Gospel Story Finder

Mark Dougherty, 18, of the Portadown Ward, Belfast Northern Ireland Stake, likes to tell people he was converted by the book—by the Book of Mormon, that is. Little else is conventional in his conversion story.
Around Christmastime, he found a copy of the Book of Mormon. “I just picked it up and started reading it and learning what was in it.” Eventually, he set the book aside.
A few months passed. Then the missionaries knocked on his door, and even though his family didn’t let them in, Mark’s interest was rekindled. “I started reading again, and it just seemed like what I was reading was right.”
Later Mark saw the Church listing in the phone book, called, and asked to be taught. “They sent two elders around, I had the discussions, and about a month later, I was baptized.”

It was a bitterly cold February night—so cold the Mississippi River had turned to solid ice, a blue and white highway. With the river frozen, there were no river barges, no ferryboats, no boats of any kind. Thick ice made it possible to walk out on the river, perhaps to walk all the way to the far bank.
The city of Nauvoo, resting quietly on the banks of the Mississippi, was dark—but four people were still moving about, shivering on shore, about to test the ice. Would it be strong enough to support them? Was it possible to drive a team of horses pulling a wagon across?
Kayla Walker followed in her father’s footsteps as he approached the river. Their friend, Tim McCormick, also moved out onto the ice. Even though she was excited to make the crossing, Kayla was a little scared. Their guide, Jerry McLeod, had already warned them that if they felt the ice begin to crack beneath their feet to spread out their arms to catch themselves from falling in completely. “He told us to try to stay above the ice,” Kayla says. “If you fall below, the current will carry you under the ice. That was sort of scary.”
Kayla stepped out on the ice. Exactly 150 years ago that month, the first pioneers to leave Nauvoo crossed the ice of the Mississippi, leaving behind their beloved and beautiful city with the white temple shining on the hill. Kayla, her father, and a friend had received the necessary authorization to be on the ice and reenact the pioneers’ departure.
“I was wearing three pairs of pants, a turtleneck shirt, and a sweater. Then I had on a big coat, a hat, a scarf, and gloves. I had on two pairs of socks and a pair of hiking boots, and I was still cold,” Kayla recalls. “It was –30° Celsius. That’s why the ice was so thick. It was frozen 45 centimeters down. I could see cracks in it, but all you could see was more ice because it was so thick.
“It was dark. It was slippery, but we kept a steady pace. There was snow on top of the ice, so we did have some traction. We hit some slick spots where it was hard for me to keep up. I just didn’t want to stop. I wanted to get across. It took us 18 1/2 minutes.
“Brother McLeod’s wife met us on the other side in her van and drove us back home. I was very glad to get in that van with the heater on high and hot chocolate waiting. It was neat to think about my ancestors making the same crossing. Only they did it with long dresses and their children and some people who were sick. They did that, with no questions asked, because they believed in the Church. What strong testimonies they had! I think I would have gone hesitantly. I would have been asking, ‘Why can’t I just wait?’ Just doing what they did so long ago was a big testimony builder.”

When I was about 10, my older brother had a serious health problem. The blood in his hands was not circulating properly, and they hurt very badly. At that time, my family lived in a small town on the border of Brazil and Argentina. The medical facilities there were not very good, so my mother and my brother traveled to the big city of Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, to see the doctor. Because my father had to work during the day, my baby brother had to stay with another family. So every day I went to visit him. And every day I prayed for my older brother.
The doctors told my mother they needed to amputate (cut off) my brother’s hands. Mother refused. “No, I know the Lord will take care of my son,” she said. One night after my mother and brother had returned home, he was in great pain. I shared a room with him, and I remember him crying because his hands hurt so much. While he cried, Mother knelt by his bed, praying. The next morning, I saw him sleeping peacefully. Mother was also asleep, still kneeling at his bedside. We were not members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but Mother had great faith. Eventually my brother’s hands did get better. He lost the tips of some of his fingers, but he did not have to have his hands amputated.
Mother also had great courage. And she taught us to be of good cheer. She told my brother that even though he had lost part of some fingers, he still had everything else. So my brother did not get discouraged. His first job was as a typist. Today he is an attorney.

… The Jones family haven’t committed to baptism yet, but they want us to keep teaching them.
By the way, we showed the Jones family the Church filmstrip, “The First Vision.” Missionaries show filmstrips when they’ve run out of discussions. I think I saw Sister Jones wipe a tear away. Maybe their hearts are softening.
By the way, when we went to the Joneses’ house tonight, their minister was there waiting. He wanted to Bible bash, but we didn’t want to have the spirit of contention, so we left. I don’t think he was very fond of LDS missionaries.
I can hardly believe it!
When we went to the Joneses’ house tonight, Brother Jones explained that after we left their home last night he felt a terrible spirit.
He actually asked the minister to leave!
We challenged them to be baptized right then and there. And they accepted! Sister Jones was crying and everything. It was great!
The zone leaders will go with us to the Joneses’ place tomorrow morning to hold the baptismal interview. They’ve just got to be worthy or I’ll be sick.
The Joneses passed! They’re gold! The date has been set. They’ll be baptized June 5th.
I think I’ll sleep well tonight!
Tonight we held the baptismal service for the Jones family. They looked so beautiful dressed in white.
My companion baptized Brother and Sister Jones. I baptized the children, Mark, Lisa, and Tommy. The two ward seventies confirmed them.
My heart is overflowing with joy.

Sean Flint was a new member of the Church and a ward missionary, and he wanted to share his knowledge of the gospel with everyone in his city of Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan, Canada. Brother Flint was aware that misconceptions about the Church existed in Moose Jaw and would make missionary work difficult.
“We wanted to do something that would attract attention to the Church and show that many of the misconceptions about the Church were not true,” Brother Flint said.
Brother Flint talked with the missionaries in his ward, and together they decided that the best way to share the gospel in a nonconfrontational way and reach out to the community and the more than 30 different churches would be to bring everyone together based on the one thing they shared—faith. Several ideas were considered, but in the end they decided that presenting a faith-promoting gospel art show was the way to go.
“One of the missionaries told me he had thought of showing some art at an art show sponsored by the Church,” Brother Flint said. “Eventually a lightbulb went off in my head. Wouldn’t it be nice to invite all of the churches of Moose Jaw to participate and show their own art?”
The idea was there, and within a short time the 2006 Gospel Art Show was born. With the help of the members of the Moose Jaw Ward and the missionaries, the word was spread and the plans were made.
Forty large color posters were created and distributed with invitations for members of other churches to display their religious art. More than 32,000 smaller versions of the posters were also distributed throughout the town by members, said Gerry Miller, ward mission leader.
Brother Miller added that the youth of the ward contributed as well. “The young men, under the direction of the Young Men president, Lorne Bachiu, built over 150 easels to display the art,” he said.
The local newspaper, the Times-Herald, printed an article about the upcoming show, and the local radio station, CHAB, also ran a story about it.
However, shortly before the show was to begin, Brother Flint was afraid it might not happen at all.
“Three days before the show we had received no responses from any other churches or nonmembers,” Brother Flint said. But after a lot of sincere prayer over the next two days, Saint Andrew’s United Church and 10 members of other faiths called to offer art.
The show opened as scheduled, featuring more than 140 pieces of art in six different categories. Missionaries were on hand to answer questions visitors had and to give out information about the Church to those who requested it.
While the turnout for the show did not reach the hundreds, Brother Flint accomplished what he wanted, which was to bring the people of Moose Jaw together and share the gospel in a friendly way.
“There was no confrontation of any kind. Everyone just seemed to feel the Spirit. It was a great experience,” Brother Flint said.
Although it is not certain if the art show will become an annual event, there is support from the community to hold another show.
“Saint Andrew’s United Church loved the art show. They thought it was a great idea and suggested that their church would be a great location for the show next year,” Brother Flint said. “All of the people who visited the show said they would participate in it next year and tell their friends about it.”

I guess I wouldn’t be out of order to tell you a little interesting experience that happened to me. Before I left on my mission I lived right across the street from the sheriff of Salt Lake City. He was a wonderful, law-abiding citizen, and he made me more so. When I came home, I sold my house, and moved just around the corner about the same distance away. One day while I was observing construction on my home, which is on a little hill with quite an incline, I pulled the car up, parked it, and got out and walked around to head up to the house. Suddenly the car started roiling backwards downhill, and there were several little children playing at the bottom. I panicked, as any parent would, and ran around and opened the car door. It was rolling fairly fast now. I got halfway in, and the momentum of the car upended me and threw me down on the street. I got my leg in, trying to pump a brake that wouldn’t pump, because it’s all power steering with power brakes so that nothing worked. I knew I had to divert the path of that car. To make matters more challenging, the car door banged on my leg; with a real prayer on my lips, I somehow got the strength to turn the wheel to divert its path. In doing so, it crossed the street, jumped the curb, and I pruned—and I mean pruned—the sheriff’s prize maple tree. I really leveled it. The car went over the tree and through his back fence and came to a stop in his rose garden.

Now, here’s the scene. You’ve got a runaway car with a General Authority on his back in a rose garden. The sheriff looked over the hood of the car and said, “Paul, what in the world are you doing?”

And I couldn’t think of anything any better than this. I said, “Sheriff, I’m your new home teacher.”

Well, now, that is not the way to warn a neighbor. I don’t think the Lord had that in mind, but rather to share feeling and concern and to give help.

While I have had many experiences in my life that follow this pattern, my call as a member of the Seventy is illustrative. The call came the first week of June 1992, and my first assignment was to serve as a member of the Central America Area Presidency beginning on August 1. During my vacation time in July, I immersed myself in the scriptures, especially the Book of Mormon, and spent hours studying, praying, and pondering to help me prepare and overcome my feelings of inadequacy.
Based on Matthew 4:1–11 and the Joseph Smith Translation of Matthew 4:1–11, the parallels shown in table 2 came to me.
Table 2. A Pattern for Spiritual Growth (see Matthew 4)
Verses
Phrases from the Scriptures
Parallels to Our Day
1
The Savior sensed His sacred responsibility and sought to commune with God.
I sensed my sacred responsibility and sought to commune with God.
1
He communed with God.
Enlightenment came as I studied, fasted, pondered, and prayed.
3–10
He was tempted and challenged.
I was challenged with feelings of inadequacy and unworthiness.
11
Angels ministered to Him.
The Holy Ghost comforted, taught, enlightened, and strengthened me to go forward with divine assistance.

One day, Wilford was feeding pumpkins to his father’s cattle in a pasture.
He noticed that one large bull was eating more than his fair share, so Wilford decided to take one of his pumpkins away.
Wilford: He ate one of that cow’s pumpkins! I’ll show him who’s boss.
The bull was so mad at Wilford that he started chasing him down the pasture hill.
Luckily, Wilford tripped and fell to the ground, and the pumpkin went flying out of his hands. The bull jumped right over Wilford and tore the pumpkin to pieces with his horns.
Wilford: If I hadn’t tripped, that would’ve been me getting torn to pieces!

She was raised in a cultured Church of England home in South Molten, Devonshire, and she was confused when she was a teenager by the contrast of Bible’s teachings on baptism with those of her Church and she “could not enjoy attending church after that.” She married William Williams at age fifteen, and after their first daughter was born, she began hearing about the Mormons.

Initially, Elizabeth was not interested. Even though she was not satisfied with her old church, “it was very respectable, at least.” However, she was too polite to refuse a tract when it was offered, and on a rainy afternoon began reading it. Soon she was absorbed in the account of a debate between Elder John Taylor and some French ministers.

“When I had read it all, I said aloud ‘praise the Lord. I have found the right way at last.’” She attended a meeting where Joseph Smith’s mission was explained. “To say that I was thrilled with joy but feebly expresses my feelings at that time. I could see no other way but to repent of my sins and to be baptized. I knew my people would bitterly oppose it when they knew it, and that my former friends would treat me coldly but they were worse than I ever anticipated.”

That one sentence, “It was worse than I ever anticipated,” contains an agony of heartbreak. What it meant was that her mother forbade her to reenter her childhood home. Her husband told her she must choose between her family and her faith; weeping in anguish, she refused to deny her testimony, and he abandoned her and her four little girls. Elizabeth found work in a woolen mill, laboring with the baby in a basket by the loom, and managing to support them all. Seeing her undefeated, William returned and took all four children to London. Under the law, there was nothing she could do to stop him or reclaim them.

She did not falter. Her last moment of hesitation had come on the very brink of her baptism when she looked down into the dark river water at midnight, 4 December 1851, and “felt as though I could not possibly go in it, But a Voice seemed to say ‘There is no other way.’” In faith, she took that step. “It seemed after that everything had changed. The scales had fallen from my eyes, and the gospel plan was glorious, and I covenanted with My Heavenly Father that however dark the clouds may be, if friends turned to be foes that by His help I would serve Him. And I have tried in my faltering way to do so. I have often made mistakes, and said and done things I have been sorry for, but I have never doubted the truthfulness of this gospel or hindered others.”

She spent the next six years in Bath, living with the family of a missionary, Thomas Yates, and spending her small earnings on a fruitless search for her children. “After years of fasting and prayers, and many tears, the Lord opened the way for me to come to Zion,” with the Yates family and their son Thomas, just back from his 6 1/2 year mission.

We do not know what it cost her to leave England. She only says, “I prayed earnestly to God to help me in the long tedious journey that was before me, that I might not murmur on the way, or complain if a lion should be in my path, and he answered my prayers, for I saw nothing to murmur at. My heart was filled with gratitude all the way.”

Her son tells us what she, in the patience of her faith, omitted. She nearly died of seasickness, which lasted the entire voyage. She and Thomas were married on the morning of July 22, 1863, in Florence, Nebraska, and began the trek westward that afternoon. When Elizabeth discovered that there was not room for both her and her trunk in the wagon, she thought of her carefully packed china, the loveliest things she owned, and walked every step of the way, “my heart filled with gratitude.”

“Many shed tears of joy,” she says, “on first beholding the City of the Saints.” She does not say if she was among them, but she must have been.

That same patience and gratitude deepened the love in her marriage. One daughter, Louise, who later became the seventh general president of the Relief Society, says that the only time she saw Elizabeth cry was when a cat knocked down the shelves in the cabin and broke that precious china. Thomas ordered the first set of Haviland that ZCMI shipped into the territory to replace it—a measure of love indeed, for they were struggling to make a living in Scipio, Utah, where he served as bishop and she as Relief Society president.

One of the tenderest moments of their marriage is a letter he wrote her when he was working on the railroad in Echo Canyon to pay off his loan with the Perpetual Emigration Fund. We do not know what fears she had shared in a letter to him, but we have his loving reassurance:

“Another thing my darling that I feel sorry about is that you should think I stay out here on account of something you might have said in the past in the way of complaint at not being provided for as well as you could wish, believe me my own darling that such is not the fact at all. I do not remember that at any time you have said anything that could be mistaken for complaint … My darling I love my dear humble home and you my darling wife and our dear little children. I love your society the best of all on earth, and never expect to meet with as much pleasure and happiness in this world as I get in your company.”

The love they had for each other and their five children could not, however, heal the ache in her heart. Her only son, Thomas, remembers hearing her sob in the night and, when he asked why, she said simply, “I was thinking of some little girls I left in England many years ago.”

But her children had not forgotten her, either. Susan, only seven at the time of the separation, ran away when she was eleven and sought refuge with a Mormon family, hoping to find a trace of her Mormon mother. The baby was already dead; another daughter would die a few years later. But about 1870, a missionary met Susie Williams and mentioned her to the Yates family in Scipio. With so fragile a clue, mother and daughter were reunited in Utah.

Susan did not stop searching for her sister. William, determined that the last daughter should never see her mother, took her away from England—ironically, to America, where Susan found her in Michigan through a newspaper advertisement. She joined them in Utah; all four daughters were sealed to Thomas and Elizabeth. “I have never,” Elizabeth seems to repeat, “seen the righteous forsaken.”

It’s been years since that happened, and Jess now has a husband and children of her own. She still has unanswered questions and struggles every day with the consequences of her brother’s death. But over the years, she has found some peace. And she’s seen firsthand how the teachings of the gospel and love from other people help in healing.

Over time, peace can come. “I would love to say that the ache in your heart goes away, but it doesn’t,” Jess says. “But Jesus Christ’s Atonement has healed me in ways I never thought possible.” Reading scriptures, praying, and attending church help her see the light at the end of the tunnel. Through those small things, she’s received revelation for other ways that she can find help, such as meeting with a professional counselor. Now she takes things “a minute at a time” and tries to fill her day with gratitude and service.

“I have a strong testimony that our Heavenly Father loves every single one of His children.”

My best friend, Aniyah, isn’t a member of the Church. Aniyah’s brother Khali is best friends with my brother Nathaniel. We wanted to share the gospel with their family. Aniyah and Khali’s mother recently had a baby. My mom wanted to let Aniyah’s mom have time with the new baby. We took Aniyah and Khali to our pioneer picnic, the ward beach party, and later to the ward Halloween party.
We found out that their mom had never been given a baby shower [party] even though this was her third child. My mom insisted on giving her one. I helped my mom get the house ready and prepare the lunch. I had so much fun, and her family really appreciated the party.
Nathaniel was recently baptized, and Aniyah’s whole family came. They were touched by the service, and I know they felt the Lord’s Spirit there. I learned that by serving others we can share the gospel.

I spoke at the funeral of a dear friend the other day. Some years ago he served as a mission president. He felt totally inadequate when he arrived in the field. He was sent to succeed a very good man, a man of great ability, an excellent leader, and a very able president.
When this new man took over the mission and made his first tour of meetings with missionaries, he said to them: “I never served a mission as a young man, and so I don’t know what you are going through. But do your best, your very, very best. Say your prayers and work hard and leave the harvest to the Lord.”
With that kind of spirit and that outreach of love, a whole new attitude spread through the mission. Members got behind the missionaries. Within a year the number of converts had doubled.

Valued companionships begin with a personal commitment to be an exemplary companion. I was taught the importance of such caring attention and loving personal influence many years ago on Temple Square. When I was a young man, I was on my way to a session of general conference when someone took my elbow. It was President David O. McKay. “Come with me, Joseph,” President McKay said. “I’ll help you find a good seat.”

For those few moments as we walked toward the Tabernacle, President McKay seemed to focus his entire attention on me. He spoke reverently of his love for the Lord and his love for the members of the Church. He looked me straight in the eye as he firmly shared his testimony with me.

“I want you to know, Joseph,” he said, “that the President of the Lord’s Church does receive inspiration and revelation from the Lord Jesus Christ.” At that moment, the Spirit whispered to my heart that President David O. McKay was telling me the truth. I knew then that he was truly a prophet of God. That testimony has remained with me throughout my life, filling me with reverence and respect for the office our prophet holds.

I felt his love and was enriched by his humble act of kindness during those few minutes together. I don’t think that I was ever quite the same after that. I then resolved that I would try to be as good a companion to others as he had been to me.

“It’s just not fair!” grumbled Jason at the close of family council. “Now I know I’ll never get a set of walkie-talkies for Christmas.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way, Jason,” Dad said with disappointment, “but the family has voted, and our decision stands. We will use most of our Christmas money to make gifts and buy supplies for a needy family. You’ll still get one present from Santa, and you’ll still exchange gifts with your sisters.”
Jason continued to sulk while Dad spoke again to the whole family. “Before we can make any definite plans,” he said, “we have to know more about the needy family. I’ll talk to Bishop Carson tomorrow to see if he can help us. As soon as we know the ages and interests of the children, you can decide what presents to make. Your mother and I will make gifts for the parents, OK?”
Everyone except Jason agreed happily. He sat quietly in his chair, thinking about last Christmas. When he closed his eyes, he could almost smell the sweet fragrance of the gumdrops and candy canes that had overflowed from his stocking hanging from the mantel. He could see the majestic, towering Christmas tree twinkling with brightly colored lights. Under it were piles of presents wrapped with red and green paper and golden bows begging to be undone. But this year …
One present! Jason thought. Last year I had at least ten neat presents. I got a race car set, and … no, I got that for my birthday. He tried and tried to remember the gifts that he had eagerly opened last Christmas, but he couldn’t think of even one.
Three days later Dad called another family council. Kristen, Meg, and Jamie skipped into the living room; Jason shuffled in slowly behind them.
“We have a family!” Dad announced. “Their name is Blakely. They haven’t been to church for several years, so I doubt that you’ve ever met them. There are four girls close to your own ages.”
“Girls, Dad?” Jason asked in annoyed surprise. “I have to make a present for a girl?”
“Yes, Jason. Her name is Jennifer. Bishop Carson says that she is very shy. She likes books and dolls and horses. If you need some ideas for a present, I’m sure Kristen will help you.”
Jason quietly slipped out of the room. He put on his coat and went out into the brisk, snowy December air. “Three weeks until Christmas,” Jason grumbled, “and I have to make a present for a girl. I’m always surrounded by girls! Besides, what can I make for somebody I don’t even know? I can’t write well enough to make a book, I don’t know how to make a doll, and I sure don’t have a horse to give her.”
Jason soon found himself in his favorite thinking spot among a cluster of tall pine trees. Looking up, he could see a bright spot in the clouds, and he wished that the sun would break through, just for a moment, to brighten his mood. He wanted to feel the same sparkle that his sisters had, but it just wasn’t there. Dad’s right. I do need some help, he thought. But not from Kristen.
Glancing around to make sure that no one was watching, Jason knelt down, thinking of another boy who knelt in a grove of trees to pray over 150 years before. After Jason asked fervently for both peace of mind and an idea for a present, he got up, brushed the snow off an old stump, then sat on it to think. He noticed a fallen pine branch at his feet. The rough bark scratched his hand as he picked it up. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his treasured pocketknife.
“Hey!” he exclaimed. “Santa gave me this pocketknife last Christmas.” Jason felt pleased that he had finally recalled one of his presents. How could he have forgotten such a great present that had helped him make bookends and figurines and neckerchief slides! He carefully opened the blade and whittled away the branch’s rough outer bark. Soon it was smooth and clear. As he handled the satiny piece of wood, an idea came to him. “A horse!” he exulted. “I can’t give Jennifer a real horse, but I can make her a wooden one! Thanks!” he shouted happily, looking up.
Jason ran all the way back to the house and upstairs to his room. There he found several photographs of horses in a book. After carefully choosing one, he cut an outline into the wood. It took almost two hours before he was satisfied with it. As he put the block of wood into his desk drawer, he heard a knock at his door.
Dad slipped into the room with a solemn look on his face. “Are you still upset, Jason? We haven’t seen you since family council.”
“No, I’m not upset anymore. I decided to go along with everyone else. And I even know what I’m going to make for Jennifer.”
Dad patted him on the shoulder. “Well, I came up here to help you work out your bad feelings, but it looks like you did it on your own.”
“Well, not exactly on my own. I had a little help.” Jason smiled, pointing upward.
Jason spent every spare moment for the next three weeks carving on the block of pine. Slowly the head and mane appeared, then the body and legs. The horse still looked somewhat chunky when Jason carved the tail. It’s not good enough yet, he thought. He started at the head again, whittling away the sharp edges. As the horse’s body became rounded and muscled, Jason was surprised at how much it really did look like a horse running in the wind. He carefully carved curvy lines in the mane and tail to make them look like they were flowing. Even the eyes looked real.
On Christmas Eve, the family gathered early to wrap the presents. Kristen had sewn a book jacket and embroidered her secret friend’s name on the front. Inside were copies of the standard works. Mom carefully folded the beautiful blue quilt that she had completed only the day before, while Dad gave a final inspection to the leather wallet that he had painstakingly crafted. Meg and Jamie had made Raggedy Ann dolls with a little help from Mom. As Jason placed the wooden horse on top of the bright paper, he felt a twinge of apprehension. Looking at the JENNIFER carved into the side of the horse’s base, he worried, I sure hope that she likes it.
The presents were carefully packed into a box. A canned ham, jars of Mom’s homemade strawberry jam, and other goodies were placed in a large wicker laundry basket, along with kitchen utensils, fluffy new towels, warm socks, and a board game. Six wide strands of ribbon held everything inside. After loading the station wagon, they all drove to the Blakelys’ street. Dad parked the car around the corner, and Jason helped him quietly carry the box to the Blakelys’ front door. The box was big, but it wasn’t very heavy. Jason had to strain, however, to lift his half of the laundry basket. His toe slipped on a crumbling corner of the porch, and he stumbled forward, almost dropping his end. As he stood up, he found himself facing the front window. A piece of cardboard had replaced a pane of glass. Peering over it, his eyes widened.
“Dad,” he whispered, “I don’t see a Christmas tree. Or presents. There aren’t even any stockings on the mantel. There’s only a sprig of holly tied to a light, and some paper chains taped on the walls!”
Jason scurried over to the big bush where Mom, Kristen, Meg, and Jamie were already hiding. As soon as he was there, Dad pounded on the door, then sprinted to the hiding place.
A few moments later a little girl opened the door. “Mom! Dad!” she shrieked. “Someone’s left Christmas on our porch!”
Soon the whole Blakely family was gathered on the porch. The girls started jumping up and down when their father read the words written on the box: “Merry Christmas! These presents were made especially for you by your secret friends.”
Jason held his breath as the Blakelys opened each package. The dolls were first and were met with hugs and kisses and taken immediately into the warmth of the house. When Sister Blakely saw the quilt, she hugged it just as gratefully, repeating over and over, “I can’t believe it.”
Where is Jennifer’s present? Jason thought anxiously as he watched Dad’s present being opened. I did put it in the box, didn’t I?
Brother Blakely exclaimed, “Look at the craftsmanship on this wallet, Honey—it’s hand-tooled. And there’s a ten-dollar bill inside!”
The oldest Blakely daughter looked overwhelmed as she slowly fingered her embroidered name. Opening the Book of Mormon, she pulled out a letter and went inside the house to read it.
“Kristen, what was that paper?” whispered Mom.
“I bore my testimony. I thought that that was the best present that I could give her, even if I had to sign it ‘Your Secret Friend.’”
Finally the last Blakely girl found her present and tore off the wrapping. She stared at it for a long moment. Jason felt a knot in his stomach. “She doesn’t like it,” he groaned.
Then, as Mom’s hand squeezed his arm in an effort to comfort him, Jennifer let out a delighted yelp and began to dance around the porch. She clutched the little horse close to her, and tears streamed down her face. “Mama,” she whooped, “this is the most beautiful horse I’ve ever seen! This is the best Christmas ever!”
Jason felt tears swell up in his own eyes as he watched Brother Blakely lift the laundry basket into the house and shut the door against the cold. The tune of “Silent Night” floated into the night air as the Blakelys gave thanks for their Christmas Eve surprise.
Jason felt his father’s arm about his shoulders as they walked to the station wagon. “Are you ready to go home and open your presents from your sisters, Son?”
Jason hadn’t even thought of his own Christmas presents for three weeks. He had forgotten all about the walkie-talkie set that he’d wanted. Somehow it didn’t seem important anymore. The wooden horse was the only gift to remember this Christmas—he would never forget the look of joy on Jennifer’s face.

In one of the large cities of this world there is a man standing at the window of his apartment, looking at the gray colors of a rainy day. “This is not an ordinary day,” he reflects to himself as he watches the two young men, who have just paid him a visit, disappearing on their bicycles at the end of the road. He is becoming aware of how richly his life has been blessed since he began to listen to the spirit radiated by these two humble ambassadors of the Lord from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. This truly is not an ordinary day, for on this day he was allowed, by invitation of the two young missionaries, to make a covenant with his Heavenly Father for the remission of his sins through baptism and to receive the Holy Ghost for himself.
“I always thought that I was not a big sinner,” he reflects. “I have always provided for my family. I was a good father, and I was a good husband to my beloved late wife.”
He remembers how his life was brought into a new perspective when he, for the first time in his life, learned from the two young men how to truly pray—not to say just a few nice words, but to open up his heart in sacred communication with his Heavenly Father. Oh, what great joy came into his heart as he learned from the missionaries that he is indeed literally a child of a loving Heavenly Father! With an ever-increasing light within himself, he now understands the true purpose of the pain, frustrations, and strugglings of his earlier life that became an instigating influence to make him think, to make him search, and to make him become an earnest seeker of the truth so that he was ready to listen as these two young men came knocking at his door.
Oh, how much he has learned since that first sacred experience of opening his heart and speaking to his Father! Suddenly he understands the deep, meaningful purpose of his life. He is now aware, in the depths of gratitude, of the many precious blessings of every day with its opportunities to serve and help. With an ever-increasing awareness of the need for constant repentance, he is able to fill all the hours of his life with the presence of this Spirit and, therefore, with great joy. He feels with each new day as if the sun of a beautiful spring morning is quickening and refreshing his soul after a long, dark, Arctic night.
In the light of this Spirit within him, he sees the people of this world as they are—running around in their vanity, in their vain ambitions, and in their lack of awareness of the greatness of God and His plan of salvation. He is learning to understand that the only burden, the only pain, and the only frustration of a human being is the burden of wrongdoing—the burden of sin. “Oh, what a sacred experience,” he reflects, “to learn about myself and the majestic request by the Spirit to grow in the dimensions of honesty, to grow in the dimensions of exercising the pure love of Christ, to be able to forgive, to have patience, to understand, and to overcome laziness, procrastination, and other cravings of the carnal mind.”
He understands that God was always there but that he himself was blinded—blinded through the traditions of his environment. He reflects on the truth of the words of the prophet Isaiah:
“Behold, the Lord’s hand is not shortened, that it cannot save; neither his ear heavy, that it cannot hear:
“But your iniquities have separated between you and your God, and your sins have hid his face from you, that he will not hear.” (Isa. 59:1–2.)
He can now see that no matter how numerous the sins of a human being can be, they all can be traced back to one single source or origin—the laziness, complacency and blindness that keeps us from looking and searching for our God and King in every phase of our lives and becoming totally His disciples. For the first time he understands the words of the Lord, Jesus Christ, when He said:
“If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me.
“For whosoever will save his life shall lose it: and whosoever will lose his life for my sake shall find it.” (Matt. 16:24–25.)
He understands that the Lord knew there could be no compromise made. When we are not fully dedicated, we cannot truly stand in His light and be His disciples.
“And another also said, Lord, I will follow thee; but let me first go bid them farewell, which are at home at my house.
“And Jesus said unto him, No man, having put his hand to the plough, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God.” (Luke 9:61–62.)
In light of this Spirit within him, he is not afraid of what his friends and relatives might think of him now that he has taken upon himself Christ’s name. Perhaps they will not understand, and maybe they will make fun of him. But he feels now how easy it will be to love them anyway, because he understands them better than ever before; and he will do everything that is in his heart to show real interest in them, that they might be filled with light to penetrate the darkness of their lives.
He understands, in the light and the power of the Holy Ghost, what a privilege it is that the Lord allows and commands us to pay a full tithe and invites us to give service, that we can show through our actions every day how much we love our Heavenly Father.
No, it is not difficult to say good-bye to the world with its craving for lust, its thirst for pleasure, and its quest for power, leaving the world groping in the mire of egoism. He understands that, as he is placing his life in the hand of Heavenly Father, he has now become a disciple of Christ, and he has experienced the sweetness of the divine light in its fullness—the light and power of the Holy Ghost. No longer can he be satisfied by the light he can find in this world. No, he will not be able to forget his Savior and Master anymore!
He appreciates so much the special privilege of being invited every Sabbath day to renew his covenant in the sacred setting of the sacrament. The power of this light gives him the knowledge that he will always listen to that Spirit that teaches a man to pray, about which Nephi, the prophet of whom he has just learned, testified: “For if ye would hearken unto the Spirit which teacheth a man to pray ye would know that ye must pray.” (2 Ne. 32:8.)
He now understands that by the authority of this Spirit he was led to grow in reverence, that the words of his prayers became fewer and fewer until he became quiet and was changed from someone who was speaking to someone who was listening—listening to the still, soft, sweet voice whose word is quick and powerful, and “sharper than a two-edged sword.” (D&C 6:2.)

“Every time I start reading the scriptures, I fall asleep!” one missionary told his mission president. “It’s like the scriptures are a sleeping pill!”
His president responded, “Do you ever take notes when you read?”
“No,” said the missionary.
“It’s easy to fall asleep or let your mind drift when you are only reading,” the president said, “but it is impossible when you add writing!”
The advice this mission president gave his struggling missionary made a big difference. So if you’re looking for a new way to strengthen your scripture study, give it a try. As you write about what you’re reading, you’ll likely find yourself more engaged and learning better, too.

Then one day, about a year later, one of Olivio’s American teammates said, “Hey—you’re Mormon. Don’t Mormons go on missions? Are you going to quit the team and go too?”
That started Olivio thinking. “The things I learned made sense to me, and I said, ‘Well, if these things come from God. I have to explain them to other people.”
But leaving basketball—that would be tough. Olivio had just made the Portuguese national team, and his professional team had offered him a very lucrative contract—lots of money, a car, and a luxurious apartment.
“It was a difficult decision to leave basketball, so I decided to get my patriarchal blessing. There it said that I was going to serve the Lord, so I decided to do it. God prepared me to come here and find the gospel by giving me these talents to play basketball. I don’t have a problem leaving it to serve him. I think I can help many people.”
And now, Elder Olivio Gomes Manuel, who left northern Portugal almost two years ago to serve in southern Portugal, is helping many people. He’s well known throughout the mission for his good nature and easy smile, his hard work, and his gentle rapport with the people he towers over.

When the temple was completed, it was the most beautiful building for miles around. Inside were two curved stairways and beautiful wood moldings and railings. But the Kirtland Temple will be remembered forever not for its beauty but for the marvelous events that took place there.
On Sunday, 27 March 1836, hundreds of Latter-day Saints came to Kirtland for the dedication. The doors opened at 8:00 A.M., and 1,000 people entered. Hundreds more who had also worked and sacrificed for the building of the temple were left outside. Seeing their disappointment, Joseph Smith decided to repeat the dedication on Thursday.
The choir opened the meeting; then President Sidney Rigdon spoke for two and a half hours. After a brief intermission, the officers of the Church were sustained. Then the Prophet offered the dedicatory prayer, given to him by revelation. This prayer is now section 109 of the Doctrine and Covenants [D&C 109]. After the prayer, the choir sang “The Spirit of God,” which had been written specifically for the dedication.
The congregation ended the seven-hour service by standing and giving the sacred Hosanna Shout. Sister Eliza R. Snow said that it was given “with such power as seemed almost sufficient to raise the roof from the building.”
That evening more than 400 priesthood bearers again met in the temple, and while Elder George A. Smith was speaking, “a noise was heard like the sound of a rushing mighty wind, which filled the Temple, and all the congregation simultaneously arose, being moved upon by an invisible power.” Many members began to speak in tongues and to prophesy. Others saw glorious visions, including angels filling the temple.
People living nearby heard the sound, too, and ran to see what was happening. As they approached, they beheld a pillar of fire resting upon the temple, saw angels hovering over the temple, and heard heavenly singing.
Many other spiritual manifestations took place in the temple that year. Prescindia Huntington described how a little girl came to her door during one meeting and called out in excitement, “The meeting is on top of the meeting house!” Prescindia looked outside and saw angels walking back and forth on the temple. Many children in Kirtland saw the angels and remembered that glorious sight the rest of their lives.

That October conference, Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles shared some of his experiences related to moving his young family to Connecticut for graduate school. We had also moved to Connecticut for graduate school. Then he described how he and his family had fit all of their possessions into their little car—we had done the same. He explained that when the trip began, his car had overheated and broken down not once but twice! Our vehicle also broke down twice.
Finally, he described a more recent experience of driving a reliable car by the spot where his car had broken down 30 years earlier. In his mind’s eye, he saw himself as a young father and said these words: “Don’t give up, boy. Don’t you quit. … There is help and happiness ahead—a lot of it. … You keep your chin up. It will be all right in the end. Trust God and believe in good things to come.”1Elder Holland’s experience helped me feel understood and loved. His example gave me the courage to seek the spiritual witness that more education for my husband was the will of the Lord for our family.

“Hello, Brother Berger? This is Dallin Wright speaking. I’m Greg’s quorum president, and we missed him at Scout meeting tonight. I’m calling to see if he is ill or something else is wrong so that he wasn’t able to come.”
“His what? Deacons quorum president, huh? Glad you won the election. I expect my son’s got something better to do than tie square knots.”
Dallin didn’t stop there. He went to the elders quorum president.
“President Roanes, this is Dallin Wright. I’m president of the deacons quorum. I …”
(With a slight chuckle) “Oh yeh. What can I do for you?”
“I’m calling on quorum business. I understand that Greg Berger’s father is a member of your quorum. You see, we’re trying to reactivate Greg and feel that it’s his father who’s hindering his spiritual growth. That’s why I called you. I wondered what you were doing to help Brother Berger.”
“Well, uh … I … uh … that is …”
“I see. Well, I was wondering if you could see what you could do with Brother Berger … especially help him give the proper parental support and guidance for Greg’s quorum activities. So is it all right if I call you again a week from tonight and find out what progress you’ve made?”
“I think I’ve just been called to repentance!”
The dialogue reads like a script, and it was—part of this year’s June Conference activities—but more importantly, the circumstances actually existed, and a deacon spurred an elders quorum president to work with an inactive elder, thus helping both father and son.