Gospel Story Finder

Kristy Monson enjoyed being in the second grade. Every afternoon she rushed home to tell Mom about her day. On Monday, she bounced through the door, waving an invitation to the birthday party of her best friend, Debbie. On Tuesday, she brought home a new T-shirt she had received as a reward for reaching her goal in the school’s reading program. On Wednesday, she proudly modeled a construction-paper princess hat that she had made. On Thursday, she ran home as fast as she could and exclaimed that her class had traveled to the fish hatchery for a field trip.
Friday was different. A dark cloud hovered over Kristy as she trudged home from school and through the kitchen door. Her normal ear-to-ear smile was replaced by large tears that streamed down her round, freckled face.
Mom immediately set down the pan she was drying and wiped away Kristy’s tears.
“Oh, Mom,” Kristy sobbed, “today was the worst day of my life!”
After offering a few words of comfort, Mom led Kristy to the family room, where they sat together on the sofa. “Sweetheart, please tell me what has upset you.”
Choking back tears, Kristy explained, “Debbie was mad at me for playing hopscotch with Cindy during recess, so she told some of the other girls that I’m adopted and that I’m not really a Monson.”
Mom smiled and replied, “Of course you’re a Monson. The very first time I held you in my arms, I knew that you belonged with us. I’m sure that each member of our family will always remember the wonderful morning when we took you to the St. George Temple to have you sealed to us forever.”
Mom wiped a few tears from her own eyes as she continued, “Dad and I love you just as much as we do your brothers and sisters, and we feel that Heavenly Father helped us find you because He knew that we needed you in our family.”
“I do know that you and Dad love me,” Kristy said as her smile slowly returned. “And I’m very thankful to have such a wonderful family. Thanks, Mom! I always feel better after talking to you.” Giving her mother a hug and a kiss, Kristy skipped off to her bedroom to change her clothes so she could play.
Later that evening, Dad found Kristy sitting at her desk with a serious look on her face. “Mom told me what happened at school today. Do you want to talk about it?”
After collecting her thoughts, Kristy said, “I’m glad to be a member of this family. I love you and Mom very much, and I’m thankful for my brothers and sisters. I even forget that I’m adopted until someone reminds me. But, Dad”—tears welled up in Kristy’s eyes—“why am I the only one who was adopted?”
Dad smiled and hugged Kristy. “First let me remind you of how very thankful I am to have you as my daughter. I love you very much, Kristy.” His voice took on a reverent tone as he continued, “And you aren’t the only one who is adopted. In a very special way, your mother and I, and Jared, Josh, Kari, and Kelli have been adopted, too.”
A look of confusion spread across Kristy’s face.
Dad laughed softly. “Let me see—how can I explain what I’m talking about? I know—in family home evening we’ve been helping you to prepare for your upcoming baptism.”
“I know that baptism is so important that even Jesus was baptized,” Kristy put in with enthusiasm. “I can follow His example and be baptized by immersion. That means I’ll be completely covered by water.”
“That’s correct, honey. Do you remember the covenants you will make with your Heavenly Father?”
“I think so, Dad. I will promise to always remember Jesus and keep His commandments. And Heavenly Father will promise me that I can always have His Spirit to be with me.”
“You’ve done a great job remembering many of the things we’ve talked about, Kristy, and I know that you’ll continue to learn and understand even more. Do you remember whose name you will take upon you when you are baptized?”
“Yes,” Kristy quickly answered. “Jesus Christ’s.”
“That’s right. When you were adopted, you took upon yourself the Monson name. When you are baptized and take Jesus Christ’s name upon you—”
“Then I will be adopted into His family?” Kristy interrupted.
Dad smiled as he picked up Kristy’s scriptures. He opened the Book of Mormon and turned to Mosiah 5:7. “Maybe this scripture will help you to understand.”
Kristy read, “‘And now, because of the covenant which ye have made ye shall be called the children of Christ, his sons, and his daughters; for behold, this day he hath spiritually begotten you; for ye say that your hearts are changed through faith on his name; therefore, ye are born of him and have become his sons and his daughters.’”
“Wow!” Kristy exclaimed. “The more I learn about baptism, the more I see how special and important it is. I can’t wait until my baptism on Saturday!”
Saturday afternoon arrived, and the friends and family members of the children who were going to be baptized filled the chapel. Debbie sat down next to Kristy. Both girls looked beautiful in their white dresses.
“Kristy,” Debbie whispered. “I met with the bishop last night for my baptism interview. We talked about the importance of repentance and about baptism for the remission of sins. Before I’m baptized, I want to tell you how sorry I am for being mean to you the other day at school. Will you please forgive me so we can be best friends again?”
“Of course I forgive you,” Kristy quickly answered. “I’m glad that we’re best friends and that we’re both being baptized today.”
When the Bishop stood at the pulpit to conduct the meeting, Kristy was so excited that her stomach felt like it had butterflies fluttering around in it. She enjoyed the talk that Debbie’s brother gave about having faith in Jesus Christ, and the one her own sister, Kari, gave about the Holy Ghost. Kari shared personal experiences of how the Holy Ghost had helped her since her baptism. Kristy knew that after her baptism and confirmation, she could have the Holy Ghost as her constant companion if she always tried to obey the commandments and choose the right.
After Kristy and Debbie’s Primary class sang a song about baptism, the two girls quietly walked to the stairs by the font. When it was their turn, Kristy and her dad went down the stairs into the water. Then Kristy’s dad said the special prayer and gently lowered her under the water until she was completely immersed.
As Kristy came up out of the water, she felt warm and happy. Her bright, glowing smile matched the faces of her family and friends. This was a special day she would remember forever.
After the services, Kristy and Debbie talked together. “I feel really happy inside,” Debbie said. “I’m glad I chose to follow Jesus and be baptized. I really do feel clean and pure.”
Kristy nodded. “I feel exactly the same way.”
“And I’m glad you forgave me for saying those mean things about you,” Debbie said softly.
“That’s OK,” Kristy replied, putting her arm around her friend. “One of these days I want to tell you something special I’ve learned about being adopted.”

Not very long ago, my family and I had the opportunity to preside over the Australia Sydney Mission. I had come out of the Missionary Department, and I suppose my missionary views were very conservative. At any rate, as we began our work in the Australia Sydney Mission, we had some modest, but good, successes, and I felt comfortable about what we were doing—until President Kimball spoke to us. In his own manner and in his own way, he said, “Brother Dunn, Loren, we must all lengthen our stride.” And I got the message.
The message was that although we had made progress, yet before the Lord and before the prophet, it wasn’t enough. We went back, we redoubled our efforts; we found increased growth, but also we found increased strength and new stakes evolved because of those efforts. I don’t think the progress was so much because of us, but because of our desire to follow the prophet.

A loud, whirring noise broke into the game Debbie and her little sister, Becca, were playing with their dolls. The sound was coming from the backyard. Debbie and Becca looked wide-eyed at each other and left the dolls, clothes, and furniture made from shoe boxes to run outside.
When they came to the backyard, they stopped and stared at the curious sight. Daddy was there with a strange machine the size of a lawn mower. It was ripping up the beautiful green grass of the backyard and leaving only ugly brown dirt behind.
“What is he doing?” Becca asked. Debbie didn’t answer. She could only shake her head and run to the kitchen to find Mommy.
Mommy had just finished peeling potatoes and was cleaning the peelings out of the kitchen sink. When Debbie stood beside her quietly sobbing, she stopped and asked, “What on earth is the matter? Are you hurt?”
Debbie swallowed her sobs and pointed to the backyard. “Why is Daddy ruining the grass?”
Mommy sighed with relief. “Oh, is that what’s bothering you?” She placed her hands on Debbie’s shoulders. “Honey, the prophet said that we need to plant a garden. He told us at the last general conference. So Daddy borrowed that tiller, and we’re going to obey the prophet and plant a garden.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know why the prophet wants us to. I guess he wants everyone to be self-sufficient.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means to be able to take care of ourselves. If we’re hungry, we can feed ourselves.”
Debbie sighed loudly as she went to the counter and sat on a stool. “Can’t we just go to the store?”
“No, we need to learn to follow the prophet—like the Saints that came across the plains. When they did what the prophet told them, they were blessed and they were able to bless others, too.”
Debbie looked at her mother but didn’t say anything. She knew that Daddy and Mommy had made up their minds.
Their backyard would no longer be a wonderful place to play. Now over half of it would be a big brown spot with garden plants, weeds, and bugs. She slid off the stool and went to her bedroom.
“Don’t worry, Debbie,” Mommy called after her. “I’m sure that we’ll have lots of blessings for following the prophet, too.”
In her room, Debbie just sat on her bed. Her dolls didn’t even look fun to play with anymore. Everything was ruined. She would never have fun at home again.
“Daddy says we’re going to plant carrots and corn, and I get to help with the weeding,” Becca chirped happily when she came into the bedroom.
Debbie frowned at her.
“It’s going to be a lot of fun,” Becca told her. “Daddy says there’s nothing better for growing bodies than fresh vegetables from the garden. He said he always had plenty of them when he was a little boy.”
“I’ll bet it’s the worst stuff we’ve ever eaten.” Debbie got off the bed and began putting away her dolls.
Becca quietly watched her for a minute, then asked, “Don’t you want to play anymore?”
“I never want to play anything again!” Debbie stuffed the last doll into a box and pushed it under the bed. She lay down and buried her face under her pillow, hoping anything Becca had to say wouldn’t come through the soft down.
“I’ll bet one day you’ll be glad we have a garden.”
Debbie pretended that she hadn’t heard and held as still as if she were sound asleep. She hoped that Becca wasn’t right. She hoped that she would always hate the garden and what it had done to the beautiful grass.
But as the weeks went by, Debbie began to change her mind. Tiny carrot plants with feathery leaves were beginning to grow in a straight row, and beside them grew beans with dark green leaves shaped like hearts. She had to admit to herself that she did like to see the plants grow bigger and bigger. It was even fun to pull the weeds and pretend that they were terrible beasts trying to steal all the water and food from the tender little plants.
Daddy showed her how to carefully water each row with the hose turned low so that the ground could soak up plenty of moisture and not be washed away.
Once, while she was supposed to be weeding, she pulled a pea pod from the vine and carefully opened it. Tiny round peas were inside. She tasted one. It was the best-tasting pea she had ever had.
“I saw that!” Becca ran up behind her.
Debbie whirled around. Seeing that she was caught, she held out the pod for her sister to try a pea.
Becca tasted one, and her eyes lit up. “Wow! Those are good!”
Debbie nodded. “I never thought peas could taste good enough to eat,” she admitted.
“So are you glad we have a garden?”
Debbie looked down and smiled. “I guess so.”
Several weeks later, Debbie learned to be really grateful for the garden. Daddy’s company had some trouble, and many of its employees lost their jobs. Daddy was one of them. He didn’t know how long it would be before he could find another job.
“It sure is a good thing we planted that garden,” Mommy remarked at the dinner table one evening. “Without it, we wouldn’t have any food to bottle and save for winter.”
“You mean we would be hungry?” Debbie asked in surprise.
“No.” Her mother shook her head. “We would just not be eating as well. Thanks to the garden, we haven’t had to buy as much food, and I’ve been saving some money. Now that we’re not sure when we’ll be getting any more, it’s a good thing we saved extra.”
“We have more food and extra money, all because of the garden,” Daddy explained. “This is a testimony to me that the Lord certainly does bless us when we follow the counsel He gives us through His prophet.”
“Yes,” Mommy added, “I knew He would bless us—I just didn’t think it would be this soon.”
Debbie quietly nibbled at an ear of corn. She was glad that her parents had decided to follow the prophet. She knew that if they hadn’t, their family wouldn’t have been blessed with the things they needed. She went to bed that night with a full stomach and a happy heart, knowing that the Lord had watched over her family and He was blessing them because they listened to the prophet.

When I was a college student and I began to learn about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, good friends again made a difference for me. I remember well my first visit to an LDS ward, which met in a tiny community hall. The moment I stepped out of the car, my college friends swarmed around me. “It’s great to see you!” they said. “So glad you could make it!” I had never shaken hands with so many people in my life. “Wonderful to have you here,” said people I’d never met. “Come back again.” I’m still touched by that ward’s love for me, a stranger.
Everything going on about me that day felt strange. The worship service I had experienced as an altar boy was very structured and extremely quiet. The Latter-day Saint worship service was so different—so much fellowshipping before the meeting, so many new ideas to think about and new things to experience. As I sat in that hall, I had many questions and doubts. But the warmth and friendship of Church members helped me to feel comfortable. Then, as I studied the gospel, the witness of the Holy Ghost helped me want to be baptized.
I am grateful for the restored truths available only in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. And I am grateful for the friends who helped me to find those truths.
As children who belong to the Church of Jesus Christ, you are blessed to know so much about our Heavenly Father and His Son. Your faith will grow as you attend church, pray, and study the scriptures on your own and with your family.
As you make good choices for your own life, please reach out to others who are not members of the Church or who may not attend church regularly. Welcome them to Primary. Smile. Sit next to someone who is new. Ask about others’ interests, and always speak kindly. The love you share will help those around you make good choices and come to know the Savior Jesus Christ and the teachings of His restored gospel.

When President Kimball first came here as a member of the Twelve, he was asked to sit for a portrait. (Those of us who know him well know how those hours of sitting still must have bothered him.) To keep him from daydreaming, the painter one day asked an abrupt question:
“Brother Kimball, have you ever been to heaven?”
His answer seemed to be a shock, as he said without hesitation, “Why, yes … certainly. I had a glimpse of heaven just before coming to your studio.”
He then told of an experience in the temple where he had performed a marriage:
“As the subdued congratulations were extended, a happy father … offered his hand and said, ‘Brother Kimball, my wife and I are common people and have never been successful, but we are immensely proud of our family. … This is the last of our eight children to come into this holy house for temple marriage. They, with their companions, are here to participate in the marriage of this, the youngest.’ …
“I looked at his calloused hands, his rough exterior, and thought to myself, ‘Here is a real son of God fulfilling his destiny’” (Ensign, Dec. 1971, p. 36; also in Conference Report, Oct. 1971, pp. 152–53).

Christian Mavinga, president of the Kigali-Rwanda Mission of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, undertook an arduous eight-hour journey on a hazardous road from Bujumbura, Burundi, to Baraka, South Kivu in DR Congo, to create a new branch of the Church on Sunday January 14, 2024. He was accompanied by Nuru Mirungo Salomon, first counselor in the Bujumbura District presidency, Lokwa Hoga, president of the Kalundu Branch, and Désiré Mpawenayo, communications director in Burundi.
Before becoming a branch on January 14, Church members in Baraka were organized as a group (a small congregation subordinate to a branch) for 10 years. A branch is a fully functioning congregation of the Church with Melchizedek Priesthood holders who are presided over by a stake president or, in the case of the Baraka Branch, the mission president. The first members of the Church in Baraka were converted in 2009, and since then the number of faithful has grown steadily.
According to the Church members in Baraka, this was an unforgettable day because the new branch was an answer to their prayers. “We say thank you to our Heavenly Father for this wonderful blessing that has been bestowed upon us after many years of perseverance,” said one member.
During the meeting, President Mavinga sustained the new leaders of the Baraka Branch. Trésor Amani Amani was called as branch president, Isaya Timothée M’mumbeleca as first counselor, Onda Joseph Asende as second advisor, and Venas Ben Rosen Byaombe as branch clerk.
President Mavinga said: “When we were on our way here, I asked myself the question, why organize a branch today after more than 10 years of the group’s existence here in Baraka? I know that it is not by my strength but rather by your perseverance and your prayers as well as the missionary work that you have accomplished, the Lord has answered your prayers.”
He continued, “The Church here was not going to continue operating under the leadership of the Kalundu Branch. This branch comes as an answer to your prayers and the efforts you have made in the work of the Lord. I bear you witness that the priesthood is the power of God. Our Heavenly Father has given this power here to Baraka so that you can act in His name, is this not a proof of His love? Through the priesthood, you will lead your new branch well moving forward. We bless the members, we heal the sick and it is through the latter that we prepare its children to enter the celestial kingdom. I urge you to continue to persevere in keeping the commandments, standing firm, and always strengthening your faith in Jesus Christ to receive the greatest blessing which is eternal life.”
Trésor Amani Amani, the new branch president, expressed his satisfaction at seeing the organization of this branch. He told the members that they have fought a great battle of perseverance for 13 years, “I urge you to tithe honestly and completely, to love one another, to remain united, and to share the gospel finally to spread this restored gospel of our Savior Jesus Christ.”
“Dear brothers and sisters,” he testified, “I know if we serve our fellow men, we will progress until we have a second branch, and a third. If we continue to share joy with others in unity through faith in Jesus Christ, through repentance, baptism, receiving the gift of the Holy Spirit, and persevering to the end, we will have eternal life. I know that the priesthood is the authority and power of God, our dear President Russell M. Nelson is called of God, all Church leaders as well as our dear mission president, I pray that when Jesus Christ returns and that he will find the members of Baraka rejoicing. I also know that if we read the Book of Mormon we will be greatly blessed.”

Jane hurried out of the classroom to the front of the school building. Her big brother, Ronnie, was waiting for her. “Mum said we have to go straight home today because we mustn’t be late for my baptism,” Jane said excitedly. “After tonight I’ll be a real Church member. It’s the most important day of my life, so far!”
Ronnie smiled at his sister and teasingly messed up her hair. “Well, we can’t be late, then. Let’s go.”
When they got home, dinner was nearly ready and Dad was home from work early. When he saw Jane, he smiled and said, “I haven’t forgotten that today’s the big day.”
After dinner, Jane, Ronnie, Mum, and Dad all got in the car and set off for the chapel, twenty miles away.
As they arrived at the chapel, Mum looked at her watch. “We’re just in time—the service should start in ten minutes.”
Brother Jones, the custodian, hurried up to them. He looked worried. “I just arrived about half an hour ago. I had planned to come earlier to fill up the font, but we had an emergency at the station. I’m ever so sorry. The water is running now, but at this rate, it will take a couple more hours to fill the font. There are huge kettles of water heating in the kitchen, and I’ve a plan I’m working on. …”
Jane didn’t listen to what her dad and Brother Jones said next. She went outside and sat on the wall next to the car park. She knew she’d have to wait a long time before her baptismal service could start.
She looked down the road that led up to the chapel. The chapel was on a hill, so she had a good view. At the bottom of the hill was a big red fire engine coming up the road. I can’t see any smoke—I wonder where the fire is. She looked around her. As the fire engine came closer to the chapel, Jane ran inside to get Ronnie so that they could both watch it pass by. By the time they got back outside, the fire engine had stopped in front of the chapel and the firemen were unwinding the big hose on the side of the engine!
When Brother Jones came out of the chapel, Jane remembered that he worked at that station. He showed the firefighters where the font was, and Ronnie and Jane watched while they filled it. Soon the font was full and the fire engine was gone.
While the ward members poured the heated water into the font, Jane dressed in her white clothes and sat down next to her dad. After the opening hymn, Ronnie offered the opening prayer. Mum and the branch president gave talks; then Jane and Dad went to the font. Dad got in first. “Oh! It’s a bit cold,” he said.
“I don’t mind,” Jane said as she went into the water. She felt so wonderful that the cold water didn’t even bother her. After she changed her clothes, she was confirmed a member of the Church by her dad. The branch president, her dad and mum, Brother Jones, and Ronnie shook her hand and congratulated her.
“Now I’m a member of the true Church,” Jane said proudly. “I feel really good. Thank you, Brother Jones, for getting a fire engine to fill up the font, just for me!”

“Doctor Evans, we’re ready for you to begin.”
Justin looked down at the man on the operating table. There was a line drawn on the man’s stomach. Justin was wearing a surgical robe and a mask. There were rubber gloves on his hands. Nurses and others in green surgical gowns were all waiting for him to begin the operation.
There was, however, one tiny problem—Justin was 15 years old and didn’t know anything about surgery.
“So what do I do, just cut on the dotted line?” he joked.
Nobody laughed. “Doctor, we need to begin right away,” the woman next to him said.
“Doctor Sanchez is right,” a man said. “We need to begin right away.”
“Let’s see, I guess we need some kind of a knife or something.”
A nurse shoved a scalpel in his hand. Justin looked down at the stomach. He cleared his throat. “Give me a hint here, should I slice this guy deep or shallow?”
“Are you all right?” the woman they called Doctor Sanchez asked.
“Is this guy going to bleed a lot if I cut him open? I really can’t stand the sight of blood.”
“Would you like me to take over?” Doctor Sanchez said.
“Yes, please.”
The woman traded places, took up the scalpel, and cut along the line on the man’s stomach.
“Oh, gross,” Justin said a few minutes later upon seeing for the first time the exposed inside of the man. But after a while he got used to it.
After the operation as he removed the surgical gloves and gowns, Doctor Sanchez came over to him. “You and your practical jokes,” she said. “For a moment there it sounded like you didn’t know anything about what was going on.”
Justin smiled. “Yeah, right.”
A nurse came in the room. “Dr. Evans, your wife called.”
“I have a wife?” he blurted out.
Everyone in the room smiled.
“She left a number for you to call. She said it was important.”
He went to a phone and dialed the number. A woman answered.
“This is Justin.”
“Listen, I need to ask you something. Did you send in the house payment last month?”
“Do we own a house?”
“The bank called to say they haven’t got our payment yet.”
“I know I’m married to you, but could you tell me your name once again. I guess I’ve forgotten it. You know how I am with names.”
“Justin, this is no time for games. The deadline for Howard to enter the race for city commission is Thursday. He needs to know what you did with the petitions you handled for him.
“What color hair do you have? And when did we meet each other?”
There was a long pause, and then she said, “All right, tell me what’s wrong.”
“I’m 15 years old, and I’m not a doctor, and I’m not married, and I don’t have any idea who you are or who Howard is or what petitions you’re talking about. Basically that’s it.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be right over.”
“How will I recognize you?”
“I’ll come to your office.”
“I have an office then, right?” he asked. Saying good-bye, he hung up and walked the halls until he found a door with his name on it. He stepped inside and sat behind the desk and tried to figure out what was going on.
A few minutes later someone knocked on the door. He opened the door and let her in. It was a woman.
“Are you my wife?” he asked.
“Yes, I am.”
“How nice to meet you. What’s your name?”
“Lori.”
“Lori, can you help me? I seem to be having a bad day. I don’t belong here. You know what I think? I think this whole thing is a dream.”
“You mean, here, right now, even me?”
“Yes, that’s what I think.”
“Why don’t you wake up then, if it’s just a dream?”
“I don’t know how to make myself wake up.”
“Pinch yourself.”
He pinched himself. Nothing happened.
“It must not be a dream then,” she said.
“But maybe I only dreamed I pinched myself, and it really is a dream.”
“If it is a dream, it’ll end soon, and you can get on with your life.”
“Maybe so. While you’re here, can I ask a few questions before this ends? On the phone you kept talking about mortgage payments and some kind of a petition for Howard.” He paused. “I guess the main thing I want to know is if being grown up is any fun at all?”
“Most of the time it is. Especially if you prepare for it when you’re young.”
“How do you prepare for it?”
“You make goals of what you want out of life. Then you work to achieve those goals.”
“Sounds boring.”
“Not really. Do you know what you always tell me?”
“To have pizza for supper more often?”
“Yeah, that too, but also you say, ‘If you can dream it, if you can plan it, if you can work hard for it, you can achieve it.’”
He smiled. “I say that? Sounds good.” He looked at her more closely. “Where did we get married?”
“In the temple.”
“That’s good, isn’t it? I’m glad we did.”
“The reason it happened is that when we were both young, even though we didn’t know each other, we both decided to plan for a temple marriage.”
“When you’re 15, like I am now, it’s kind of hard to think about planning for something that’s years away.”
“The tallest buildings have the deepest foundations.”
“Do I say that too sometimes?”
“No, I do,” she said with a smile.
“You’re smart, aren’t you? And attractive.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s been nice to meet you. Thanks for talking to me. Do we have kids?”
“Yes. Two with one on the way.”
“You’re pregnant now? It doesn’t show.”
“It will,” she put her hand on his shoulder. “Do you want me to drive you home?”
“No, I think I’ll just hang around here until I wake up from my dream, and then I’ll be 15 for real, and I’ll go on with my life.”
“Don’t forget to prepare for the future. It’s kind of important to me because I’m in your future. I’ll be doing some preparing too.”
“Should we kiss or something?” he said as she got ready to leave.
And then he woke up.
Doctor Sanchez was standing in the doorway. “Doctor Evans, we’re ready for you to begin the operation now.”
He stood up and looked around his office. “I must have dozed off. I had the strangest dream.”
“You’ve been working very hard lately. Oh, your wife called. She said Howard needs the petitions.”
“I’ll call him after the operation.”
Minutes later he stared down at the exposed stomach of a man on the operating table.
“Let’s see now. I just cut along the dotted line, right?”
Once again, nobody laughed.

In 1988, my family relocated to Perth Australia—I had a new job opportunity. The Sydney temple was then 4000 km from our home. We made a family commitment to drive to the Sydney temple every two years. Once there, we would spend a whole week participating in temple ordinances. Our children still have fond memories of the mostly sacred time we had together driving three and a half days each way across Australia.

After days of working long hours in the hot sun, I became exhausted. Eventually, I got sick.
I called the full-time missionaries, and we scheduled a time to meet at the branch site. When I arrived the following day, nobody was there. As I waited outside, I prayed, “Heavenly Father, I know You can heal me, if that is Thy will. Please help me.”
The missionaries soon arrived with the branch president. When these three priesthood holders laid their hands on my head, I felt the power of the Holy Ghost run from the top of my head to my toes. Immediately I was healed.
In a small town far from my home country, I sought help from priesthood holders. The Lord blessed me through His priesthood and my faith. In my travels since then, I have asked for many blessings from priesthood holders worldwide. I am grateful to know that priesthood power held by worthy priesthood holders is the same in every land.

Tickets for the October 2000 general conference were in high demand as it marked the dedication of the newly constructed Conference Center in Salt Lake City. Living in Germany at the time, we felt blessed to reserve a few tickets through our local ward and excitedly embarked on our journey as part of a business trip. Upon picking up our tickets at the Conference Center, because of a glitch in the system, I received three tickets to the priesthood session instead of the one I had ordered. Subsequently, I had offered the two extra tickets to friends, but an hour before the start of the priesthood session they informed me that they could not attend. Meanwhile, seemingly endless lines of brethren with standby tickets began forming around Temple Square, each ticket holder hoping to receive one of the rare empty seats left vacant by those with an official ticket. I prayed diligently before leaving my hotel room for the Lord to guide me to someone who might benefit from receiving the two precious tickets. With this prayer in my heart, I stepped outside and began walking around Temple Square. I passed hundreds of brethren who were looking for tickets, but I had not felt a particular prompting to give them away to anyone.
Sometime later, I found myself just outside the Tabernacle on Temple Square. There I noticed a father and son standing dejectedly on the outside steps and felt impressed to speak with them. I learned that they had just realized that they only had standby tickets and that due to the long lines they would not be able to attend the session. Sensing that the Lord had guided me to them I quickly I asked, “How would you like to get two real tickets for the priesthood session?” After first thinking that I was joking, their reaction was priceless as they wouldn’t stop thanking me. After exchanging business cards, I walked off satisfied that the Lord had answered my prayer and thought no more of the encounter.
After returning to Germany, I received a long e-mail from that father. He explained that his youngest son was approaching missionary age, but his testimony and his resolve to serve a mission were waning. The parents were concerned about him and spent many hours in prayer and fasting. A few weeks before general conference, an announcement was made in their ward that a small number of priesthood session tickets would be available for the brethren of their ward. The son unexpectedly turned to the father and said, “Why don’t we go?” The parents were thrilled about their son’s sudden enthusiasm, and after church they picked up two tickets from their bishop. In the weeks leading up to general conference, the parents of the young man spent much time in fasting, prayer, and temple worship, pleading with the Lord that the priesthood session experience would change their son’s heart and set him on the path of missionary service.
After arriving early to Temple Square, they had tried to enter the Conference Center, but were told that all they had were standby tickets and were asked to check for seats in the Tabernacle or to join the long lines of brethren in the standby line. Finding that there were also no more seats available in the Tabernacle, the father wrote that while standing on its outside steps, he prayed silently hoping for a miracle that would validate all the fasting and praying on their son’s behalf. The Lord heard his prayer and moments later he was holding in his hands two real tickets for the priesthood session. He reported that he and his son had a marvelous, spirit-filled experience, and that his son had made the decision to serve a full-time mission.

It was 1973. Struggling with some challenges, I deeply desired to know God, so I decided to read the Bible. One day I read about Solomon’s temple in 2 Chronicles 2–5, and I felt that such a holy place could be on the earth. So I fasted and prayed that I might be guided by the Holy Ghost to find it. I felt that if I found a temple, I would be able to tell one of the Lord’s servants about my problems, and he would help me solve them.
So I set out to find a temple. At the time I lived in Fontenay-sous-Bois, a suburb of Paris, so I started driving toward the city to find a temple. I saw many buildings, including churches and synagogues, but I did not find a temple. Upon returning home, I prayed and wondered why I couldn’t find a temple. Wasn’t I pure enough? Or was I simply unprepared?
I forgot all about my failed search until sister missionaries for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints came to my home in February 1980. They taught me that the closest temple was in Zollikofen, Switzerland—the Bern Switzerland Temple.
I was baptized on April 12, 1980, and I went to the temple for the first time just over a year later, on May 5, 1981. There I was able to do the temple work for several women in my family, including my grandmothers, aunts, and cousins.
Of these women, the only one I had known was my cousin Olga.
Olga, who was from Italy, married at a very young age, but sadly, her husband was violent and unfaithful to her. With the help of her father and her brother, Olga decided to escape when she was expecting her fifth child.
She went to live with her parents and brother. After the birth of her child, Olga passed away. Olga’s parents never recovered from the shock of her sudden death.
While I was performing the ordinances for Olga in the temple, one word kept coming to my mind: mission. But I was puzzled—I was busy raising three children by myself, and I couldn’t possibly go on a mission.
The answer came several months later. One day my cousin Renzo told me that Olga’s mother, my aunt Anita, had passed away. Suddenly I recalled that I had completed the temple work for Olga on a Tuesday, and her mother had passed away the following Friday. With great emotion, I felt impressed that Olga had been eager to receive her temple ordinances so she could welcome and teach her mother in the spirit world. Perhaps that was Olga’s mission.
But I had a mission to help my own parents as well. I had tried to talk to them about the Church on several occasions, but they hadn’t been interested. So after my mother and father died, I did the temple work for them as soon as I could.
When my parents were sealed, my heart was pounding, and my eyes filled with tears of love. I was then sealed to my parents. I could not stop thinking about my mother, and I wanted to embrace the sister who had been proxy for her. I thanked her for representing my mother. The sister too had tears in her eyes, and she thanked me for the experience. Even though I didn’t know her, we felt like members of the same family.
My parents were then sealed to their parents, and Olga, whom I represented in the ordinance, was sealed to her parents, my uncle Marino and aunt Anita.
Every time I recall those experiences, I am overcome with emotion. I think about Olga, and I hope she is fulfilling her mission on the other side of the veil. Because of temple ordinances, I am no longer the only member of the Church in my family. I believe that my parents accepted the ordinances performed for them. I am filled with joy and thank the Lord for making it possible for me to establish an eternal family through the blessings of His holy temple.

A friend of mine is having a difficult time in her life. Earlier this year she was struggling, and I didn’t know how to help her. In my prayers I asked my Heavenly Father to bless her and to help me to be her friend. One day she became angry with me, and I did not understand. I didn’t know how to react. I didn’t want to say something wrong that might ruin our friendship, especially because this was a time when I felt she needed me. But after she became angry with me, I thought it would be too hard. I was considering giving up because I was discouraged.
One afternoon in seminary I came across a scripture in Mosiah that said: “And now, if God, who has created you, on whom you are dependent for your lives and for all that ye have and are, doth grant unto you whatsoever ye ask that is right, in faith, believing that ye shall receive, O then, how ye ought to impart of the substance that ye have one to another” (Mosiah 4:21).
I knew then that she needed and still needs of the substance I can impart: my friendship and my testimony. I decided then that I would not give up on my friend. I talk to her every day, remember her in my prayers, and have faith that something positive will come from my efforts. I am so grateful that I prayed and received this guidance through the scriptures.

Eleven-year-old Beth Burroughs pulled the reins gently but firmly to the right and guided her horse, Ebony, down the side of a rocky dry wash. The homemade wreath of flowers she had slung over the saddle horn bounced as she maneuvered her animal down the little zigzagging ravine. By taking this route, Beth would save herself a good mile and a half of riding time on the road. She had to get to Heaven’s Gate Cemetery and back home so that she could help her mother with the wash.

The predawn light had turned the mist that hung over Hampton Lake into silver lace as Beth galloped along its south shore. Her horse was starting to show signs of strain, so she decided to pull up and let him rest.

Looping the reins about a large dead limb that protruded from other woody shore rubble, Beth knelt at the water’s edge and gazed at her rippled, distorted reflection. If it had been someone’s first view of her, she thought, she would have been as badly misrepresented as Rebecca had been.

Ebony lifted his dark head, shook his mane, and went back to drinking. Beth gazed fondly at him a moment, then her eyes returned to the rippling water. She remembered her father talking about the worth of the individual soul, about how each person that ever was, is, or ever would be is a child of God and therefore special in his or her own way. He said that no one should judge anybody else by appearance because his character, like his soul, is inside and can only really be seen by Heavenly Father.

But somehow, Beth painfully recalled, her father’s teachings had been hard to put into practice whenever Rebecca was around—until the day of the field mouse. …

Ebony lifted his head again, his thirst now satisfied. Beth lingered a minute or two, watching her reflection clear and sharpen in the settling water. Then she remounted Ebony and continued down the road.

Mr. Flannagan chugged by in his Model T, waving and honking as he traveled in the opposite direction. Such a noisy, happy machine, Beth thought, then decided she was wrong. Machines might be noisy, all right, but they didn’t have feelings. People could feel happy. She had been happy, very happy in the time she had spent with Rebecca after the day of the mouse’s burial. Beth had made more and more visits to the yellow house on Banberry Road. She and Rebecca had helped Sister Johnson bake cookies, walked the fence in the big grassy field just down from Tucker’s Mill, and lain on their backs, watching the clouds sail wildly by in the yellow sky.
Rebecca had a smile for everyone, a smile, Beth was sure, that could light up the world. She was like a little child. But had not the Savior Himself taught that “of such is the kingdom of heaven”? Beth hadn’t minded the funny looks some of her old friends gave her every now and again after she became friends with Rebecca. Her real friends respected her for her feelings. Besides, she knew Heavenly Father approved, and He was her most valued friend.

As Beth’s horse clip-clopped past the bright red covered bridge a half mile from Heaven’s Gate Cemetery, she couldn’t help but think about Rebecca’s death a year ago. Rebecca had disappeared into a neighbor’s burning house and lowered a small child out a window into someone’s waiting arms just before a section of roof collapsed on her, burying her beneath the fiery timbers.

Beth laid the homemade wreath of flowers on Rebecca’s grave. A couple of minutes later she again climbed onto Ebony’s back and rode out of Heaven’s Gate.

The sun seemed to perch on top of the mesa as horse and rider turned up the little treelined path toward home.

“Did you have a good ride, honey?” Beth’s father asked as he stepped from the barn, leading a plow horse.
“Sure did,” Beth replied, walking her horse toward him. “There’s a lot to see when the sun comes up. First you see a little of this, then a little of that. Pretty soon everything is all lit up as pretty as can be. As pretty as a good memory. As pretty as Rebecca Johnson.”

Name has been changed.
I began to drink at a young age. In the country where I lived, that was socially accepted, and I felt pressure to drink to be accepted.
After I got married, my husband and I became submerged in alcoholism. This truly worried my parents. Even after my husband and I had our first child, our addiction to alcohol did not stop.
Soon after the birth of our child, I became a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and I stopped drinking and started making progress to overcome my addiction. These changes irritated my husband, and he was upset that I would not drink and party with him.
After much prayer and fasting, seeking to determine the will of the Lord, I left my husband and moved to the United States. As I strived to live the gospel of Jesus Christ, I was able to overcome my alcoholism, but I still struggled to manage my anxiety and feelings of desperation. I eventually got remarried to a fellow Church member, but I continued to struggle.
I was invited to an addiction recovery program group by a sister at church. I have no doubt that Heavenly Father is mindful of me because what I learned there was specifically for me. We discussed how the feeling of isolation is a common element for those who have experienced addiction. This isolation was something that I had imposed on myself and struggled with.
Through the addiction recovery program, I realized that I do not have to live isolated from God and others. I have the strength and the faith to face challenges and overcome them.
Now I know that I am not alone. I still attend the group meetings, and sometimes my husband attends the group meetings with me. There are people from everywhere at the online meetings, and we learn from each other’s experiences and offer support to each other. My bishop, my husband, and my children also know that I need their support.
Most of all, I know that it is through the Atonement of Christ that I can overcome my addiction.

I get up almost every morning and pour myself some cold cereal for breakfast. I used to pour a bowl of Grape Nuts or Corn Flakes and set the box right in front of me where I could read it for 10 or 15 minutes. I could read each panel close to three times in one sitting. Eating cold cereal five days of the week meant I was reading the U.S. Recommended Daily Allowances 15 times per week or 60 times in a month!
In high school I had a difficult time getting excited about scripture reading. In my seminary class, though, daily scripture reading was required if I wanted a good grade, so I would read the scriptures—for the grade. Each night, just before my eyelids were ready to close, I would remember about the “A” that I wanted in seminary and grab my scriptures from my desk. As I fell into a deep sleep, my mind would skim over the words and I never really got that much out of them.
Then I started college. Every night I was up so late I didn’t feel like I had time to read the scriptures. There were so many other things to do—like sleep! But I began to feel guilty seeing them sitting on my shelf, only taking them down for church or home teaching. Besides, I could always find the time to read a good novel or go to a movie. So one morning, I took my scriptures to the breakfast table with me. Rather than reading those daily allowances that I had memorized anyway, I read the scriptures. I found something very interesting—the scriptures fill another type of Recommended Daily Allowance: things like increased spiritual awareness, a good feeling inside, and answers to my problems.
After reading my scriptures in the morning, my day goes a lot better. Reading every day has evolved into an everyday habit which I now enjoy very much. I am glad that my Heavenly Father loves me enough to show me how much I need his word in my life.

In 1832, Weltha Bradford Hatch—an ancestor of my wife, Shelley—and her husband, Ira, lived in the tiny town of Farmersville, New York, USA, near Lake Seneca. When missionaries Oliver Cowdery and Parley P. Pratt called at the Hatch home, Weltha purchased a Book of Mormon and read it right away. Convinced of its truthfulness, she asked for baptism.
Her husband, however, cautioned her to wait due to mounting persecutions and an approaching baby. Shortly after the delivery, Weltha was baptized—but only after a hole was cut in the ice on the river in which the ordinance was performed!1
Ira was intrigued by the gospel message. He wanted to know more and also felt impressed to make a contribution to the building of the Kirtland Temple. So he and Weltha traveled by buggy to Kirtland, Ohio, USA, to meet the Prophet Joseph Smith. Upon arriving, they were told the Prophet could be found with a group of men cutting trees in a nearby grove.
After they reached the grove, one of the men set his axe into a tree, strode over to them, and said, “Brother Hatch, I have been expecting you for three days; the money which you have brought will be used to help build the pulpit in the temple.”
This man was Joseph Smith. Needless to say, Ira was baptized, and he and Weltha returned to their home, gathered their belongings, and joined the Saints in Kirtland.2

In English class, our teacher handed everyone an article that criticized The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and said we’d be discussing it the next day. As I read it, feelings of fear and anger welled up inside me. That night, I wrote a rather unkind “comeback list” in response to the article.
My mom listened to me rant about my plans for the discussion. I was a bit shocked when she said, “You need to pray about it.”
That night, I prayed for help and forgiveness. Then a verse popped into my head: “The spirit of contention is not of [God], but is of the devil, … and he stirreth up the hearts of men to contend with anger, one with another” (3 Nephi 11:29).
The next morning, I felt at peace. I knew that Heavenly Father wanted me to be kind. But when I got to class, I started to feel nervous.
Classmates spoke in favor of the article. I felt I should speak up, but I worried about failing or ruining my social life. Then I remembered a quote I saw on social media that morning from Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles: “Defend your beliefs with courtesy and with compassion, but defend them” (Apr. 2014 general conference [Ensign or Liahona, May 2014, 9]).
So I raised my hand and told them I was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and clarified points in the article that were unclear or untrue. My hands trembled, but my words didn’t. The class stared at me, but I knew I did the right thing.
I learned that compassionately defending the gospel is a blessing, not a burden. The Spirit was with me, and I had an overwhelming feeling of love from Heavenly Father. I knew He was proud of me, and I was proud of myself too.
The author lives in Arizona, USA.

On my mission, my companion and I taught a family with several children. During one of our planning times, we prayed and discussed what lesson we should teach the children next, and we both agreed to teach about prayer.
When we came to their house, the grandmother and the kids were so excited. We began the lesson with a prayer. The children were quiet and ready to listen. We explained to them how and why to pray. To end our lesson, we asked them, “Who wants to give a closing prayer?” All of them wanted to pray! So we made a schedule for them to give the prayers each time we came to give a lesson. We also invited them to pray when we were not around.
After that lesson, I thought, “Why do little children find it easy to pray while our older investigators have a hard time praying?” I found an answer in the Bible Dictionary: “As soon as we learn the true relationship in which we stand toward God (namely, God is our Father, and we are His children), then at once prayer becomes natural and instinctive on our part (Matt. 7:7–11). Many of the so-called difficulties about prayer arise from forgetting this relationship” (“Prayer”; see also Guide to the Scriptures, “Prayer,” scriptures.lds.org).
From that time on, I tried to help people understand their true relationship with our Father in Heaven. Our Father in Heaven wants to talk to His children, just as our earthly parents want to talk with us. He loves us, He wants to talk to us, and He wants us to talk to Him.

Young Women in the Shoreline Ward, Richland Washington Stake, found an unusual way to learn about genealogy research. They pieced together a history of a six-day-old baby that had been buried in their city’s cemetery in 1909.
Not much was known about the baby’s family, and the grave didn’t have a headstone. Starting with the name “Baby Boy Lair” and a few fragments of information about the baby’s life, the girls and their adviser, Maureen Hales, found living family members (a nephew and his children and grandchildren), got information for a small headstone, and made arrangements for a short graveside service. The service was open to the public and all the youth in the stake were invited. The youth say that doing the project has changed their ideas about doing genealogy.
“At first, the baby seemed like a story from a book. Finding some of the details about the baby’s family and learning about his short life made it more realistic. There were no pictures of the baby, and I wonder what he looked like,” says Laurel Mindy Lee. “I’m now working on learning about my own ancestors, especially my great-grandmother.”