Gospel Story Finder

Orson returned to America in 1838, moved his family to Far West, Missouri, and witnessed the evil, treacherous conflict between his people and the mobocrats. During the summer Orson became very ill with a fever, and at this time, he fled Far West and joined with Thomas B. Marsh, a member of the Twelve, in “denouncing the Church.” This was the blackest and most dreadful period in Orson’s life, and he lamented:
“Few men pass through life without leaving some traces which they would gladly obliterate. Happy is he whose life is free from stain and blemish. In the month of October, 1838, with me it was a day of affliction and darkness. I sinned against God and my brethren; I acted foolishly. I will not allude to any causes for so doing save one, which was, that I did not possess the light of the Holy Ghost. I lost not my standing in the Church, however; yet, not because I was worthy to retain it, but because God and his servants were merciful. … Brothers Hyrum Smith and H. C. Kimball, men of noted kindness of heart, spake to me words of encouragement and comfort in the hour of my greatest sorrow.
“I located with the Saints in Commerce. At the April Conference in 1840, I was appointed, in company with Elder John E. Page, to go on a mission to Jerusalem.”4
The members of the Church were forced to flee to Illinois, where Orson joined with them after an absence of eight months. He stood before the assembled body of the Church at a general conference in Commerce and humbly asked their forgiveness. His petition was granted, and it was voted that he was “to stand in his former office as an Apostle.”

When I was 17 I was the ward organist, and many times I would take my date to the church so that I could practice the organ, and she would sit and listen. This may well have been because I didn’t have any money, much more than because of her deep love for music, but we started a relationship in doing that and we found that we both liked music. I played the hymns and they brought a lovely spirit to our times together in a chapel as hymns were played with intermittent talk, perhaps followed by a five-cent ice cream cone when I took her home. Now, any one of you reading this might think these were strange kinds of dates, but the important thing in any generation is to find uplifting things you can enjoy together and do them! There’s nothing more boring—and potentially dangerous—than a date that starts out, “Well, what do you want to do?” Be creative, be enthusiastic, and prepare by thinking about the kinds of things that will help you get to know each other better. Decide well in advance where you are going, what you will do, and what time you will be home.

A knock on the door startled the Thomas family. Who could be out on a night like this, with the snow falling in great sheets and lying deep on the ground? Mary Ann’s father hurried to the door but stopped long enough to lift his rifle from its pegs.

A man clothed in a shabby, thin, black coat stood in the doorway, holding two books under his arm. “Hello,” he said. “Would it be possible for a stranger to find a place to stay here this night?”

Her father regarded the man carefully. Many wicked men traveled the frontier of Canada, hoping to rob innocent families. “Who might you be?” he asked at last.

The man smiled, and Mary Ann and her older brother, Nathan, crept closer for a better look. Mary Ann stared at his feet.

“My name’s Brother James Reed—I’m just a harmless stranger traveling in your parts,” the man said cheerfully.

Her father kept a ready hand on the rifle. “Why?”

“I’ve come to tell all who will listen about a new religion that teaches the restored gospel of Jesus Christ.”

Mary Ann could see her father tighten his grip on the rifle. “I’ve no need for a new religion, thank you,” he said.

He was putting his hand on the door to close it, when Mary Ann hurried to her mother’s side and whispered, “Mother, look at his feet! They’re bleeding!”

“Wait,” Mother called, moving closer to the door. She looked out at the tracks of blood in the snow. Then stepping forward, she pushed the rifle away. “Brother Reed, I’m a good Christian woman, and I’ll turn no man away from my door on a night like this with feet in that condition.”

Upon noticing the man’s worn boots, Father invited the man inside. “Come in. Evil men rarely tramp around with bleeding feet. You can spend the night.” He stabbed a finger at the man. “Then you must be on your way. I have little time for preachers.”

Carefully Mary Ann helped the man remove the boots from his feet. He wasn’t wearing any socks! Mother came forward with a basin of warm water. Gratefully he lowered them into it.

“I do appreciate this,” he said. “I’ve been turned away from five homes this day. May the good Lord bless you for your care of one of His poor servants.”

Father sat by the fire, rubbing his rifle with an oily rag. “It seems to me that if the good Lord wanted you to spread His message, He wouldn’t send you out on a night like this, dressed as you are.”

Nathan spoke up. “Father, remember what Parson Grimes read in church Sunday?” He went to the chest under the window and took out the family’s Bible. Opening it, he leafed through it. “Here it is, in Luke 9:3. The Savior is talking to His Apostles: ‘And he said unto them, Take nothing for your journey, neither staves, nor scrip, neither bread, neither money; neither have two coats apiece.’ “

Mary Ann whispered to her brother. “What does scrip mean?”

“It’s a bag to carry food in,” Brother Reed whispered back. Chuckling, he lifted his toes from the water and wiggled them. “The scripture doesn’t mention socks, but I don’t have that, either!”

Mary Ann thought she caught a smile on her father’s face before it disappeared. But he said brusquely, “Do you claim to be an Apostle of the Lord Jesus Christ?”

“No sir. I’m just one of His humble servants. But there is one traveling with me in this part of Canada. His name is Brigham Young. I can tell you without a doubt in my heart that he’s an Apostle, called by a prophet to testify of the Lord Jesus Christ.”

Suddenly a warm feeling entered everyone in the small log home. Mary Ann felt a deep wonder inside. Could this really be true? Could there be an Apostle here in the wilderness of Canada?

Mother replaced the Bible in the chest. Then she pulled a pair of hand-knit stockings from it. Mary Ann cringed when she saw the knotty socks—the very first pair she had knitted. When Mother handed them to Brother Reed, he put them gratefully on his now-dry feet. “God bless whoever knitted these.” His eyes twinkling, he turned to Mary Ann. “Was it you?”

She nodded and ducked her red face.

He sighed with contentment. “Never have my feet felt better. Thank you, dear sister.”

Mary Ann lifted her face and saw the truly grateful look in his eyes.

Mother asked, “Is this Apostle of Jesus Christ, this …”

“Brigham Young.”

“Is he in as much need as you are?”

“We travel just as the Lord advised in the New Testament. Brother Brigham has as little as I. Wherever we go, people who listen to the message of our Savior and help us are blessed. In Matthew 25:40, [Matt. 25:40] it says, ‘Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.’”

Mother sighed, “Then let’s hope that he found shelter tonight.” She went to the fireplace. “Now I’m going to feed you a good meal while you tell us about your new religion. How is it different?”

“The gospel has been restored. God the Father and His Son Jesus Christ appeared to a boy They have chosen to be a prophet on earth today.”

Picking up her baby sister, Anna, Mary Ann moved closer to listen to the stranger. “You mean a prophet like Moses and Abraham?” She asked in awe.

Brother Reed smiled at her. “Yes. His name is Joseph Smith. They told him to start a new church. It was to be just like the one the Savior organized when He lived on earth.”

Father continued to rub the rifle with the oily cloth. “So you claim to have prophets and Apostles?”

“Yes, sir.”

“All as poor as you?”

“Yes, sir. But remember the Savior Himself chose fishermen instead of rich men for His Apostles. Brigham Young worked at building houses before his call.”

Nathan moved closer. “What are those books you carry?”

“One’s the Bible—just like yours. The other is the Book of Mormon, a sacred book Joseph Smith translated from ancient writings given to him by an angel. It tells of Christ’s visit to the people here in the Americas.”

“May I look at that book?” Father asked.

Brother Reed handed the book to Mary Ann. “Would you take this to your father?”

As she carried the book, she felt a special reverence for it.

“Just read where it’s marked,” Brother Reed said.

Father read aloud Moroni’s promise. Then he closed the book. “It looks like your feet are going to need some time to heal,” he said gruffly. “And I want to study this book. If after I read it, I find that you’re a liar, then you’ll be out on your ear. If it’s true, we’ll listen to all that you have to tell us. And you’ll be welcome to stay as long as you will.”

“Fair enough,” Brother Reed said with a smile. Gratefully he wrapped himself in the blankets Mary Ann provided, and lay down by the fire to sleep while Father read into the night.

Some years ago a priests quorum decided to gather food for the needy as a service project. Jim, one of the priests, was excited to participate and was determined to collect more food than anyone else. The time arrived when the priests met at the chapel. They all went out at the same time and returned at a specified time later in the evening. To everyone’s surprise, Jim’s cart was empty. He seemed rather quiet, and some of the young men made fun of him. Seeing this and knowing that Jim had an interest in cars, the adviser said, “Come outside, Jim. I want you to look at my car. It’s giving me some trouble.”
When they got outside, the adviser asked Jim if he was upset. Jim said, “No, not really. But when I went out to collect the food, I really got a lot. My cart was full. As I was returning to the chapel, I stopped at the home of a nonmember woman who is divorced and lives within our ward boundaries. I knocked on the door and explained what we were doing, and she invited me in. She began to look for something to give me. She opened the refrigerator, and I could see there was hardly anything in it. The cupboards were bare. Finally, she found a small can of peaches.
“I could hardly believe it. There were all these little kids running around that needed to be fed, and she handed me this can of peaches. I took it and put it in my cart and went on up the street. I got about halfway up the block when I just felt warm all over and knew I needed to go back to that house. I gave her all the food.”
The adviser said, “Jim, don’t you ever forget the way you feel tonight, because that’s what it is all about.” Jim had tasted the nutrient of selfless service.

For the past 20 months, our family has been blessed with the privilege of having a very special baby.
Little Paxton, our grandson, was born with a very rare chromosomal deletion, a genetic disorder that distinguishes him, literally, as one in hundreds of millions. For our daughter and her husband, an uncharted, life-changing journey began when Paxton was born. This experience has become a crucible for learning special lessons tied to the eternities.
Shortly after precious Paxton was born, we knew Heavenly Father would bless us and teach us special lessons. As his father and I put our fingers on his tiny head in the first of many priesthood blessings, the words came into my mind from the ninth chapter of John: “That the works of God should be made manifest in him.”
God’s works are definitely being made manifest through Paxton.
We are learning patience, faith, and gratitude through the balm of service, endless hours of intense emotions, tears of empathy, and the prayers and expressions of love for dear ones in need, especially Paxton and his parents.
As described in Mosiah, we have witnessed the Savior’s pure love given to Paxton’s family, which love is available to all: “And now it came to pass that the burdens which were laid upon Alma and his brethren were made light; yea, the Lord did strengthen them that they could bear up their burdens with ease, and they did submit cheerfully and with patience to all the will of the Lord.”

This scenario might be all too familiar to you: A classmate you considered to be your true friend has left your friendship behind to hang out with the popular crowd. What’s more, she has started to make decisions that break gospel standards and has started to make fun of you for not doing the same.
How would you respond? Do you feel bitter about how your friend left you behind? Or do you try and live the sweet, Christlike attributes of love and forgiveness? Sure, you already know which path is the path the Savior would have you follow, but when your emotions are hurting, it’s not always easy, is it? Follow the bitter and sweet paths to find out where each response leads.
You want to help your friend but aren’t sure how. You begin by praying for guidance. (See Matthew 5:44.)
You decide to take your friend aside for a one-on-one chat. You tell her that you’re hurt by her words and actions but still love and care about her. (See Matthew 18:15.)
Although your friend continues to make choices that you know aren’t right and sometimes still makes fun of you for living the gospel, you continue to invite her to wholesome activities and Church events. (See D&C 31:9.)
You text your friend to see how she’s doing and tell her you miss spending time with her. She admits she is confused and thanks you for caring. (See Proverbs 15:1.)
You realize that whether or not your friend chooses to hang out with you anymore, that doesn’t mean you can’t be friendly. You commit to being nice no matter what, and doing so brings you peace—even on the hard days. A lot of hard work remains, but you’ve started to feel true compassion and now know how sweet being a real friend can be. (See Ephesians 4:32.)

Several years ago, I was in a sacrament meeting where a new member shared what led to his conversion. One day, he was working in his garden when two young missionaries walked up the path towards him. One of the missionaries then asked him this question: “How would you feel if you knew that there was a living prophet and twelve Apostles on the earth today?” The man had never considered such a thing, and although not religious, he immediately wanted to know more. The missionaries taught him the gospel and he gained a personal testimony. All because he learned that once again we have living prophets and apostles walking the earth.

It was during the Mexican Revolution and because of the danger to the Mormon families we were forced to leave for the United States.
I remember well the night in July, 1912, when father came home from a priesthood meeting with the message a decision had been made for women, children, and older men to leave the next day for El Paso, Texas. The prospect at first was exciting to me, full of adventure. But I really realized the seriousness of the situation when we were awakened early the next morning to prepare for the trip north.
Before leaving on our journey to the train station, I sat on a chair under the apricot tree in back of our house while father cut my hair. He told me that he would have to stay a while in Mexico to settle his affairs and that I should go with mother and the children. He said I would have to be the man of the family temporarily and take care of them when we got to El Paso.
About 10 o’clock in the morning we left Juarez, Mexico in a wagon. Mother, Aunt Lydie, and Uncle George sat on the spring seat. Mother’s seven children and Uncle George’s children—I think there were five—were in the back. I was seated on our trunk that carried all the goods we could take because of the crowd that would be on the train.
As we drove down Main Street, across the river, and down past Dan Skousen’s mill, I was looking up the road in the direction from which we had come. Over the flat between Dan Skousen’s and San Diego, the rebel army was moving northward. They were not in formation but were straggling along two at a time or in larger groups.
Suddenly two soldiers on horseback, large cartridge belts slung over their shoulders, stopped us. They were riding in old-fashioned Mexican saddles with big horns. The men said they were looking for ammunition and searched our wagon. They found no ammunition but they did find twenty Mexican pesos, the only money we had to help take care of us when we reached the United States.
They took the twenty pesos from Uncle George and then permitted us to proceed south. They started north. When they were about 91 meters from the wagon, they turned around, drew their guns from their holsters and pointed them toward the wagon.
As I looked up the barrels of the rifles, they seemed very large to me. I suppose this was one of the most exciting moments in my life, as I expected that we would be shot. However, the men did not shoot us. Slowly they lowered their guns, turned, and rode away, and we all lived to tell the story.

Imagine you are a right-handed person and in a blink of an eye you were to start afresh using your left hand. How would that feel? Difficult, right? but not entirely impossible.
That is exactly how I felt when I was to switch from the physical institute class to the online institute class, especially during this period of the COVID-19 pandemic. It was funny at first, participating in the opening formalities via chats and voice notes but with time, the class seemed normal, except for being physically present. We prayed, discussed, and felt the Spirit as we all shared our thoughts and experiences.

When I was 17 years old, I enlisted in the Royal Canadian Army Reserve. I was sent to a training base, and for the first time in my life, I was on my own to determine my path. I suspected that I would be tempted not to remain active in the Church and that my testimony would be challenged
When I arrived on the base, a course sergeant gave a tour of the different buildings and churches. I was prompted to ask where the LDS branch was located. The sergeant paused for a moment. Then he said that church won’t be found on base, but if I would like to attend, I could go with him and his wife. He was a recent convert to the Church and was happy to take anyone who wanted to go. I was glad to have the option of going, even though I had not decided if I was going to go that Sunday. After all, I was alone and free to choose for myself now. But something in my heart told me I needed to attend.
That Saturday night was one of the hardest in my life. I have since called it my “tree of life” experience. It started when my friends wanted me to hang out with them at the mess hall. I knew they were just going to drink, and I told them I needed sleep because I had to get up early for church. They laughed at my choice and went their way.
After they left, I sank into my bunk. From there, I could look out the window and watch my friends on the mess hall balcony, drinking and laughing. I remembered how they had teased me for not joining them. I felt like I imagine Lehi must have felt when he looked at the great and spacious building, where people were similarly laughing at him. I turned around to face my desk, only to notice my scriptures. I eagerly opened them and began to read. These were my iron rod, and just as the word of God had kept Lehi’s family safe, I knew they would likewise protect me.
I don’t recall what I read that night, but I do recall the Spirit I felt. I felt it again when I went to church the next morning. By attending church every Sunday while I lived on the base, I built a lasting testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Since my time at training camp, I was given the opportunity to share my testimony with others as a full-time missionary in the California Sacramento Mission.

What should we do for our next activity?
We could play soccer again!
Or do another craft night!
I’ve been thinking. You know Sasha?
Yeah. I haven’t seen her in a while.
I heard she just got first place in the science fair. I have an idea she might like. Here’s what I’m thinking …
… sounds fun! And then …
… invite the young men too? …
… markers to decorate …
Sounds like a plan. Let’s do it!
The week before the activity, at Sasha’s house …
We have this activity idea.
Sure, I’ll help!
Sasha’s going to teach us how to make rockets. Do you guys want to come?
I’ll invite my quorum. Can we bring snacks?
The day of the activity …
Do you think anyone will come?
Sasha says she’s on her way!
Let’s get started!
“A sense of belonging is important to our physical, mental, and spiritual well-being. Yet it is quite possible that at times each of us might feel that we don’t fit in.…Belonging comes not as we wait for it but as we reach out to help one another.”
Elder D. Todd Christofferson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, October 2022 general conference (Liahona, Nov. 2022, 54–55).
Learn how to make an air-powered bottle rocket on the Gospel Living app!

Goals are great! Almost everyone sets goals, and everyone reaches some level of success or failure in his efforts to reach them. Some goals seem almost unattainable—like running the sub-9-second 100-yard dash, or vaulting over 18 feet. Some goals are strange—like wanting to make the longest banana split in the whole world. And some goals are just downright ridiculous—like seeing how many live gold fish you can swallow.
But two young men from Ogden, Utah, set a goal that was a learning experience, a great character builder, and a goal that, as far as we know, has never been achieved before, especially by two brothers. Since they have been Scouts, Chad and Craig Carson, ages 15 and 16, have each earned every merit badge that has been offered by the Boy Scouts of America. Each has 127 merit badges. This is actually more merit badges than are now offered because some have been discontinued since Chad and Craig earned them. Both boys are Eagle Scouts and have found the Scouting program an exciting general education in itself. Their dad has figured that they have done enough reading, research, and study to qualify as sophomores in college.
Craig and Chad didn’t start earning all those merit badges until two years ago. Chad, the younger of the two, had a little catching up to do, but once the brothers were working together, they spent some time almost every day working toward their common goal. During one summer they earned 48 merit badges. It took more than half an hour to read them all at the Court of Honor. They now have all 127, and they each need two merit badge sashes to display their awards because there is only room for 100 per sash.
When asked which merit badges had given them the most trouble, both Chad and Craig said that beekeeping was the greatest challenge. It wasn’t so much doing the work as it was finding someone who was qualified to teach them and pass them on the badge requirements. After some searching and one unsuccessful attempt to get together with a beekeeper, they finally found a man who was teaching a class in beekeeping at Weber State College, and they were able to complete the merit badge requirements with his help. By the way, Chad and Craig are still beekeepers.
Cotton farming was also a tough one. When the brothers decided to work on this, they had to send away for the book because it seems that no one really raises cotton around Ogden anymore. And after they got the book, they just couldn’t find any cotton seeds. But their mother remembered that she had been in the South some 17 years before and had picked a ball of cotton as a memento. And there are seeds in a real cotton ball. Chad and Craig took the seeds that were in that 17-year-old cotton ball and grew four cotton plants.
Craig and Chad say that the physical skill merit badges have been the most fun to earn. They have learned how to ski, swim, shoot, water ski, and do many other things that they otherwise might not have had the opportunity to do.
When asked if they thought they had missed out on anything because they had spent so much time working on all those merit badges, Chad said, “No, sir! We’ve been able to do more ourselves and as a family because we have set goals. When we were going to get our skiing merit badge, Dad had to drive us up to take lessons, and he decided that instead of just waiting around, he might as well take lessons with us. Now we all ski. It has been great for the whole family.”
Craig said, “It’s not really hard to earn the merit badges if you put your mind to it. Scouts could earn a lot more merit badges if they tried, and if they did, they would be glad they put forth the effort.”
So, on September 21, 1974, Chad and Craig Carson received the last of the merit badges they could earn. Both brothers give a great deal of credit to their mother and father. Chad said that his mom was always saying, “Come on! You can do it!” She would help them schedule appointments and drive them wherever they had to go. At the beginning of the summer, she would help map out a plan for which merit badges they could earn. Both boys also had high praises for their Scout leaders. The leaders challenged them and helped in every way possible.
Now Chad and Craig think there should be a merit badge given to help Scouts like themselves figure out where they can keep all the projects, models and charts that it takes to earn all those badges.

After joining the Church, we decided to create Christmas traditions for our family that would focus less on materialism and more on Heavenly Father’s love for His children, embodied in His Son, Jesus Christ.
Aside from the tradition of decorating our home with a tree and garlands, each year our family holds a series of family home evenings to help us remember the Savior. For these meetings, we have compiled a book of our favorite Christmas songs and various drawings for the children. On the first Monday of December, we talk about the origin of Christmas, its symbols, and the ways people celebrate Jesus Christ’s birth around the world. We also read a favorite Christmas message from the Liahona of December 1986, the year my wife, Vani, and I were married. On the second Monday, we read from a favorite book about Christmas. On the third Monday, we read and discuss the First Presidency Message from the current Liahona.
The most special day of the month for us is 24 December. We invite friends and our extended family to our home for dinner and a Christmas program. In the program, the children present a musical number, we read the story of Christ’s birth, and I give a Christmas message I have prepared. We then enjoy a wonderful dinner my wife has prepared.
In these and many other ways, we have created family traditions to help us celebrate Christmas as the birth of Jesus Christ.
Antonio Carlos Pedrosa dos Santos,Visconde de Araújo First Branch, Macaé Brazil District

Today is Eli’s birthday. He is four years old.
In four more years, you will be baptized.
And four years after that, you will be a deacon and you will be able to pass the sacrament.
Later, Mom helped Eli change from his pajamas into his church clothes.
Do deacons wear superhero pants to church?
No. Deacons wear nice pants.
Do deacons wear superhero shirts to church?
No. Deacons wear white shirts and ties.
I want to wear a white shirt and nice pants. I want to dress like a deacon.
Mom helped Eli put on his nice pants, a white shirt, and a tie.
At church, Eli folded his arms as he watched the deacons pass the sacrament.
When a deacon brought Eli the sacrament, Eli took a piece of bread and then handed the tray to Mom.
Mom smiled at Eli. He was happy to help. He felt just like a deacon.

Tillie carried her house on her back as all turtles do. Whenever she felt danger near, Tillie pulled her feet, her head, and her little tail inside her house and shut it up tight. Tillie went into her little house other times too. If she heard even the slightest strange noise or if she saw her shadow, into her house she went! Tillie was so shy, she spent most of her time inside her shell. Because she hadn’t made any friends, Tillie was feeling very lonely.
One day as Tillie moved slowly through some tall grass, she saw something move and quickly pulled in her feet, head, and tiny tail. Then Tillie felt a little thumping on her shell.
"What’s that sound?" Tillie asked herself.
"Someone is knocking on my shell!" she exclaimed. And in spite of her shyness and fright, Tillie was curious. When the knock came again, Tillie opened her shell just a crack and peeked out. But she couldn’t see anything so she poked her head out a little farther.
"Hi," squeaked a teeny voice that belonged to the smallest mouse Tillie had ever seen.
Tillie was so surprised that she forgot to duck back inside her house. "Who—who are you?" she stammered.
"I’m Morty. Who are you?" the little gray creature inquired.
"Tillie’s my name. Did you knock on my shell?" she asked.
"Yes," Morty answered. "I went to get some grain for Mother so she could make mouse cakes and now I can’t get home."
"Why not?" asked Tillie.
"Because you’re sitting on the doorway to my house," the mouse squeaked.
"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to," apologized Tillie.
"That’s all right. If you move over just a little, I can get by," said Morty.
Tillie slowly moved forward as Morty watched, amazed.
"You take your house with you when you move!" exclaimed Morty. "Will you please wait a minute until I call my brothers and sisters? They’ve never seen anything like this before either."
Morty hurried into his underground home, and it wasn’t long until he returned with four other mice.
"These are my brothers and sisters—Millie, Mindy, Mickey, and Monty."
They all stared at Tillie for a moment, then, rather shyly, they asked if she would like to play with them.
Tillie had never had friends to play with and she beamed with happiness. "Would you like to slide down my shell?" she asked her new friends.
They climbed up on her back, then slid down to the ground, landing on the soft grass.
"This is fun," they squealed as they took turns climbing up and sliding down.
When their mother called them to come in, the little mice asked Tillie if she would play with them again the next day.
"Oh yes," Tillie told them. "I’ll just move over there in the tall grass so I’ll be close to you. That will be a good place to live."
It was wonderful having friends like Morty, Mindy, Millie, Mickey, and Monty. Tillie was sure she would never be lonely again.

Julischka Schlatter, 8, lives about an hour away from Bern, Switzerland’s capital. She could tell you about the city’s quaint medieval streets, its old cathedrals, and the Glockenspiel, a clock tower built in 1530. But instead, she will probably tell you about the beautiful white building on a hill nearby. Here President David O. McKay dedicated the first European temple 50 years ago, and Julischka is glad he did! At age 6 she entered the Bern Switzerland Temple with her mother, Chantal, and stepfather, Philipp, to be sealed together as a family.
“I remember the beautiful room and bright chandelier,” she says. She remembers wearing white and seeing her parents waiting for her in the sealing room. She especially remembers listening to the temple sealer’s words.
“That day was very special,” Julischka’s mom says. “I didn’t receive just a husband for time and eternity, but my daughter too.”

Julius Blackwelder, teachers quorum adviser in the Trumbull (Connecticut) First Ward, explained his plan to the quorum members in 1991. He wanted to form a sailing group that wouldn’t just be for the young men’s enjoyment. His vision was to have the youth gather each Friday during the summer at Jennings Beach on the Atlantic Ocean in nearby Fairfield for a day of catamaran sailing. And he wanted it to be a fellowshipping tool—a way to attract the less-active in the ward and the boys’ nonmember friends.
Everybody liked the idea, and the plan, along with the boats, was launched. They called themselves the Sea Rats.
“We start right at the beginning of June. Once school is over we start sailing,” says 17-year-old Aaron Blackwelder, Brother Blackwelder’s son. “We start at ten in the morning, set up the boats, and just go out and sail. We felt we had to be friends with the less-active members first, and this is a way to bring nonmember friends out and make friendships with less-active members.”
In the group’s five-year existence, the Sea Rats now count 50 kids from the New Haven Connecticut Stake who spend the day on the group’s four catamarans. The Sea Rats have a routine that rarely changes—unless a worldwide event rolls into town.
Last July, organizers of the Special Olympics World Games approached the Sea Rats and asked if they would donate the use of their boats for the Games’ sailing events being held at nearby Savin Rock.
“We said, ‘Sure, no problem. We’ll donate the boats,’” says Drew Brown, 17, “but we also told them we wanted to donate our services and work as safety officers for the Olympians.”
As safety officers, the Sea Rats served as dead weight—or ballast—on the boats they loaned. “We made sure [the Olympians] were safe, that they didn’t get dehydrated,” says Drew. “We got to help them out and make sure they didn’t get tangled in the line. Things like that.”
Adds Ryan Brown, Drew’s younger brother, “It was fun getting to know these athletes. They’re a little slower in doing things, but they’re a lot more trusting.”
That’s something Aaron understands. His older sister Liz has both physical and mental handicaps. “I’ve always grown up with a sister with some disabilities, and that’s normal for me. It’s helped me to have patience and to deal with people better,” he says.
After only a few hours at the beach with the Special Olympians, Victor Solis, a member of the Trumbull Spanish Branch, understood why the Sea Rats gave up, not only their boats, but their time for this one week.
“These athletes have a few setbacks, but they’re choice spirits and they’re special. They just can’t get everything to work like we can. Because you have been given much, like the hymn says, you, too, must give. We’re just giving back a little bit more because of all we have.”

The second thrill happened after I retired from professional football. A young man became interested in the gospel through some discussions we had. I invited him to my home. He brought his girl friend with him, and the full-time missionaries taught them the gospel. They were converted. I had the opportunity of baptizing these two young people. A year later they came to Salt Lake City, and I had the privilege of going through the Salt Lake Temple with them when they were sealed for time and eternity.
The experience of seeing those beautiful young people accept the gospel and be united forever was a great thrill. It was a different kind of thrill than the touchdown pass. There were only a few people present in the “sacred silence,” but it was still very exciting.

At first I thought seminary would be hard. I had to change schools, and seminary was early in the morning. I didn’t think it would work because I had a lot of homework and other things going on.
But when I started going to seminary, time just opened up for me. Now I always have enough time for my homework. And I’m always excited the next day to get up and go back to seminary. My friends and I support each other and learn a lot while we’re there.

My friend and colleague Ty Mansfield described a similar truth. As a man who experiences same-sex attraction, Ty witnessed the spiritual growth that can take place as we anchor our lives in Jesus Christ and willingly surrender our entire hearts to Him, allowing Him to consecrate all difficult experiences for our gain. For Ty, that began as the Spirit taught him “that whether I ever married, I was infinitely loved and accepted by God. My responsibility was to continue to live one day at a time while seeking and following the guidance of the Spirit.”5 And eventually, trusting God led Ty to enter into a joyful, beautiful, eternal marriage to his wife.