Gospel Story Finder

Nicholas Ofosu-Hene was a young policeman assigned to guard an LDS meetinghouse during the freeze. His duty was to watch over the building at night. When Nicholas first arrived at the meetinghouse, he saw that things had been scattered around, with papers, books, and furniture in disarray. In the midst of this disorder, he saw a copy of the Book of Mormon. He tried ignoring the book because he had been told that it was evil. But he felt strangely attracted to it. Finally, Nicholas could ignore the book no longer. He picked it up. He felt impelled to start reading it. He read through the night, tears running down his cheeks as he read.

The first time he picked it up, he read all of 1 Nephi. The second time, he read all of 2 Nephi. When he got to 2 Nephi chapter 25, he read the following: “And we talk of Christ, we rejoice in Christ, we preach of Christ, we prophesy of Christ, and we write according to our prophecies, that our children may know to what source they may look for a remission of their sins.”2

At that point, Nicholas felt the Spirit so strongly that he started sobbing. He realized that in the course of his reading he had received several spiritual promptings that this book was scripture, the most correct he had ever read. He realized that the Latter-day Saints, contrary to what he had heard, strongly believe in Jesus Christ. After the freeze ended and missionaries returned to Ghana, Nicholas, his wife, and his children joined the Church. When I saw him last year, he was a police commander and was serving as the president of the Tamale Ghana District of the Church. He says: “The Church has transformed my life. … I thank the Almighty God for leading me into this gospel.”3

I received a lovely surprise today. When I came out of Relief Society, a brown envelope containing the New Era was handed to me. I asked who it was from and was told that it was a secret. But I have a very sneaky suspicion that it was from the elder who recently baptized me. He had given me two New Eras before he left, obviously knowing how much I enjoyed them. It is a truly wonderful gift!
Gwen NapierSalisbury, Rhodesia

Joan smiled and flashed her crossed fingers at Bob and Drew as she entered class. The three had completed a special class on how to take tests just in time for midterm exams. It came as no surprise when Mr. Smith, their history teacher, announced the midterm. Joan turned to section one of her notes from the test class: “What You Should Know about a Test.” Her hand flew into the air.
“Mr. Smith, what kind of test will it be?” she asked. “I mean, like true-false or multiple choice.”
“Multiple choice,” he replied.
“How many questions will there be?” Joan pressed.
“Fifty even,” responded the teacher.
Joan followed her outline. “What will the test cover—what chapters in the book? And will it cover our class notes, too?”
“The test will cover chapters one through five in the text and a handful of questions on your notes,” he replied.
“Can you be more specific about the class-note questions?” Joan persisted.
“There will be about ten questions from your notes, and they will cover the same period as your chapter on the revolutionary war through the civil war. Any more questions?” Mr. Smith asked with a smile.
“Yes,” Joan broke in. “Will we have the whole class period for the test?”
“No, we’ll take a little break for roll call,” Mr. Smith quipped.
Everyone laughed, but Joan continued, “You didn’t tell us when the test will be.”
“Right,” answered Mr. Smith. “You haven’t given me a chance! The test will be on Monday, one week from today.”
Bob groaned out loud. That was the same day as his English midterm. Drew Stevens tapped Joan on the shoulder. “Way to go,” he whispered. “Mr. Smith has never been pinned down like that before!”
As they left class that day, Bob complained to Drew, “The teachers must sit in the faculty room during lunch and plan their schedules so tests all fall on the same day!”
“I know,” responded Jim. “I’ve got a math midterm that day, too.”
That night Bob went to work. He flipped through his test class notes to section two: “How to Prepare for a Test.” Mr. Smith had announced 40 questions from the textbook covering five chapters. That would average eight questions per chapter. If he made up his own test with questions from each chapter, his chances would be good of selecting some of the same test questions chosen by Mr. Smith. He had seven days to prepare for the test. If he made up a chapter test each night on his class notes, he would have one day left for general review.
Next Bob planned for his English exam. They had studied 12 authors, but there were only three essay questions on the famous authors. If he reviewed two authors a night, he’d still have Sunday without any studying. A light review before the exam and he would be ready. Bob hoped the plan would work. He always tightened during tests and forgot almost everything.
Bob set aside the English and returned to the history. He skimmed through chapter one. To be sure he had the main ideas, he wrote down the major headings in bold black print. Then he went back and read the material in detail, carefully noting and underlining names, places, and dates. It took him 45 minutes to finish. After a 15-minute break, he started a crucial step: sorting and coding his notes. He coded the material #1 if he was sure it would be on the test, #2 if he felt it could be on the test, and #3 if it might be on the test. He wrote out each question and the answer, and then recorded the questions and answers on his tape recorder. Using an earphone, he would be able to listen to his sample questions many times while riding to school on the bus and even during study period in the library.
Joan began studying her notes first. She had carefully followed the instructions given in the test class: “Teachers will tell you what will be on a test in four ways: (1) they will come right out and tell you, ‘You had better know this; it’s important that you understand this; etc.’; (2) they will write key points on the board; (3) they will repeat a key point several times; (4) they will spend a great deal of time talking about a specific point.” The instructions in the test class were: “Be test-wise when you take notes; put an asterisk by any material that meets the four rules.” Joan also made up a test by using the material in her notes marked with an asterisk.
Drew’s job was not as easy. Besides the history test, he had a midterm in math. Unfortunately he ignored his notes and began working the exercises at the end of the chapter. In ten minutes he was so frustrated that he couldn’t think. In desperation he turned to an example worked in the book and tried to follow it. It didn’t make sense either. He sat back in his chair and flipped to the section in his test notes on math and science tests. A sentence in bold type jumped off the page at him: “If you do not understand a principle or cannot work a problem—stop! Ask your teacher for help immediately!” Drew decided that was the best course of action. He put his math away and started to review for the history test.
The next day Drew went to Mr. Cragun and asked for special help. Mr. Cragun arranged to meet with him after school. It took less than 15 minutes for Drew to discover the small but crucial step he had overlooked the night before. He read the study outline from the test notes and followed the five steps: (1) Work the example in the book. (2) Substitute your own numbers in the example and work it again. (3) Work it backwards to check your answer. (4) Work the problems at the end of the chapter. (5) Get extra help on any you cannot work.
Drew had always tried to cram hard the day before a test, but this time he confidently went to bed early. The math test had ten problems. Drew remembered the strategy—work all problems you know you can work first; then work those you think you know. Finally, take a short break by stretching and thinking of something pleasant for a minute, and then go back and try the ones that have given you trouble.
Drew followed the plan. He worked problems 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 8 and 9. He went back and struggled through problems 7 and 10. He was working on the final problem when the bell rang.
Meanwhile, for the English test Bob had made some calculations on which three authors Miss Elgart would ask about. She seemed to have four favorites. Bob talked to some of the students who had taken English from her the year before. He found out that she didn’t ask trivial or tricky questions. He studied all twelve authors but put extra work in on her four favorites.
Bob smiled broadly to himself as he looked at the test. He was two-thirds right. Two of the three questions asked about the authors he had singled out. “Not bad!” he said to himself.
Bob prepared to make an outline of each author. There were 45 minutes left in the class period when they received the test. It consisted of three questions, allowing 15 minutes per question. The first question was, “What were the main influences on Hemingway’s writing style?” Bob rewrote the question at the top of his outline: “What happened in Hemingway’s life to make him write the way he did?” The following is his outline using the facts he knew about Hemingway:
Born in a small town in Minnesota.
Father educated as a doctor.
Reporter for newspaper.
Short, brief newspaper style.
Factual.
Service with Italian army.
Saw death and destruction.
Was hurt himself.
Spanish Civil War.
Politics.
More destruction.
Personal Reactions.
Sadness over human misery.
Anger at human folly.
Greatest war story: “A Farewell to Arms.”
Later in the history exam Bob felt himself getting uptight as the teacher passed the exams out. He thought about the 185 game he had bowled the night before, and he took several slow, deep breaths, forcing out his stomach. Soon he felt relaxed. His confidence grew as he read the first three questions. They looked exactly like questions from the test he made up. He attacked the test with cool vigor.
In her history test Joan completed only the questions she knew. She circled the number of the others. Her sample test had been a good one; she knew 36 of the 50 answers. She went back to the 14 questions she was not sure of, eliminated those choices she knew were wrong, and then used her first impressions about the right answer. She completed ten more questions. Then she studied the answers in the four remaining questions. She crossed out two choices on one question because they had the words always and never in the sentences. She finally circled the alternative that had the word usually in it. The three remaining questions were dates. Question 17 was, “What was the date of the Battle of Bull Run?” Joan tried to remember the events. Bull Run was an early victory for the South. “Probably in the first year of the war,” she thought. She remembered the war began in 1861. She looked down the choices and circled choice C—1862. The other choices on the last two questions drew a complete blank, so she circled C for both of them—remembering instructions in the test class to that effect.
By Friday the test results were back. Drew got a 91 on the math test. He missed half of one problem, but had even been given part credit for his work on the one he hadn’t finished. Ninety-one was third best in the class and better than Drew had ever done. Joan’s history score was the highest in the class. Bob was walking on air when he got his English exam back. He had never done better than a C+ on an English test. The A- he received was better than he had dared hope. He had come from his usual C- to a B+ in history. But Drew felt prouder than both. Bob and Joan. He had gone from his usual D+ to a solid B on his history test.

Part of the problem is for us to live the eternal principles faithfully every day. One of the sisters with whom I am privileged to associate had this to say:
“Sundays were difficult when my children were small—getting them ready and then having them sit through three hours of meetings. Often they became tired, hungry, or even bored because the meetings were geared to an adult level. Sometimes I wondered if it was worth the effort. I seldom felt spiritually fed because I was trying so hard to help my children be reverent.
“Looking back now, I can see that those early Church experiences for my children were the beginnings of a firm foundation upon which they could continue to build. Because they were there each week, they gradually learned the importance of the sacrament; they learned to listen, to be reverent, to recognize the sweet feelings of the Spirit; and their testimonies began to blossom. I recognize that this is a unique and precious time for us when our children are small and need our guidance. Now my children are grown I can clearly see that my constant, repetitive efforts were worthwhile.”

La Verne California Stake
As the 100th birthday of the El Buen Pastor Church in Pomona, California, approached, the congregation had concerns about the state of its building and premises. Looking for a chance to help a neighbor, the youth of the La Verne California Stake decided to pitch in and spruce up the church for its celebration. El Buen supplied the paint and the LDS youth came with a willing attitude, painting the church’s exterior in only four hours. The youth tore out old carpet, sanded and repainted the pews, and landscaped the grounds. Many members of the El Buen Pastor Church were touched by the service, and one parishioner, a member of the Pastor Church for more than 60 years, said she was so grateful to the LDS youth who restored their church to its former beauty.

We as a family went to the temple. We felt so happy. We really did not even imagine we would go to the temple. God took us to the temple, blessed us with the ordinances, temple marriage and baptism for our dead. We felt so joyous. We are immensely grateful to the Lord for having blessed us with this true Church. Our son is currently serving India New Delhi mission which gives us so much happiness. —Sister Sumathi Eswaradoss

Craig Hannah, 17, has been a pioneer in his own family. “I first got involved with the Church at sports night. I got talking to the missionaries and they persuaded me to come to church on Sunday. It felt good, so I kept coming. They started teaching me the discussions; then they asked me to get baptised. I prayed about it and felt really good about it. So I said yes. And when I got baptised, a few more of my family followed.”

The Warwoods always planned to go on a senior mission, and Sister Warwood was certain she knew where the Lord needed her to serve. As a neonatal nurse practitioner, she felt drawn to humanitarian work in developing countries.
“I always thought I would serve a humanitarian mission in a third-world country, something with mothers and babies,” she explains. But when they visited Africa a year before their mission call, something unexpected happened. “When I thought to myself, ‘We’ll be here in a year,’ I just had this dreaded feeling,” Sister Warwood recalls.
Back home, during a senior mission meeting, coordinators asked about their preferences. She answered, “Third world, something medical, saving lives.” The dread returned. “I thought, ‘I guess I don’t really want to serve a mission. This is a horrible feeling.’”
Everything shifted when coordinators learnt the couple’s backgrounds—he an accountant, she in healthcare. They explained that “the Mission Health Adviser (MHA) is the most coveted job in the mission because you get to know, love, and serve all of the missionaries.” Sister Warwood realised the MHA “did many of the things I did in the NICU—just with much bigger babies!”
“By the time we left the meeting, instead of feeling dread, I was very excited.” She realised: “The Lord’s been trying to tell you third-world humanitarian is not where you’re supposed to be. He couldn’t have made it more obvious.”
The Warwoods accepted a call to the Auckland New Zealand Mission, where that guidance proved itself many times.

For as long as I can remember, Mom has talked about Aunt Vera. Aunt Vera is Mom’s youngest sister, and according to Mom, she loves to sing and dance. “Vera was always happy, and she made everyone around her happy.”
When Mom married Dad and left the Philippines, the hardest part was leaving her family—especially Aunt Vera—behind. But pretty soon my brother, Todd, and I were born, and Mom was really busy. She and Aunt Vera wrote letters back and forth, and two or three times a year they called each other on the telephone, but Mom still missed her.
When Aunt Vera wrote to say that she was coming to spend three weeks at Christmastime with us, Mom was ecstatic. We cleaned the house and put up decorations, and Mom told us about when she and Aunt Vera were little girls and decorated their home. They had always saved the Nativity scene for last. As they put each figure in place, they tried to imagine being there with the shepherds when the angel told them about the Baby Jesus, and with the Wise Men as they followed the star.
Aunt Vera was all smiles and laughter when she arrived, just as Mom said she’d be. She and Mom spent hours looking through picture albums and talking about old friends and family. But by the second week, Aunt Vera started to seem unhappy. A few days before Christmas, I came into the living room and found her staring out the window. She looked like she’d been crying, and I wasn’t sure what to do. “Aunt Vera, what’s wrong?” I asked.
Aunt Vera blew her nose and shook her head. “There’s really nothing wrong,” she said. “It’s just so different here. I’m afraid I’m a little homesick.”
“Oh,” I said. “I guess our weather doesn’t help much, does it?”
“No. It doesn’t get so cold at home, and it never snows. The snow is beautiful, but it’s so cold! I don’t think that I’ll ever be warm again. Mostly I miss Mother and Father … and Christmas.”
“Christmas? We have Christmas here!”
“Yes, but it isn’t the same,” Aunt Vera said with a smile. “You see, where I live in the Philippines, Christmas is a very big celebration. We start on December sixteenth by setting off firecrackers and other fireworks very early in the morning. And we keep celebrating until January sixth. Almost every night there are fireworks and parties. Decorations are everywhere, especially colored lights. And plays that tell Bible stories are performed in one village after another. All the children make beautiful paper lanterns of different shapes and colors, then put candles inside them and have a parade at night. It is beautiful!
“And everywhere are the Christmas stars. They’re lanterns made in the shape of a star. Every house has one hanging over a Nativity scene. On Christmas Eve, we have a “Parade of the Stars,” in which all the villages compete for prizes. Some of the Christmas stars are so big that they ride on the back of decorated pickup trucks or are carried by several people. Our family never misses the parade.”
Aunt Vera paused, a faraway look in her eyes. Then she looked at me. “It isn’t that there is anything wrong with your Christmas,” she said with a sigh. “It’s just that I have never been so far from home, and I didn’t expect things to be quite so different.”
I looked at the star we had hanging over the manger scene. I hadn’t known it was so special. I leaned over and hugged Aunt Vera. “I’m sorry you’re homesick,” I said, “but I’m glad you’re here.”
Aunt Vera laughed and hugged me back.
After that, Aunt Vera seemed to feel better, but I couldn’t help thinking about Christmas in the Philippines. It certainly did seem more festive. I told Todd what Aunt Vera had said and asked if he had any ideas on how to make her feel more at home. He said he’d think about it. Two days later he had a great idea! The very next day, Christmas Eve, we set about making it work.
Right after breakfast, we dressed to go out—boots, snow pants, sweaters, coats, gloves, scarves, and hats. Luckily it had snowed the night before, so there was a lot of snow. Better yet, it was the wet, heavy kind that’s good for building.
We worked by the side of the house where there were no windows. First we each rolled the biggest snowball we could. Todd had to roll his over next to mine because mine got so big that I couldn’t push it. Then we used the plastic buckets from the sandbox to make snow bricks, which we attached to the tops and sides of the snowballs. Then we used our sandbox shovels to smooth the sides and carve details. When we were finished, we had two large snow stars. They looked great, but something still wasn’t right.
“They’re supposed to have lights inside,” I said.
“No problem,” Todd replied. “We’ll just hollow out the center of each one and put in a flashlight.”
And that’s what we did. After lunch we went back out and made three smaller stars. By dinnertime I was drooping, but everything was ready.
After dinner we told Mom, Dad, and Aunt Vera to get their coats and boots on because we had a surprise for them. While they got ready, Todd ran out and turned on the flashlights. We’d borrowed some from the neighbors to have enough. By the time we all went outside, it was snowing again. As we turned the corner of the house, the adults stopped short.
“Oh my!” Mom exclaimed. “It’s gorgeous!”
It was beautiful! With the flashlights reflecting off the insides of the stars, and the snow sparkling from the lights in the houses against the dark night, our sculptures looked better than I had even imagined they would.
“It’s for Aunt Vera,” Todd said.
“For me!” Aunt Vera sounded surprised.
“Yes, you said one of the things you missed about being home was seeing the ‘Parade of Stars,’” I said. “So we made you a little one. Do you like it?”
“All this for me?” she asked again. “Oh, I love it! I’ll never forget it. These are the most beautiful Christmas stars I’ve ever seen!”
Aunt Vera hugged Todd and me for the longest time, and so did Mom and Dad. And for a long time we stood and watched the snow fall on our Christmas stars. Then together we went inside and read in the book of Luke the story of the Savior’s birth—the most beautiful part of Christmas in both our countries.

I have a very funny kitten. She followed my grandpa home one day, and she has stayed with us since then. We call her Shadow because she is black.
Shadow always looks up. She jumps into the empty bathtub, looks up at the towels, then jumps up to pull one down. When she is outside and wants to come in, she looks up at the window in the door and jumps up and holds on to the window frame with her paws and looks in at us.
Sometimes I think Shadow believes she is a dog. She jumps out of a hiding place and lands on my dog; then they roll around on the ground and playfully chew on each other. When my dog grabs a stick, Shadow runs around, trying to catch it. They even eat out of the same bowl.
Shadow really loves to look up at my grandpa. He picks her up and pets her and tells her what a good kitty she is. I think she loves him in a special way because he found her. She was very tiny and sick when she followed him home. He took her to the animal doctor to get her some medicine. Grandpa made her a nice, warm bed in our house too.

Speaking of Brigham Young has reminded me of the Perpetual Education Fund which we have established. It was only a year ago that I first spoke of this in our general conference. The contributions of generous Latter-day Saints have come in to assure us that this endeavor is now on a solid foundation. We will need more yet, but already it has been demonstrated that vast good will come of this undertaking. Young men and women in the underprivileged areas of the world, young men and women who for the most part are returned missionaries, will be enabled to get good educations that will lift them out of the slough of poverty in which their forebears for generations have struggled. They will marry and go forward with skills that will qualify them to earn well and take their places in society where they can make a substantial contribution. They will likewise grow in the Church, filling positions of responsibility and rearing families who will continue in the faith.

I have time to read only one testimonial. It comes from a young man who has been blessed by this program.

He says: “It is so wonderful that I do not have to just dream anymore about my education or my future. The Lord has cleared the way, and I am doing it!
“I am currently attending a great technical institute in our country, where I am studying to become a computer technician. … By going to school, I am discovering my abilities. The discipline I developed on my mission helps me to succeed. … Never before has any young man felt more blessed than I do. The PEF has strengthened my faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. Now, more than ever, I feel the responsibility the gospel places upon me to prepare myself to be a better member, a better leader, and a better father. …
“My dear mother, who has sacrificed so much, gets so emotional that she cries when she prays at night because of her gratitude to the Lord. …
“Now, I envision my town being blessed because of me. I envision the Church with leaders who have financial stability and who can support the Lord’s work with all their might, mind, and strength. I see the Church prospering. I am excited to start my own family and teach them that we can be self-sufficient. So I must finish my education. I will then repay the loan quickly to help my fellowmen. … I am grateful for the Savior’s mercy. He truly sustains us with His love.”

And so it goes, my brothers and sisters. As this great work moves across the earth, we are blessing now some 2,400 young people. Others will be blessed.

A second principle is illustrated by two faithful Saints, each deeply desirous of finding an eternal companion. Both prayerfully took faith-filled steps.

Yuri, a Russian Latter-day Saint, sacrificed and saved to take a long trip to the temple. On the train he noticed a beautiful woman with a bright countenance, and he felt that he should share the gospel with her. Not knowing what else to do, he began reading from his Book of Mormon, hoping that she might notice.

Yuri didn’t realize that the woman, Mariya, was already a Latter-day Saint. Not knowing that Yuri too was a member, and following a prompting she had to share the gospel with him, Mariya began reading in her Book of Mormon as well, hoping that he might notice.

Well, when they simultaneously looked up, Yuri and Mariya were astonished to see the Book of Mormon in each other’s hands—and yes, after falling in love, they were sealed in the temple. Today, Yuri and Mariya Kutepov of Voronezh, Russia, as eternal companions, contribute significantly to the growth of the Church in Russia.

In earlier years the Brethren often reported their missions in general conference. I realize this is 2004, not 1904, but I wish to invoke the spirit of that earlier practice and reflect on some of the wonderful things Sister Holland and I are experiencing in Latin America. In doing so I hope to make general application to all of you, wherever you may live or serve.
First of all I would like to thank every missionary who has ever labored in this transcendent latter-day undertaking we have been given. The rolling forth of the restored gospel is a miracle in every sense of the word, and not the least of the miracle is that a significant portion of it rolls forward on the shoulders of 19-year-olds! As we have seen your sons and daughters, grandsons and granddaughters (and in some cases your parents and grandparents!) faithfully laboring in Chile, I have pictured the tens of thousands of others like them we have met all over the world. Clean, clear, bright-eyed missionaries, laboring two-by-two, have become a living symbol of this Church everywhere. They themselves are the first gospel message their investigators encounter—and what a message that is. Everyone knows who they are, and those of us who know them the best love them the most.
I wish you could meet the sister called to serve with us from her native Argentina. Wanting to do everything possible to finance her own mission, she sold her violin, her most prized and nearly sole earthly possession. She said simply, “God will bless me with another violin after I have blessed His children with the gospel of Jesus Christ.”
I wish you could meet the Chilean elder who, living without family in a boarding school, happened upon a Book of Mormon and started reading it that very evening. Reminiscent of Parley P. Pratt’s experience, he read insatiably—nonstop through the night. With the breaking of day, he was overwhelmed with a profound sense of peace and a new spirit of hope. He determined to find out where this book had come from and who had written its marvelous pages. Thirteen months later he was on a mission.
I wish you could meet the marvelous young man who came to us from Bolivia, arriving with no matching clothing and shoes three sizes too large for him. He was a little older because he was the sole breadwinner in his home, and it had taken some time to earn money for his mission. He raised chickens and sold the eggs door-to-door. Then, just as his call finally came, his widowed mother faced an emergency appendectomy. Our young friend gave every cent of the money he had earned for his mission to pay for his mother’s surgery and postoperative care, then quietly rounded up what used clothing he could from friends and arrived at the MTC in Santiago on schedule. I can assure you that his clothes now match, his shoes now fit, and both he and his mother are safe and sound, temporally as well as spiritually.
And so they come, from your homes all over the world. Included in such a long list of dedicated servants of the Lord is an increasing number of senior couples who make an indispensable contribution to the work. How we love and need couples in virtually every mission of this Church! Those of you who can, put away your golf clubs, don’t worry about the stock market, realize that your grandchildren will still be your grandchildren when you return—and go! We promise you the experience of a lifetime.
Let me say something of the marvelous members of the Church themselves. In the reorganization of a rather far-flung stake recently, I felt the Lord’s prompting to call a man to the stake presidency who, I had been told, owned a bicycle but no automobile. Many leaders across the Church don’t have cars, but I was nevertheless worried about what that might mean for this man in this particular stake. In my terminally ill Spanish I pursued the interview, then said, “Hermano, ¿no tiene un auto?” With a smile and not a second’s hesitation he replied, “No tengo un auto; pero yo tengo pies, yo tengo fe.” (“I do not have a car, but I do have feet and I do have faith.”) He then said he could ride the bus, ride his bicycle, or walk, “como los misioneros,” he smiled—“like the missionaries.” And so he does.
Just eight weeks ago I was holding a mission district conference on the island of Chiloé, an interior location in the south of Chile that gets few visitors. Imagine the responsibility I felt in addressing these beautiful people when it was pointed out to me that a very elderly man seated near the front of the chapel had set out on foot at five o’clock that morning, walking for four hours to be in his seat by nine o’clock for a meeting that was not scheduled to begin until eleven o’clock. He said he wanted to get a good seat. I looked into his eyes, thought of times in my life when I had been either too casual or too late, and thought of Jesus’s phrase, “I have not found so great faith, no, not in Israel.”
The Punta Arenas Chile Stake is the Church’s southernmost stake anywhere on this planet, its outermost borders stretching toward Antarctica. Any stake farther south would have to be staffed by penguins. For the Punta Arenas Saints it is a 4,200-mile round-trip bus ride to the Santiago temple. For a husband and wife it can take up to 20 percent of an annual local income just for the transportation alone. Only 50 people can be accommodated on the bus, but for every excursion 250 others come out to hold a brief service with them the morning of their departure.
Pause for a minute and ask yourself when was the last time you stood on a cold, windswept parking lot adjacent to the Strait of Magellan just to sing with, pray for, and cheer on their way those who were going to the temple, hoping your savings would allow you to go next time? One hundred ten hours, 70 of those on dusty, bumpy, unfinished roads looping out through Argentina’s wild Patagonia. What does 110 hours on a bus feel like? I honestly don’t know, but I do know that some of us get nervous if we live more than 110 miles from a temple or if the services there take more than 110 minutes. While we are teaching the principle of tithing to, praying with, and building ever more temples for just such distant Latter-day Saints, perhaps the rest of us can do more to enjoy the blessings and wonder of the temple regularly when so many temples are increasingly within our reach.
And that leads me to my final point. For the Church at large, we have so many things to associate in our minds with the visionary ministry of President Gordon B. Hinckley, including (perhaps especially) the vast expansion of temples and temple building. But I dare say for those of us on this rostrum, it is likely that we will remember him at least as emphatically for his determination to retain in permanent activity the converts who join this Church. No modern prophet has addressed this issue more directly nor expected more from us in seeing that it happen. With a twinkle in his eye and a hand smacking the table in front of him, he said to the Twelve recently, “Brethren, when my life is finished and the final services are concluding, I am going to rise up as I go by, look each of you in the eye, and say, ‘How are we doing on retention?’”

Recently a man told how he became lost in the middle of a ward with 500 members: “My wife and I had our first contact with the Church when two sweet, spiritual missionaries called. They came, they taught, they converted. We literally lived off their spirit. Like many converts know, the first thing after you are baptized, those two wonderful elders are transferred.

“It was extremely difficult for us to keep that same spirit. We felt we could not go it alone. We withdrew from Church activity. My wife told the visiting teachers not to come back, and the home teachers were asked to leave us alone.

“I suppose in the elders quorum one morning they discussed some ‘lost’ brethren who needed to be ‘found.’ Yes, I was lost. One day there came a knock at our front door. As I opened it, I saw a young, smiling, freckled-faced man who said he was the elders quorum president and asked if he could talk to me for a few minutes.

“In the coming weeks he came many times to bring us vegetables from his garden, eggs from his chickens, a birthday card for our daughter. Sometimes he came just to talk. He got me involved in the sports program. He even apologized for anyone who may have hurt our feelings. What did he do that got us back? He loved us. He was sincere. He cared. He gave me his personal testimony. He helped me to search my soul. He helped me to pray to my Father in heaven.

“For the love this man gave my family, we will be eternally grateful. The Lord has poured out his blessings on us. We have been to the temple of the Lord and sealed for eternity. We have returned to the temple many times and gained further light and knowledge promised to us.

“I am now working with this elders quorum president as his counselor. My wife is teaching Primary and is a visiting teacher. I was lost, but because someone cared, someone took time, someone took the risk of showing his love and concern, I was found and was able to lead my family back to the Lord.” He went on to say, “I plead with all members of the Church to look around and help guide lost children back to their Heavenly Father.”

Not long after we joined the Church, my husband and I were vacationing in Bermuda. While there I took advantage one day of a midafternoon social held in our hotel. As I was eyeing the delicious pastries, I caught a whiff of the smell of tea. I found it so inviting that in my mind I seemed to hear a voice say, “Have a cup.”
I had faithfully lived the Word of Wisdom since my baptism. In my mind I said, “No, I will not.”
“Oh, come on,” a soothing voice seemed to say in reply. “You don’t know anybody here, and you are far from home.”
With even more conviction, I once again responded in my mind, “No, I will not!”
Again that enticing, reasoning voice came: “No one will ever know.”
Firmly I responded, “I will know!”
At that point I was standing by a waiter who was pouring tea. Resolutely I passed by. As I looked for a table, I was surprised to hear someone call out my name. To my amazement I saw the smiling face of a former boss whom I had not seen for many years. He came up to me, and as we walked toward a table he said, “I heard that you joined the Mormon Church. Tell me all about it.”
I was happy to oblige, sharing with him some principles of the gospel, my happiness as a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and my testimony. My former boss told me that he had been researching his family name and that he had documented many generations of family history. He was sincerely interested in what I had to share about the Church, and I felt a great outpouring of the Spirit as we conversed.
During our visit a thought came into my mind: “Could you have had this conversation had you put a cup of tea on your tray?” I knew the answer. Had I given in to temptation, I would have missed out on a memorable spiritual experience and a chance to share my testimony.

One Sunday our stake received the wonderful news that Elder Carlos H. Amado of the Seventy would be coming to speak to our stake on Tuesday evening. My family and I were thrilled, but I worried about how we would make it to the meeting.
As a high school teacher, I had to teach a class Tuesday evening. Unfortunately, I was rarely granted time off. Not sure what to do but determined to hear Elder Amado speak, my family and I turned to prayer, hoping the Lord would provide a way.
The day before the conference, I felt prompted to talk with the principal about leaving 20 minutes early so my family and I could make it to the meeting. I arrived in her office, and before I could say a word, she asked me if I would mind changing my Tuesday class starting time to two hours earlier than normal. This meant that my class would get out two hours early.
What a blessing this was to us. We arrived at the meeting in plenty of time and felt the Spirit in the presence of one of the Lord’s disciples. Our five-year-old son even had the wonderful privilege of sharing a hug and small conversation with Elder Amado before the meeting began. Together with the rest of the congregation, we enjoyed an outpouring of the Spirit. In addition, we gained a testimony as a family that Heavenly Father knows our desires and hears our prayers.

My favorite thing to receive in the mail is the Friend. Every month I read the whole thing. Last spring my third-grade teacher said it was important to read your favorite books and magazines again because you notice and learn things you missed the first time. In the garage I found a file cabinet with Friend magazines dating back to before 1980, when my oldest sister was born. I pulled out a stack and began to read them every day during my snack time.
This summer I was reading issues from 1993, the year I was born, when I recognized a story I had heard before. My dad had borne his testimony in sacrament meeting the month before and had told a story about some ancestors from his family history. I showed the story to him. It was the same story! (“Faithful Elizabeth” by Jenny Hale Pulsipher, August 1993). I felt that the Friend was really my magazine and that now I had two reasons for 1993 to be my favorite year!
I have read over 20 years’ worth of Friend magazines, many of them more than once, and I still look forward to each one every month.Cedar Ben Nye, age 9Wexford, Pennsylvania

For example, I like to wake up early before my wife and kids are awake and go for a run. I almost always listen to something on my phone to help occupy my mind. Some days I might listen to a podcast or music, but there are times where I’ve listened to the Book of Mormon. In fact, I finished the entire Book of Mormon last year, start to finish, while running.
This was a significant experience for me. At first it was hard to focus my mind on the scriptures, I had to from time to time stop and rewind the audio because I realized I was zoning out, but each day got a little easier to focus and train my thoughts, and I got to where I couldn’t wait for the next day’s run. That’s been rare for me; a lot of the time I’ve read my scriptures out of obligation, but the Lord helped me change that obligation to a desire.

One woman who came to this realization wrote:
“Right after my divorce, I determined that I was going to give my children the best of everything. … I would provide well for them. … I would substitute in every way for their father. I would take them on picnics, build them a tree house, and play baseball with them. I would not allow them to suffer because of our divorce.
“I baked, sewed, ran, played, wrestled. I cleaned, I ironed. I was busy being both mother and father for them.
“One evening I put the three of them in the bathtub together while I finished a chore. Then I came back, soaped the youngest, rinsed him, lifted him from the tub, and stood him on a bath mat while I wrapped a towel around him. Then I carried him off to the bedroom to put his pajamas on and tuck him into bed. I repeated the process with his brother and then his sister.
“As I bent down to kiss them goodnight, my older son said, ‘Sing us a song, please.’
“‘Which one?’ I asked.
“‘“Rudolph”!’ said the youngest immediately.
“‘No, “Johnny Appleseed,”’ said his brother.
“Then their sister said, ‘Sing, “Stay Awake.”’
“‘I can see if I stay to sing one song, I’ll be singing for an hour, and I don’t have an hour to spare. So goodnight.’ I turned off the lights.
“‘Please sing just one song, mommy. You can choose the song.’
“‘What about our prayers?’
“Firmly, I replied, ‘I said goodnight and I mean goodnight.’
“As I walked back to the bathroom to tidy up, I thought of how grateful they would be someday when they were old enough to understand how much I had done for them!
“As I entered the room I stopped short. There on the bath mat were three perfect sets of damp footprints. For one brief moment I thought I saw standing in the footprints the spirits of those precious children I had just tucked into bed. In that instant I saw the foolishness of my ways. I had been so busy providing for the physical needs of their mortal bodies that I was neglecting their spirits. I knew then that I had a sacred obligation to nourish both. If I were to clothe them in the latest fashions and give them all that money could buy and fail to tend to their spiritual needs, I could not justifiably account for my awesome responsibility as their mother.
“Humbled, I went back to their bedroom. We knelt together in prayer. We all four climbed up on the boys’ big bed and sang song after song until I was the only one awake to sing.”

Some years ago one of our sons asked me why it wasn’t a good idea to try alcohol or tobacco to see what it was like. He knew about the Word of Wisdom and he also knew the health effects of these substances, but he was questioning why he shouldn’t just try them out for himself. I replied that if he wanted to try something he ought to go out in the barnyard and eat a little manure. He recoiled in horror. “Ooh, that’s gross,” he reacted.

“I’m glad you think so,” I said, “but why don’t you just try it out so you will know for yourself? While you’re proposing to try one thing that you know is not good for you, why don’t you apply that principle to some others?” That illustration of the silliness of “trying it out for yourself’ proved persuasive for one sixteen-year-old.