Gospel Story Finder

Nearly three years have passed since we first met Jose Manuel in that park in Madrid, Spain. He is now a member of the Church. A few months ago he, like you and me, had a decision to make. He had to decide whether or not to serve a mission. Jose Manuel had every reason in the world not to go. He was just a recent convert. His knowledge of the gospel wasn’t that extensive. He had lost his father a few years before, and his mother didn’t want him to go. Other family members didn’t want him to go either. He didn’t have the finances to be able to serve for 18 months. He also had to complete his military service before he would be able to even think about serving a mission. Everything was against his going on a mission.
Every one of us, as we think about a mission, can find a number of reasons why we shouldn’t go. We must each look beyond those reasons. The key is to look for reasons to go. And Jose Manuel had some reasons to go. He knew that Jesus Christ was the son of God and the Savior of the world. He knew that Joseph Smith had seen a vision. He knew that the Church was true. He knew that it had changed his life, and he wanted to go out and share that knowledge with others.
Jose Manuel had a desire to serve. He was called to the work. With the help of the Lord, he was able to work things out. That always seems to happen. He overcame the obstacles, and he’s now serving in the Spain Barcelona Mission.

The sky is still black when 15-year-old Jossie Comandao and her father, Domingo L. Comandao, awaken. They get up every school day at about 4 A.M. “When the alarm rings,” Brother Comandao explains. “I have to use an alarm clock.”
The Comandaos live in Tatalon, one of several relocation areas in Manila, capital of the Philippines. “We don’t have any running water,” Brother Comandao explains. “So after breakfast I must go fetch water so Jossie can take a bath.” Jossie wants to be bright and fresh for her seminary class. As soon as she’s ready, she and her father begin the one-and-a-half mile walk to the stake center.
Jossie’s regular school classes don’t begin until 7 A.M., and her father doesn’t have to be to work until 8 o’clock. “So we have plenty of time to walk,” Jossie says. “And I enjoy talking to my father.” They both carry their scriptures with them, and gospel discussions are common.
Friends smile and wave as the Comandaos arrive at the church. While Jossie visits with her friends, her father rests for a moment before turning to walk back home.
“I am very grateful for the seminary program,” he says. “It has been most worthwhile for my daughter. Seminary has helped her to be more industrious and to learn to prepare assignments on time. It has also helped her to make many good, strong friends. It has also helped us as a family.”
He pauses. “My wife is not yet a member, but perhaps as she sees Jossie grow in the knowledge of the gospel, she will realize how important the Church is to all of us.”
Inside the classroom, Jossie and her fellow students are eager to share their own appreciation for early-morning seminary.
“I enjoy seminary because I feel myself and the members of this church being blessed through it,” Jossie says. “I know that if we prepare ourselves and become worthy people, we will receive great blessings at the Second Coming of Christ.”
The lesson ends all too soon. Following a closing prayer, Jossie and the other students walk out to the parking lot and linger for a moment, talking and savoring seminary’s happy spirit. The gospel light is rising, like the sun that is now greeting the radiant morning. A moment later, Jossie is running to catch a bus that will take her to school. It’s a direct route—she doesn’t even have to transfer.

Rain poured from the sky as Katie dashed from under the awning of Fitzgerald’s. She vaulted into the passenger seat of the car waiting at the curb with her brother, Mike, at the wheel.
“It would start to rain as I get off work,” Katie said dismally, flipping down the visor mirror to stare at her sodden hair.
Mike laughed at the face she was making and pulled into traffic.
“Oh! I almost forgot,” Katie said. “Fitzgerald’s is having a sale on men’s white dress shirts—in case you need a few more for your collection.”
“I think Mom bought three or four dozen. Do you think 10 ties is enough?”
“I’d better send you some for Christmas.”
“Don’t forget socks,” Mike reminded her. “And cookies.”
“They’ll be stale by the time they get to Brazil.”
“I can’t go two years without chocolate chip cookies.”
Katie said softly, “I can’t believe you’re going to be gone in a week.”
Mike pulled into their driveway. The rain kept falling. “Gotta make a run for it,” he said.
Katie reached out a hand. “No, Mike, wait. You know, this might be our last chance to talk.”
“You mean you’re never going to speak to me again?” Mike asked in mock horror.
“You know what I mean. Tomorrow Dad’s taking you fishing. Sunday is the farewell, Monday is the good-bye party, and Tuesday you drive to Utah while I work.”
Katie’s eyes blurred as she looked through the drumming rain. She and Mike were only 11 months apart and had grown up practically like twins. They had run track together, fished, camped, had the same friends, and gone to Saturday night dances together. When no one else would listen, Mike always did. But now it was hard to express what she wanted to ask him.
“What’s up, Katie?”
“It’s just … why are you going on a mission?”
“Well,” he began, “I’ve taken the missionary prep class, gone on splits with the full-time elders, saved my money …” He stopped. “I guess that doesn’t really answer the question, huh? I’m going because I’ve got a testimony of the gospel. Does that sound too spiritual?”
Katie shook her head. “You really have a testimony? No doubts, nothing?”
He looked at her questioningly. “I’ve never had doubts; neither have you. Hey, you’ve been Laurel class president.”
“Being the Laurel class president doesn’t automatically give you a testimony.”
Mike stared at her in disbelief. “We’ve been together our whole lives: church, seminary, sunrise testimony meetings; of course you have a testimony.”
Katie’s voice shook. “No, I don’t Mike.” I’ve never told this to anyone, but I really don’t know. How can people say they know?”
“I can’t believe you’re saying this,” Mike said softly.
“Don’t look so shocked, Michael. It’s not the end of the world.”
“How can you go on a mission or get married in the temple? All the big things, I just don’t get it.”
“I’m not planning on getting married next month.”
Mike shook his head. “Your testimony is the most important thing in the world.”
“But what is a testimony?” she challenged.
Meeting the rise in her voice, he quickly said, “A knowledge and belief that the Church is true.”
“How do you get it?”
“Through study, prayer, fasting.”
“The usual, typical answers. Is that how you got it?”
“Of course.”
“How did you know?”
“I just felt it. I’ve always known.”
“But what does it feel like?”
He sighed. “I don’t know how to explain.”
“No one can tell me. Not my seminary teacher, not my leaders, and not you.”
“I thought I knew you better than anyone else, and now it’s like I don’t.”
Katie bit her lip. “You’re not helping me. You’re only making me feel bad.”
“But you have to have a testimony,” he insisted.
“Right.” She opened the car door. “Out of everybody in this world, I thought you’d be the one to listen and understand. I wish I hadn’t brought it up.” Katie got out of the car and slammed the door.
The next morning, Katie stayed in bed until after Dad and Mike had left for the lake. When she came downstairs, she found her mother at the kitchen table eating breakfast.
“I’m just wondering what’s up between you and Mike?” Mom said.
Katie became wary. “Nothing.”
“Actually,” Mom confessed, “Mike told us about your conversation last night.”
Katie set down the milk. “He had no right to tell you that! I confided in him.”
“You’ve been so close. I think he was very shaken by what you told him,” Mom said soothingly.
“Now my whole family thinks I’m apostatizing.”
“I never knew you had concerns about your feelings. I wish you had come to Dad and me.”
“It seems like everybody has a testimony, except me. I thought I was weird or something.”
Mom was thoughtful. “There are probably more people in your shoes than you realize, especially teenagers. We’re not born with a testimony. It takes time, lots of prayer, and seeking for the Spirit. Growing up in the Church can make it harder because it’s always around you. From the time you’re in nursery, it’s something you hear about and learn about every day. It might be harder to recognize because it’s so much a part of you.”
“You’re probably right,” Katie admitted.
Mom leaned forward. “Of course, I don’t recommend going out in the world and ignoring your standards just to see how other people live. Your father and I did that before the missionaries came to our door 20 years ago. We had even decided not to have children.”
“I didn’t know that,” Katie said.
“It’s a sad way to live. When I felt the Holy Ghost bearing the truth to my heart that what the elders were telling me was true, it was so different from anything I’d ever felt, I didn’t have any doubts it was from God.”
“I wish I could have that,” Katie said. “But sometimes I don’t think I feel anything.”
“You might be feeling more than you realize. It just takes careful listening. Having a desire to know is the first step. It will come if you seek it. Jesus Christ himself told us that.”
Even after talking with her mother, Katie had a hard time feeling forgiveness toward Mike. She felt like he’d betrayed her deepest feelings. On Tuesday morning she stood barefoot in the damp grass and saw her family off. She hugged Mom and Dad, then stood awkwardly as Mike put his arms around her and squeezed her.
He whispered, “Please don’t be mad anymore. I need your love to make it the next two years. Write to me, okay?”
She nodded, unable to speak. The car pulled away, and Dad tooted the horn.
She was alone. Even though she had to work every day until her parents returned, the next few days would be time by herself. Time to really think, meditate, read, pray and hopefully get some answers.
She went into the house and grabbed her scriptures. A testimony of the gospel, of the Church. It sounded trite, somehow, and that had always bothered her. There were so many doctrines to have a testimony of. What did it really mean?
She turned to the Topical Guide under testimony and testify and read until she had to get ready for work. The basic foundation was a testimony of Jesus Christ, which made sense. That’s where she needed to start.
A few minutes after Katie checked in at work, she was throwing a pile of newspapers out when a headline in the metro section caught her eye: “Top 10 Reasons People Pick Their Church.” She put it in her purse.
The words ran through her mind. How could there be more than one or two reasons people decide which church to join? Wasn’t the church’s beliefs and doctrine the most important thing?
After her shift, Katie spread open the article. A journalist had conducted a local survey among members of various churches and asked them to list the reasons they had chosen the church they currently attended. The results had been listed in order of the most popular.
The church had a good day-care center close to work.
The church had a good preschool or private school.
The church was close to where they lived.
Their friends attended that church.
They liked the beauty of the church.
The church had a good choir they wanted to join.
The church had a youth program.
They had grown up attending that church.
They liked the minister.
They agreed with the doctrines or beliefs.
Katie set down the paper. Incredible. What she had assumed to be the number one reason was actually the last reason people in her community picked their church.
Had she been going to church because of social reasons and not because of a testimony? But it wasn’t because she didn’t want a testimony. She did. It just seemed like such an elusive thing. She almost felt guilty that she would be going to BYU without a testimony.
Every night that week she lay in bed thinking about the Savior, the scriptures she had read, and her pleading prayers for answers. After several days Katie finally felt the troubled, worried feelings disappearing. She knew she was beginning to feel peace. Her testimony would come, just as Mom said it would. She had to have confidence in the Lord.
Katie sat up and switched on the lamp. She picked up her scriptures and went back to section 9 of the Doctrine and Covenants. She’d read the verses about having a burning in her heart so often she had it memorized. Why couldn’t she have that burning?
Slowly she turned the pages, reading verses at random. Section 6 caught her eye. The Lord was speaking to Oliver Cowdery. “Cast your mind upon the night that you cried unto me in your heart, that you might know concerning the truth of these things. Did I not speak peace to your mind concerning the matter? What greater witness can you have than from God?” (D&C 6:22–23).
Katie sank back against the pillows. She knew she had felt peace. And now she knew it was from God. She glanced down at the page and another passage seemed to strike at her heart: “Be faithful and diligent in keeping the commandments of God, and I will encircle thee in the arms of my love. Behold, I am Jesus Christ, the Son of God” (D&C 6:20–21).
Oh, to feel the love of the Savior as if she were encircled by his arms! Tears came to her eyes as she thought about Mike. She shouldn’t have let him go without telling him she loved him. She thought he had betrayed her, but now she realized that she had deserted him also.
It was almost midnight, but she couldn’t go to sleep. She grabbed her pen and started to write.
Dear Mike, I’ve finally had some questions answered. Probably the best person answered them, too. The one that counts. Maybe I wanted to be struck by lightning or have a revelation or something. But it was even better than that. Now I can know deep inside my heart, where it will never leave.
I’m sorry for how I acted when you left for Utah. I guess I was angry with you for breaking my confidence, but now I know I hurt you also and I wish I could go back and re-do all your last days at home. Would you please forgive me? I do know that you’re going to be a great missionary, and I’m rooting for you! With all my love, Your sis, Katie.
She folded the letter, got in her pajamas, and went to find her brother’s address.

When I was a child, as a family we went on vacation to a beach on the coast of my native country, Chile. I was excited to spend some days enjoying the summer with my family. I was also thrilled because I thought I could finally join in and do what my two older brothers usually did for fun on the water.
One day my brothers went to play where the waves were breaking, and I felt big and mature enough to follow them. As I moved toward that area, I realized the waves were larger than they appeared from the shore. Suddenly, a wave rapidly approached me, taking me by surprise. I felt like the power of nature had taken over me, and I was dragged into the depths of the sea. I couldn’t see or feel any reference point as I was tossed around. Just as I thought my adventure on the earth might be coming to an end, I felt a hand pulling me toward the surface. Finally, I could see the sun and catch my breath.
My brother Claudio had seen my attempts to act as a grown-up and had come to my rescue. I was not far from the shore. Even though the water was shallow, I was disoriented and had not realized I could have helped myself. Claudio told me that I needed to be careful and, if I wanted, he could teach me. Despite the gallons of water I had swallowed, my pride and desire to be a big boy were stronger, and I said, “Sure.”
Claudio told me I needed to attack the waves. I told myself I would surely lose that battle against what seemed like a huge wall of water.
As a new big wave approached, Claudio quickly said, “Look at me; this is how you do it.” Claudio ran toward the incoming wave and dove into it before it broke. I was so impressed with his dive that I lost sight of the next incoming wave. So again I was sent to the depths of the sea and tossed by the forces of nature. A few seconds later, a hand grasped mine, and I was again pulled toward the surface and air. The flame of my pride was extinguishing.
This time my brother invited me to dive with him. As per his invitation, I followed him, and we dove together. I felt as if I was conquering the most complicated challenge. Certainly, it was not very easy, but I did it, thanks to the help and example shown by my brother. His hand rescued me twice; his example showed me how to deal with my challenge and be victorious that day.
If we think celestial, we will recognize Jesus Christ as a flawless example of ministry. There is a pattern for us in the scriptures when He or His disciples reach out to someone in need of help, rescue, or a blessing as they reach out with their hands. As in my story, I knew my brother was there, but being there for me was not enough. Claudio knew I was in trouble, and he went to help lift me from the water.
My brother did not give up on me that day but persisted so I could learn how to do it for myself. He persisted, even if that required rescuing me twice. He persisted, even if I could not get it at first. He persisted so I could overcome that challenge and succeed. If we think celestial, we will realize that our Savior will be there as many times as necessary to provide help if we want to learn, change, overcome, cope, or succeed in whatever will bring true and everlasting happiness to our lives.

When Juliet was a tiny baby, she had severe pains in her stomach and needed two operations before she was even a year old.
One day when she was older, Juliet’s temperature went higher and higher. Her mother tried to make her little girl more comfortable, but nothing seemed to help. Finally she decided to go to the mission home nearby and ask the elders to give her daughter a blessing.
The missionaries did as she asked, and when they returned a few hours later to see how Juliet was feeling, she was sleeping quietly.
Juliet was treated at the Primary Children’s Hospital two different times, but she was never completely well. However, the blessings given helped to make her more comfortable.
Juliet kept urging her family to become members. Finally in March 1968 they were all baptized. Within the Church they found friendship and happiness. They remember with special love Juliet and her testimony and are grateful that she influenced them and many others to join the Church.

Several years ago, I had the opportunity of traveling with the President of the Church to attend a series of area conferences. I will never forget the contrast between two conferences that were held just a few days apart.
The first area conference was held in a large arena, and as we sat on the stand, we noticed continuous movement by the people. We saw individuals throughout the arena leaning over and whispering to family members and friends seated next to them. Giving the members the benefit of the doubt, we thought that maybe the large building helped cause the lack of reverence.
A few days later, we were in another country attending another area conference in an arena much like the first. When we entered the building, however, an immediate hush came over the congregation. As we sat through the two-hour general session, there was very little movement among the people. Everyone listened intently. Great attention and respect was shown all the speakers, and when the prophet spoke, you could hear a pin drop.
After the meeting was over, I asked the priesthood leaders about what they had done to prepare the people for the conference. They told me their preparation had been simple. They had asked priesthood holders to explain to the members of their families, and also the families they home taught, that at an area conference they would have the privilege of hearing the words of the prophet and the Apostles. The priesthood leaders explained that the reverence their people felt for God and His servants was the basis for their reverent behavior at the conference.

My dear friend Dr. Gary Weaver was one who helped many people find and keep contact with the iron rod as they moved on the path toward the love of God. When Gary was eighteen, he went on a six-week BYU survival trip that changed his life. It was on that trip that he adopted this motto: “If I help others, the Lord will give me everything I need.” It was this motto that guided his life of service. Over the years, Gary ran more than 160 weeklong survival trips in the Boulder and Escalante areas of southern Utah. Through these trips he helped more than 4,000 people learn about themselves and strengthen their relationships with the Lord. Most of the people Gary took on survival trips were counted as “the least of these”11—people who were metaphorically wounded and lying at the side of the path.
I was privileged to accompany Gary on one of the survival trips with thirty high school students from the Nebo School District. The experience touched me deeply as I watched Gary help the young women and men find healing and found my own healing and a firmer grip on the iron rod. I was part of a group trying to find our way in the desert, through a swamp, and along difficult paths. During all the time we hiked, Gary encouraged us to work together to solve problems, help one another, and move toward our goal. In the evenings, exhausted and tired, we would spend time recounting the day’s experiences and listening while Gary’s ­harmonica playing lulled us to sleep.

Now, fast forward to several years ago and consider three young men who also answered a call from the prophet at approximately the same age of 19 years and came to the Missionary Training Center as missionaries. For some reason they couldn’t quite grasp why they were there and immediately started having problems. As their branch president, I received reports that they were causing problems in their classes and doing other inappropriate things. Although they were companions, I met with each of them individually, discussed these problems, and challenged them to remember who they were and who they represented and, if nothing else, to simply look at the Savior’s name on their badges on a regular basis as a reminder. A week later I received a report that things had not improved. So on a Sunday I met with them again and went over what was and wasn’t appropriate. That same day they went back to their room and played what turned out to be a very inappropriate prank on another missionary, which led to more serious consequences. At this point, the decision from Church headquarters in Salt Lake City was that they apparently were not ready to be representatives of the Church and needed to go home.

In both cases, three young men had answered a call, but each set chose to take different routes. What was the difference? Two of the words that come to mind are agency and perspective.

At the end of a particularly tiring day toward the end of my first week as a General Authority, my briefcase was overloaded and my mind was preoccupied with the question “How can I possibly do this?” I left the office of the Seventy and entered the elevator of the Church Administration Building. As the elevator descended, my head was down and I stared blankly at the floor.
The door opened and someone entered, but I didn’t look up. As the door closed, I heard someone ask, “What are you looking at down there?” I recognized that voice—it was President Thomas S. Monson.
I quickly looked up and responded, “Oh, nothing.” (I’m sure that clever response inspired confidence in my abilities!)
But he had seen my subdued countenance and my heavy briefcase. He smiled and lovingly suggested, while pointing heavenward, “It is better to look up!” As we traveled down one more level, he cheerfully explained that he was on his way to the temple. When he bid me farewell, his parting glance spoke again to my heart, “Now, remember, it is better to look up.”
As we parted, the words of a scripture came to mind: “Believe in God; believe that he is … ; believe that he has all wisdom, and all power, both in heaven and in earth.”1 As I thought of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ’s power, my heart found the comfort I had sought in vain from the floor of that descending elevator.

One day, caught in an unexpected windstorm, they sliced over the corner of the state prison and made a panic landing just a little beyond, opening the rip panel just before touchdown. Tony says of that adventure, “We ripped before hitting and slid for 300 feet before the air emptied out. The basket was dragging along on its side. You just crouch down at times like that and pull the rip panel and try to get the thing open. You just close your eyes and hope it stops before you come to the barbed wire fence. Someone from the prison called the sheriff’s department, and they came and checked us out.”

But we soon recognized that we hadn’t finished our climb yet, in fact, we still had a long way to go and a lot to learn—some of that growth we attribute to the opportunity we’ve had to serve in various callings.

I’ve learned over the years that sometimes the Lord is ready for me to grow and take bigger steps when a member of the bishopric calls us in for an interview to extend a calling! Probably the one for which I felt least prepared was to serve as the family history consultant in my ward about 14 years ago.

The difference between what was needed to perform in that calling and my ability felt like a huge gap. But remembering that family history was mentioned in my patriarchal blessing and knowing the Lord would bless me if I accepted this calling and was set apart, I began a slow, step-by-step climb in the calling. I had little previous experience but it has now become a lifelong pursuit, my hobby, and without a doubt one of the favorite labors and loves of my life.

The skills that are needed in our callings rarely appear overnight! What a real surprise then, after Dianna served in this ward calling for about a year, that both of us were called by the stake president to direct the Laie Family History Center. As directors, we were asked to set up more computers in the center, establish an internal server and network, train and in-service about 24 volunteers, learn the software, become familiar with the holdings of the Laie Family History Center and meet the needs of our diverse community in helping them in their family history work.

One of the results from this calling was the great blessing of learning how to research. I found that by helping others I was rewarded by finding my own family records. For example, I never expected to find my English ancestors on the microfiche in the file drawers of this family history center or to find my immigrant ancestors’ names in a book on one of the shelves. But I did. Our interest and joy in this work grew.

Now I would like to talk about a great blessing to us all: the priesthood. The Priesthood is a real power that enables things to happen on earth upon the principles of Heaven. When our eldest living child, Arihia, was born, she was in severe distress with the expectation of severe brain damage, as a result of oxygen loss, and death within a few days. With we her parents pleading, begging, and fasting for her life, two of Lorretta’s uncles and I blessed her in her incubator in the intensive care unit and immediately, immediately, there was a profound improvement in her health. Where she vomited milk, she now kept it down. Where she convulsed often, she now relaxed. Where she rejected her mother’s milk, she now accepted it. Where her body was failing rapidly, she now went from strength to strength. Of course, she never did meet the doctor’s items on his Denver development chart, but she lives. And from that time until now, she has been the healthiest of our children and also with no cavities ever.

Even before the reunification of Germany, while members in the GDR were still cut off from the rest of the Church, Brother Richter of Chemnitz (then Karl-Marx-Stadt) did not feel removed from his fellow Saints.
While serving as a member of the Dresden mission presidency during this time, Brother Richter had to request permission for a Church meeting; religious gatherings needed official sanction before they could be held. The government authority in charge refused permission, saying he disliked the Church because it was American and because its members no longer needed the government due to the care and support the Church afforded them. He believed the Church had no place in the GDR.
“Our Church is international,” said Brother Richter in reply. “You can put me on a parachute and just drop me somewhere—anywhere in the world—and I will be perfectly at home in the next LDS chapel. Can you do the same?” The official didn’t know how to answer and ended up giving permission for the meeting.

Recently I went sailing with my sailing club. My sister, Bella, was on the water with a boy, Liam. Alone, I followed in another dinghy. I soon noticed that the others were getting further and further away. The wind had grown strong, and the waves were getting bigger.
Then a gust of wind capsized my boat, and Bella and Liam’s, at the same time. The tide was going out, the wind had picked up, and now there were three sailors in the water with only one safety boat.
Liam panicked. He tangled himself in the ropes, and when freed he kept floating away from the boat. Bella had to keep rescuing him by swimming to him and dragging him back to the boat to hold on to a rope. It took a long time for them to get Liam onto the safety boat.
In the meantime, I had righted my boat, but because the waves and the wind were very strong, I could not get back in. With the tide and the wind against me, and the safety boat and the shore getting further and further away, I was all alone in the freezing cold sea. I was upset and scared.
As soon as I knew I was in a dangerous situation, and that no one was able to help me, I prayed. I said to Heavenly Father, “I feel cold and scared, and I’m all alone, and the safety boat is saving Liam and Bella so it can’t get to me. Please send someone else to help me.”
When I finished my prayer, a fishing boat pulled up next to me. It stayed with me and my boat and made sure I was safe until the safety boat was able to collect me and my boat a little while later.
Although Heavenly Father planned for us to have the right people around us to help us progress towards exaltation, sometimes it doesn’t go to plan. Sometimes the people we should be able to rely on are not there. Sometimes they are busy helping others, sometimes they don’t know we need rescuing.
However, God always knows, and just like the safety boat was not there for me, a stranger was sent to my aid instead. Sometimes in life, we also need to make sure we can reach out and help others to safety.

One night in early 1908, passersby in Colchester, Essex, England, must have rubbed their eyes and looked again. Among the dim splashes of lamplight, a short, broad-shouldered man with three heads and six legs came striding up North Hill through a heavy rain. He walked boldly up on High Street, down Culver, and stepped into a doorway. Inside he shed his dripping raincoat and, without so much as a flourish, turned into three boys. From the right arm of the coat stepped Arthur Sadler, from the left arm his brother Stanley, and from between them their brother Herbert.
Standing unconsciously at attention, Arthur spoke to the man at the desk. “We’ve come to join the troop, sir.”
The man was friendly but non-commital. “You’re soaked,” he said. “How far have you come?”
“We live on Baker’s Lane.”
The man shook his head. “I’m sorry, but that’s two miles from here, and we’re looking for boys who can guarantee 100 percent attendance. With this Colchester weather I’m afraid we couldn’t count on you.”
Arthur wiped the rain from his forehead. “Try us a month, sir. If you find you can’t trust us, drop us.”
So, with only one raincoat among them, the three already-Scouts set off to become a part of it all.
The man at the desk was dubious, but something about the three boys impressed him. Maybe it was just that they had walked two miles in the rain to join, or perhaps it was the understanding of the Scouting program that they had gained in their own patrol. Whatever it was, Arthur and his brothers got their month’s trial period, and for as long as they belonged to the troop none of the three ever missed a meeting, although it often meant two miles of rain or snow coming and going. They believed in the simple advice their father had once given them: “If you give your word, keep it!”

Elder Gordon B. Hinckley
More than sixty years ago, a small boy on an Idaho farm went with his father to the field. While the father worked through the day, the boy amused himself with one thing and another. Over the fence were some old farm buildings, derelict and tumbled down. The boy with imagination saw in them castles to be entered. He climbed through the fence and approached the buildings to begin his exploration. As he drew near, a voice was heard to say, “Harold, don’t go over there.” He looked to see if his father was around. He was not. But the boy heeded the warning. He turned and ran. He never knew what danger might have been lurking there, nor did he question. Having listened and heard, he obeyed.

Six-year-old Charlotte Clark left Nauvoo, Illinois, with her family during the winter of 1846. They spent the following winter at Winter Quarters and continued west in the spring of 1847.
The ground over which they walked was very rough. Charlotte was an active girl who never seemed to tire of exploring, and she soon wore out her only pair of shoes. After that, the rocks, brambles, and burning sand made her tender feet even more tender. Her mother did all she could to treat her daughter’s injured feet, but it didn’t help much.
Charlotte’s solution was to kneel every night by her blankets and ask Heavenly Father for a pair of shoes. The fact that there was no place to get shoes in the wilderness never occurred to her. She knew only that she needed shoes and that Heavenly Father answered prayers.
One day while walking beside the wagon, Charlotte and her sister, Mary Ann, saw some berry bushes growing along the creek some distance from the trail. They asked their mother if they could go over and pick some berries. It was unusual for their mother to consent, due to the dangers of the trail, but the girls’ eagerness and the thought of fresh fruit for supper persuaded her to say yes. She told them to fill their pail as quickly as possible and to hurry back to the wagon.
The two little girls were eagerly picking berries and laughing over their good fortune, when suddenly Charlotte cried out, “Oh, He sent them! I knew He would if I only asked Him! Come and look!” When Mary Ann came running, she found Charlotte kneeling on the ground, clutching a pair of sturdy shoes.
In between laughing and crying, Charlotte sat on the ground and pulled on one of the shoes. She turned to her sister and said, “Look, Mary Ann, Heavenly Father knows my size.” She pulled the other shoe on and jumped to her feet. Then she grabbed the nearly-empty pail in one hand and her sister’s arm in the other. “Come on. Let’s go show Mother and Father!”
When Charlotte’s mother saw her girls running toward the wagons at breakneck speed, she feared something terrible had happened. She ran to meet them.
Charlotte’s first words were, “Mother, He sent them to me, and they fit perfectly!”
Her mother was puzzled. “Who sent you what, dear? How did you get your berries so soon?”
“No, Mother, not berries—my shoes. See, Heavenly Father sent me the shoes I asked for!”
By this time her father had arrived. Charlotte ran to him. “See, Father, my shoes! Heavenly Father put them over there by that bush for me, and they’re just my size! Oh, isn’t He just wonderful to us!”
Charlotte’s father was as perplexed as her mother. He looked at the shoes, then at his happy daughter, then at his wife. Picking Charlotte up, he walked along beside the wagon with her. “Now,” he said, “tell me what this is all about.”
“Well, Father, I asked Heavenly Father to send me a pair of shoes. You said that He always sends us things we really need, and I really need a pair of shoes, so I asked Him to send them to me. Here they are, and they fit!”
“Where did you find the shoes, dear?”
“Back by those bushes. Mother said that Mary Ann and I could pick some berries, and these shoes were under a bush. I know they’re mine because they just fit!”
Tears came to her father’s eyes. “Heavenly Father wants you to have a pair of shoes, dear, and so do I, more than you know. But these shoes belong to someone. Someone put them by that bush, and when she goes back for them, they won’t be there. We couldn’t take someone else’s shoes, now, could we, dear? That would be stealing.”
No one was more opposed to stealing than Charlotte, but she was undismayed. “It wouldn’t be stealing if Heavenly Father put them there for me, and I know that He did.”
Finally a solution came to her father. “If those shoes belonged to someone in a wagon train that has already gone by, you may have them. But if they belong to someone in our wagon train, we must return them. I’ll tell you what—we’ll tie them here on the end of our wagon. Tonight when we camp, they’ll be on the inside of the circle where everyone can see them. We’ll leave them there a week, and if nobody claims them, you may have them.”
Charlotte reluctantly took off the shoes, and her father tied them to the wagon. The week passed slowly, and she hardly took her eyes from them. Every night in her prayers, she asked Heavenly Father to watch over them.
At the end of the week, no one had claimed them. Father untied the shoes and gave them to her. She wore them not only on the journey to the Salt Lake Valley, but for many months after they had established their new home.

Laxhmi Tulaseeswari Mada speaks with reverence of the missionaries who brought her into the Church. From them, “Tulasee” learned that she was a child of God. “Before, I didn’t feel like I was worth much,” she says. “But now I have the gospel. I know I am a daughter of God.”
Prior to her conversion, Tulasee lived her life as do many Indian women—under the waning vestiges of purdah, a tradition rooted in modesty that, for centuries, has veiled and secluded women. Brought up by her stepparents, mistreated as a child and adolescent, Tulasee had little sense of self-worth and little hope for the future. “Many times I was crying inside and outside,” she says of her life before finding the gospel.
Learning that she was valuable in God’s eyes offered spiritual balm to Tulasee’s troubled life, but she was reluctant to tell her parents of her baptism. Her father, a prominent Hindu religious teacher known as a guru, noticed a change in her and wanted to know why she seemed happy. When he found out that she had rejected his beliefs, he felt dishonored and disowned her.
Tulasee says the knowledge that she has eternal potential and that she can be exalted prompted her to accept a call as a district missionary in Rajahmundry. “The knowledge I have gained is what my people need,” says Tulasee, named after a Hindu goddess. She retains her given name because “I want people to know that I am a convert. I love missionary work, but it is hard for me to be a missionary in Rajahmundry, because people know who I am.”
It is also hard because Tulasee is a woman. The sight of women missionaries sharing the gospel is not only unusual but unnerving to some Indian men. Male investigators are often surprised to learn that they cannot be exalted without their wives. In the Church, the doctrine of eternal marriage generates increased respect for women and has helped marriages, most of which are still arranged.
Today, Tulasee’s face and bright clothing radiate her newfound optimism and sense of worth. Her baptism and the gift of the Holy Ghost that followed gave her “a most precious feeling I had never felt before. Everybody needs that feeling,” she says. “Through the Holy Ghost, God gave me great answers. I love serving, and I need to share my testimony.”

After coming home, the Bollbachs served as Sunday School teachers for about ten years. Because Fritz could not read the lessons, Elli recorded the lesson manual and passages of scripture onto a tape. Fritz would then listen to the tape several times and would study with Elli for up to eight hours. “I searched out the questions and had them put on tape,” he says. “Then I learned them by heart so we could teach the class together.” They finally were released when Brother Bollbach became too sick to continue the weekly assignment.

At one time the Lord said that He was “well pleased” with Joseph Wakefield. He was stalwart and faithful and taught hundreds about the prophetic work of Joseph Smith. But from 1833 to 1834 he was influenced by some dissidents in Kirtland. He was once in the home of Joseph Smith. Joseph came out of the room where he had been translating the word of God and immediately began to play with some children. “This convinced [Brother Wakefield] that [Joseph] was not a man of God and that [therefore] the work was false.” In due course, Joseph Wakefield apostatized, was excommunicated, and became a persecutor of the Church and of the Saints.