Gospel Story Finder

I grew up the youngest of ten children in a wonderful Latter-day Saint home. When I was a little boy, we had “home night” every Monday night.
At each home night, we were taught lessons on honesty, tithing, prayer, and fasting, as well as such practical lessons as turning off the lights and hanging up the towels. And we all gathered around the piano to sing, with Alice, my oldest sister, playing the piano. We always sang a hymn. I think that there is something very special about a family singing a hymn together in the home. It doesn’t matter how well they sing.
I have a deep love of music. I took piano lessons as a child, and my mother made sure I practiced every day after school. I have a tongue-in-cheek saying: “Mean mothers have children who play the piano.”
I had a wise bishop who called me in when I was twelve. He said, “LeGrand, we need some organists in our ward. I’d like you to take an organ class at the McCune School of Music. It costs five dollars for ten lessons. The ward will pay half of it, and you pay half.” I’m sure my mother put him up to it and paid the ward’s half.
I took the class and started to play the organ. When I was fourteen, I became the ward organist. In my high school days, I played the piano in a dance orchestra. That was a lot of fun. I loved the rhythm, and I could usually make five or ten dollars a night. When I was in dental school in Kansas City, Missouri, I played the organ at a Presbyterian church. It was a great experience for me. I played a lot of LDS hymns for them. They especially enjoyed “O My Father” and “Come, Come Ye Saints.” After playing at their service, I would get on the bus and go play a pump organ at our service.
Music has always been important to my own eight children too. When one of my four daughters was about nine or ten, we were all sitting at the kitchen table, reading the book of Mark in the New Testament. She said, “Daddy, is that where the song comes from? Could we please sing it?” We got out the hymnbooks and sang “Master, the Tempest Is Raging.” We weren’t a challenge to the Tabernacle Choir, but that hymn will never be the same again to me, because we sang it around the kitchen table.”
My girls sing together too. They’re are all married now, but they still come to see me at least once a week. I play for them and they sing. When my grandchildren come over on Sunday evenings, the ones taking music lessons always play for me. It’s a tradition.
When my wife and I went on our mission to Tallahassee, Florida, we started our missionaries singing. Our very favorite song was “Love One Another.” It helped when missionaries weren’t getting along.
My favorite hymn is “O My Father”—partly because it was my father’s favorite. After I grew up, I used to go every Sunday night and play hymns for my parents. They had an organ, and my father would sing along with me. He lived to be ninety-five. He loved good music and wanted me to play the hymns.
Now a General Authority, I sometimes play at stake conferences. I usually play “O My Father,” “A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief,” “I Am a Child of God,” “Love at Home,” “I Know That My Redeemer Lives,” or “I Need Thee Every Hour.” Each time I’ve played, several mothers have come up to me and said, “Thank you. I wanted my children to see a grown man play. I have some sons who think that they want to quit, but when they see you, they want to keep going.”
My wife and I have a little tape recorder in the kitchen, and many times we turn it on and listen to good music. We love the Tabernacle Choir. Occasionally I sit down at the piano or organ and make my own arrangements of the hymns.
It’s important what children sing and listen to, because music can affect their thoughts. The Primary songs and the hymns are precious and are music that the Savior wants us to hear. There is too much music in the world, especially on radio and television, that just isn’t appropriate. I don’t think music is everything, but it is an important part of the Church—music and the scriptures and daily family prayer.

You see, when the Latter-day Saint missionaries first came to England in 1837, they began their labors in Preston. At that time the city was in the midst of a grand celebration of Queen Victoria’s reign. As the missionaries alighted from their coach, they saw a banner overhead proclaiming in bold gilt letters “Truth Will Prevail.”
It became a widely-used phrase in the Church and appeared in various publications. One elder, reporting on his mission to Indiana, wrote in a letter published in Nauvoo’s Times and Seasons in 1841: “Although the Lord has chosen the weak things of this world to preach his gospel, truth will prevail, and will prosper.”1
Trusting the Lord, I turned in my mission papers. On my 21st birthday, along with my birthday post, came my call to serve in the England London South Mission. Due to my years of inactivity, I still felt weak and inadequate. Only later would I understand what that early missionary understood: the Lord may choose the weak things of this world to preach His gospel, but truth will prevail and will prosper.
I went in faith to the temple to be endowed. When I came out of the temple, I met two missionaries who had served in my home ward. As we talked, I described my experience out on the moors. One of the elders smiled broadly and explained that on a particular preparation day, he and his companion had hiked up on the moors and at a certain point felt impressed to place some rocks across the hillside spelling out the familiar phrase “Truth Will Prevail.”
Tears streamed down our faces as we realized what had happened. Those familiar with the area know there are miles and miles of trails amongst the moors. Yet I happened to choose the very spot where the missionaries had placed those rocks. I knew there and then that the Lord had answered my prayer in the hills that day.

I recently had the opportunity to travel with Elder Donald L. Hallstrom to visit five cities in the great central area of the United States. In each city we visited, we would hold a meeting with the full-time missionaries, followed by a meeting with the stake and ward leaders regarding missionary work. Between each of the two meetings, the stake Relief Society would prepare a light dinner for us to afford us time to meet with the stake presidents. When we reached Milwaukee, Wisconsin, two young families appealed to the Relief Society to let them prepare and serve the dinner. The two husbands manned the kitchen. The two mothers supervised the table arrangements and the serving of the food. Three young children handled the table setting and the serving of the food under the supervision of their mothers. This was an opportunity for the mothers to have a teaching opportunity with their children. It was very special to watch the children respond to every detail as they were taught by their mothers. They carried out their assignments completely and fully.

On one of my many business trips across Africa, I was fortunate to have met a family in Nairobi, Kenya, with whom I have become friends—the Alumande family. At that time—in 2010—Brother Alumande was bishop of the Upperhill Ward; today he is the stake patriarch. Brother Alumande strives to lift where he stands by serving and loving those around him and by inviting his family to do the same. I have met his grandchildren, Amari (age 8) and Jabari (age 4), and I can see that they have been taught to be kind and to serve their friends and neighbors. They have learnt this through the example of their grandfather. With his permission, and the permission of those involved, permit me to tell about a recent experience that happened during the past (2017) Christmas season—an experience involving his family and others not of our faith.

Most recently I visited the Alumande family at their home, and while we were sharing a gospel lesson—and already well into it—a woman and her young son entered the house. They were excited, reaching out and greeting everyone enthusiastically and happily. They suddenly realized that we were having a lesson, and as Brother Alumande explained what we were discussing, they agreed to stay and join our conversation. I later learnt that this sister has been facing severe health challenges and other problems, during which time Brother Alumande and his family have been reaching out with love, kindness, and service to her and to her children. They shared gospel lessons with the family and invited them to various Church services and activities. Brother Alumande’s grandchildren, Amari and Jabari, have become friends with this sister’s children and enjoy playing together—and have learnt to share whatever little they may have. It is easy to see the sense of care and kindness instilled at such a young age to the Alumande grandchildren because they have been taught, in word and in deed, the principle of love and service to one another.

In September 1948, two friends told 16-year-old Jirí about hearing a lecture given by Mormon missionaries. He went with them to the next meeting. “The missionaries were young, friendly, and full of optimism,” he says. “I felt an immediate desire to know more about the Church. Reassured by the lectures I heard at the meeting, I decided to study diligently in my mind and heart the doctrines they were preaching.”

Seven months later, early on the morning of his 17th birthday, Sunday, 24 April 1949, Jirí and his two friends—along with four missionaries and two local members—took a streetcar to the end of the line in Lochotín and then walked for 45 minutes to Kamenicky Pond.

“It was several degrees below freezing,” he remembers, “and the grass and trees were covered with frost. We walked bravely to the pond, surrounded by magnificent nature, to enter into covenants with the Lord.” They were baptized, then confirmed at the waters’ edge. “It was for all of us one of the most beautiful moments in our lives.”

Then I met the missionaries. They gave me a Book of Mormon, and I started to read it. When I read 3 Nephi 17, I was truly impressed by the way Jesus took the little children and prayed for them. I knew that this was the right way to pray.
I decided to read all the scriptures about Jesus Christ praying. In Luke 3:21, after John baptized Him, Jesus prayed to Heavenly Father and the heavens were opened. When I read that, I knew that I also wanted to pray in a way that would open the heavens.
Sometimes I feel tired and don’t feel like praying. But then I remember how Jesus prayed. I try to be honest and sincere in my prayer so that the heavens will be opened for me too.
Sometimes my prayers are short because I can’t find the words to express myself well. I just have a bunch of feelings inside, and I say, “Thou knowest what I’m trying to say. Please just help me.”
Sometimes when I pray to ask a blessing on the food, I remember that even in that small prayer, the heavens can be opened. I try to forget about the world and connect with Heavenly Father. And in a very humble way, I say things that come from my heart.
When I feel peace and comfort, I know that the heavens are open to me.
After the missionaries taught my family about the gospel, my mother, sister, and I were baptized. But my father, my brother, and my other sister didn’t join the Church. I really wanted my father to be a member of the Church. I fasted, and every day I prayed for my father to accept the gospel and be baptized.
I knew that I needed to pray for my father, but I also knew I needed to wait for God’s answer. Sometimes He says, “No, not yet.” Eventually my father did listen and understand, and he was baptized.
If your mother or father isn’t a member of the Church yet, talk to your Friend—your Father in Heaven. Ask for Him to touch your mother or father’s heart. Talk to Him humbly and honestly, in a sincere way. But then relax. He is in command. He knows how to do things. He knows your father and mother better than you do. He knows how to reach them.
Don’t worry. You have a friend. Pray with your heart, and Heavenly Father will listen to you. The heavens will be opened. He knows you, and He will bless you.

A year earlier, everything had been in place for the journey. Both of the parents and all eight children living at home had worked hard to earn and save enough money. (The oldest son was married and had moved from home; another son had died.) Brother Paronda and his boys raised and sold corn, rice, potatoes, melons, and bananas. Sister Paronda and the three daughters tended their sari-sari store (a small neighborhood retail store where they sell “a little bit of everything”). And the older sons took turns driving the family’s jeepney (a small passenger bus) to earn extra money. Then, when all the preparations had been made, Brother and Sister Paronda and the eight children had received temple recommends.

But just before they were to leave for Manila, their jeepney was in an accident, and two passengers were seriously injured. The jeepney was not insured, and the family’s temple fund was depleted as Brother Paronda paid for medical treatments, including hospitalization, for the injured passengers. The temple trip had to be postponed.

“Sometimes in the world we encounter a lot of problems,” says daughter Marilyn. “But whatever hardship or persecution we encounter, we can live happily by obeying what the Lord asks us to do. Nothing is impossible with the Lord if we have faith that he will help us.”

Eleven months after the jeepney accident, they had finally saved enough money again to make the trip. Then the typhoon hit! Their home and store were spared, but their crops were destroyed. Streets were flooded, and travel was impossible.

Surrounded by chaos, they still felt that their most urgent need was to get to the temple immediately. “We were in a hurry to be sealed,” explains Brother Paronda. Unfortunately, in only two or three days the temple would close for several weeks.

Finally, during the night at the height of the storm, the family knelt in prayer. “We asked the Lord to stop the storm so we could go,” says Brother Paronda. “Heavenly Father answered our prayer. The storm stopped during the night, and we had good weather for our journey.”

The next day, they rented a jeepney (their own was still not in running condition), and Brother and Sister Paronda and the eight children crowded inside for the fifteen-hour trip. After driving through the night, they arrived at the temple the day before it was to close. Immediately they changed into white clothes, and everyone who was old enough (father, mother, and six children) received the temple endowment.

Then the parents were sealed to each other, and the children were sealed to them—including their son Alan who had died twelve years earlier as an eight-month-old baby. “Even though Alan isn’t living with us at this time,” says Marilyn, “we know that someday we will be together again. He is still a part of our family.”

“I am so grateful,” says Sister Nelly Paronda, “that my whole family can now be together forever.”

When they left the temple that day, it was late. And they had had no rest from their journey. “But we did not feel tired or hungry,” says Marilyn. “We felt very happy that the Lord had answered our prayers.”

The following day, they attended the temple again. Later, the oldest son, Noel, was sealed in the temple with his wife and children. And family members have returned to do ordinance work for grandparents and great-grandparents.

Brother Paronda was the first Filipino to serve as president of the Goa Branch. He is currently serving as the first Philippine president of the Goa District. Looking back, he puts the jeepney accident and the typhoon into perspective: “They were trials and challenges to prove how faithful we would be.”

The concept of being filled with light and truth became particularly important to me because of an experience I had many years ago. I attended a meeting where members of the Young Women general board taught about creating spiritually strong families and homes. To visually demonstrate this, a Young Women leader held up two soda cans. In one hand she held a can that was empty and in the other hand a can that was unopened and full of soda. First, she squeezed the empty can; it began to bend and then collapsed under the pressure. Next, with her other hand, she squeezed the unopened can. It held firm. It didn’t bend or collapse like the empty can—because it was filled.
We likened this demonstration to our individual lives and to our homes and families. When filled with the Spirit and with gospel truth, we have the power to withstand the outside forces of the world that surround and push against us. However, if we are not filled spiritually, we don’t have the inner strength to resist the outside pressures and can collapse when forces push against us.

Standing by myself in the cabin, I scanned the room for my tape player and my notes for the devotional. Finding the items, I bent over to grab them, then realized I hadn’t the energy to do so. I dropped to my knees. The objects in my hand looked like pieces of Salvador Dali’s art as my eyes filled with tears. For nearly the first time all week, I had a moment alone. That was the real reason I’d left the group—under the pretense of needing supplies for the devotional—to be alone.
A nonmember best friend, Amber, and I had been acting as youth camp leaders at girls’ camp for the past week, and while I’d never loved anything more, I’d also never found myself working so hard. There had been midnight trips to drop off bags of garbage in the dumpster. One night, there had been bears to fend off with only flashlights. On another night, I accidentally boiled daddy long leg spiders while attempting to cook minidonuts on a camp stove. Amber and I had washed dishes long after everyone else had deserted. Birthdays, including Amber’s 16th, had been celebrated; devotionals had been given; hugs offered. Many embraces were shared in particular regarding our Sunday School teacher who had passed away the day before camp began. He’d been an especially good friend of our camp director, and with the funeral during the week, there’d been even more responsibility on our shoulders as well as aches in our hearts.
I stared at the stories and tapes in my hands. My throat hurt, and every word I’d said that evening had been like swallowing thistle. My back ached as well from carrying two girls’ packs on the six-mile hike after they’d become sick. I rubbed my eyes. Somehow I had to find the energy to be strong one more night, but the thought of walking to the fire pit we’d reserved for the evening was extremely unappealing. And what about Amber? I was convinced she hated the whole thing, and I hated myself for ruining her sweet 16th birthday.
With a sigh, I snapped. My head bowed, and a hot tear ran down a dirty cheek. I was out of power.
Out of power once again, I was in the cabin staring at my knees. The Lord may have cared enough to help with things as trivial as precalculus and malfunctioning calculators. Those drained batteries found power to make it through one class period. Surely he could help with this power failure. I closed my eyes, trapping a bead of moisture in my lashes. “Dear Heavenly Father …”
Taking a deep breath, I wiped my eyes, then began to stand up. The door burst open. One of the girls from our ward stood there, and I hoped I was enough in the shadows that she wouldn’t see the crimson embroidery in my eyes. She had been borrowing some things from me all week and was wondering if she could have my last something-or-other. I nodded, suddenly feeling even more exhausted. What type of answer was this?
As she turned to leave, she called over her shoulder, “Oh, it sounds like another ward is at our fire pit, so I guess we’ll have to have the devotional here.”
“But we’d reserved it!” I wanted to protest. The last night was always spent around a fire! I ran my hand through my hair, which by that point was desperately in need of a good shampoo, and angrily put the papers and tape player back where I’d grabbed them from.
The forced smile on my lips softened into a sincere one as the girls, leaders, and bishop filed into the cabin. Only then did it dawn on me. What a blessing not to have to go on a hike to the fire pit! What a blessing not to have to deal with building a fire and distributing marshmallows and graham crackers! It was only the start of the miracles. The dragon in my throat decided to take a nap, and the devotional rolled smoothly along. After we gave out humorous awards to all our campers, there was the testimony meeting. The Spirit filled the cabin, and tears filled my eyes as I listened to my sisters and best friends share their sweet testimonies.
I was the last to leave the cabin that night. In the dark, as I headed towards my own cabin, I reflected on the week. The murmur of girls getting ready for bed called a grin to my face, and I offered a silent prayer of gratitude. I’d entered that cabin a parched sponge, very much like my worn-out batteries from months before. I’d left it recharged. The instruction booklet for my calculator insists it cannot run without a continual source of good power. Neither can a spirit.

Everybody knew it was impossible to fail the school competency test. My high school made such a big deal about it—that you couldn’t graduate unless you passed. But it was just a test of basic reading and writing. Passing it meant little. Failing it, on the other hand, meant you were probably incapable of spelling your own name.
I took the test and thought no more about it until one afternoon that summer when the mail came. I had just come home from my summer job, hot and sweaty, and was preparing to run upstairs for a shower when I heard my mother laugh. She held a letter out to me.
Under the letterhead of my high school was the news I had failed the competency test. My eyes widened in disbelief.
“My straight-A son who spends all his time writing failed the composition section,” my mother said. “Wait until Dad hears this.”
“It must be their computers,” I said, pushing the letter back into the envelope. I was getting madder every second.
The first day of school came, and it seemed everybody had heard. My friends, teachers, even kids who didn’t know me stopped me in the hall to ask if I was the person who had failed the competency test.
I tried to hide in the library, but there was my writing teacher. He greeted me with a wide grin.
“Failing the competency test takes a peculiar talent,” he said.
I marched to the counselor’s office mumbling something about taking it to the courts.
Ten minutes later I was reviewing a photocopy of my composition. It opened with a punchy thesis and had the beginnings of some well-positioned arguments, the body of which were on the second page. But there was no second page!
My second page had been lost somewhere and my paper was graded with a sentence that ended with the word although.
The counselor apologized and said he didn’t know how it happened. There was, unfortunately, nothing he could do. I’d have to retake the test. My pride was crushed, but mysteriously my anger was gone. I signed up to take the test again.
As I walked out of the office it became clear. I had been so mad at my counselor, my teacher, and friends for making fun of me, at my mom for laughing. I was even a little mad at Heavenly Father for letting this happen. But it was just an accident, and getting mad was useless. As with most of the little adversities we face in life, it was pointless to blame anyone.
But more importantly I realized that if I let pride or anger take charge, I was doing poorly in a different kind of competency test. It is the Lord’s test, and he wants us to pass with flying colors. We will if we love our fellowmen, stay true to the gospel, and remember him always.

“Since you’re friends with us now, you can’t be friends with anyone else,” Jada told me.
“OK,” I said. I couldn’t believe I was friends with the popular girls! I was so lucky! This year was going to be so cool. I could hardly wait to see what popular kids did to be, well, popular.
After school my old friend Aaliyah met me. “Hey, La-Neisha, are you ready?” she asked. We lived on the same street, and normally we walked home together.
I looked around me. I didn’t want Jada to see me talking to Aaliyah.
“No, I don’t want to walk home with you,” I said. Aaliyah looked confused and sad as I turned and walked home alone, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to risk losing my new, popular friends.
That Sunday in Primary, I looked for a place to sit. Aaliyah waved at me. There was an empty seat by her, but I didn’t sit there. Even at church I couldn’t risk sitting by someone who wasn’t popular, I decided. Besides, who needed friends at church? Having the right friends at school was more important.
The next few days, Aaliyah kept asking me to walk home with her, and I kept saying no. Why won’t she leave me alone? I thought. Can’t she see I’m not her friend anymore? I was hanging out with my new friends a lot. Being popular was fun! I tried not to notice Aaliyah at school or church. I told myself she had other friends, so I didn’t have to talk to her.
One night the phone rang. Mom answered it and frowned as she listened.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll talk to her. Thanks for calling.” Mom hung up the phone.
“La-Neisha,” Mom said to me. “That was Aaliyah’s mom. She says you won’t walk home with Aaliyah or even talk to her. Aaliyah is really sad. She doesn’t understand why you keep ignoring her.”
My stomach got tight. I tried to come up with something to say, but I didn’t think Mom would understand how important my new friends were to me.
“I just don’t want to be friends with her anymore,” I said. But I felt guilty. I knew that wasn’t true. I thought of how mean I had been to Aaliyah lately. We used to be good friends. I knew in my heart that the way I was treating Aaliyah was wrong.
On Sunday, Sister Hong gave a lesson on repentance. She said, “If you do something wrong, you need to ask the person you have hurt for forgiveness.” I kept thinking about those words. I knew what I needed to do. I didn’t care what Jada, or any of my popular friends, thought. I was going to talk to Aaliyah and say sorry.
After church I saw Aaliyah. My stomach knotted, but I knew I should ask her for forgiveness. I needed to be kind at school and church—and everywhere in between. I swallowed hard and took a deep breath.
“Hi, Aaliyah,” I said. “Can I talk to you?”
Aaliyah’s face lit up. “Of course.”
The knot in my stomach came undone. Aaliyah didn’t have to forgive me, but I still wanted to ask. Maybe we could start walking home together again. And we could be new, old friends.

During the years she lived in my parents’ home, she told us Church history and scripture stories at bedtime. The way Grandmother spoke of Jesus Christ, I knew she loved Him. One afternoon my cousin and I went into Grandmother’s room for a visit. She looked at us thoughtfully.
“Now, children, I’m going to die pretty soon,” she said. “And when I’m gone, I know you will feel sad. But I don’t want you to cry too much. I will be with Jesus and with your Grandpa Amacher, you know.” Grandma’s faith helped me come to know Jesus Christ.

Little Nezumi didn’t even bother opening his eyes any longer. Stumbling across a small tree trunk that had split open from the top, he crawled inside. Although he was protected from the falling snow, it was still bitterly cold. Nezumi looked into his small pouch and saw that he had only a few kernels of corn left, barely enough to last one more day. And tomorrow would be the first day of the Lunar New Year! Why did I ever come on this trip? he asked himself. It was foolish for me to think that I could climb these impossible mountains and find a place I have never been to before. Although Nezumi knew he shouldn’t do it, he closed his eyes. He only intended to take a short rest, but within a few minutes he was sound asleep. No longer feeling the cold, he began to dream about that day three weeks before when he had received a mysterious letter …

The envelope was covered with several official-looking seals and was very wrinkled. It had been sent from a country called Nepal. Nezumi had no idea where Nepal was, but he knew it must be very far from his burrow on the island of Kyushu, Japan. Inside the envelope was a rather large piece of paper that said: “I, Gautama Buddha, request all animals to come to my home in Nepal high in the Himalaya Mountains. To all animals who complete this hazardous journey by the first day of the Lunar New Year, I promise a gift of great importance.”

Even though Gautama Buddha promised an important gift, Nezumi was not certain he could make it to Nepal in time. His friend Hitsuji, the sheep, had traveled as far away as Tokyo. Maybe Hitsuji would know where Nepal was. Nezumi scurried over to the field where Hitsuji could usually be found standing under an old tree. Hitsuji was there, and he was reading the same message Nezumi had received!

“Hitsuji, what do you know of this place called Nepal and this person called Gautama Buddha?” Nezumi asked.

Hitsuji stood still for a moment with his eyes closed, as if trying to remember something important. “If I am correct in my thinking, little Nezumi, Nepal is far across the great ocean. The Himalayas are a very high range of mountains, and at this time of year it is almost impossible to cross them.”

Hitsuji is so smart, thought Nezumi. “Are you thinking of going there, Hitsuji? If so, perhaps we could travel together.”

“Well,” Hitsuji answered, “I am not sure we can get to Nepal in time. Of course, ships leave every day from the great port beyond the hills. If we can find a ship sailing in that direction, we just might have a chance. But the journey will be long and dangerous and might end in sorrow for us both.”

“Let’s try it anyway,” squeaked his adventurous friend. “I am sure I will not rest until I find out what the gift is.”

“Very well, Nezumi, let’s pack some food and leave this very afternoon.”

And so it was that the two friends arrived at the harbor. Hitsuji and Nezumi looked at a map tacked to an office wall and found the country of Nepal. It was above another country called India. They both considered it a stroke of luck when they were able to sneak into the hold of a ship leaving immediately for Calcutta, India.

The journey by ship was terrible, even though they reached Calcutta in just a little over two weeks. The constant movement, the darkness, and the fear of being found kept the two animals in a terrible state of mind. Hitsuji was sick most of the way and fell silent after the third day at sea. He would halfheartedly eat a few grains of wheat before getting sick again, and then he’d make small bleating noises to himself. Nezumi tried to lift Hitsuji’s spirits, but he, too, became ill, and the two animals spent the remainder of the voyage huddled in a dark corner of the hold.

When the ship finally docked, they soon found that they were not prepared for Calcutta. Its hundreds of horse-driven wagons and people-pulled carts came at them from every direction. As they frantically dodged the carts, the horses, and the feet of the people, they became completely lost. Finally, they stopped to rest near a public market where they were able to find some small pieces of food lying on the ground. As they ate what they could, they heard two young men speaking loudly.

“And I tell you, Sanjay, that you cannot deliver those things to Katmandu in less than three months! Don’t you realize how hard it has been snowing in the mountains? It’s almost impossible to get through!”

“Ah, you just said ‘almost,’” Sanjay replied, “and you are right. However, I know of passes through the Himalayas that only a few people have discovered, and I can get the cloth and beads to Gautama Buddha before the Lunar New Year celebration.”

The two animals could hardly believe what they had just heard! Could their luck be so great? They followed the young man to a stable where a large wagon was waiting. An ox hitched to the front of the wagon barely glanced at the rat and the sheep.

Hitsuji spoke first. “Hello, friend ox. This is a very large wagon to have to pull by yourself.”

The ox snorted. “It is not much fun, I assure you. Where are you from?”

“We are from Japan. We received letters from Gautama Buddha, requesting us to be present at his Lunar New Year’s festivities.”

The ox looked at them with more interest. “I, too, received such a letter, and my master and I are on our way to Katmandu to see Gautama Buddha. Perhaps you could join us.”

Nezumi spoke up. “This is kind of you, friend ox, for we do not know the way.” Nezumi introduced Hitsuji and himself by name and then asked, “Can we really reach Katmandu in such a short time?”

“Fear not, friend Nezumi. My master and I have made this trip many times, and we know several shortcuts.”

The young man was ready to leave. Nezumi scrambled into the wagon and nestled among some sacks. The ox, with a mighty strain, started the wagon along the road. Hitsuji, because of his size, walked beside the wagon. He didn’t mind; he was used to walking long distances. The ox soon established a rhythm and seemed to pull the heavy wagon with little effort. By the time the travelers could see the distant snow-covered mountains, the slow, steady movement of the wagon and the sound of the creaking wooden wheels had lulled Nezumi to sleep. The rat awoke only when the wagon lurched to a stop. He heard a voice shouting.

“Throw down your money, boy, if you value your life!”

“I have no money, sir, only this wagon of goods for Gautama Buddha.”

“Climb down from there and let me see for myself.” A few seconds later, the back curtain of the wagon was thrown open and an evil-looking face appeared. “Well now, what have we here? These look like awfully fancy fabrics for a poor boy to be carrying. Where did you say you were taking them?”

“To Katmandu, sir.”

The man laughed. “Wrong, boy. You have just reached your delivery point.” With that, he gave the young man a slap that nearly knocked him over. The great ox bellowed loudly and took off at a run, throwing the bandit onto the ground. “Stop that stupid beast!” the man shouted as he got to his feet again.

It was too late. The ox bolted down the road with the wagon lurching and bouncing behind him. Suddenly, the wagon seemed to fly into the air and hover there for a second. Then it crashed to the ground and split open. Finding himself free, the ox continued to run into the growing darkness while Nezumi carefully crawled out from among the large bales of cloth that had broken his fall.

In the twilight he could see that he was on a mountain surrounded by many more mountains, all terribly high and covered with snow. As he stood there, a large, wet snowflake landed on the ground in front of him. Another fell, and then another, and soon the sky was filled with snowflakes and it was very cold. Nezumi gave a quiet little squeak of fear. Hitsuji was gone, the ox was gone, and he was stranded on a strange mountainside in the middle of a snowstorm. Even as he was feeling sorry for himself, he knew that there was nothing to do but go on.

And so Nezumi struggled along the path until he found the split tree trunk where he now lay sleeping. As he slept, the small opening in the trunk filled with snow. It was not until the tree trunk suddenly split completely apart that Nezumi awoke. He found himself staring into two huge red eyes! He gave a squeal of terror, then saw that the eyes belonged to his friend the ox. With his heart still beating frantically, Nezumi declared, “You gave me a fright, friend ox, but I thank you for waking me up. You have saved my life.”

“It was nothing, little friend. I’m lucky that I found you. I almost passed this tree without looking into it. Why don’t you climb onto my back now, and I will carry you through the snow.”

“That is very kind of you.” Nezumi quickly hopped up onto the tree trunk and from there onto the ox’s broad back. “Do you know where we are, and have you seen Hitsuji?”

“We are near Katmandu, I believe, although in the darkness it is hard to tell. And, no, I’m sorry, I have no idea what may have happened to Hitsuji. A very large tiger went past me once, and I saw a dragon flying overhead not very long ago, but no one else.”

The ox moved through the snow with ease, his surefooted, unflagging stride moving them up the mountainside hour after hour.

Eventually they came upon a very large tree, and sleeping in its branches was a dragon, the first dragon Nezumi had ever seen in his life. Under the tree, curled up into a ball, was a tiger snoring softly. Even more amazing was the sight of a small rabbit resting on the tiger’s back! None of the animals awoke at the approach of Nezumi and the ox, so they continued down the path toward the distant lights of a large village. “That is Katmandu, the home of Gautama Buddha,” explained the ox.

Soon they could see the palace, surrounded by many small wooden houses. Dawn was coming and the snow was not falling so heavily as they drew near the palace, which was large yet somehow homey. When they reached the wall surrounding the palace, the ox pulled a rope that was hanging beside the gate. Almost immediately it swung open, and they entered into a large courtyard. A man came toward them, calling out in a low, pleasant voice, “Welcome, friend ox and friend rat. I am Gautama Buddha, and I am very pleased that you were able to join me this Lunar New Year’s Day. Come and have some refreshments. You must be tired after your long journey.”

Nezumi was so excited at seeing Gautama Buddha that he leaped off the back of the ox and scampered over to the man. Gautama Buddha reached down, picked up the small creature, and said, “So it is you, my little friend, who is first. For being first, you will be especially honored when we are all gathered together.”

Gautama Buddha gave the ox and Nezumi food to eat and water to drink. Later the tiger and the rabbit arrived together, obviously the best of friends. Behind them the dragon swooped in with a loud roar. Then came a snake and a horse. Behind the horse Nezumi saw a familiar shape. Yes! It was Hitsuji! The two friends greeted each other excitedly.

“I thought I would never see you again, Nezumi,” said the weary Hitsuji.

“Oh, Hitsuji, I am so very glad to know that the bandit did not steal you. Come, let me show you where the food and water are.”

As Nezumi led his friend away, a chattering monkey arrived, followed by a crowing rooster, a dog, and a pig. As the sun started its descent into the western sky, Gautama Buddha gathered all the animals together.

“It pleases me greatly to see that you twelve animals have safely completed the journey. I promised you a gift of great importance, and I will now tell you what it is. People everywhere celebrate the Lunar New Year, but they have no symbols to mark its passage. I have therefore decided that each of you will be a symbol of the Lunar New Year. Everyone will recognize you as the twelve most important animals, and your fame will live long after you are gone from this world.

“Every twelve years will begin a new cycle. Because my small friend Nezumi was the first one to actually reach me, I choose him to begin the cycle. He will be followed by the ox and then by the rest of you in the order in which you arrived at my home. To start our celebration off, I now proclaim this day as the first day of the Year of the Rat!”

Since President Thomas S. Monson announced the change in age for missionary service, youth all over the Church have eagerly responded not only to the invitation to serve but also to the invitation to prepare to serve. And one way to prepare is to learn more about what’s in store if you become a full-time missionary.
Some youth in Norway did exactly that during a day-long “Missionary Experience” hosted by one of the wards in their stake.
The youth gathered at the meetinghouse in a room that represented a missionary training center. “We received an assignment to learn about a country,” says Jakob R. “It gave us a feeling for what it must be like to receive a mission call and know that you could be called to a place that’s different from what you’re used to.”
“Then we went next door to meet a returned missionary who was playing the role of a mission president,” says Simon W. The returned missionary and other returned missionaries talked about what to expect while serving a mission. “I thought it was really neat to learn from returned missionaries what to expect during a full-time mission,” Simon says. Participants also received a name badge, were assigned a companion, and were instructed to remain with their companion at all times.
Workshops taught the youth about developing spiritually but also about managing temporal needs such as doing laundry, following a budget, and staying in good physical condition.
“I particularly enjoyed the workshop about how to start gospel conversations,” says Inger Sofie J. “That’s something I can start doing right now.”
“I enjoyed discussing how to use Preach My Gospel,” says Karl Frederik O. “I had always thought that missionaries had their own list of scriptures to learn, but I found out that what I’m already doing in seminary will help me as a missionary and so will what I’m already studying in Preach My Gospel.”
Many young men said that one of the most memorable workshops included hands-on experience with ironing a white shirt. “It reminded me that there are a lot of practical skills I can work on to get ready for a full-time mission,” says Jakob.
“I learned that there is a lot I can be doing right now to join with the full-time missionaries serving here so that we are all part of the same team,” says Sarah R. “Members are missionaries too.”
As a reminder that missionaries serve all over the world, refreshments featured recipes from a variety of nations. “That reminded me that I should try new foods now so that I’m used to trying things I don’t eat all the time. That will help me to adjust more quickly if I’m called to a place where they eat things I’m not used to,” says Simon.
“At the end of the day, after we heard the testimonies of two of the youth and two newly returned missionaries, we sang the hymn ‘Called to Serve,’” says Liss Andrea O. “I felt that if I keep singing this hymn all the time, I will have a constant reminder that when we are missionaries, we are serving Heavenly Father and He will bless us.”
By the end of the day, the youth in the stake understood that not only are they preparing for potential missionary experiences but that they can have missionary experiences right now and through the rest of their lives.

Birthdays, holidays, and other family outings are often spent at their “favourite beauty spot,” an old country estate that has been converted into a park. A typical day there includes the family enjoying a picnic. Then Tirion plays on the playground with her parents while the boys set off on a walking adventure through the forest.
At the trailhead, the brothers select sturdy walking sticks. They enjoy crossing the bridge over the bubbling creek, jumping off fallen trees and logs near the trail, and scrambling up steep hills. They always look forward to finding the “spiderweb,” man-made from ropes, branches, and twigs. Then they eagerly climb or jump up to touch the large “moss spider.”
After the hike, the boys join their sister on the playground and are soon ready to go for a traditional family walk to see the deer and trees and beautiful flowering bushes in the park. When they arrive at their favourite tree, they eagerly climb its huge limbs. And they always stop at the gazebo they claim has to be Mr. Toad’s house!

A recent nationwide survey found that nearly 8 in 10 Americans “believe that miracles still occur today as [they did] in ancient times.” A third of those surveyed said they had “experienced or witnessed a divine healing.” Many Latter-day Saints have experienced the power of faith in healing the sick. We also hear examples of this among people of faith in other churches. A Texas newspaperman described such a miracle. When a five-year-old girl breathed with difficulty and became feverish, her parents rushed her to the hospital. By the time she arrived there, her kidneys and lungs had shut down, her fever was 107 degrees, and her body was bright red and covered with purple lesions. The doctors said she was dying of toxic shock syndrome, cause unknown. As word spread to family and friends, God-fearing people began praying for her, and a special prayer service was held in their Protestant congregation in Waco, Texas. Miraculously, she suddenly returned from the brink of death and was released from the hospital in a little over a week. Her grandfather wrote, “She is living proof that God does answer prayers and work miracles.”

John, an enthusiastic member who joined the Church in his later years, nearly lost his wife to divorce because of his enthusiasm for the Church. The more he tried to convince her, the more stubbornly she resisted. Finally, John’s bishop counseled him to “back away” and let the gentle beauties of the Church programs persuade her of their own merits.
Over the years that followed, John continued to faithfully attend his meetings alone, and his wife slowly softened toward the Church. She was impressed with the Relief Society homemaking program in particular, and taught many minicourses on cooking and gardening. Still, she never joined the Church.
In talking about his wife, John praises their marriage. He cautions others in a similar situation:
“Never, never use the gospel teachings to belittle the one you love. I believe that my love for my wife will last forever. Eternity is plenty of time for love, example, and patience to win out. In the meantime, let love and acceptance work its own special magic.”

It was about 25 years ago that I received the assignment to be chairman of the Missionary Executive Council. Christmas was approaching. It had been the practice to have a devotional at the Provo Missionary Training Center on Christmas morning with all the missionaries who were away from home; perhaps for most of them it was their first Christmas not being with family and friends.
We decided to take our turn and be the speakers at the devotional. Because it was Christmastime and Christmastime is a time of remembering families, we decided to take our children and grandchildren to the MTC with us. In those days, they didn’t have the fine facilities they have today for the devotional settings. They set up chairs in the cafeteria with a small, raised platform for those that were speaking. We were very close to the missionaries, and there were certainly not the numbers that we have today.
The theme we tried to carry into the setting with the missionaries was family traditions you can carry with you in the field. We tried to emphasize those basic values they would be able to teach their investigators from their own personal experience of living in a Latter-day Saint home—the values of family prayer, family scripture study, family home evenings, counsel with fathers and mothers, and so on.
The messages seemed to be appropriate and well-received by the missionaries as family members participated. The musical numbers were furnished by the grandchildren. We had two at that time who were without their two front teeth. They sang “All I Want for Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth.” That was all we needed to gain the warm, loving appreciation of the missionaries that particular morning.
We decided to stay and have Christmas dinner with all of the missionaries. We wanted to scatter ourselves around them, so each of us, including the grandchildren, sat at a different table with these great young men and women and the couples. Conversations, of course, centered around being away from home and remembering Christmas traditions. We learned of the lessons their parents had taught to prepare them for being full-time missionaries and declaring the message of the restored gospel to the peoples of the world. It was a wonderful experience, one we’ll never forget.

David squeezed some glue onto a sugar cube. Then he carefully put it in place.
“Wow!” Mom said. “Your sugar-cube temple looks amazing.”
“Thanks!” David said. “It’s the Dubai Temple. I can’t wait for the real one to be done.”
David had been excited ever since President Nelson announced a new temple in the country where David lived. The United Arab Emirates had some of the tallest buildings in the world. But it didn’t have a temple—yet. This would be the first temple in the whole Middle East.
David stuck the last sugar cube onto his temple. “There!” he said. “All done.”
Mom leaned down to get a better look. “Nice job! Where should we put it?”
David thought. “How about in my room? Next to my trains.” David loved trains. He wanted to be a train engineer someday.
“Great idea,” Mom said.
David carefully carried his sugar-cube temple to his room. He gently set it next to his model trains. He couldn’t wait to show his sisters and dad.
The next day, David’s aunt Ana came to visit. They talked about the things he was looking forward to the most. Then he thought of something.
“Want to know what I’m most excited about?”David asked.
“Of course!” Aunt Ana said.
“The church my family goes to is building a temple in Dubai!”
Aunt Ana smiled. “That sounds really special.”
“It is!” David said. “Right now, there isn’t a temple for our church nearby, so we go to a temple in Switzerland or Germany. I’m glad there will be one closer to us. I’ve set a goal to prepare to go there.”
“How exciting!” Aunt Ana said. “What are you doing to prepare?”
“I pray and read the scriptures,” David said. “And I try to follow Jesus Christ. And then I’ll be ready to go to the temple!”
“That’s wonderful,” Aunt Ana said. “I’m sure you will work hard to reach your goals.”
“I will!” David nodded happily. It felt good to share something so important to him.
That night, David asked if he could move his sugar-cube temple to the kitchen.
“I want to keep it where we can see it all the time. I want to remember to keep getting ready for the temple.”
“That’s a good idea,” Dad said. “I think seeing your temple every day would help me too.”
Dad helped David move the sugar-cube temple to the kitchen.
“Looks good,” David’s sister Kaitlynn said.
“When the real Dubai Temple is done, can I invite my friends to come see it?” David asked.
Mom nodded. “That’s a great idea!”
“And Aunt Ana?”
“Of course,” said Dad.
David smiled. He was already so grateful for the Dubai Temple!
This story took place in the United Arab Emirates.

Isabelle squinted up at the deep blue sky. There were no clouds in sight. She licked her dry lips.
Her parents were talking quietly with President Santiago, the stake president. The motor of the boat was so loud that she couldn’t hear them. But she knew what they were talking about. There was no more drinking water.
Isabelle tried to focus on the reason for their journey. They were going to the temple to be sealed as a family! She remembered hearing her parents talk about the beautiful temple in São Paulo ever since she was a little girl. Going there almost seemed like a fairy tale. After all, Isabelle’s family lived in Manaus, deep in the Amazon rainforest, and the temple was more than 2,000 miles (3,219 km) away.
Then President Santiago had planned a six-day trip to get there. More than 100 members had decided to go. “It will be a sacrifice,” Mamãe had told her. “But sacrifice brings blessings.”
At first the trip was exciting. They slept in hammocks on the deck of the boat, sang hymns, and read scriptures.
But then the drinking water had run out, and the river water was too dirty to drink.
Isabelle felt Mamãe touch her arm. “President Santiago is gathering us all together,” she said. “We’re going to pray for rain.”
Isabelle joined the group, and the prayer began. After the prayer ended, she felt cool air tickle her neck. She raced to the side of the boat and gasped. Gray storm clouds were moving toward them. Soon rain began to pour down! She opened her mouth to catch the raindrops on her tongue.
“Quick!” cried Mamãe. “Grab buckets, pans—anything!”
Isabelle grabbed a pan and held it out. She wanted to catch all the water she could. Everyone worked together, laughing and celebrating. Soon they were having a giant soaking party! The storm lasted for 15 minutes. It was long enough for them to get all the water they needed. It was a miracle.