Gospel Story Finder

I’d like to see Geri again. I need to apologize.
Geri was one of the LDS students I used to hang around with at lunch time when I was a senior in high school. She and several of her friends would sit on the lawn behind the administration building where my buddies and I would often join them for some friendly banter.
Geri was almost always there, but it was almost as if she weren’t. She was so painfully shy, that even with conversation bouncing all around her, she wouldn’t join in. I never knew why, but Geri lived with her grandmother. There probably wasn’t much money to go around in her home because she didn’t have many clothes. Although what she wore was clean and neat, it was not the style of the day.
My personality was much the opposite of Geri’s. I was the group clown—seeking to milk laughter from every situation while masking my teenage insecurities in humor.
One day I noticed that Geri was wearing a rather heavy dose of perfume.
“Nice perfume, Geri,” I commented.
She smiled, clearly pleased at the compliment.
“Did you bathe in it?” I asked.
The moment those words left my lips, I wanted them back. I wanted that embarrassed, betrayed expression on Geri’s face to disappear. I longed to see the smile again. But the damage caused by that thoughtless comment was not so easily erased.
“Do you think it’s too strong?” she asked.
I mumbled and shrugged.
“Is it too strong?” she pressed.
“A little,” I conceded.
Geri looked away, and the incident was history. But the consequences of that event haunt me still. I was poorer that day because of my actions, and an innocent human being was hurt.
Life, for the most part, is made up of little things. Small acts of kindness or selfishness determine the depth of our commitment to the Savior and the quality of our lives. Some seemingly small acts can cause us considerable regret for a long time.
I have often wished during the years since that incident that I could find Geri and apologize for my thoughtlessness. I hope I would find that the years have been rich and full for her. I hope the light of the gospel has brightened her life and eased her burdens.

On September 2, 2015, at 1:00 am, our son Zach came into our room to tell us there was someone at the door we needed to talk to. It was a woman from the Clark County Coroner's office. She told us that our youngest son David had been killed in an accident on his way home from the gym earlier that evening. Her words shot through me, pain, sadness, and desperation washed over me in a way I did not know was possible. Our sweet 20-year-old baby boy was gone.

From the very hour of our receiving the news the tender mercies of the Lord began. To this very day, our family has been the recipients of some of the most remarkable and personal tender mercies. I want to relate a story that highlights the love a merciful Father has for his children. As I tell the story pay attention to how many times the Lord intervened all for the good of a few of his children.

I joined the Church when I was 17 years old. I had been introduced to it through Americans from a military base in my hometown in Germany. There was no German-speaking ward in my area, so I attended church with the Americans at the military base in the little multidenominational army chapel.
One Sunday not long after I was baptized, at the end of the services, the bishop stood up and asked, “Can all the parents with seminary students please remain behind?” He also asked me to join them.
Once these families, the bishop, and I were the only ones remaining in the chapel, the bishop explained that I was eligible to join their seminary class for the next school year. But I attended the local German school, which started over an hour earlier than the American school that all of the youth from the military base attended. In order for me to have enough time to race down the hill to get to my school on time, they would have to move their seminary class to 6:00 a.m., more than an hour earlier than they had been meeting.
The bishop then asked everyone to vote on whether they would be willing to make this sacrifice so that I could join the class. Immediately, all the parents and all the students raised their hands and said yes.
That was quite an impressive moment for me. It taught me a lesson about sacrifice. These young students were willing to personally sacrifice their own comfort—not only for a day or a week but for the whole school year—on behalf of a new convert who otherwise could not have participated in seminary.
I’m still grateful for their sacrifice, realizing how important that one year of seminary (studying the Doctrine and Covenants) was for my early life in the Church. Without seminary I wouldn’t have had much contact with the Church except on Sunday. Daily seminary was a great preparation for a mission. It taught me a lot about discipline, and, of course, it blessed me to no end in my knowledge of the gospel and the scriptures. Ask me all the Doctrine and Covenants scripture mastery verses from back then, and I will still know them. These experiences helped me to draw closer to Heavenly Father and also helped me to deal with the challenges of being the only German-speaking member of the Church in my town.

A recent convert was hospitalized, the ward WhatsApp message said. Bishop called me and said that this new convert fell unconscious at home and was rushed by his wife and daughter to a nearby clinic for first aid. He asked if I had time to visit. I made my time available for such a cause. I went to the clinic to help these two sisters who did not have any other male member to assist them. These two sisters had a hard time making decisions. They were already worried and it was difficult for them to think what to do next. It was a blessing for me to assist them during their greatest need. As I was there assisting the family, Brother Vivek joined me.
We moved this brother to a hospital for better treatment. We administered to him. He was kept in the ICU for 24 hours and got treated. Members of our ward visited him and his family and offered prayers and comforted them with much prayers. Again the Lord helped this new convert and his family. It was nothing but a miracle, for he got discharged the next day. He was back home healthy and strong. This was again done because of the love of our Savior by following His example, love for the gospel, love for our own fellow beings and an opportunity to minister to others.

That experience made it somewhat easier for me to make a difficult decision just one year later. Again Christmas time had come. We were preparing for the oven a gigantic turkey and anticipating the savory feast that awaited. A neighborhood pal of mine asked a startling question: “What does turkey taste like?”

I responded, “Oh, about like chicken tastes.”

Again a question: “What does chicken taste like?”

It was then that I realized that my friend had never eaten chicken or turkey. I asked what his family was going to have for Christmas dinner. There was no prompt response—just a downcast glance and the comment, “I dunno. There’s nothing in the house.”

I pondered a solution. There was none. I had no turkeys, no chickens, no money. Then I remembered I did have two pet rabbits. Immediately I took my friend by the hand and rushed to the rabbit hutch, placed the rabbits in a box, and handed the box to him with the comment, “Here, take these two rabbits. They’re good to eat—just like chicken.”

He took the box, climbed the fence, and headed for home, a Christmas dinner safely assured. Tears came easily to me as I closed the door to the empty rabbit hutch. But I was not sad. A warmth, a feeling of indescribable joy, filled my heart. It was a memorable Christmas.

Illustration by Julie Rogers
I was excited to participate in the Church’s 2016 “Light the World” Christmas campaign. I looked forward to completing the daily challenges, particularly for day five: “Jesus helped the sick, and so can you.”
That day I left work and walked through the gray city streets planning to visit my grandparents. I felt great. It was Christmastime and the world was beautiful. The peal of a charity bell rang through the air. As I neared the streetcar platform, the sound of the bell was drowned out by a homeless woman yelling at the bell ringer.
“You’re a fake!” she screamed. “I’m hungry, I’m cold, and you take it all for yourself! You’re a fake!”
Most people ignored her, and the bell ringer continued ringing his bell. I put my headphones on, but I could still hear the woman yelling, “You’re a fake! I’m hungry. I’m cold.”
I remembered I had a 20-dollar bill in my pocket. I considered giving it to the woman. “No,” I thought. “If I’m going to give this to someone, I should give it to someone nice.” Then the Spirit reminded me of the challenge and whom I was trying to be like. Jesus was the King of kings, yet He served the lowest of the low. I knew what I needed to do.
I walked toward the woman. She wasn’t yelling now, but her eyes were closed and tears ran down her cheeks. I took the 20-dollar bill from my pocket and handed it to her.
“Rough day?” I asked.
She looked up at me. “Yeah,” she said.
“I’m sorry,” I said. I wrapped my arms around her, and she cried into my shoulder until the streetcar came.
“Thanks,” the woman said when we said goodbye. “And not just for the money. Thanks for the hug. I needed a hug.”
Hugging a random person on the street was not something I had planned on doing, but I know it’s something Jesus would have done. I am grateful the Lord gave me the opportunity to serve as He would have. Jesus helped the sick, the poor, and the needy. So can I.

A young woman came to me very discouraged. She said no one would ever consider marrying her. I asked how long she had thought that. She said ever since she entered her teenage years. I suggested that she could no longer risk indulging in that destructive thought. She couldn’t let herself passively be its victim. She had to take the initiative to turn her mind away from it whenever it drew into sight. She needed to treat this thought it like the swords of the Anti-Nephi-Lehi Lamanite converts — she had to bury it and never touch it again. Otherwise, her battle with it would never end.

There once was a man whose lifelong dream was to board a cruise ship and sail the Mediterranean Sea. He dreamed of walking the streets of Rome, Athens, and Istanbul. He saved every penny until he had enough for his passage. Since money was tight, he brought an extra suitcase filled with cans of beans, boxes of crackers, and bags of powdered lemonade, and that is what he lived on every day.
He would have loved to take part in the many activities offered on the ship—working out in the gym, playing miniature golf, and swimming in the pool. He envied those who went to movies, shows, and cultural presentations. And, oh, how he yearned for only a taste of the amazing food he saw on the ship—every meal appeared to be a feast! But the man wanted to spend so very little money that he didn’t participate in any of these. He was able to see the cities he had longed to visit, but for the most part of the journey, he stayed in his cabin and ate only his humble food.
On the last day of the cruise, a crew member asked him which of the farewell parties he would be attending. It was then that the man learned that not only the farewell party but almost everything on board the cruise ship—the food, the entertainment, all the activities—had been included in the price of his ticket. Too late the man realized that he had been living far beneath his privileges.

Shortly after I began attending a ward, the counselor in the bishopric asked to visit with me after Sunday School. He said, “Sister Nyland, we’d like to call you to serve in the nursery.” I began to laugh, assuming he was kidding, and said, “Really, what would you like me to do?” He was a little taken aback by my laughter, but said, “Really, we’d like you to serve in the nursery.” I immediately sobered and said I’d be happy to do that. Now, to tell you the truth, I wasn’t happy to do that. I liked children in the abstract, but the reality of twenty-five toddlers was a bit much. I was quite comfortable teaching college students, because they were quiet, they hung on my every word (in case it showed up on an exam), and they never chased each other around the room or crawled under their desks. The best words to describe my first day the in the nursery were shell shock. I have never felt more unprepared, unskilled, and ill suited for a calling in my life.

I was smart enough to know that the nature of two-year-olds wasn’t going to change much, so if I was going to survive this calling, I was the one who would need to change. I made that call a matter of prayer night and day, and each Sunday for six weeks the nursery was, frankly, a nightmare. Then on the seventh Sunday, when I walked into the nursery, it was like a switch had been flipped. I absolutely loved it! I loved the children; I had fun playing with and teaching them; I didn’t even mind sitting on the floor. From that day until I was released, the nursery was one of the favorite callings I’d ever had. I was so grateful for that change of heart.

Listen to José and a powerful experience he had while growing up.

This was when I was nine years old. I was in a Catholic elementary school. It was run by nuns. They were very, very strict, and I remember one day during recess that I was playing soccer in the yard and I kicked the ball and hit a window and broke the window. It was very scary at the time. One of the nuns came out and she yelled at me—she reprimanded me very harshly and told me to go home and tell my parents what had happened. I remember walking very, very slowly, scared, and trying not to get there. But I was very, very scared, and when I finally got there, my mom opened the door and I think she noticed how scared I was. I was pale and just looking terrible, and I told her what had happened, that I had kicked the ball and broken a window. I was just expecting her to do the same thing that the nun had done to me, just reprimand me.

Note how José’s mother reacted to him.

But instead, she told me not to worry about it and she hugged me, and I felt a sense of relief and also of appreciation for having a mother that would understand and put her love for me above my mistakes.

I didn’t want Valjean to die.

Not Jean Valjean, the character from Les Misérables, my favorite novel. I knew his fate. Rather, Valjean my potted plant. He was the lone survivor in a long line of indoor plants who had curled up their roots and done a swan dive into the dumpster.

And though he had long outlasted his predecessors, Valjean looked as if his days too were now numbered. The long, slender leaves were turning brown. The plant drooped as if under a heavy burden. Extra water and fertilizer only seemed to make things worse.

I know it sounds silly, but Valjean’s condition truly upset me. Only a month earlier, my father-in-law had passed away. Two weeks later, my own father passed away. In the midst of all that loss, my failing plant affected me more than it should have.

While staring glumly at Valjean, I had the thought that I should pray. I have to admit, the notion struck me as odd. Pray over a plant? After all, I could simply get another. I always had before. Yet the feeling persisted, and so I uttered a short prayer for my faltering vegetation. Immediately afterward, I had the distinct impression that a little bit of knowledge would go a long way. So I did some research.

My life has been a lot greener ever since. Along the way, I’ve learned plenty of spiritual parallels to plant care that help me in other areas of my life.

There’s another concern that’s less obvious. Many plants don’t respond well to chemicals often found in tap water (particularly chlorine). This is what was killing off Valjean one poisonous sip at a time. I learned in my research to allow tap water to sit for 24 hours before using it. This allows the chlorine to escape the water. That one trick—along with cutting back on the amount of water—turned Valjean’s health around.

When I prayed for help in saving Valjean the plant, I never guessed I would learn as much as I have about caring for plants. Since then, I’ve been able to keep a thriving variety of plants alive and healthy, as well as grow new plants from clippings to give to friends and family just for fun. It’s become a rewarding hobby.

And Valjean is still growing strong!

This experience helped me to learn even more deeply that God is involved in the details of our lives. For me, one main lesson I take away is this: I should always follow a prompting to pray, even if it seems too small a matter. You never know what might grow from it.

MonicaWhen Keoni and I got married, we hoped to have children right away, but things didn’t go as planned. It took us three and a half years to have our first child. During those years, we had many tearful nights, but we got through it together by talking openly, leaning on each other, and offering constant support. Eventually, we were blessed with Sai, and then four more healthy and wonderful children. We love them and are so grateful to be their parents.

Two years ago, when I was 14, I went to visit some relatives in another city in southern Germany. I was traveling alone by train, so I was a bit nervous but also excited. After my visit, I got on the train to go home. It was getting late at night as we approached the station where I was supposed to get off the train. I looked out the window and saw the station, but I suddenly had the feeling that I should stay seated.
Though the train wouldn’t be traveling on (this was the final station), I wanted to get home because it was getting late and I was nervous. But the impression to wait was very distinct. So I did it, though I wondered why.
After a few minutes I finally did get out. I had walked only a short distance when a policeman stopped me and said, “You were lucky. If you had come five minutes earlier, you would have been in the middle of a big fight.”
There had been a soccer game that evening between two archrivals. Some fans of one team had been in the front of the train and some fans of the other team in back. When they had gotten off, a couple of them had started provoking one another, and then everyone had started fighting. I later heard that by the time the police came to break it up, over a dozen people had been injured and taken to the hospital. The police had then blocked everything off and taken all the suspects with them.
One policeman came over to me and put his hand on my shoulder, saying, “Wow. If you had been there, we probably could have hauled you off as well.” I realized that if I hadn’t followed that impression, something very bad could have happened to me.
As I went home, I prayed to Heavenly Father and told Him that I was thankful that I had listened to the Holy Ghost and hadn’t gotten off the train. I knew that He had protected me.

I know two men who started out in life in very much the same way. Both were born to active LDS parents who lived in the same community. They belonged to the same ward, they had the same teachers, the same bishop, the same friends, and they even went to the same school.
Today those men are as different as they can be, not only in their vocational pursuits, but in their philosophies of life and their degree of spirituality. They are both successful professional men and financially secure, but there the similarity ends. One of them holds a responsible position in the Church, and has a family of sons and daughters who have honored their parents and who themselves have lived in accordance with the teachings of the gospel, striving to be a credit to their noble parents, and to their Church and community.
The other man gradually drifted away from the Church, married a nonmember, and became the father of children, at least two of whom were a constant source of worry and concern because of influences in their lives which caused them to be in what seemed a never-ending series of law violations—driving too fast, driving when drunk, drug abuse, etc.
We see these contrasting lifestyles all around us, and it is not my intent to judge or to say who is responsible for such behavior. However, when the second man came to me for advice in his desperation, it caused me to reflect and to wonder about those influences which draw men away from their faith and beliefs. I pondered over the circumstances which brought each of these two men to his present station in life, and was reminded of Paul’s warning to the elders of the Church in Ephesus as he declared:
“Take heed therefore unto yourselves, and to all the flock, over the which the Holy Ghost hath made you overseers, to feed the church of God, which he hath purchased with his own blood.
“For I know this, that after my departing shall grievous wolves enter in among you, not sparing the flock.
“Also of your own selves shall men arise, speaking perverse things, to draw away disciples after them.” (Acts 20:28–30.)
Later, after expressing thanks to God for the love, faithfulness, and hope of the Colossians as they accepted the gospel of Jesus Christ, Paul warned them as follows:
“Beware lest any man spoil you through philosophy and vain deceit, after the tradition of man, after the rudiments of the world, and not after Christ.” (Col. 2:8.)
Why are some men deceived by the philosophies of men while others are able to accept the gospel and various teachings through faith? Some are like Thomas who was not with the Twelve when Jesus appeared to them following his resurrection. You will remember that Thomas said:
“Except I shall see in his hands the print of the nails, and put my finger into the print of the nails, and thrust my hand into his side, I will not believe.”
Eight days later, when Jesus appeared again and Thomas was with the others, Jesus said:
“Reach hither thy finger, and behold my hands; and reach hither thy hand, and thrust it into my side: and be not faithless, but believing.”
And then upon the acknowledgement by Thomas, the Savior said:
“Thomas, because thou hast seen me, thou hast believed: blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed.” (John 20:25, 27, 29.)
Sometimes I think we feel there is more disputation and uncertainty and anti-Christ sentiment in the world today than ever before. Perhaps this is true if we consider the increase in world population, but there have always been dissidents and persecutors and false prophets who would lead the people astray and destroy the divine plan of God the Father.
These are the words of President Joseph F. Smith in the October conference of 1909:
“There never was a time, perhaps, when there were more false prophets than there are today, when there were more visionary men or more false Christs than there are today. We get letters from them, and commands and threats from them, and admonitions and warnings and revelations from them, nearly every day. … There is no one that can get up some foolish idea, or start out proposing to organize a church of some kind, no matter what the inconsistency of his claims may be, but what he will find some one to follow him, somebody as foolish as he is, and who knows as little.
To the faithful Latter-day Saint is given the right to know the truth, as God knows it; and no power beneath the celestial kingdom can lead him astray, darken his understanding, becloud his mind or dim his faith or his knowledge of the principles of the gospel of Jesus Christ. It can’t be done, for the light of God shines brighter than the illumination of falsehood and error, therefore, those who possess the light of Christ, the spirit of revelation and the knowledge of God, rise above all these vagaries in the world; they know of this doctrine, that it is of God and not of man.” (Conference Report, October 1909, pp. 8–9.)
We are so fortunate to understand the purpose of Christ’s mission, to have the gospel, to be led by a prophet of God, and to be encouraged by the testimonies of the General Authorities and others who bear witness of the truthfulness of the gospel of Jesus Christ. We are encouraged to study and to gain a knowledge for ourselves that this work is true, and each individual can have this testimony through study and prayer.
In October 1935, Elder Stephen L. Richards, then a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, addressed the general conference as follows:
“I believe that as high an order of intelligence is required to understand and interpret the things of the spirit as is required to comprehend the truths of science and other secular matters. I believe that accomplishments and achievements in the field of religion are just as worthy and commendable and great as are accomplishments in the field of science, in the domain of business and commerce, and in all other worldly affairs.
“I also believe that a great many people in this world do not believe this thing. I am convinced that the people of the world have so deprecated, in their own estimation, the real place and value of the spiritual life and of religious activity that they have been weaned away from allegiance to religious institutions, spiritual concepts, and this great world that is out beyond the so-called natural world. To me it is the greatest misfortune that can overtake the human family, and I believe that the youth of our Church, unfortunately, are not free from the influence of this worldly philosophy that has so engulfed the minds and thinking of men.”
He expressed great concern for the youth of the land who were being subjected to worldly philosophies which deny the existence of the spiritual world, and stated:
Their education has contributed greatly to this situation, not purposely perhaps, but nevertheless truly, for I have but little doubt that there are to be found many young men and women who have lost faith and departed from the old practices and the old traditions, because those things have not only been omitted but they have been purposely ignored and of times deprecated by the educational systems and influences under whose tutelage the youth have come. …
“I believe that as I appeal to the teachers of the country to encourage their students to keep open minds on all these questions that affect the faith of their fathers, I not only speak the sentiment of our own Church but likewise the sentiment of all good religious people who seek to bring to the youth of their churches the spirit, the theology and the traditions which they foster.
“It is such an easy thing to discourage faith in this world of material things in this world of science, where we have laid so much emphasis on all the scientific processes and developments that have been so much in evidence the last few decades. It is so easy to say a word to undermine faith. I wish that those who have within their power the formation of the views of youth, the cultivation of their character, I do wish that they would be careful.
“As a tax-payer and a supporter of the public school system, which I admire, which I regard as one of the greatest factors for the civilization of the race, which I have always regarded as being an essential constituent of a democracy and on which my children are dependent for education, I have always entertained the view that there is no right on the part of those to whom that education is entrusted to in any way say one single word or promote one thought that will tear down the faith of my children and lead them from the philosophy of faith.
“Our youth are especially susceptible to influences that lead them away from faith because, in my opinion they do not always have an adequate and proper understanding of the Gospel of Christ. Sometimes I fear they seem to feel so much concerned about the injunctions and the inhibitions and the proscriptions, that they fail to appreciate the positive, beautiful, life-giving, joyful message of the Gospel of Jesus. …
“I wish that it were possible for us to teach our youth that all the enduring satisfactions they may ever hope for, all the real joys and pleasures of life, are to be had in pursuance of and not in opposition to Gospel principles.” (Conference Report, October 1935, pp. 94–96.)
There is no happiness or peace of mind except through obedience to the commandments of God. There is no salvation or eternal life except through acceptance of the gospel and living according to its teachings. There are no problems facing the nations of the world or individuals for which answers cannot be found in the gospel of Jesus Christ. He came to earth for that purpose—to give us a plan of life and salvation through which we could enjoy happiness and eternal life.
May I remind us of Paul’s message to the Ephesians:
“There is one body, and one Spirit, even as ye are called in one hope of your calling;
“One Lord, one faith, one baptism,
“One God and Father of all, who is above all, and through all, and in you all. …
“And he gave some, apostles; and some, prophets; and some, evangelists; and some, pastors and teachers;
“For the perfecting of the saints, for the work of the ministry, for the edifying of the body of Christ:
“Till we all come in the unity of the faith, and of the knowledge of the son of God, unto a perfect man, unto the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ:
“That we henceforth be no more children, tossed to and fro, and carried about with every wind of doctrine, by the sleight of men, and cunning craziness, whereby they lie in wait to deceive;
“But speaking the truth in love, may grow up into him in all things, which is the head, even Christ.” (Eph. 4:4–6, 11–15.)

I’d like to begin by sharing the story of a great friend we met here in Hawaii. One day, not long after we arrived, David Nagaishi came to see me at the mission home. He asked for permission to have the missionaries teach him at his restaurant in Waikiki. His wife, Wendy, was serving as the Primary President in our home ward in Kahala, but he had never been interested in the Church – in fact, he was somewhat antagonistic. But somehow, the missionaries had made contact again, and this time, he was prepared to be taught, but he didn’t want Wendy to know! His request was a bit unusual, but we made the necessary arrangements, and the missionaries began teaching him in earnest.

In due time through his study and prayers, David gained a testimony and wanted to be baptized. The day came for his baptism. Everyone in the ward knew about it, everyone except Wendy! David was dressed in white and seated on the stand in the chapel. A very large congregation of ward members was secretly seated in the chapel too, but Wendy, with a little assistance from her counselor, was in a Primary “planning meeting” in another part of the building. Pretending to hear a commotion, her counselor suggested they go to the chapel to make sure everything was okay.

Now, you can imagine the scene! Wendy’s absolute surprise as she walked into a chapel full of ward members, and David sitting on the stand in baptismal clothing! In her shock (and to the delight of everyone else), she let out an audible, “He can’t be baptized. He hasn’t had the lessons and he hates the missionaries!” Well, David was baptized that day and began his faithful journey in the Church. A year or so later, David prepared to attend the temple and asked if I would be his escort. What a sacred privilege it was for me to accompany my friend to the temple! Today, he serves as the executive secretary in his ward, and he and Wendy have been sealed for eternity with their family. About a month ago, they took their son, Michael, to the MTC to begin his own mission to Japan. As you can guess, David no longer “hates” the missionaries!

That was just one of the special conversions we witnessed while serving here in Hawaii.

Zamu sped across the yard on his blue bicycle. His two-year-old brother, Zinathi, was right behind him on his red scooter.
“Come on, let’s go again!” Zamu said when they reached the edge of the yard. He turned around and pedaled as fast as he could back to the front. The wind rushed over his face.
“Zamu and Zinathi!” Zamu shouted.
Zinathi laughed. He shouted with Zamu.
“Zamu and Zinathi! Zamu and Zinathi!”
They rode across the yard, back and forth, back and forth, until Zamu’s legs were too tired to pedal anymore.
“Let’s take a break,” Zamu panted.
“Come over here and rest,” Dad called from the trampoline.
Zamu parked his bike and took Zinathi by the hand. He helped his little brother climb onto the trampoline. Then he climbed up and sat beside Dad.
“Were you having fun?” Dad asked.
“Yeah!” Zinathi said.
Zamu lay back on the trampoline with a sigh. The sky above him was bright blue, and the sun felt warm on his skin.
“It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” Dad said.
Zamu nodded. He closed his eyes and listened to the birds sing while Dad talked to Zinathi. He was getting sleepy.
“Zamu.”
He opened his eyes. Zinathi was leaning over his face.
“What?” Zamu asked.
“Let’s go!” Zinathi pointed to his scooter.
“Not now. I’m resting.”
Zinathi’s mouth slipped into a frown.
“Sorry,” Zamu said. “I’m too tired.”
Zinathi tugged at Zamu’s arm. “Come on!”
“No! I already played with you!”
“Zamu,” Dad said.
Zamu looked over at him.
“One day, when he’s older, Zinathi will remember how you used to play together. The memories you make now will live in his heart.”
Zamu looked back into his little brother’s big brown eyes.
“Please?” Zinathi asked.
Zamu still didn’t feel like playing. But he did want to make memories with Zinathi.
He smiled. “OK.”
Zinathi’s face lit up. “Yay!”
Zamu hopped down from the trampoline and helped Zinathi get back on his scooter. Then he swung his leg over his own bike.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Yeah!”
Together they rode across the yard. “Zamu and Zinathi!” they shouted again.
Zamu was still tired, but it was a good kind of tired. His legs felt strong as he pedaled behind Zinathi. I hope Zinathi will remember this, he thought. I’ll remember it forever.

There are, of course, longtime members who have helped anchor the Church since its beginnings here. Adalberto Torres was a man ready to receive the truth when he dreamed, one night in 1969, of two books—the Bible and, side by side with it, one he had not seen before. He recognized the second book four months later when he sat in on a lesson two Latter-day Saint missionaries were giving to a friend of his. From the moment that he read the first verse of the Book of Mormon, he knew it was true.
After he was baptized, his wife wondered if he had done the right thing. But a dream convinced her, too. She saw herself studying the Bible, something she was unaccustomed to doing, and understood that she was to follow the path to truth that her husband had taken.
Brother Torres, patriarch of the Guayaquil Ecuador West Stake, comments that many local members “testify of the Church without realizing it.” They do it by the way they live. Others watch, and they want to know the source of the Latter-day Saints’ happiness and spiritual strength.
Brother and Sister Torres have made the gospel an integral part of life for their twelve children. Henry Torres recently returned from serving a mission in Colombia. Did he find missionary work difficult? That wasn’t a consideration, he answers. “The Lord never said it was easy. He just said we could do it.”

One day my companion and I gave a tour of the Smith family farm to a young family from Ireland. They were recent converts of only two years.

As we stood in the reconstructed log home where Joseph Smith and his family lived in the spring of 1820, my companion and I recounted the important events in Joseph’s childhood that led him to enter a grove of trees to pray to know which church he should join. We shared with them Joseph’s experience when Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ appeared to him and answered his prayer. We then asked them how they had felt when they first learned of Joseph Smith and his First Vision.

I expected them to express the same feelings most people share—that they felt a burning in their heart or that they knew that it must be true because the Spirit they felt was just so powerful. Instead, they said they felt it was “inconveniently true.” That made us pause for a minute. We asked them to explain what they had meant.

They told us that things had been good for them before they heard the gospel, and the idea of changing their comfortable lifestyle seemed like an inconvenience to them. But when they received a spiritual witness that it was true, they knew they had to make a lifestyle change.

Their interesting and sincere testimony impressed us. Because they really had a testimony of Joseph Smith and the restored gospel of Jesus Christ, they were willing to make inconvenient changes in their lives and join the Church. They did so because they knew those changes would be the best thing for their family!

October 9, 1846—Sugar CreekA miracle in camp today. We have been living on parched and boiled corn, and drinking muddy river water. Many are ill and all are hungry, but today, flocks of quail suddenly flew into camp, falling on wagons and tables. My brothers were able to catch many in their hands! We had a feast. God has not forgotten us. Our rescuers taught us a new song written by Brother Clayton. The song reflects well how I feel today: “All is well!”

As I speak of priesthood blessings, I have a flood of memories: I remember my sons and daughters asking for blessings to help them through the most stressful experiences of their lives. I rejoice as I recall inspired promises and the strengthened faith that came when they were fulfilled. I feel pride in the faith of a new generation when I think of a son, apprehensive about a professional examination and unable to reach his faraway father, seeking a priesthood blessing from the most accessible priesthood holder in his family, the husband of his sister. I remember a confused young convert to the Church seeking a blessing to help him change the self-destructive pattern of his life. He received a blessing so unusual I was astonished when I heard the words I spoke.
Do not hesitate to ask for a priesthood blessing when you are in need of spiritual power.