know more: ‘Is it a church?’ ‘What do you do in there?’ It’s a wonderful chance to explain the plan of salvation.”
“For me,” says Cecilia Jensen, sixteen, “the temple is a constant reminder. Our ward building is on the same land, so when we go to a ward activity, we’re next to the temple all the time. Sometimes we watch the couples leaving after they’re married. How can you be around the temple that much and not think of what it stands for?”
Yes, the reminder is strong, and the spirit of gospel involvement is pervasive. Talk to Bishop Engman of the Vasterhaninge Ward, and you’ll find the activity level among his youth is near 100 percent. Six full-time missionaries from the ward are currently serving, and “our goal is for every young man to serve a mission.” A dozen seminary students meet in the chapel at 6:30 A.M.. Monday through Thursday, without fail.
And the Handen Ward, which meets in the same building, has a youth program that is equally valiant.
Because so many temple workers live in the area, the Mormon presence in Vasterhaninge is strong. Latter-day Saints make up 1.4 percent of the population, which gives them stature in local government, housing projects, and political groups. Instead of being the only Mormons in their schools, many young Latter-day Saints have two or three member friends in their classes. Teachers are aware of Church standards and open-minded about LDS ideals.
But having a temple in the community has done more than just make people aware of the Mormons.
“Having a temple here makes me feel secure,” says Sofia Sivula, fourteen. “It lifts me above the everyday problems and reminds me of eternity.”
“I see the temple and think of being married there someday,” says Annika Reithmeier, sixteen. “I know that the promises you make in the temple are promises with the Lord. The things you learn in the temple won’t just change or disappear.”
“I like being inside the temple,” says David Girhammar, fifteen. “You can relax, read the scriptures, and forget about everything else. There’s a feeling of great comfort in there.”
In Vasterhaninge, it’s easy for the youth to gather, since most of them live less than five minutes from the chapel. Virtually every Friday night, there’s a large group of teenagers at the ward. Sometimes there’s an opportunity to meet young members from other areas who are going to or coming from the temple.
“I love it when the kids from Göteborg join us for a dance,” says Paul Engman, sixteen. “But even more, I love to see so many young people in the house of the Lord. It makes you feel the Church is strong.”
The temple president, George Damstedt, loves to tell of the faithful youth who attend the temple. Some have traveled long hours to be there. Many stay as a group in youth hostels to cut expenses. Most attend at least two sessions of baptisms before heading home.
“Once I was invited to climb aboard a bus of young folks from Finland,” President Damstedt recalls. “They sang ‘I Am a Child of God,’ and I just started crying. I couldn’t understand the words, but I could understand the Spirit. You can see the Church’s future here. It’s with these young people who come to the temple. They know they’re part of something important, of something that will last forever.”
President Damstedt has stepped outside now. He’s visiting with the group from Oslo, here in the woods where the evening is crisp and the breeze is cool.
“It’s a little chilly,” says Julie Karine Rennesund, seventeen. “But I still feel warm inside.”
Julie knows, as the other young people gathered here know, that it is a warmth that will linger.
A lot of young men find ways to pay for their missions. But Patric Balck has found what he calls “an ideal place to work.”
Patric, eighteen, a newly ordained elder in the Handen Ward, is a groundskeeper and apprentice gardener at the Stockholm Temple. For four years now, he has spent his working hours mowing lawns, trimming trees and bushes, and tending flowers, all under the direction of the head groundskeeper.
“It’s more than just a job,” Patric says. “It gives me an opportunity to talk to nonmember friends and tourists. I’ve given out copies of the Book of Mormon. I try to make people who visit the grounds feel at home. And, of course, I try to make sure the grounds look good.”
Patric says the temple is a wonderful place to work, “because of the calm feeling that is always here.” He says that he notices a new interest in religion among young people in Sweden and that he’s eager to serve a mission and find out if that same interest is growing elsewhere.
Editor’s note: Since this story was written, Patric has received his call and is currently serving in the Idaho Boise Mission.