Gospel Story Finder

Jamie’s conscience pricked him as he climbed to the top of the tree. He knew that he should be helping his dad on the farm—after all, he was twelve years old now—but something important was happening in Colesville, New York, today, and the whole town was talking about it.
Joseph Smith was coming back to their little farming community after attending the first conference of the recently organized Church in Fayette, New York. His wife, Emma, was traveling with him, as were Oliver Cowdery and John and David Whitmer. Some of the people in Colesville wanted to be baptized while the Prophet was there, and Jamie was one of them. He’d sat in the back of the room when Joseph had preached to them before, and he knew that the Prophet’s words were true. Now Jamie wanted to look again upon the face of the man who had actually seen God the Father and Jesus Christ, and he wanted to do it without the Prophet knowing that he was being watched.
Before long, Jamie caught sight of the wagon. He could see a woman in the wagon and noticed the other men too. But one person seemed to stand out from the others. A burning feeling quickened Jamie’s heart as he watched, and he knew more surely than ever that this man was the Prophet. Even after the Prophet had passed and Jamie had climbed down from the tree, his feeling of elation continued as he returned to his home.
As Jamie stepped onto the porch and slipped inside the kitchen, he heard his mother say, “But I’m not sure! I’ve known Joseph for some time now, and I want to believe that he speaks the truth. But to have someone say that he has actually seen and heard God! That’s hard for me to accept.”
“There’s no doubt in my mind that what Joseph says is true,” his father said. He walked over to the shelf and took down a book. “I’ve read the Book of Mormon, and I believe that it’s true—every word of it,” Father testified to her. “If Joseph lied about seeing God, then he lied about this book being true. The reverse is also true. If this book is true, then Joseph actually saw the Father and Jesus Christ. Joseph is a prophet, and I intend to be baptized this Sunday when they hold the service.”
Jamie walked forward. “Me too. I know that what Joseph teaches is true.”
“How can you, a young boy, know if a church is true?” his mother asked, smiling gently to soften the words.
“I know,” Jamie stated. “And I’ve read the Book of Mormon. It’s true!”
“I’ve really wanted to read it, too,” Mother said with a sigh, “but I just haven’t found the time. There are so many chores …”
Jamie’s heart started pounding. More than anything in the world, he wanted his family to all be baptized at the same time. But if his mother didn’t have time to read, she wouldn’t know that the Book of Mormon is true. He could give her that time.
“If Father will give me time from my own chores, I’ll do yours, Mother. Then you’ll have time to read the Book of Mormon. I just know that when you’ve read it and prayed about it, you’ll know that it’s true.”
“I can do Jamie’s chores if he’ll do yours,” Father agreed. “How about it, Martha?”
Mother looked at her husband, then at her son. She loved them both very much. “All right. I’ll read the Book of Mormon. But I’m not promising that I’ll be baptized.”
For the next two days Jamie was busy from morning till dark. He’d never realized before all the work that his mother did during the day. At night he fell into bed exhausted. He even missed the special meeting where Joseph announced the baptism on Sunday. All his strength was directed toward helping his mother.
Saturday afternoon Brother George Riggs rode up to their farm. Jamie went out with his mother and father to greet him.
“Brother Johns,” Brother Riggs said after the greetings were over, “I need a pair of strong arms to help dam that stream above Brother Knight’s farm. That’s where we’ll hold the baptismal service. Could I have your son’s help for the afternoon?”
Father glanced at Mother, who nodded her head.
“We’d be proud to have him help,” Father answered. “He desires to be baptized also, so it’s fitting for him to help dam the stream.”
Brother Riggs smiled at Jamie. “That’s just fine. Brother Joseph will be glad to know that.” Turning to Father, he asked, “And you, Brother and Sister Johns? How about you?”
“I’ll be baptized, too,” Father spoke out clearly.
The group then turned to Martha for her answer. She hesitated for a moment, then smiled at her son. “Jamie gave me the time to read the Book of Mormon and to ponder and to pray. I know that Joseph Smith is a prophet. I know the Book of Mormon is true. I, too, want to be baptized!”
Jamie had never felt happier in his life.

Two missionaries teaching an older couple in their home in Peru were interrupted by the arrival of the couple’s son, his wife, and three children. The elders explained who they were and what they were doing. The son was suspicious of the missionaries, resulting in an awkward moment. The junior companion prayed silently, “Heavenly Father, what do we do?” The impression came to sing. They sang “I Am a Child of God.”6 The Spirit touched the hearts of this family of five. Instead of two converts, all seven became members, influenced initially by a hymn.

A couple of years ago, my grandson Christian was turning eight and planning his baptismal service with great anticipation. He asked his mother if I could be one of the speakers and share my conversion story. When I asked him why he wanted me to do that, he replied, “Grandma, that is so important. Do you realize that if you hadn’t accepted the gospel, I wouldn’t be getting baptized? I wouldn’t even be who I am.”

I don’t know if missionaries realize the far-reaching impact of their work. In my own family, the blessings of the gospel have now touched four generations. Didn’t President Gordon B. Hinckley say that “when we save a girl, we save generations”? I got married in the temple and have eight children. They are all faithful members of the Church, endowed in the temple. Six of them are now married and have their own children. At present there are 34 of us. And that is not all. Both my husband and I served missions, and our two sons and three of our six daughters have also served missions. Collectively we have helped hundreds embrace the gospel in many countries. Some of those converts and their children have also served missions.

Missionary work is the lifeblood of the Church. There is no greater work, no more important work. It blesses the lives of all those who participate in it. It will continue blessing future generations.

Some youth face different but equally difficult challenges.
Exavier R., 15, has been raised by his mother. “I saw other people with fathers in their lives, but I never had one in my life.” While Exavier’s mother works to support their family, he helps take care of his two little sisters. He wakes up every morning and helps them get ready for the day. He takes them to school before heading to his own school. After school, he picks them up, takes them home, and helps them with whatever they need. That takes a lot of strength and maturity, but people around Exavier “think I’m weak. I’ve seen a lot of bad things and been through a lot of hard things in my life, and people don’t know the real me,” he says.
Exavier and his mother joined the Church when he was 14. When he was baptized, his Young Men leaders became like fathers to him. “They guide me in the right direction and help me make the right decision,” he says. Most importantly, Exavier learned that he has a Heavenly Father who believes in him and expects him to do his best every day.

I had always enjoyed the warmth and green of Southern California winters, but Christmas in Helsinki, Finland, was something out of a storybook. There was snow on the ground, pine trees in the park, and stars so brilliant that heaven seemed only a hand’s reach away. I could almost hear the angels singing, “Peace on earth, good will to men!”
My heart was filled with that peace as my missionary companion, Sister Pels, and I settled into our chairs at a fast-food restaurant. Our meeting had concluded at about 7:00 P.M.,and we were eager to relax for a moment over a meal before our bus arrived.
Suddenly the doors flew open and in swept about 20 people wearing costumes. One was dressed like Joseph, another like Mary, and still others like shepherds, the Wise Men, and angels with wings. They had obviously just come from a local Nativity play. Joking and laughing, they purchased their food and sat down to eat.
A few moments later another man walked into the restaurant. He was obviously not part of the first group. His hair was tousled, and he was wearing old, torn clothes. When he collected his meal, he wandered around looking for a seat. Finding one among the Nativity performers, he started to squeeze in between two of the Wise Men. As he did, he accidentally tipped his tray too far, and his soda pop fell onto the floor.
There were chuckles from the group as he backed away and found a table next to ours. He eased into the seat and just sat there, head hung, not looking at his food, not looking at much of anything but the floor. It occurred to me that this meal must have been something special for him, a rarity he could barely afford. The loss of his drink must have broken his heart. It broke my heart to look at him.
“We have to do something,” I said to Sister Pels.
“Well, they do offer free refills for spilled drinks,” Sister Pels remarked. She immediately stood up and walked over to the food counter. As she did, all Bethlehem noticed her missionary name tag. Some of the group rolled their eyes.
A few minutes later, Sister Pels handed the man a new drink as an attendant cleaned up the spill. The man stared at the drink, then turned to stare at Sister Pels and me. His eyes filled with tears. “Thank you,” he said through a throat tight with emotion. “Life’s really hard right now.”
He told us he was 54 years old and had once been a sailor. He was alone now. His father had just died, and the rest of his family was gone. “Who are you?” he asked.
“We’re missionaries for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” I replied. “We’re in Finland sharing the gospel of Jesus Christ and another testament of him called the Book of Mormon. Would you like a copy?”
He shook his head. “Thanks anyway.”
The conversation ended quickly when Sister Pels noticed that our bus was due to arrive. We would have to hurry to catch it. As we were leaving, we passed by the Nativity group. One of the angels glowered at us and said through clenched teeth, “The Bible is the book.” Momentarily startled, Sister Pels and I edged out the door. Behind us came the tattered and lonely stranger.
“Where are the angels going?” he asked. Puzzled, we looked back into the restaurant at the performers. But then we noticed he was looking at us. “Where are the angels going?” he asked again.
We smiled and wished him a merry Christmas, then boarded the bus. As it pulled away from the restaurant, I gazed at the stars. Heaven did indeed seem especially close.

My first brush with the priesthood was when I was baptized. I was baptized in an irrigation canal in the little town of Oakley, Idaho. I was with my friends on the bank of that irrigation canal. We had on our bib swimming suits, which consisted of bib overalls with the legs cut out so you wouldn’t sink and holes cut in the pockets. We had never seen a swimming suit made out of knit or of other fabric. My father came out from the First Ward meetinghouse with his counselors. He was carrying a chair, and he put the chair on the side of the irrigation ditch. My father said, “David, come on over here; we’re going to baptize you.”
I dove in the canal and swam over to the other side, shivering. It was in September and a little cold, and young boys get the shivers, you know, when you have only bib overalls on. My father got down into the canal. As I remember, he didn’t take his shoes off or change anything but was just in his regular clothes. He showed me how to hold my hands, and then he baptized me. After I came up out of the water, we both crawled up on the bank of the canal. I sat in the chair, and they put their hands on my head and confirmed me a member of the Church. After that I dove in the canal and went over on the other side and joined my friends.
This was my first experience, really, with the priesthood.

When I was about five years old, one of my best friends invited me to his birthday party. I was so excited! But when I got home and gave Mom the invitation, she told me that it was on a Sunday. She didn’t say that I couldn’t go, but she didn’t say that I could. She said that I should pray about it.
So I prayed about it. About five days before the party, I thought, “What would I do if Jesus were here—go or don’t go to the party? I don’t think I would go if He were here.”
So I called my friend and said, “I can’t come to the party because it’s on a Sunday.” He said, “That’s fine.” I felt disappointed, but I knew that it was the right thing to do.

After months of planning, the young men of the Barnstaple Branch, Plymouth England Stake, left for their camp three days early. No, they didn’t read their calendars wrong. They decided that, instead of taking the usual car ride, they and their Young Men president would walk the 65 miles (105 km) to camp in stormy weather. The hike took the young men along roads, paths, and rugged Dartmoor countryside.
The trek was such a success that the stalwart hikers decided to do it again some months later. This time they walked the 130 miles (209 km) from Young Men’s camp in Redruth, arriving home in Bideford six days later. Needless to say, most of the young men have completed the Duty to God hiking requirements.

When I was a new and inexperienced Seventy, I received an urgent phone call from the Office of the First Presidency, asking if I would represent the prophet in visiting a young man in the hospital—immediately. The young man’s name was Zach. He was preparing to be a missionary but had been in an accident and suffered a serious head injury.
As I drove to the hospital, my mind raced. An errand for the prophet—are you kidding? What am I going to face? How will I help this young man? Do I have enough faith? Fervent prayer and the knowledge that I possessed the authority of the holy priesthood became my anchors.
When I arrived, Zach was lying in a hospital bed. An orderly stood ready to whisk him to the operating room so doctors could relieve the pressure on his brain. I looked at his tearful mom and a fearful young friend standing nearby, and I knew clearly that Zach needed a priesthood blessing. His friend had recently received the Melchizedek Priesthood, so I asked him to help me. I felt the power of the priesthood as we humbly gave Zach a blessing. Then he was hurried away for the surgery, and a peaceful feeling confirmed that the Savior would handle things according to His wisdom.
The medical staff performed one last X-ray before making the initial incision. They discovered, to their astonishment, that no operation would be needed.
After much therapy, Zach learned to walk and talk again. He served a successful mission and is now raising a beautiful family.

Elder James E. Faust
“A very special young friend of mine served as a missionary of this Church in Japan. His dedication to missionary work and the Japanese people was so complete and full that, rather than spend all of the money his parents sent to him, he unselfishly made a regular contribution of part of his money to help another local Japanese missionary. … In time, as with most missionaries, the clothes of my young friend became threadbare and thin. In order for him to be able to come home, it was necessary for him to buy a second-hand suit from one of the other elders. His regular denial of himself, in order to share his substance with the local Japanese missionary, was a very closely guarded secret. He is a good example of the young elect of God of this Church, as are hundreds of thousands of others.”

At one such time, I sought Heavenly Father’s counsel through constant and heartfelt prayer for more than a year to find the solution to a difficult situation. I knew logically that Heavenly Father answers all sincere prayers. Yet I reached such desperation one day that I attended the temple with one question: “Heavenly Father, do You really care?”
I was sitting near the back of the Logan Utah Temple waiting room when, to my surprise, entering the room that day was the temple president, Vaughn J. Featherstone, a close family friend. He stood at the front of the congregation and welcomed all of us. When he noticed me among the temple patrons, he stopped speaking, looked me in the eyes, and then said, “Brother Brough, it is good to see you in the temple today.”
I will never forget the feeling of that simple moment. It was as if—in that greeting—Heavenly Father was stretching forth His hand and saying, “Here am I.”
Heavenly Father really does care and listen to and answer every child’s prayer.15 As one of His children, I know the answer to my prayers came in the Lord’s time. And through that experience, I understood more than ever that we are children of God and that He has sent us here so that we can feel His presence now and return to live with Him someday.

Some years ago a wonderful young man named Curtis was called to serve a mission. He was the kind of missionary every mission president prays for. He was focused and worked hard. At one point he was assigned a missionary companion who was immature, socially awkward, and not particularly enthusiastic about getting the work done.

One day, while they were riding their bicycles, Curtis looked back and saw that his companion had inexplicably gotten off his bike and was walking. Silently, Curtis expressed his frustration to God; what a chore it was to be saddled with a companion he had to drag around in order to accomplish anything. Moments later, Curtis had a profound impression, as if God were saying to him, “You know, Curtis, compared to me, the two of you aren’t all that different.” Curtis learned that he needed to be patient with an imperfect companion who nonetheless was trying in his own way.

Last January my sweetheart, Grace, and I received an assignment to visit the members in the Philippines who were devastated by a major earthquake and a super typhoon. We rejoiced because the assignment was an answer to our prayers and a testament to the mercy and goodness of a loving Father in Heaven. It provided some closure to our longing to personally express to them our love and concern.
Most of the members we met were still living in temporary shelters like tents, community centers, and Church meetinghouses. The homes we visited had either partial roofing or no roofing at all. The people did not have much to begin with, and what little they had was swept away. There was mud and debris everywhere. However, they were full of gratitude for the little help they received and were in good spirits despite their very difficult circumstances. When we asked them how they were coping, everyone responded with a resounding, “We’re OK.” Obviously, their faith in Jesus Christ gave them hope that everything would work out eventually. Home after home, tent after tent, Sister Teh and I were being taught by these faithful Saints.

Ashima had 10 siblings, the youngest of whom, Reza, no one talked about. He was considered a black sheep. Reza had joined the restored Church after meeting the full-time missionaries while attending college in England. At the time, he was a Muslim scholar, so when he left Islam to join the Church, it was a big deal.
While Reza was living in Toronto, Canada, he dreamed that he needed to return to India and contact his sister Ashima. Before his trip, he also dreamed about a woman he had never met. Because he kept seeing her face in his dreams, he felt an added urgency to return to India.
Reza was worried, however, because his family had shunned him. But when he reached out to Ashima in New Delhi, she said, “I miss you. You should come.”
My mom wasn’t in New Delhi at the time, so Ashima called one of my aunts, Assiya. “Can you come over?” she asked. “It will be better if other people are here so that we don’t fight.”
So, my Aunt Assiya went. When she arrived, Reza immediately recognized her as the woman in his dreams. They quickly fell in love and got married. When they moved to Toronto, my Aunt Assiya started asking Reza about the Church, why he had left India, and why he was willing to be shunned by his family.
Reza answered her questions and shared his testimony of the restored gospel. My aunt soon joined the Church.

Patti Zenger, a member of the Beacon Hill Ward, Beaverton Oregon West Stake, will never forget September 26, 1998.
Patti, partially blind from diabetes, had no idea that Laura Schulthies had organized their ward to “Walk for Patti Z.” in the Vancouver, Washington, 10K fund-raiser.
When Patti got to the church, everyone was wearing red, her favorite color, and had “Patti, We All Love You” signs pinned on them.
“It was so exciting to watch Patti realize how many ward members supported her. Ours was the largest group there,” Laura recalls.

Sharee Jones of Richfield, Utah, was receiving initiatory ordinances in the temple on behalf of her deceased sister. She had a spiritual impression that her sister, who had disabilities and died of heart failure at age 17, was not encumbered in the spirit world and would be resurrected with a perfect body. While participating in this temple ordinance, Sharee realized that because of the Savior’s Resurrection, her sister’s body would no longer have restrictions when she was resurrected.
As we participate in temple ordinances, the Holy Ghost can reveal gospel truths in important and sometimes personal ways. Sharee’s experience illustrates one way the Lord’s power can be manifested in the temple, in part fulfilling His words in the Doctrine and Covenants. After the dedication of the Kirtland Temple in 1836, the Lord appeared to the Prophet Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery and told them, “I have accepted this house, and my name shall be here; and I will manifest myself to my people in mercy in this house” (Doctrine and Covenants 110:7; emphasis added).

Jared walked home from church in the hot sunshine with Mom and Dad. He thought about his Primary lesson. Since he couldn’t hear very well, Jared had to pay close attention to the pictures his teacher showed and the words she wrote on the board.
That day they had learned that Jesus asked the disciples to be missionaries. Jared wondered what he could do to share the gospel, like Jesus asked. He knew he couldn’t serve a mission yet. Then he had a great idea. Maybe he could start saving money for it!
When he got home, Jared ran right past Umber, his pet goat, and into the house. He got a big plastic jar and carefully cut a hole in the top. He wrote “Mission Fund” on the side. Then he went to his room and got his money from under his bed. One by one he dropped in each coin. But all his coins barely covered the bottom of the jar. How could he earn more money?
Jared thought and thought. He looked out the window at the bright sun. It was so hot in the Philippines. Jared and his friends ate coconut ice candy almost every afternoon after school. That’s it! he thought. Maybe he could make ice candy and sell it to other people who wanted to cool off.
Jared ran to find Mom. “Can you show me how to make ice candy?” Jared signed. They used sign language, a language where you talk with your hands. Mom smiled and nodded.
The next day, Jared and Mom walked to the big outdoor market and bought all the supplies. When they got home, Jared took out a big bowl and mixed coconut milk, condensed milk, vanilla, and shredded coconut. Mom and Jared used a funnel to pour the mix into small bags. They put all the bags in the freezer. “Great job!” Mom signed.
The ice candy took a long time to freeze. But the next day after school, it was finally ready! Jared climbed on a chair and got the white cooler off the top of the fridge. He put some towels in the bottom of the cooler and layered the ice candy on top. He couldn’t wait to sell it.
Jared ran outside into the dusty street. His friends were playing with homemade kites and throwing their flip-flops at a tin can to knock it over.
At the side of the road, he set up a table with a big sign that said, “Ice Candy, 5 pesos.” His friend Angelo ran over and pointed at the cooler. He gave Jared a five-peso coin, and Jared gave him some ice candy. They high-fived.
Soon more of Jared’s friends came to buy ice candy too. A few hours later when Mom called Jared for dinner, there were only a few ice candies left.
Jared picked up the cooler and the coins. In one of his pockets, he put some of the coins for his tithing. He put the rest of the coins into his other pocket. He couldn’t wait to see his mission-fund bank fill up.
At home he dropped his mission-fund coins onto the pile at the bottom of the jar. There was still so much more space! But Jared felt warm inside as he thought about serving a mission someday. He decided that he would keep selling ice candy until his jar was full. And in the meantime, he could find other ways to get ready to be a missionary, like Jesus asked him to do.

Much like another young man, whom I will mention later, I was 14 when I started to question religion and my faith. I attended the church of another denomination close to my house, but I felt the desire to visit many different churches.
One afternoon, I noticed two young men in dark suits and white shirts entering my neighbor’s home. These young men looked—special.
The next day I met my neighbor, Leonor Lopez, and asked her about those two men. Leonor explained that they were missionaries for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She joyfully told me that her family was baptized into the Church a year earlier. Seeing my interest, Leonor invited me to meet the missionaries and learn about the Church.
Two days later, I joined the Lopez family to meet the missionaries. They introduced themselves as Elder John Messerly from Ogden, Utah, and Elder Christopher Osorio from Walnut Creek, California. I will never forget them.
Since I was only 14, Elder Messerly insisted we go next door to my home so that my mother could know what they were teaching me. There, he kindly explained that they came to share a message about Jesus Christ and asked for her permission to teach me. Mother agreed and even joined us while they taught me.
The missionaries first asked Leonor to offer a prayer. This touched me very deeply because her prayer was not a repetition of memorized words but an expression from her heart. I felt she was really talking to her Heavenly Father.
The missionaries then taught us about Jesus Christ. They showed a picture of Him that impressed me because it was a picture of the resurrected, living Christ.
They continued, teaching us how Jesus established His Church in ancient times, with Him at the head joined by twelve Apostles. They taught us about the Apostasy—how truth and Christ’s authority had been taken from the earth after His Apostles died.
They told us of a young 14-year-old boy named Joseph Smith who, during the early 1800s, visited different churches searching for truth. As time went on, Joseph became even more confused. After reading in the Bible that we can “ask of God” for wisdom, Joseph, acting in faith, retired to a grove of trees to pray and ask which church he should join.
One of the missionaries read Joseph’s account of what happened as he prayed:
“I saw a pillar of light exactly over my head, above the brightness of the sun, which descended gradually until it fell upon me.
“… When the light rested upon me I saw two Personages, whose brightness and glory defy all description, standing above me in the air. One of them spake unto me, calling me by name and said, pointing to the other—This is My Beloved Son. Hear Him!”
During that lesson, the Spirit confirmed to me several truths.
First, God listens to all His children’s sincere prayers, and heaven is open to all—not just a few.
Second, God the Father, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost are three separate beings, united in Their purpose “to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man.”
Third, we are created in the image of God. Our Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, have bodies of flesh and bones like us, but They are glorified and perfected, and the Holy Ghost is a personage of spirit.
Fourth, through Joseph Smith, Jesus Christ restored His gospel and true Church to the earth. The priesthood authority conferred on Christ’s Apostles 2,000 years ago is the same priesthood conferred upon Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery by Peter, James, and John.
Finally, we learned about another testament of Jesus Christ: the Book of Mormon. Written by ancient prophets, it tells of the people who lived in the Americas before, during, and after the birth of Jesus. From it we learn of how they knew, loved, and worshipped Christ, who appeared to them as the resurrected Savior.
The Spirit moved me profoundly as I learned of the Savior’s declaration to them: “Behold, I am Jesus Christ, whom the prophets testified shall come into the world.”
The missionaries gave us our own copy of the Book of Mormon. We read and accepted the invitation found at the end of the Book of Mormon, which reads:
“And when ye shall receive these things, I would exhort you that ye would ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost.
“And by the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things.”
It has been almost 45 years since my mother and I first learned the joy and power of having faith in Christ. It was because of their faith in Christ that the Lopez family shared their new faith with me. It was because of their faith in Christ that these two missionaries left their homes in the United States to find my mother and me. It was the faith of all these dear friends that planted a mustard seed of faith in us that has since grown into a mighty tree of eternal blessings.
During these blessed years, we have known, as President Russell M. Nelson declared: “Everything good in life—every potential blessing of eternal significance—begins with faith. Allowing God to prevail in our lives begins with faith that He is willing to guide us. True repentance begins with faith that Jesus Christ has the power to cleanse, heal, and strengthen us.”

About two years ago, when I was 16 years old, I noticed that one of the value experiences in my Young Women Personal Progress book was to learn about the importance of patriarchal blessings.
I began to study everything I could find on patriarchal blessings. When I finished, I realized that by receiving a patriarchal blessing I could know my lineage and learn what the Lord desires of me, the blessings he has prepared for me, and what I have to do to receive them. I decided to ask my bishop to interview me for a recommend to receive a patriarchal blessing.
On 19 April 1995, I went to the patriarch’s home in our stake in Buenos Aires, Argentina. As he put his hands on my head, I felt absolute peace. A shiver ran through my whole body, and I felt great joy. Many times I had used the word joy as a synonym for happiness, but at that moment, I realized that joy is much more than mere happiness. Joy is a feeling so different from all others and so special that it cannot be imagined. To know what it is, one has to experience it.
When the patriarch finished the blessing, one tear after another ran down my cheeks. The patriarch, too, had tears in his eyes. I thanked him for having served as intermediary between the Lord and me. As I left, I couldn’t stop feeling how beautiful the experience had been and how I wanted everyone to have it.
I am grateful for the responsibilities the Lord has given me. I know the promises and warnings in my blessing are the will of my Father in Heaven for me, and I know that as I am faithful he will be at my side, helping me to overcome my weaknesses.
I know now that patriarchal blessings can be guides for our lives, just as the Liahona was a guide in ancient times. If we follow the instructions we are given, we can “continue in the way which is narrow, until [we] shall obtain eternal life” (Jacob 6:11).

Andy Mair has heard many of the stories about sacrifices made in building the first Nauvoo Temple. He knows about the men and boys who cut stone by hand, hauled heavy loads with just horses and mules, went without good food and clothing, and spent every minute they could building a beautiful House of the Lord.
Andy has plenty to eat and wear and because he’s only 14 he’s not really allowed to work on the temple site. But Andy has made sacrifices. He willingly left his friends and home to come with his family to Nauvoo where his father would oversee the reconstruction of the Nauvoo Temple. “I am not sorry that I came,” says Andy. “I have been able to learn a lot more about the history of the Church and Joseph Smith. I can say that I have walked and lived where the Prophet Joseph and the early leaders of the Church did. As I see the temple workers, I notice that they all have shoes and shirts. They also have modern equipment like cranes, lifts, cement trucks, dump trucks, tractors, and power tools. I try to imagine how people in the 1840s built such a huge building without these things.”
Also, during the construction of the temple, Andy has seen what kind of man his dad is. “It means a lot to me to have my dad be able to oversee the construction of this temple, because I know I am one of a few young men who is able to participate so closely in such an historic event. My dad is a great example to me of hard work and dedication.”