Gospel Story Finder

Saturday night, I prayed that my mom would have an open mind about going to church with me the next day since she didn’t usually come. I had gone to church by myself for a year, and I felt like I needed my mom to be part of that.
The next day I woke up bright and early, not because of my alarm clock, but because my mom was getting ready to go to church. I had a big smile on my face as I got ready.
That day was fast and testimony meeting, and I took the opportunity to bear my testimony. I was more nervous than I had ever been. I felt like a little girl going up there. As I gave my testimony, I looked upon my mom’s face, and tears filled our eyes at the same time. I knew that was where the Lord wanted us to be. She must have felt the same way, because after that she slowly became active again.
I thank the Lord for giving me the power to not be scared to share my testimony with others. Now every opportunity I get, I bear my testimony because I know the impact it can have on people.

Tenderness and loving speech are more important in families than anywhere else. My mother and I were at a dinner with a large family that was, for the most part, loving. There was one particularly attractive young couple. Their three beautiful children were talented and bright. The parents were successful in the community and apparently had everything. Later we were talking, and Mother grieved over the couple because of the pain in their relationship. I questioned her judgment. They were joking, laughing—the life of the party. She was not fooled by the jokes. Each one had an edge, she said. Every funny comment by one put the other in a bad light. Two years later they were divorced. Mother saw, as I did not, that cutting, hurtful words are not ameliorated by humor—just disguised to the inattentive.

2. Pray with a humble willingness to listen and act in faith. I will illustrate this principle with a personal experience.

My wife, Anne Marie, and I were sealed in the Salt Lake Temple on November 21, 1978. We have now been married for more than forty-two years. Anne Marie is a woman of great talent and faith. She is extraordinary in every way. Her husband is well intentioned but just a regular guy.

Throughout our marriage, we have had differences of opinion about various matters. This is not really surprising—we are different people from different backgrounds and see things from different perspectives. Nevertheless, early in our marriage, this was sometimes frustrating and difficult for both of us. At that time, I thought our differences were a weakness in our marriage. I have now come to realize that our differences are a strength. But those early days were challenging.

When we disagreed, I usually concluded that the best solution was for Anne Marie to change her mind. I am embarrassed to say that, on occasion, when I was unable to change my wife’s perspective, I would pray and ask for Heavenly Father’s help that He would do it for me.

Well, as you can imagine, those prayers did not make much of a heavenly journey. I doubt they even reached the ceiling in our bedroom.

With the passage of time, and with a bit more humility on my part, my prayers changed. I stopped asking Heavenly Father to change Anne Marie. Instead, when I really desired heaven’s help, I would kneel in prayer with a pad of paper and a pen. My prayer would be something like this:

Dear Heavenly Father, I sure love Anne Marie. She means the world to me, and I am so grateful for her and our marriage. I desire to be a good husband. Recently we have had a difference of perspective in a few areas. I approach Thee in prayer seeking Thy direction. What can I do to make changes in my life that would bless our marriage? I am willing to change. I have paper and a pen here so I can take notes. Please forgive me for my weaknesses and let me know what I can do to be better.

That kind of a prayer reaches heaven.

I would then pause my prayer and pick up the pen. As thoughts came, I would write them down. There were often lots of thoughts. I would write and then pray, and pray and then write. Heaven was close during those prayers as the Holy Ghost spoke to me in my mind and in my heart.

Then, when I got up off my knees, I went to work on the items on my list. As I did so, things always got better. Without fail, they always got better. Peace, unity, and love increased in our home and in our marriage. Heavenly Father knows how to bless and strengthen marriages and families. After all, “the family is ordained of God.”34

At Christmastime in 1996, I was serving a mission in southern Spain. My companion, Sister Noel,* was filled with enthusiasm and had a gift for loving everyone. Many times I saw the love of Christ reflected in her countenance.
Sister Noel and I were working with all our hearts in a little Andalusian town where the members loved us and seemed happy to have missionaries in their midst. It was a special time, and we could feel the spirit of Christmas in the streets and from the people of the ward. Sister Noel and I had both received little Christmas gifts from our families, friends, and home wards, so we had lots of goodies.
Almost everyone we knew seemed happy, except the Fernández family. The father was out of work and had no money to buy gifts for the children. When my companion learned about their situation, she felt we needed to help them in some way. Together we started talking about how we could help.
With the assistance of a member of the ward, we gathered together the goodies our families had sent. With the money we had received, we bought toys for the children.
The Fernández family was thrilled and astonished. But the little miracle did not end there. Thanks to this small act of service, my companion and I were also blessed with greater feelings of love for all the members.
Because of my companion, I learned that it is better to give than to receive. It gave me great joy to give something to a family who needed it more than I did. I’ll always be thankful for Sister Noel, who taught me that every day can be Christmas when we share the love of the Savior with others.

I am a missionary, and I didn’t gain my own testimony until I was four months into my mission. I know what you are going through, and it isn’t easy. I wish, however, that I, like you, had had enough courage to ask someone. I would have been better prepared for my mission.
It’s not wrong to feel the way you do. Asking the question shows that you are willing to do what it takes to gain a testimony.
I like to liken a testimony to a seed. Most of us who were raised in the Church begin by relying on the testimonies of our parents, which is really not bad. We figure that since they know what they are talking about, then it must be true. So here the seed is planted.
How do you help a seed to grow? By nourishing it with the proper food. So it is with a testimony. If you want a testimony of the Church, then go to the keystone of our religion, the Book of Mormon. Read it. I don’t mean for you to sit down and in one big swoop read the whole thing. Try this method instead. It worked for me and many of my investigators.
Pick a topic—say faith, for example.
Read each verse in the scriptures that refers to faith. Read the chapter in which that verse is located. This will give you an idea of what was happening at the time.
Once you finish this, go back and just read the verse, but this time apply it to you.
4. Now do what Moroni said to do in Moroni 10:3–5 [Moro. 10:3–5]. Pray about it. I promise you that Heavenly Father will answer you through the Spirit.
I wish I had done this before my mission. All I did was read straight through, and I didn’t gain much from it. Then when I came on my mission I relied on my companions’ testimonies, which didn’t do me any good, so I decided I’d better get my own.
I nourished the seed that was planted inside my heart, and I continue to nourish it by reading, studying, pondering, and praying about it so that I might have a better understanding of what is being said. Just like a seed, if a testimony is not nourished it will die. As you nourish the seed it will swell within you. Let it happen. Then you can honestly say you are bearing your own testimony. I hope this works for you.
Elder John Hodge, 21England London South Mission

Ava wiggled in her seat. She heard her Primary teacher talking. But Ava could not pay attention. All she could think about was the box under Sister Obi’s chair.
It was wrapped in shiny blue paper. It had a gold bow on top. What could it be? Ava leaned her head way down. She stared at the box. She wished she could see through the shiny paper. She could hardly wait to find out what was inside.
Finally Sister Obi pulled out the box. She set it on her lap.
“Inside this box is one of Heavenly Father’s greatest creations,” Sister Obi said. “Look inside. Then pass it on without saying anything.” She passed the box to Noah.
Noah slowly lifted the lid. He stared inside the box. He smiled. Then he passed the box to June.
Ava watched everyone take a turn. One by one, each of her friends opened the box. They looked inside. They smiled.
What could be so important to Heavenly Father? And how could something so special fit in such a little box?
Finally it was Ava’s turn. She lifted the shiny lid and looked inside. It was a mirror! Ava looked at the mirror in the box. She saw her own face looking back.
Ava saw her eyes get big. Was she one of Heavenly Father’s greatest creations? Did Heavenly Father love her that much?
Ava smiled. She felt warm and happy inside. It was like a big hug. A big hug from Heavenly Father. He did love her! She was one of His greatest creations.

I met a young man, and we became friends. For the next ten months we shared our ideas and thoughts about many things, but never religion. One day I found that my friend traveled with a Bible, so I asked him if he went to church and what the name of his church was. It was some long name—The Church of Jesus Christ of something something Saints. I wasn’t the least bit interested—it sounded like just another church to me.
My friend later told me he was going to serve the Lord for two years in another country. I figured he was going to be a pastor. When he left, I began to wonder what his church was like, and I began to search for their meeting place.
I found it a few months later, but I also found something more. As I walked through the doors of the meetinghouse, I felt a feeling impossible to describe; it was joy, peace, comfort, certainty, and happiness all in one. It was like coming home. My questions had now been answered.
The members of the church welcomed me with open arms. At first, I was reluctant to accept these welcomes because it was a little too much. I wasn’t used to so many people. They welcomed me whether they knew me or not. At the end of the meeting, a calm feeling came over me, and I heard these words in my mind: “Debbie, this is the place, and these are the people you have been searching for.”
Looking back, I see that my life in the ghetto was difficult and that a person could make it harder by making wrong choices. There was little opportunity for progression. But I wanted something worth living for. When the opportunity came to leave the ghetto with part of my family, I decided this was my chance.
Many of the girls I grew up with never left the ghetto. I could not have made it without following the desires of my heart and trusting in my Father above to lead me. I was blessed with the chance to leave the ghetto, be baptized a member of this church, gain an education, and fulfill a mission. I know Heavenly Father loves us all and is mindful of our circumstances, no matter where we are. He desires above all things that we find true happiness.

Lily is also able to complete many Personal Progress experiences and projects without adapting them. For example, one of the value experiences for Good Works is to spend three hours serving outside of your family. For this project, Lily and her mom cleaned up a neighbor’s yard. After completing the project, Lily felt stronger. She says, “It was hard work and I was happy when it was over, but I am glad that I did it!”

Bradley pedaled along the gravel bike path through the park, pumping hard and spraying gravel as he turned the corners. In a few minutes the school tardy bell would ring. He had been late twice already this month, and if he was late again, the school would call his mother. He just couldn’t let that happen.
His father had died when he was two years old, and since then he and his mother had lived alone. She worked the early shift at the hospital so that she could be home with him in the afternoons and evenings, but it meant that he had to get ready for school by himself and make his own breakfast. They had decided that an eleven-year-old could manage those things on his own. If the school called Mom at work, she’d be disappointed and worried. She might even hire Sister Williams again to help him get ready for school.
Suddenly Bradley skidded to a stop next to a black leather wallet, thick with papers and cards. It took him only a moment to scoop it up, slip it into his backpack, and be on his way.
Some early-morning jogger or someone taking a walk must have dropped the wallet, he decided. A fat wallet like this must contain lots of money. He thought about how tired his mother was after her shift at the hospital and about how little money they had after she paid the rent and bought food and clothes. They seldom had anything extra nice. Take his old bicycle, for instance. Mom had been so excited to find it at a garage sale so that he could have a motocross bike like everyone else that he could never tell her how much teasing he got because it was so battered and scratched. His mother’s birthday was just two days away, and even more than he wanted a new bicycle, he wanted to give her a really nice birthday present.
He shoved his bike into the rack in the school yard and hurried inside, dropping into his seat just as the bell rang. During recess, Bradley went into one of the cubicles in the lavatory. He dug the wallet out of his backpack and opened it. His fingers trembled as he took out the bills: twenty, forty, sixty—sixty dollars! He stuffed the money back inside and pulled out some cards, searching for a driver’s license. When he found it, the picture of a woman stared back at him. She had big brown eyes and wavy hair, her name was Maryann Foster, and she lived not very far from him. A heavy feeling started in his stomach as he wondered if Mrs. Foster had a son. He put everything back into the wallet and shoved it into his jacket pocket. Finders-keepers, he thought. But there was a tight feeling in his chest.
When Bradley got home after school, he tiptoed into the house and hurried to his room to hide the wallet. He sat down on his bed and thought about the birthday present that he could buy. For some reason, though, he didn’t feel happy.
He worked on his homework until his mother called him for supper. He kissed her and sat down at the table.
"How was school?" she asked.
"OK, I guess."
"You sound unhappy. Did something happen at school that you want to talk about?"
"No, not really," he replied. "Mom, what would you like for your birthday?"
"Oh, Bradley, I know that you don’t have much money, so I don’t want you to worry about my birthday. Just having you is like getting a present every day."
"What if I told you that someone gave me some money?" Bradley felt his face grow red. The wallet was making him lie, and suddenly he hated it.
"Did someone give you some money?" his mother asked.
When he looked at his mother’s worried face, Bradley had to tell her the truth. "No, but this morning on my way to school I found a wallet. It has sixty dollars in it. I want to buy you a present."
"Finders-keepers?" his mother asked.
"I thought that we probably need the money more than anyone else. You’ve always said that I should pray for what I need, and I’ve been praying for a long time for some way to buy you a really nice present." Tears started to run down his cheeks.
"Do you think that if you really need it, that it’s all right to keep something that isn’t yours?" Mom asked in a quiet voice.
"No. I tried to tell myself that it was finders-keepers, but I didn’t really believe it. All I wanted to do was buy you something nice."
"I know, honey," said Mom, "but there’s a better present that you can give me than one bought with money."
Bradley got up and gave her a hug, then went upstairs to get the wallet.
After supper they started walking to Mrs. Foster’s. When they found her address, Bradley opened the gate, went up the sidewalk bordered with late-summer flowers, and rang the doorbell.
The door opened, and Bradley recognized Mrs. Foster from her picture. Clinging to her legs and staring at him shyly were two small children, and she had a baby in her arms. She looked tired, and there were worry lines creasing her forehead.
"Yes?" she asked.
"Uh … my name’s Bradley. This morning on my way to school, I found this, so I’m returning it to you." He held out the wallet.
The woman stared at him a moment, speechless. Then her face crumpled, and she started to cry. "I’m sorry," she said, wiping the tears from her cheeks with the corner of her apron. "Won’t you please come in?"
When they were sitting inside, Bradley noticed that the furniture was old and that all the toys on the floor were in bad shape.
"Oh, Bradley," said Mrs. Foster, "I’m grateful that you are honest. When I couldn’t find the wallet, I didn’t know what to do. I’ve been praying all day that whoever found my wallet would return it to me. Thank you for answering my prayer."
Later, as they were walking home, Mom asked, "When Mrs. Foster tried to give you some money for a reward, why didn’t you take it?"
"Well, I decided that I didn’t really need the money so much. When I first found the wallet, I thought that it was the answer to my prayer. But I’m happier now to have been the answer to Mrs. Foster’s prayer. I think that she needs the money more than we do."
"Oh, Bradley," said Mom, hugging him. "I’m proud of you! You really are the best birthday present that any mother could have!"

My mind wanders back to another year and very different circumstances. I visited a man in a hospital. He was in an iron lung, a type of therapy that is rarely used today. He had no control over his body from his chin down. We talked of the disease that had rendered him in that condition and of his occupation. He was an insurance man, dialing the telephone with his nose or with his tongue, explaining to people that he could not come into their homes or into their offices but that he would like them to visit him at his address, which was the hospital, so he could talk with them about perhaps saving a few dollars on their car or life insurance.

Most hung up on him before he even had a chance to deliver his message, but a few would come to the hospital and sit next to that remarkable man as he would look into a series of reflecting mirrors, analyzing their insurance policies and telling them of ways they could have more effective coverage. He had decided before disaster struck that he was going to do everything he could to be self-sustaining. Of course, the Church was helping him, and the state of Utah was providing some assistance, but so much of his self-care was being provided through the courage he was displaying then and had displayed earlier.

These responsibilities were brought home to the girls during a multimedia presentation starring many familiar faces. Advisers had taken the time to interview some of the girls and discuss how they could pump the most from their talents.
A video clip was shown of Rebecca Duehring, a 15-year-old from the Rockwall Ward, gliding across the ice during one of her many intense ice skating competitions. Rebecca’s struggle to be a competitive skater hasn’t been easy. She was born with brain damage that limited her coordination and space perception. She could barely walk, was constantly falling, and had broken nearly every bone in her body. Then she took up ice skating, which, for some reason she can’t explain, helped her gain her coordination.
Although it takes more time and concentration for Rebecca to perfect her routines, she’s right up there with the best in town and dreams of one day going to the Olympics. “Sometimes I can feel that Heavenly Father is behind me, and I go for the top,” says Rebecca.

My father’s patriarchal blessing was brief, and at first he felt it was somewhat generic. However, he later realized the significance of one of the promises. He was told he would play a key role in bringing the gospel to many countries. As a young man he served in the Germany Frankfurt Mission, so he initially thought that promise referred to just two countries: the United States and Germany. But in 1990 he was called to preside over the Austria Vienna Mission. In 1991, Slovenia, Croatia, and Serbia were added to his mission, and in 1992 he brought the first missionaries into Albania. Since then, my parents have served in Salzburg, Austria, the Johannesburg South Africa MTC, and Thailand. As a young man, my dad didn’t know what God had planned for him, but God did—and it was all foretold in his patriarchal blessing.

Two young men dressed in white shirts and ties came to our home in Honduras. “We are from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” they said.
Mama welcomed them in. The missionaries taught our family about the gospel of Jesus Christ. Though I was only nine, I felt the truth of their words in my heart.
“What must we do to become members of Christ’s Church?” Papa asked.
“Be baptized,” one of the elders said.
Mama, Papa, and I were baptized one month later. My brother, Tomas, who was six years old, would be baptized in two years.
While teaching us more about the gospel, the elders explained how families could be sealed together in the temple.
The closest temple was in Guatemala, many kilometers away. We would need to pay for a two-day bus ride and two nights’ lodging in the city. We had no money for such a trip, but Mama and Papa refused to let that stop us from attending the temple.
Every year our family grew corn. We used it to make tortillas to sell to travelers who passed through our village.
Mama pulled out a paper and pencil. She added up some numbers and said, “We must sell 2,500 tortillas to pay for our trip.”
My eyes widened. That was so many tortillas! “We have never sold so many tortillas,” I said.
Mama didn’t look worried. “The Lord will provide,” she said. “Raoul, you and Tomas must help your papa harvest the corn,” Mama told me.
Tomas and I helped Papa harvest the corn. Every day, Mama ground it, made the dough, and fried it. Tomas and I took the tortillas to the village.
“A bus of tourists came today,” I told Mama when we returned home the first day. “We sold many tortillas.”
“It is a miracle,” Mama said.
Every day we sold more tortillas. Within a few months we had saved the money we needed to make the journey to Guatemala. But I was still worried. I had heard stories about robbers who stopped buses passing through the jungle. They took all the passengers’ valuables.
“What about the robbers?” I asked.
“The Lord will protect us,” Mama said. Then she asked, “Raoul, do you believe in the gospel?”
“Yes.”
“Then you know that we must do all in our power to follow the Lord and His prophets.”
One year after we were baptized, my family was ready to make the trip to the temple. We rode to Guatemala City in a bus. I will never forget the Spirit I felt as my family was sealed together for time and eternity.
That night, as I knelt to say my prayers, I thanked Heavenly Father for the blessings of the temple.

It was quite late. The missionaries had just finished their scripture reading and turned out the light as an anxious knock at the door broke the silence. Elder Franklin swung the door open to find Steve, one of their fine young converts of nine months, standing there without his usual smile and holding a rolled up paper in his hand.
“Elder Franklin,” he said. “I have come to give you my priesthood certificate of ordination. Please hold it for me until I can work out a problem. I don’t feel worthy of the priesthood right now, but I know I will be back to pick it up real soon.”
As it turned out, what Steve did was not necessary—except perhaps for his own peace of mind until he was able to sort things out to his own satisfaction. But peace of mind is the key. He had no peace while a conflict existed with his priesthood calling. We all need peace—peace of mind.

By following her parents’ counsel, Makena, who is the oldest in the family, is also setting an example for her younger sister and brothers to follow. For instance, she has taken to heart what she has learned about personal prayer.

“I like to pray,” she says. “That’s a good thing. I like to be able to pray wherever I am, in any situation.” Prayer even works in school, she says. Once she was intimidated by a history teacher who would ask questions and assign homework if you gave the wrong answer. “I prayed she wouldn’t call on me or that I would know the answer,” says Makena. She wasn’t called on, but more importantly, she says, “I felt peace.”

Suddenly there are a dozen girls DarLynn Hawkins hardly knows at her bedroom door. They are all Latter-day Saints, they are all about her own age, and they are giving her big smiles and plates of cookies.
“Why don’t you come to our church next Sunday?” one of them asks, and they all nod and smile some more.
DarLynn smiles back and wonders when these girls will leave.
But they don’t leave. They talk and laugh, and eventually DarLynn begins to feel their enthusiasm. And she begins to wonder if this is what it’s like to be a Latter-day Saint. Is it always fun? Her father was LDS once. She had heard things about the Church, but …
That was about a year and a half ago. Now DarLynn Hawkins, 14, is a member of the Church. She and two of her best friends, Amy Van Camp and Erica Egli, both 14, are sitting on the couch in Amy’s house in Gurnee, Illinois, remembering the events that led to DarLynn’s baptism.
“We had just moved here,” says DarLynn, “and I didn’t really know anyone. All of a sudden here were all these girls asking me to come to their church. I knew who Amy and Erica were, because we’re in the school band together …”
“But we didn’t really like each other,” Erica adds with a grin. All three girls laugh.
“No, we weren’t best friends or anything,” says DarLynn. “And I did think I was being rushed into the Church at first.”
Amy admits that maybe they were pushy. But, as she points out, there are no instructions to follow when you want to talk to a friend about the Church. And every now and then, you make a mistake. “We’d heard her father had been a member of the Church at one time. Erica and I just got the feeling DarLynn might need the Church in her life. The standards of the Church are so high, and they can help you through the tough times.”
When Erica and Amy sensed that DarLynn was uneasy, they slowed things down. They became closer friends with her during a school band trip, gave her a copy of the Book of Mormon (she read parts of it during the summer), and invited her to Church activities (which made her more comfortable with the other members). Eventually, Amy and Erica gained the courage to ask DarLynn if she would like to have missionaries visit her home.
Erica says it wasn’t easy getting up the nerve to ask DarLynn such an important question. “You have to conquer the fear. We were afraid that if she didn’t accept, it would hurt us because the Church means so much to us. I was afraid she would laugh at the lessons or think they were boring.”
But DarLynn said yes. “And everything the missionaries said was so interesting,” she says. “They really got through to me and made it fun. There was a time in every discussion when I’d almost cry. Then during one discussion the missionaries asked me to read, ponder, and pray. I did that night, and the Spirit was there. It was so cool. I started to cry, and I knew the Church was true.”
DarLynn’s parents had watched her carefully study the teachings of the Church. When she asked for their permission to be baptized, they were happy to give it.
While there are no rules to follow when talking to a friend about the Church, there is one common mistake some people make—going to places or doing things you know are wrong with your friend, with the idea that you will take that friend to a Church activity next time.
That’s not too bright, says DarLynn. “When I was younger, I wanted to try everything—smoking, drinking, everything. Then I got to know Amy and Erica. They were strong in the Church, and I thought that was really cool. It made me want what they had. We wouldn’t be as close now if they had followed me and had done the things I wanted to do back then.”
And if Erica and Amy had not been examples to DarLynn, they would have missed a great ending. Erica says, “I’ll never forget …” and Amy joins in, “DarLynn’s baptism!”
“It was the best feeling as we watched DarLynn being baptized, because we had helped her find the truth,” Erica continues. “You could see how happy she was. After she changed into dry clothes, she came out and said, ‘I’m perfect, and you’re not!’”
“I was kidding,” says DarLynn.
They all laugh again—a trio in perfect harmony.

I was serving as district Relief Society president in 1969 and felt I should make a special effort to keep in contact with the sisters who lived long distances from the meetinghouses.
One of these sisters lived one and one-half hours’ drive from my home and an hour from the nearest chapel. She was diabetic, and a recent stroke had left her partially paralyzed.
I had arranged to visit this sister on a scheduled Monday holiday. Fast Sunday preceded this holiday, and when we came home from church and broke our fast, I felt an urge to visit her immediately. My husband felt I’d have more time for a proper visit the next day, but I kept feeling that we should not wait. Finally, my husband said, “All right, let’s go.”
We arrived at her home just after six o’clock in the evening. We knocked and got no answer. The house seemed deserted.
We knocked and called through the mail slot in the door and were on the point of leaving when I recalled my friend had said, “When you come to see me, just open the door and come in.” I asked my husband what he thought we should do, and he said, “Try opening the door.”
It opened. I called her name and heard a faint reply. We found her lying in a pool of water on the kitchen floor. The cane she used to support herself with had slipped, and she’d dropped a kettle of water she was carrying and had fallen to the floor herself. Once she was down, she couldn’t get up again.
My husband and I got her up and onto the couch she used as a bed, then my husband went for a doctor. The doctor had been trying to get her to go into a care center for the elderly, and when he came to see her she finally agreed. She realized just how near her accident had been to a disaster.
She told me she had prayed the Lord would send someone to help her, and I’ve always been grateful I was listening to the promptings of the Spirit that fast day. If we had waited until the next day to visit her, we would have been too late.

When she was five years old, her whole life had revolved around her stuffed animals. They were real to her, and Rosie was her favorite. Unfortunately Ruff the dog liked Rosie almost as much as Annie did, and between the two of them, most of Rosie’s fur had been rubbed off. So she had patches everywhere. She had one green eye and one blue eye, and a well-worn nose. Her dress had been borrowed from a baby doll and was pinned in the front. Rosie hadn’t seemed to mind her appearance, so neither did Annie.

Annie was a pretty little girl with a pixie face and big dark eyes, but she was shy and very quiet. Rosie Bear was everything that Annie was not. She was the leader of all the stuffed animal adventures. She had all the exciting ideas and knew the best games, and she routinely saved everyone from disasters and villains. Annie loved her teddy bear and took her everywhere.

Because her father took their car to work, Annie and her mother had to rely on the big green city bus for transportation. One day they had several things to get. They went from store to store, then stopped at the sidewalk cafe for lunch. With its colorful red-and-green striped awnings, the cafe reminded Annie of the circus. The air was filled with the delicious smell of hamburgers sizzling on a grill, and her joy knew no bounds as she sipped a lemonade and watched little sparrows picking up crumbs near her feet. When they finally piled back on the bus, Annie leaned against her mother and fell fast asleep.

“Come on, honey,” her mother said, gently jostling her awake. “This is our stop.”

Annie sleepily began to search for her things. “Mama, where’s Rosie?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen her for a while.”

Annie was wide awake now! She looked through their packages and under the seat. Rosie was nowhere to be found! She fell to her knees and frantically searched up and down the aisle until the bus driver turned around to ask what was wrong. Her mother apologized and explained the delay as she pulled Annie to her feet. He was understanding and said that if any teddy bears turned up, he’d be sure to let them know. They thanked him, and Annie reluctantly followed her mother off the bus.

“Mama,” Annie quavered as the bus lumbered on down the street, “I must have left Rosie in one of the stores. She’s just lying there somewhere. What if someone else finds her and takes her?” Terrible visions began to crowd into Annie’s mind. “Mama, I have to go back and find her—I can’t leave her there!”

“Leave her where, honey? We don’t know where she is, and it took us all day to go to those stores.” Her mother glanced at her watch. “We can’t get back on the bus and go look for her now. I’m sorry, Annie,” her mother added quietly.

Annie knew her mother was right, but as she trudged home, she grew more and more upset. Her best friend was lying patiently on a shelf in one of those stores, waiting for Annie to come and get her. She’d lie there hour after hour, and pretty soon she’d realize that no one was coming and she’d start to cry . …

Annie ran the rest of the way home with tears streaming down her face. She burst into her room and threw herself sobbing onto the bed. She needed her daddy. He always understood and made her feel better.

Annie cried herself to sleep. When she woke up, she heard silverware being set on the table for dinner. But she didn’t hear a newspaper rattling. Daddy worked hard loading and unloading heavy boxes from his big truck all day. He always hurried home to be with his family. He’d take a shower, then sit contentedly in his chair and read the paper while dinner cooked. He was never late.

But tonight, when Annie needed him most, he wasn’t there. Annie decided to sit in his chair and wait for him. Finally she heard the car pull up outside. When he walked through the door and held out his arms for a hug, Annie ran into his arms and poured out the terrible story of how she’d left her best friend to perish.

He looked at her solemnly. “That’s a pretty sad story,” he said. “Do you think that if you had another chance, you’d take better care of Rosie?”

“Oh yes, Daddy! I’d never let her out of my sight again. I’d make sure she was tucked into bed every night so Ruff wouldn’t chew her. I’d even make her some new clothes that fit.”

Her father looked lovingly at her tear-streaked face. He nodded. Then with a grin he reached deep into the pocket of his big coat and pulled out a small, ragged, brown bear.

Rosie! How could this be? Annie had left Rosie in a store downtown. Her father had been at work. It just didn’t make sense.

“I guess Rosie got tired of lying on the shelf with the dolls,” Daddy told her. “She must have walked over to where I work and hopped into my pocket so that she could come home.”

Of course! she thought. Rosie wouldn’t just lie there and cry. She would hurry to ask Daddy to take her home. Annie was so happy that she danced around the house all that evening.

A sharp knock on the bedroom door shook her from her reverie. “Annie, are you in there?”

“Come in, Mom.” She grinned at her mother’s happy reaction to her tidy room. “I just felt like cleaning.” She held up her beloved teddy bear. “Mom, do you remember a long time ago when I lost Rosie, and Daddy came home from work with her in his pocket?”

Mom nodded.

“How did he end up with her? I mean, I know now, of course, that she didn’t really get up off the shelf and go jump into his pocket.”

“Well, you’re right about that,” Mom said as she sat down on the bed beside Annie. “I felt terrible when I realized just how upset you were about losing Rosie that day. I called your father at work and told him the whole story. Do you know,” she said, laughing softly, “that he went to five different stores that night before he finally found that bear! He loves you, Annie. He’d do just about anything to make you happy.”

The traveler waved off most of the dinner trays during the long and tiring thirteen-hour flight from Miami, Florida, to Buenos Aires, Argentina, in October 1983. More interested in filling his mind than his stomach, he was reading a book his son had given to him on his birthday, In Search of Excellence.
Elder Charles Didier of the First Quorum of the Seventy was flying to South America as the Church’s Executive Administrator over Argentina, Uruguay, and Paraguay. Before his airplane arrived in Buenos Aires, he had read through much of the book, then taken time to rest and to consider the work awaiting him.
It was typical of the man. In every project he has undertaken for the Church since he was baptized at twenty-two in his native Belgium, Charles Didier has been thoroughly absorbed and enthusiastic—a man joyfully doing good things in life.
Born in Ixelles, Belgium, 5 October 1935, Charles Didier recalls that his father, Andre, a Belgian Army officer, was captured at the beginning of World War II. After escaping, he stayed hidden and saw his family only during occasional surprise visits. Elder Didier looks back on a time after his own ninth birthday:
“Because the secret police were looking for him [his father], we were searched—and barely escaped. We went to where he was hiding in Antwerp Province, and from there to live with my great-grandmother in Flanders.” Then Belgium was liberated. “I vividly remember the soldiers trying to get away on bicycles, the airplanes coming, the shooting, and the Allied troops coming into the village.”
Like those around him, young Charles was educated in Catholic doctrine as a boy. He attended mass regularly, the only one in his family to do so.
In 1950, while the family was living in Namur, Belgium, and Charles was finishing junior high school, two Latter-day Saint missionaries from the United States knocked on their door. His mother, Gabrielle, let them in and listened. During Easter vacation of the following year, she was baptized in a little font in Brussels, but Charles missed the baptism. He was in Rome to see the Pope on a trip organized by the Catholic church.
Although Charles resisted invitations to attend the local branch, he did attend an English club taught by the missionaries, leaving before the evening’s youth activities started because he “didn’t want to be trapped.” But he was asked to take part in a branch play, and then his mother persuaded him to attend church with her on a Sunday. Soon his sister, Jacqueline, was baptized. When Charles left home to go to the university in Liège, he says, “I attended youth activities from time to time. I did some little things all the time but did not want to participate. I was very shy. I really did not want to be in front of people.”
Then missionary Elder Dewitt Paul challenged him, asking why he would not be baptized, since he was “doing everything a member does,” Elder Didier recalls.
“I said I didn’t see the necessity. I had a good life. I could attend and not have responsibilities. He said, ‘Let’s pray about the Book of Mormon, about Joseph Smith. Then if you have a testimony, I think you’ll recognize that you need to be baptized.’
“And so we prayed about it. I got up from that prayer with a testimony—an answer to my prayers. It was nothing like a light, a voice—just a reassuring influence: ‘Go ahead and do it. There is wisdom. This is my commandment.’” In November 1957, Charles was baptized in a swimming pool in Brussels by Elder Paul.
Traveling between Liège and Namur, he continued his studies at the University of Liège, graduating in 1959 with a degree in economics. Then he entered the reserve officer training program of the Belgian Air Force, finishing his military service as a lieutenant and radar supervisor.
A short time later, stationed only a few kilometers from Liège, he had time to go out with a brown-eyed girl he had met in the Liège Branch, Lucie Lodomez. She had served as a missionary in France with his sister Jacqueline.
When his military service was completed, Lucie and Charles were married in Liège (they were sealed in the Swiss Temple in 1962) and moved into a tiny apartment there. Charles progressed through his job with a timber products importing company, and both he and Lucie grew through Church service. He received more and more responsibility in the Church, eventually becoming president of the 100-member branch in Liège.
But after five years of working in Liège, Charles was restless. He started investigating the possibilities of teaching or continuing his education. Then came “another answer to prayer.” He was asked to move to Frankfurt, Germany, to work as assistant to John E. Carr, director of temporal affairs for the Church in Europe.
The move lasted only nine months. He was asked to go back to Liège and take over the Church distribution center. Upon his return he was immediately called again as Liège Branch president.
Then in March 1970 came the surprise of Charles Didier’s life, through a telephone call from Salt Lake City:
“It was President N. Eldon Tanner on the telephone. ‘The Lord is calling you to be a mission president. Are you ready to leave in three months and go wherever the Lord will call you?’ I said, ‘Yes.’”
Those unexpected telephone calls continued to influence his life. Three years later, shortly before he was to be released as president of the France-Switzerland Mission, there was another telephone call, this time from President Marion G. Romney. Elder Didier was called as a regional representative and at the same time appointed area manager in translation and distribution of Church materials for all of Europe.
Then, in October 1975 while he was attending conference in Salt Lake City, Elder Didier received a telephone call that President Spencer W. Kimball wanted to see him. He was called to be a member of the First Quorum of the Seventy that was to be organized.
“There are some things you plan for the future, certain things you imagine will happen to you. But when that calling of General Authority comes, you close the door and say, ‘Now I am in the hands of the Lord 100 percent. I’ll do what he asks me to do.’”
Elder Didier became the Church’s Executive Administrator for Europe, presiding over fourteen missions, from Brussels. Later, he would be assigned to supervise the Church’s activities in Canada, then, in 1981, to supervise the missions and stakes in Argentina, Paraguay, and Uruguay. With the calling of thirteen new Area Presidencies in 1984, he assumed duties as president of the South America North Area which originally included Brazil, but is now comprised of Ecuador, Venezuela, Colombia, Peru, Bolivia, Surinam, Guyana, and French Guyana. Elder Didier resides in Quito, capital of Ecuador.
Though his duties as a General Authority take a lot of time and work, he still pursues a variety of interests—including gardening, fishing, watercolor painting, cooking, and reading—because he believes that you have to keep a good balance in life. His interest in linguistics is a valuable asset; in addition to his native French, he speaks English, German, Dutch, and Spanish.
A slim, agile man, Elder Didier keeps himself in good physical condition. He believes his efforts to stay in good health help him withstand the rigors of travel required of a General Authority. He and Elder Gene R. Cook of the First Quorum of the Seventy often play racketball. Observes Elder Cook:
“He’s really a good athlete. He swims a lot, can do thirty or forty laps easily. He exercises every day.”
Part of that exercise comes through physical labor. Reed Heywood, bishop of the Didiers’ home ward (Ensign Fourth, Salt Lake Ensign Stake) recalls that when Elder Didier and his sons built their home, they hauled in rocks and built a retaining wall, working to make the yard beautiful.
“I believe in the value of physical work. I need it,” Elder Didier comments. “I am secluded in an office or in meetings when I am in Salt Lake City or in South America—for eight to nine hours every day. I have a lot of energy, so I like to spend that energy in racketball, or swimming, or painting, or gardening in the summer. I believe what President Kimball said, that we need a vegetable garden. We planted twenty-three fruit trees. I love to be back close to nature and have my hands in the soil.”
His approach to trout fishing is indicative not only of a love of nature, but also of his approach to many activities in life. He goes fishing with those who know more than he, so he can improve. “I believe I have a lot to learn, that I can learn from any individual.”
One of those he learned much from was his mother. She was, he recalls, a “great cook.” His chocolate dessert is a family tradition.
In November of 1983 he flew to California to attend the Fair Oaks Stake conference. Arriving early at the stake president’s home, he was taken on a tour of the family’s vegetable garden.
“I saw that he had leeks, a very popular vegetable in Belgium. Not having grown them before, the president wasn’t sure how to prepare them. I said, ‘Let’s make soup.’ So that Saturday evening after our conference meetings, with the stake president in the kitchen, we prepared leek soup to serve twenty-two people the next day—the high council and other stake leaders. I think I’ll be remembered there as a soup maker rather than a General Authority!”
Another thing Elder Didier shares happily is himself, in service to others. Says his son Patrick: “He will dedicate his time to help someone in need as much as he can.”
Venice Rogers, a neighbor, adds, “He is very tender with children.”
Once while the Rogers were out of town on vacation, Charles and Lucie Didier wall-papered the room of teenager Elizabeth Rogers—as a surprise. Elizabeth was overwhelmed.
Elder Didier plays his own version of “elevator” with the children of another neighbor. When they push the top button on his suit coat, he lifts them up. When they push the bottom button, he puts them back down.
One of the ways Elder Didier serves is through doing “missionary work” for his ancestors. During the past few years, he has spent many hours in the genealogical library researching his parents’ and wife’s family lines, sometimes spending two to three hours at night. “I’m still working on this, but I have had some real success. We have all the information to finish our four-generation sheets. The next step is to present it to the temple.”
Despite his accomplishments, Elder Didier sees much in which he could improve.
Being a General Authority, he concedes, is “a daily examination for you and your family members.”
“You are an official representative of the Church. Usually members think you know everything, which is not the case. You always have to try to keep up with the sacred calling and live up to the expectations of the people, as well as the expectations of the Lord, which are much more important. That is quite a challenge.”
With that challenge in mind, what are his goals?
First, to be able to give his family the best of himself.
Second, “to represent the Lord the way he would like me to represent him, to establish his kingdom the way he would establish it.”

I love President Gordon B. Hinckley very much. He called me to be a Seventy in 1990. I was the first Chilean called as a General Authority. It was a beautiful moment in my life. However, when I was called, I didn’t speak any English. President Hinckley, who was then First Counselor in the First Presidency, blessed me when he set me apart that I would learn English quickly.
I have two gifts that helped me to learn English quickly. My first gift is a good memory. That has been my salvation in many jobs. The other gift is my persistence. If I have a job to do, I work and work at it until it’s done. When I began to learn English at age fifty-two, I studied it five hours a day, when I had time. I listened to audio tapes every morning, then studied grammar for an hour, which was difficult for me. After that, I read the conference talks in English and listened to them on tape at the same time. I memorized about ten new vocabulary words per day. Then I read aloud in English to practice pronunciation, and I listened to English on an international news station so that I could test my understanding of what was said.
Six months after being called as a General Authority, I prepared intensely for giving my first general conference talk in English. My talk was on the Word of Wisdom.
I have had experiences with seven prophets of the Church, from President David O. McKay until now. They have all been great leaders. Now it is a blessing for the Church to have the presence of President Hinckley. It is easy to love him and to express our love to him. He is very warm with us, and he loves us.
I am grateful for all you marvelous children in the Church, and I ask you to follow Jesus Christ, our beloved Leader.