Gospel Story Finder

Mother’s closet was magic! It was full of wonderful fabrics. There were cottons, challises, and ginghams for the best doll clothes in the neighborhood. Denims for the strongest jeans and book bags. Velvets and satins for the prettiest dresses, and dozens of other fabrics that I wouldn’t know the names of for many years to come. The fabric closet was magic because it was never empty.
My father died when I was 14 (leaving Mother with eight children, ranging from 15 years to 5 weeks old), and the fabric closet became our clothing store. We would go to the closet and pick out what we wanted, and then mother would either sew it for us or help us make it ourselves. Even my brothers learned to sew this way.
Mother would often give fabric away, much to my disappointment. Boxes at a time would be given to struggling families or others in need. At a time when we were often uncertain about where our next meal would come from, my mother would give away the only source of clothing we had. She tried to console me by saying that there was still plenty of fabric for our needs, and how could we expect the Lord to help us if we would not help others? In all the selfish wisdom of a 14-year-old, I would try unsuccessfully to convince Mother that fabric does not reproduce itself and even her faith was not enough to do that. She didn’t seem to worry about it and continued to give fabric away to those in need. All this time the closet was never empty. It was a magic closet!

While I was serving as a mission president in Bolivia, a wonderful elder came to see me. It was near the end of his mission. He was very depressed.
He spoke to me about the difficult time he had experienced in the Missionary Training Center. While he was there his father had died, and for a brief period the elder had considered returning home. But, encouraged by a loving mother, and spurred on by individual commitment, he continued his training.
He recounted the initial efforts he had made in the mission field to work hard, pray often, follow all the rules—hoping, of course, to be rewarded with hundreds of baptisms. But, unfortunately, the baptisms had not come. Gradually he began to slacken his pace. He felt his prayers were not being heard. The mission rules seemed to be burdensome and restrictive. They were silly things, written by the mission president only to goad and irritate him.
In despair he told me, “I’m nobody! What I do won’t make any difference.” Then, as if searching, he quickly asked, “Will it, President Hammond?” For an instant similar questions passed through my mind. Can he make a difference? Can I? Can anyone? Does it matter what one person does?
Then, in my mind’s eye I saw a myriad of people and events who had made a difference. I reminded him of the work of Copernicus, who revolutionized the science of astronomy; and Mohandas K. Gandhi, who in preaching peace and love, brought freedom to his native India.
There are many men and women who have truly made a difference, I said. I thought for a moment and then continued with the stories of two others.
I placed my hand on the young missionary’s and asked him if he was ready to go back out into the field of labor? I asked if he could make a difference in the lives of the special Bolivian children of our Heavenly Father?
His attitude had changed. With a renewed spirit of dedication, tears slipping down his face, he committed himself once again to the work of the Lord. We knelt in prayer together and I blessed him that he would be able to find the way.
Although he had been weak, I felt an inner confidence in him. I surprised even myself by assigning him to one of the most difficult and remote areas of Bolivia—a small community named Bermejo near the Argentine border. The work had gone badly there for some time, with only a few baptisms to reenforce the handful of Saints who were discouraged and found it hard to keep the faith.
In his weekly reports the missionary told of his diligent efforts to contact the people and preach the gospel to them. He indicated that they were slow to listen, but that he was continuing his faithful stewardship in that part of the Lord’s vineyard.
And then it happened. Overnight a small river that runs near the village, fed by heavy rains in the mountains, rose to a height never before known. Homes were swept away and people were drowned. The only bridge connecting the city to the main road was torn from its footings and washed downstream. There was chaos everywhere.
Two young missionaries were caught in the turmoil. And one, perhaps remembering that “a man can make a difference,” threw himself into the turbulent waters to rescue many who were drowning; he sought those buried beneath fallen buildings; he gave relief to the injured and succor to the hungry.
And a miracle occurred. He became a hero. He was lauded by the newspapers. People mentioned his name with reverence. Those who had previously rejected him and the message that he carried now searched him out. Their doors were opened to receive him. They loved him. They accepted his burning testimony of Jesus Christ and the gospel restored through the prophet Joseph Smith.
In the few months that remained of his mission he brought scores of wonderful people into the Church. Today, a beautiful chapel stands in Bermejo. On the Sabbath day it is full of members who still remember one faithful elder who made a difference.

In 1832, emerging from the vision on the three degrees of glory (Doctrine and Covenants 76) with his companion in the vision, Sidney Rigdon, the Prophet looked strong, while Sidney was limp and pale. To this the Prophet, with a certain humility as also perhaps with a little condescension, said, “Sidney is not as used to it as I am.”42 But after the First Vision, he was feeble. It was difficult for him to go home. Similarly, in his 1823 encounter with Moroni, the repetitive encounter, he was left weak, and his father sent him home. He couldn’t even climb the fence, though he was usually a strong and vigorous boy. Neibaur reports him saying of his condition immediately following the First Vision, “I . . . felt uncommon feeble.”43

For instance, not many years ago, when our oldest son was a senior in high school, I noticed him one morning in the vicinity of my clothes closet. At breakfast I noted that I had seen him examining my wardrobe and gently inquired whether I really owned something that he would consider worthy of wearing. To my chagrin, but not necessarily to my surprise, he said, “Relax, Dad, we’re having nerd day at school tomorrow!”
I sincerely hope my prayers will be answered today so there will be no gaps between what I feel and say and what you feel and understand.

Bev Akre: “My father is a wonderful man, but he’s not a member of the Church. I have been so involved in planning this conference that it’s taken me from home quite often, and my dad objected. I fasted and prayed about it and then went to him and said, ‘Dad, would you rather have me so involved with the Church or with something else not so worthwhile?’ I know if I just love him, he’ll come to love the gospel. One thing I have learned from this conference is that the Lord will help you make your decisions, help you along the way.”

According to a very fun website1 that I found, it was thirty-six years, one month, and ten days ago that, as a freshman student at BYU, I sat where you are sitting today. I listened carefully as President Ezra Taft Benson, then president of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, gave a talk titled “Fourteen Fundamentals in Following the Prophet.”2 He shared how we could more faithfully follow the living prophets and better keep the commandments of God.
The Spirit was strong that day, and I was motivated by President Benson’s remarks. I thought to myself, “I am going to follow his counsel to be a better follower of the prophets and to be more faithful in keeping the commandments of God. But I can do better than that. From this point on, I’m not even going to make any mistakes!”
Now, I know all of you are a lot smarter than I was as a freshman. You can see the impossibility, and perhaps the silliness, of my well-intentioned commitment.
As I was exiting the devotional, I paused to use the restroom. I was concentrating so intently on my new commitment—to not make any mistakes—that I didn’t notice the cute little stick figure wearing a triangular dress on the restroom door. It wasn’t until I had turned the corner that I realized where I was. There, standing in front of a large mirror, was a young woman brushing her long, black hair. I hadn’t even made it out of this very building before I had failed at my new commitment!
Now, as an aside, I am still grateful to this day to that young woman for not calling for security. Can you imagine the look on the security officers’ faces as I tried to explain that I was concentrating so hard on never making another mistake that had I made a mistake?
In my mind’s eye I can see and hear the security officers as they would have looked at each other and said, “Yeah, right! Book ’em, Danno!”
Today I come to you hopefully a little wiser to share some counsel on something I have worked on ever since that day.

Martha bested her husband, Angus Cannon, in a race for the Utah State Senate in 1896, and it was the talk of Salt Lake City.
But according to published reports, it didn’t upset her relationship with Angus. “As Mr. and Mrs. Cannon are not at all worried over the latter’s election to the state senate,” observed an article in the Salt Lake Herald, “it is needless for anyone else to be apprehensive over the effect of that fact upon their domestic affairs.” The article went on to state, “Nothing that has transpired in Utah shows greater advancement in civilization than the election of women to the legislature.”
Martha ran as the Democratic candidate and won by “a neat little majority of 4,000 votes.” She became America’s first female state senator on November 3, 1896, and served one four-year term.
In an interview that appeared in the Salt Lake Herald, Martha declared: “I do seem to be a sort of milestone, don’t I? Well, I will have to try to live up to my privileges.” Her humility and hard work helped set a high standard and buoy other women, stretching to our day.

I held the paint pen in my hand and started painting the blank canvas in front of me. I was giving art therapy a try, and my therapist and I were working together to help me overcome some of the deep shame I was experiencing. I had picked the color blue to represent those feelings on the canvas.
When my therapist then asked me what I wanted to do with this shame, I immediately thought of Jesus Christ and His healing power. I picked up a yellow pen to represent His light and began to mix the blue and yellow together.
The two colors started to form a bright green—a color we see in spring after a long, cold winter. To me, this green represented me giving my pain, fear, and shame to the Savior and Him providing healing in return. The painting became a representation of who I was becoming, a new man in Christ (see 2 Corinthians 5:17).
It also led me to a new way of living and to feeling greater love from Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.
I’ve had to look deep into my soul and explore the shame and pain in many different ways, including the painting exercise I mentioned earlier. I realized that the more willing I was to face these things, the more I was able to draw upon the Savior’s healing power in my life. I’ve continued to seek His influence through consistent prayer, scripture study, meditation, heartfelt conversations with loved ones and trusted friends, and therapy.

Try to think of a time when your prayer was answered. That can count as your first seed. I have had prayers for lost keys answered, and I have had prayers for lost life plans answered. These prayers were answered when I turned my idea for where the keys were or my idea for what I wanted to have happen in my life over to Heavenly Father and simply followed His guidance. Now, I can rely on those experiences when other losses come. I know that if I listen, I can find what I am seeking.

Over the holiday, I misplaced the keys to my car. The time I spent worrying and looking was making it hard to concentrate on the service and fun I wanted to enjoy with my family. I knelt many times, but it wasn’t until I pled, “Heavenly Father, I want to serve my family, but this is taking up so much of my energy. I know keys are not important, but I really want to be fully present to serve. I will try to forget about the keys.” Later that day, I walked into my laundry room, and the drawer where we keep batteries was open with the keys lying inside. This is not my regular spot for keeping my keys. Such a small thing, but big to me. And now, I have another experience to tuck away in my testimony garden.

I want to begin by telling you a pioneer story. Clara Matilda Erickson was born on November 21, 1868, in Julita, Södermanland, Sweden. Her father, Karl Erickson, was a farm laborer at that time, but later he became a builder and carpenter. The family consisted of five children. Amanda Charlotta, the oldest child, died at the age of three years, and Emil, the youngest, died during his first year of life.

Herman H. Sundström was born in Stockholm, Sweden, in 1860 and baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Copenhagen by Elder Andrew Jenson in 1880. Herman was called as a missionary to the Stockholm conference two months later. He was arrested in April 1882 and sent in chains to prison, where he was incarcerated for 19 days, tried on various charges, and then set free. In 1883 Elder Sundström was sent to Eskilstuna, where he baptized Clara Matilda Erickson and her family. It is further noted that he was responsible for baptizing 55 people, selling books to the value of 642 kronor, and traveling on foot about 10,000 miles.1 He was released from his mission in 1884 and emigrated to Salt Lake City.

Clara left Sweden in 1889 at the age of 19, the only one of her family to come to the United States. She traveled to Copenhagen, Denmark, boarded a Church-sponsored steamship, and crossed the North Sea, arriving at Hull, England. She took a train from Hull to Liverpool and boarded the ship Wyoming, joining other Saints from the British Isles. She traveled second-class and landed in New York. The entire voyage took about six weeks. She was sick the whole trip. She took the train from New York to Salt Lake City. She never returned to Sweden and never saw her family again.

Clara met Carl Erik Hoaglund in 1891, and they were married. They had three children, two boys and a girl. Carl became sick with consumption (now known as tuberculosis). He wasn’t able to work, so Clara did washing and ironing to support the family. Carl died in 1898.

In 1903 friends introduced Clara to Carl John Anderson. They were married that same year. They had four children, one daughter and three sons. Carl had been married previously. His wife had died and left him with five children. A son and a daughter from that marriage lived with Carl and Clara and were quite resentful that their father had remarried so soon after their mother’s death. In 1916 Carl and Clara were divorced.

In 1934, at the age of 66, Clara received a patriarchal blessing. In that blessing it stated:

You were willing to sacrifice, to leave home and loved ones and cross the great waters to be here in Zion that you might do the things that the Lord would have you do. As a consequence, you have suffered and have had sorrow come into your life, but the Lord has been with you to support you and help you across the difficult places and peace and happiness have come to your soul and the satisfaction of knowing that you have done that which was right and honorable before the Lord.

The blessing continued:

I bless you to live yet many years to accomplish good, bless you that as you engage in the Temple work a great thrill may come to your soul as you release your ancestors and open the way for them to continue in their progression, for progression, as you know, is endless, and those whose relatives care for them in the House of the Lord are fortunate indeed.2

Clara had sacrificed by leaving her homeland and loving parents and siblings and coming to a foreign land. She struggled with the language and had to raise seven children, basically on her own. However, she never complained. She saved enough money to hire a genealogist in Sweden to do research so she could submit names to the Salt Lake Temple and have ordinances performed for her family, ancestors, and her first husband.

Clara died at the age of 81. Clara was my paternal grandmother.

Every bishop needs a sacred grove to which he can retire to meditate and to pray for guidance. Mine was our old ward chapel. I could not begin to count the occasions when on a dark night at a late hour I would make my way to the stand of this building where I was blessed, confirmed, ordained, taught, and eventually called to preside. The chapel was dimly lighted by the street light in front; not a sound would be heard, no intruder to disturb. With my hand on the pulpit I would kneel and share with Him above my thoughts, my concerns, my problems.
On one occasion, a year of drought, the commodities at the storehouse had not been their usual quality, nor had they been found in abundance. Many products were missing, especially fresh fruit. My prayer that night is sacred to me. I pleaded that these widows were the finest women I knew in mortality, that their needs were simple and conservative, that they had no resources on which they might rely. The next morning I received a call from a ward member, a proprietor of a produce business. “Bishop,” he said, “I would like to send a semitrailer filled with oranges, grapefruit, and bananas to the bishops’ storehouse to be given to those in need. Could you make arrangements?” Could I make arrangements! The storehouse was alerted. Then each bishop was telephoned and the entire shipment distributed. Bishop Jesse M. Drury, that beloved welfare pioneer and storekeeper, said he had never witnessed a day like it before. He described the occasion with one word—“Wonderful!”

Last week I received a faith-filled letter from Laurence M. Hilton. May I share with you the account of surviving personal tragedy with faith, nothing wavering.
In 1892, Thomas and Sarah Hilton, Laurence’s grandparents, went to Samoa, where Thomas was set apart as mission president after their arrival. They brought with them a baby daughter; two sons were born to them while they served there. Tragically, all three died in Samoa, and in 1895 the Hiltons returned from their mission childless.
David O. McKay was a friend of the family and was deeply touched by their loss. In 1921, as part of a world tour of visits to the members of the Church in many nations, Elder McKay stopped in Samoa, accompanied by Elder Hugh J. Cannon. Before leaving on his tour, he had promised the now-widowed Sister Hilton that he would personally visit the graves of her three children. I share with you the letter David O. McKay wrote to her from Samoa:
“Dear Sister Hilton:
“Just as the descending rays of the late afternoon sun touched the tops of the tall coconut trees, Wednesday, May 18th, 1921, a party of five stood with bowed heads in front of the little Fagali’i Cemetery. … We were there, as you will remember, in response to a promise I made you before I left home.
“The graves and headstones are in a good state of preservation. … I reproduce here a copy I made as I stood … outside the stone wall surrounding the spot.
Janette Hilton
Bn: Sept. 10, 1891
Died: June 4, 1892
“Rest, darling Jennie”
George Emmett Hilton
Bn: Oct. 12, 1894
Died: Oct. 19, 1894
“Peaceful be thy slumber”
Thomas Harold Hilton
Bn: Sept. 21, 1892
Died: March 17, 1894
“Rest on the hillside, rest”
“As I looked at those three little graves, I tried to imagine the scenes through which you passed during your young motherhood here in old Samoa. As I did so, the little headstones became monuments not only to the little babes sleeping beneath them, but also to a mother’s faith and devotion to the eternal principles of truth and life. Your three little ones, Sister Hilton, in silence most eloquent and effective, have continued to carry on your noble missionary work begun nearly 30 years ago, and they will continue as long as there are gentle hands to care for their last earthly resting place.
By loving hands their dying eyes were closed;
By loving hands their little limbs composed;
By foreign hands their humble graves adorned;
By strangers honored, and by strangers mourned.
“Tofa Soifua,
“David O. McKay”
This touching account conveys to the grieving heart “the peace … which passeth all understanding.” Our Heavenly Father lives. Jesus Christ the Lord is our Savior and Redeemer. He guided the Prophet Joseph. He guides His prophet today, even President Gordon B. Hinckley. Of a truth I bear this personal witness.

Born in 2007, Ishamel was healthy growing up until age nine. One day he returned home from school and reported to his mother that his eyes were itching. The next morning his eyes were swollen, and he was taken to the hospital, where he went through surgery but never regained his sight.
Ishmael had to leave his primary school and got enrolled at a school for the blind in Sierra Leone. It was a difficult time for him and his family because he had to leave his parents to stay at the school’s boarding home. He eventually adjusted to his new environment and began learning how to use braille. Despite his visual impairment, Ishmael has a deep passion for education and a strong desire to always be learning something new.
He accepted an invitation extended to him by Sister Ramatu Kanneh, the bishop’s wife, to attend seminary and Succeed in School (SIS) classes in September 2024. The first day he came, he was met with a warm, welcoming reception from the teacher and the other students. In no time he became close friends with Alfred Kargbeni, who walks him to and from class every day.
To ensure he could fully participate and retain the information covered, he uses an audio recorder to capture the lessons, which he then listens to intently once back home. There, he would carefully transcribe the recorded content using a braille writing instrument. Regrettably, Brother Ishmael’s recorder eventually malfunctioned, leaving him without a means to document the lessons. Nevertheless, he remained dedicated, finding solace in the caring interactions with his fellow classmates.
After one seminary class Ishmael said, “I have made up my mind that this is really the Church of Jesus Christ”. He was then introduced to the missionaries by Alfred, and after obtaining permission from his parents, he was baptized on January 4, 2025. As he continued attending SIS and seminary classes, he developed the desire to read the scriptures, especially the Book of Mormon, so he started inquiring about the possibility of getting a braille copy.
We (the Seminaries and Institutes employees) told his story in one of our SIS meetings, and our colleagues in Utah got him a copy of the Book of Mormon in braille. We were all surprised at the huge size of the book when it arrived. In the suitcase was also a brand-new recorder. You can imagine Ishmael’s joy when we handed him the braille Book of Mormon and the recorder.
Brother Ishmael expressed his gratitude and love for the things he is learning. “SIS has helped me deepen my love for reading and solving math problems,” he says. “I am now more confident in managing my schoolwork. I am also growing spiritually through the things I am learning in seminary.”
Ishmael’s parents are currently taking the missionary lessons as he has been using every opportunity to share with them the things he is learning.

My husband’s only sister, Eveline, was not a member of the Church and had been writing to us about serious family problems. We worried about her depression and about our helplessness in coming to her aid.
I began to pray for her, and Peter and I went to the temple, seeking inspiration. My heart sought direction: How could I help my sister-in-law? The answer came from the Spirit: Write to Eveline about the Book of Mormon, bear your testimony, and send the missionaries to her house.
Peter remained hesitant about sending the missionaries, but I knew that it was what the Lord wanted me to do. I composed my letter the next morning and mailed it.
A few days went by with no response from Eveline. I began worrying and fretting. She had been offended, I told myself; she had hated the letter. I became so afraid of her response that I asked Peter to call her. She shared her story over the phone.
The day my letter arrived had been an especially bad one for Eveline. The problems weighing her down had seemed overwhelming, and a television show she was watching about depression and suicide didn’t ease her turmoil. She finally found relief when her son came home from school for lunch. He brought in the mail, which included my letter.
As Eveline began to read, the Spirit touched her soul. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She had been praying for someone or something to help her in these hard times, but she hadn’t known whether her prayers were being heard. Now, through this letter, she knew that her Heavenly Father really cared about her. She was overjoyed.
She told me that the peace she felt from the Spirit was so overwhelming that she didn’t know what to do or how to respond to my letter. I then challenged her to begin a daily study of the Book of Mormon, which she proceeded to do. One week later I telephoned Church leaders in the city where she lived and asked that missionaries be sent to her home.
Through her study of the Book of Mormon, and with the help of a wonderful missionary couple, Eveline found her life changing. She absorbed the missionary discussions, began living the Word of Wisdom, and noticed her marriage improve. She began to feel at peace with herself.
That happiness spilled over and affected the lives of her family. Of course, Eveline’s daily problems hadn’t disappeared. But her perspective had changed. With Christ at the center of her life, she became a new woman.
Peter never thought he would see the day when he would have the opportunity to baptize and confirm his only sister. Giving such a priceless gift to one we love so much has brought us joy beyond our expectations. The Book of Mormon was the answer.

Make scripture study a part of your life—not only by reading regularly but also by relying on the scriptures to help you make important decisions. When I was a mission president in northern Germany, I had a very difficult problem. I had searched in vain for an answer for many weeks. One morning I was reading in the Book of Mormon where Nephi was commanded to build a ship: “And I, Nephi, did go into the mount oft, and I did pray oft unto the Lord; wherefore the Lord showed unto me great things” (1 Nephi 18:3). As I read that small passage, the impression came to me, “That is what I need to do.” I pondered and prayed, and finally the answer came, and I knew what I needed to do. I am grateful for that little window of inspiration that came—as I was searching the scriptures. As I received my answer, I felt that I was “standing in a holy place.” I know that you too can have similar experiences as you search, ponder, and pray about the scriptures.

“Brother Ng,” the man’s voice began. Being addressed as “brother” by a gwailouh (foreigner) caught Ng Kat Hing’s attention. A group of clean-cut Americans wearing dark suits had wandered into the furniture store where he was employed, and their unusual appearance fascinated the 25-year-old Hong Kong native. But he was even more intrigued by being called “brother.”
When Ng Kat Hing questioned them about the title, one of the Americans, who wore a name tag identifying him as President Heaton, asked, “Do you believe there is one Father in Heaven?”
When he nodded, the man continued, “Then we are brothers, and I will call you that.”
Forty-three years later, Brother Ng still recalls his response. “I was touched, and in that moment, a little bit of the restored gospel was manifest to me. I wondered about it all that day and through the night. Four days later when the man called back to confirm the furniture order, I knew I wanted to know more.”
Although Grant Heaton, president of the newly opened Southern Far East Mission, was merely looking for advice about teakwood furniture that August day in 1955, he found much more than that in Ng Kat Hing. He found a language teacher, a convert, a missionary, a Church leader—a true pioneer.
“Brother Ng and his family are real pioneers of the Church in the Hong Kong area,” remarks Elder Jacob de Jager an emeritus member of the Seventy, who, while President of the Asia Area, worked closely with Brother Ng. In fact, Brother Ng was Elder de Jager’s Cantonese teacher. “He has great experience and wisdom and reaches out to people in a natural way. This was especially evident when Brother and Sister Ng were serving as temple missionaries in the Taipei Taiwan Temple, where they were of great help to the Cantonese-speaking members.”
Reaching out to people has always been one of Brother Ng’s talents. In fact, it was his willingness to serve others that put him in even closer contact with the missionaries. After ordering furniture for the mission home, Brother Ng agreed to help President Heaton find someone to teach Cantonese to the missionaries. He talked to several friends, but none of them could help. So he quit his job at the furniture store and taught the missionaries himself. Married and the father of four young children, Brother Ng took a cut in salary with the job change. But he believes it was well worth it.
“I learned the truth,” Brother Ng states simply. “That was a good deal, right? Nothing is more important than that.”
The men took turns learning and teaching. Brother Ng presented basic language lessons, and the missionaries taught gospel discussions. At that time, investigators were taught a total of 18 discussions, so Brother Ng went through several sets of missionaries before hearing all the lessons.
“It took quite a while,” he acknowledges, “but by the time I was baptized, all my questions were answered. I had a strong foundation and a strong testimony.”
Brother Ng was baptized on 31 May 1956. He was one of the first converts after missionary work resumed in Hong Kong following the Korean War.
But Brother Ng’s search for truth had started years earlier. His grandmother, a Buddhist, had begun attending Christian churches shortly before her death, and Brother Ng often accompanied her. “I was looking for a god who was different than the one I’d been taught about while growing up,” he remembers. “But the pastors and preachers at those meetings were difficult to approach, and they were more concerned with donations than with answering my questions.”
Brother Ng’s questions went unanswered until he met the missionaries. “From the beginning, I learned about our Father in Heaven and his son, Jesus Christ. The missionaries taught of our relationship to these beings. And they continually talked of being children of God,” he remembers.
The gospel changed Brother Ng’s life. “My wife tells me I was entirely different after joining the Church,” he says, laughing. “My temper became smooth. My finances were better because I paid tithing. I didn’t worry about food or shelter because I kept the commandments. A happy life followed.”
After seeing the difference the gospel made in her husband’s life, Sister Ng Pang Lai Har also investigated the gospel. Missionaries often visited their home, teaching her husband one of the new member lessons, then teaching her one of the 18 discussions.
Ten months after her husband’s baptism, Sister Ng was baptized. Brother Ng had the privilege of baptizing their seven children as they reached age eight.
Brother Ng’s family is important to him. His dark eyes sparkle as he speaks of the joys of being a husband, father, and grandfather. Highlights of Brother Ng’s life include the temple marriages of all seven children as well as the sealings of each of the children to him and his wife.
“We were not sealed to all our children at once,” he explains. “Traveling to the temple, either in Tokyo or in the United States, was very expensive.” After saving for years, Brother and Sister Ng were sealed in the Provo Temple in 1974. Subsequent temple trips have strengthened the couple’s dedication and commitment to temple work. From 1986 to 1987, they served as missionaries in the Taipei Taiwan Temple.
The high point of their temple service is their most recent calling—president and matron of the Hong Kong Temple, dedicated in May 1996.
“My wife and I were thrilled with the announcement of the temple. We were planning on becoming temple workers, maybe even working three or four times a week,” President Ng says. “We’ll work more than that now!
“I was frightened with the calling at first and very humbled. I had feelings of unworthiness. But after praying, I felt confident that Heavenly Father would give us the spiritual strength and guidance we need to fulfill this calling. We are so grateful for this opportunity.”
President Ng’s service in the Church actually began before his baptism. In addition to teaching the missionaries, he helped translate Church materials, and he was serving as an assistant in the branch Sunday School superintendency when he was baptized. Since his baptism, he has served at various times as branch president, district president, stake president, stake patriarch, counselor to the mission president, and regional representative.
To each calling, President Ng has brought a lively wit and loving warmth. Individuals matter to this leader, who hopes to see the Church grow in Hong Kong.
“There is much pressure and stress in life,” observes President Ng. Concerns about the future, coupled with materialism, which often exists in a growing economy, are challenges that members deal with daily. “Everyone is working so hard for money. We often spend so much time worrying about temporal things. The gospel brings a balance,” President Ng explains.
President and Sister Ng worked together to establish balance in their home. They worked out a plan and followed it closely. They emphasized wise use of financial resources, family unity, and Church activity. “We made time for our children, for each other, and for Church callings,” he continues. “People say they have no time, but that is just an excuse. They have the time for the things that are important in their lives.”
Another thing President Ng has always made time for is missionary work and watching the gospel affect others’ lives the way it has his own. He knows the impact of our knowledge of a loving Father and a worldwide family.
“We are all brothers and sisters,” testifies President Ng. “We need to share that knowledge with others so they can join our family and we can welcome them home.”

Gregor Mendel, a monk who lived in the 1800s, is known as the father of modern genetics. As I learned more about his life during this past year, I was amazed to learn that being a monk was not his first choice of occupation. He had a strong desire to be a teacher. However, he had severe anxiety and was not able to pass the teaching exam in Germany either of the times he took it. After the second time, he returned dejectedly to his monastery and gave up hope of this profession.

While a monk, he spent years growing thousands of pea plants and making records. For many of us, our first introduction to genetics is learning about Mendel’s work on pea plants. He conducted meticulous experiments by crossing pea plants and recording characteristics such as flower color, pea color, and pea shape, among others. This allowed him to deduce inheritance patterns, specifically dominant and recessive traits. After decades, he published this monumental work.

And then, nothing. Hardly anyone read it. It was lost to the dusty bins of scientific publications. It wasn’t until decades later, after his death, that Mendel’s work was rediscovered and these worldview-changing discoveries circled the globe. Whereas Florence Nightingale realized her dream of being a nurse, Mendel never became a teacher. Yet God was able to touch Mendel’s efforts and use them to bless the world. Even though Mendel is a hero and someone I look up to as a scientist who used precise methods with amazing patience, he never saw the impact he made on the world.

When I was in high school, I lived in Idaho. They dismissed school for a couple of weeks every fall for the students to help in the potato harvest. One day when I was picking up potatoes, the boy working with me began to tell me things about the Prophet Joseph Smith that I didn’t believe were true. I don’t think I discussed my concerns with anybody. I just naturally went to the Book of Mormon and began to read. Nobody told me to do this. It just seemed right. From what I read there, I knew that a bad man could not have written it.

Elder Sipos and Elder Damiano were among the missionaries who loaded their cars with books and took them to the other cities. One of the last stops on their trip was Debrecen, a city in eastern Hungary, where they stayed for Church meetings on Sunday, 22 December. “I’ll never forget the reaction in the Debrecen Branch,” says Elder Sipos.
Elder István Berente—a Hungarian who had escaped from the country during the Communist regime, had been baptized, and had returned to his homeland as a missionary—made the announcement. Sister Carina Ragozzine, a missionary in Debrecen at the time, remembers that he started giving a talk about the importance of prophets, especially President Ezra Taft Benson. He emphasized President Benson’s message to read the Book of Mormon and said, “To help you do this, we have a little something for you.” Then the missionaries started handing out copies of the Hungarian Book of Mormon.
“The reaction was amazing,” says Elder Sipos. “Some people were crying, some people started laughing, others started clapping.”
Sister Ragozzine remembers everyone being quiet and making comments about how beautiful the book was. “So many people had joined the Church without seeing it. Finally seeing it made it an even more beautiful book to look at,” she says.
For the next couple of hours the members of the Debrecen Branch wouldn’t leave the room. They were pouring over stories they had heard about from missionaries but had never been able to read for themselves. And they were signing their names and testimonies in other people’s copies of the new Hungarian Book of Mormon.
“It is inexpressible the happiness that fills this day,” wrote Sister Králik Ida2 in Sister Ragozzine’s copy. “I’ve waited a long time for this moment.”
In Elder Sipos’ copy, Sister Fegyverneki Ágnes wrote, “I am so happy. … This was the greatest Christmas present I’ve received. Please don’t ever forget what this Christmas means for us.”
“It was definitely the best Christmas present of the season,” says Sister Ragozzine.

Atsuko Yamashita, Young Women president in the Maebaru Ward, Fukuoka stake, is impressed with the strength of the youth. In 1999, the youth of her branch asked for the opportunity to visit the Tokyo temple to do baptisms for the dead. Their three-day visit in Tokyo included opportunities to sightsee and have fun, but the young people kept as their first priority performing temple ordinances each evening and experiencing some of the training at the Missionary Training Center.