Gospel Story Finder

A faithful member shared her testimony of how the power of goodness influenced her life. She writes:
“Until I was about eight years old, I was oblivious to the fact that my mother had serious health problems—later diagnosed as multiple sclerosis. When I was a first-year Beehive, I awoke one May morning to find that my mother was paralyzed from the neck down. She was already blind.”
Confined to her bed, this courageous woman became the hub of the household. Her daughter wrote:
“One day it fell upon me to clean the oven, a chore I approached with self-pity and much complaining. I went into her bedroom to whine a little and realized that Mom was crying. She said, ‘Do you know how much I would give to be able to get up and scrub that oven?’ I gained a different perspective on the nature of work. To this day, I think of that experience every time the oven needs cleaning.”
She continues: “An unusual blessing came to me in having my mother available. She listened patiently to my early-adolescent concerns and questions. She made me feel like the most important and interesting person in the world. She was always HOME—attentive, interested, and always available.”
Her mother died the spring of her senior year. She relates:
“One of the hardest moments in my young life was the day I returned home from school to an empty house and walked down that long hallway to her bedroom. My built-in counselor and confidante was no longer there, but she had given me those eternal, intangible gifts of love, wisdom, and acceptance. I will be forever grateful for her goodness.”
This strong woman, though physically helpless, had the power to love, to motivate, to inspire, to perpetuate righteousness, to do good.

Bernard Lewis, 16, received a few invitations from the Boston First Ward. The first was from the Young Men president, Rob Smith. Brother Smith, Bernard’s neighbor, saw him outside playing basketball one day and invited him and his brother to come play at the church—after they helped clean the chapel.
Bernard was happy to come, and when he got there the other young men immediately welcomed him. “They were like family to me. I really liked it there,” he says.
Brother Smith invited him to church, and as Bernard started to attend church, youth conference, and other activities, he decided to stay because it all made him feel so good. He says that during this time Jonathan was a good example to him. “I look up to him,” he says. “He’s like my big brother.”
Jonathan agrees. “We became really close. I call him my little brother now.”
And when Bernard’s mother allowed him to join the Church, Jonathan was able to baptize him.
Besides the invitation to come to church and be baptized, the young men in the ward also invited Bernard to read his scriptures. His testimony of the scriptures led him to join the Church, and he continues to study them regularly.
“The scriptures lead you to the right place,” Bernard testifies. “You need to read the scriptures to know what you believe in and ask the Lord if they are true. The scriptures are important. They are the word of the Lord.”

When he was a teenager, the Saints in Boise, Idaho, met with Church officials to talk about building a new tabernacle. The Boise members were asked to donate money to build the tabernacle, and Howard was the first to raise his hand. He pledged 25 dollars as his offering. That was a lot of money for a teenager in those days. “I worked and saved until I was able to pay my commitment in full,” he remembers.

Our grandson, six-year-old Jeffrey Monson Dibb, accompanied by his six-year-old girlfriend, paused at an end table in his house on which there was a picture of Elder Jeffrey R. Holland. The young girl pointed to the picture and asked, “Who is that man?”
Jeff replied, “Oh, that’s Elder Jeffrey Holland of the Quorum of Twelve Apostles. He’s named after me!”
This same namesake of Elder Holland’s, along with his girlfriend, went for a walk one day. They marched up the front steps of a home, not knowing who lived there or what affiliation they might have with the Church. They knocked on the front door, and a woman answered. Without the slightest hesitation, Jeff Dibb said to her, “We are the visiting home teachers. May we come in?” They were ushered into the living room and were asked to be seated. With total faith the children addressed the woman, “Do you have a treat for us?” What could she do? She produced a treat, and they had a nice conversation. The impromptu teachers departed, uttering a sincere “Thank you.”
“Come back again,” they heard the woman say, with a smile on her face.
“We will,” came the reply.
The parents of the two youngsters heard of the incident. I am certain they were restrained in counseling the little ones. Perhaps they remembered the words from the scriptures: “And a little child shall lead them.”

I had only been out six months and my companion only about a month. We decided on this particular day to set up a street board in the mall with a First Vision/Book of Mormon theme. Partway through the day a man came over to us, and I proceeded to walk him through the street board presentation. As I was concluding the discussion this individual began to chuckle. I asked him what he found so amusing.
He replied, “Let me see—God, angels, and a 14-year-old boy. Yeah, right!”
I was at a loss as to my next move. I felt that he would not be teachable, but the Spirit whispered to bear my testimony of Joseph Smith and his calling in bringing forth the Book of Mormon. I did so and thought little more about the incident.
In the fall of that year, I was transferred to another town. Since there was a small branch there at the time, it was not uncommon for my companion and me to speak in church often. This particular Sunday was no different. As I was sitting on the stand waiting for the meeting to begin, I noticed a small family of four walk into the chapel. They were by themselves, and I assumed that they were visiting.
At the end of the meeting, a number of the branch members were congratulating my companion and me on our talks. Again, I noticed the man of this family patiently waiting at the perimeter of the small group of members. Finally, he extended his hand to me and thanked us for our message. He said to me that he could tell by the look in my eyes that I had no idea who he was but that he knew me well. He asked me if I recalled a number of months ago being in the Newington Mall and talking to an individual about the Book of Mormon and Joseph Smith and having that individual laugh at me.
It all came flooding back to me. Yes, I did remember. He said he was that man. He first apologized for treating me the way he had and then told me that when I bore my testimony of my conviction in the Book of Mormon, he felt something inside, an emotion he had never experienced before. He pondered for some time my words to him, and then he finally felt impressed to look up the elders in his town. He and his family gained a testimony of the Book of Mormon and the gospel and were baptized.
It was on this day that I realized that if the Holy Ghost could put the right words into the mouth of an unrefined missionary such as myself, then by the same Spirit others would come to know the truth of this great book. More than ever, I knew the Book of Mormon changes lives just as it had mine months earlier as a new missionary.

Four hundred and fifty kilometers northwest of Udorn, in Chiang Mai, workers are installing a fountain in the manicured grounds of a spacious, modern home. Three children are busily watching. They are Atikun, 13, Punjaree, 8, and Nathanon, 6. Their mother, Datchanee Limsukhon, is the only member of the Church in the family. Her husband, a neurologist, does not object to her Church membership, but sometimes she has to adjust her Church participation to meet her family’s needs.
Sister Limsukhon’s first contact with the Church came when, as a young woman, she heard branch members singing in a rented hall in Bangkok. She liked what she heard and wanted to join “that church” so she could sing with the other members. She believed the missionary discussions, but her family initially refused permission for her to be baptized. “But I knew that I wanted to be baptized, and I was in November 1969.”
In January 1970, she returned to her home in Chiang Mai and earned a nursing degree from the local university. She then went to the Church’s Language Training Mission in Hawaii, where she taught Thai to the missionaries for four months before she was called on a mission herself. On completing her mission in Bangkok, she had the opportunity to go to the United States for additional nursing experience in Utah and Texas. She then went to England to marry her Thai fiance, who was studying there.
When her husband completed his schooling, they returned home to Chiang Mai, where he has been in practice ever since.
“Since I am the only Latter-day Saint in my family, the standards of the Church are most important to me,” says Sister Limsukhon. “I am committed to living them.”

Claw Foot was pushed into the wigwam of Chief Broken Wing. His two captors held him rigidly as the great chief glared at him.
“This brave hunts our buffalo,” one of the captors said. “His name is Claw Foot.”
Claw Foot winced. He disliked having his name spoken before strangers.
“The herds in this valley are ours,” the chief said.
“But my people are near starvation,” Claw Foot pleaded. “Our herds are gone. We have journeyed many moons in search of new hunting grounds. We must have fertile land on which to grow our crops.”
“This land is ours. You go!” Broken Wing commanded.
Then the chief’s intelligent eyes lingered for several moments on Claw Foot’s left foot, the clawlike shape that even the brave’s carefully made deerskin moccasin could not disguise. As Broken Wing stared at the moccasin, his left hand went instinctively to his own right arm, which Claw Foot saw was twisted like a gnarled branch.
Broken Wing spoke, “You too have a lame body.”
“I was born with a foot like a claw,” Claw Foot explained.
“My arm was not always this way,” Broken Wing said sadly. “When I was a small boy, I fell from my horse.” He paused and then spoke, “You may have one buffalo, Claw Foot.”
“Only one buffalo!” protested Claw Foot, hastening to speak before Broken Wing had a chance to draw the blanket of silence about himself. “One buffalo will supply food for my people for only a few days.”
“One buffalo!” repeated Broken Wing impatiently.
Claw Foot felt the darkness of defeat as he turned to leave. Then out of the darkness came the light of an idea.
He turned to face Broken Wing once more. “And may we have the land that this one buffalo hide will cover?” he asked.
The chief laughed. “Even if you take the largest buffalo, its hide would not cover enough ground for a single wigwam.”
“Perhaps I can stretch the hide,” suggested Claw Foot.
Broken Wing looked at Claw Foot’s left moccasin again. “You may have the land one hide will cover,” he agreed.
At sunup Claw Foot mounted his pinto and rode into the valley. With the help of his scouts, he separated the biggest and finest cow from the herd of buffalo. With strong, sure aim, his arrow hit the heart of the beast and felled it.
There was great happiness and feasting that night among his people, but Claw Foot did not partake of the food. He was too concerned with tanning the hide. All through the next day he was busy cutting the hide into little pieces and conferring with his scouts, who afterward were sent out in different directions.
When they returned, Claw Foot sought admittance to the wigwam of Chief Broken Wing. “I am here for my land,” he told the chief. “Come, I will show you.”
Broken Wing mounted his buckskin while Claw Foot took the lead on his pinto. As they rode through the valley and over the ridges, Claw Foot pointed out the small pieces of buffalo hide his scouts had scattered over the land.
“The one buffalo hide covers enough ground for many wigwams, much hunting, and fine crops,” Claw Foot explained.
Broken Wing’s eyes looked like darting black clouds. He did not reply, but instead he slapped his horse and galloped away.
Claw Foot urged his pinto to follow, and his mind raced as rapidly as his horse’s hoofs.
Back at Broken Wing’s wigwam, Claw Foot stood once more before the chief, who sat cross-legged before the fire.
Broken Wing seemed thoughtful. Looking up at Claw Foot, he finally said, “Only your body is lame, not your thoughts. You have outwitted me fairly. You may have the land.”
Claw Foot made the sign of gratitude.
Then Broken Wing continued speaking. “From this day on you will not be known as Claw Foot. Your name is He Who Thinks.
And so it was.

During a drive to amass warm clothing to ship to suffering Saints, Elder Harold B. Lee and Elder Marion G. Romney took President George Albert Smith to Welfare Square in Salt Lake City. They were impressed by the generous response of the membership of the Church to the clothing drive and the preparations for sending the goods overseas. They watched President Smith observing the workers as they packaged this great volume of donated clothing and shoes. They saw tears running down his face. After a few moments, President Smith removed a new overcoat that he had on and said, “Please ship this also.”
The Brethren said to him, “No, President, no; don’t send that; it’s cold and you need your coat.”
But President Smith would not take it back.
The Apostle Paul’s admonition surely was fulfilled that day: “Be thou an example of the believers, in word, in conversation, in charity, in spirit, in faith, in purity.”

During the last general conference, a relatively insignificant thing caught my attention. It was a necktie! As a choir of young boys and girls was singing, one of the TV cameras happened upon a young boy in the choir. He thought he saw himself on the television monitor but perhaps wasn’t completely sure. So this is what he did: by wiggling his tie almost unnoticeably, he knew—yes—it was really him!
And now to you, my young friend with the tie, yes, it is you. You and the millions like you, if you prepare well, will be the faithful mothers and fathers in the Church and the Lord’s future leaders. You will be the teachers and leaders that will continue to establish the Church throughout the world. You will probably want to look in the mirror periodically and remind yourselves of the great mission that lies before you, and perhaps you might even want to wiggle your tie just to remind yourself of your important mission ahead. May you stand straight and noble in your callings.

At 29, Ransom Stevens was president of the Samoa Mission when stricken with typhoid fever, which was complicated by a heart problem. He died on April 23, 1894.

His widow, Sister Annie D. Stevens, started for home by steamer on May 23. She reached Ogden on Sunday, June 10, where she was met by President Joseph F. Smith and Elder Franklin D. Richards. On June 11, she had an interview with the First Presidency in Salt Lake City and then went on to her home in Fairview, Sanpete County, arriving at 6:00 P.M.

The history states, “The greetings by her friends were necessarily brief for Sister Stevens was ill and had to retire to bed early, and at 11 P.M., five hours after her arrival home, she gave birth to a nice boy.” She had gone through the whole ordeal in the advanced stages of pregnancy.

At the end of my second year I applied to my university’s graphic design program. I wasn’t accepted, but I was eligible to reapply the following year. I wasn’t thrilled about waiting another year to graduate.
The closest thing to my chosen major was photography. So I prayed about changing my major and felt good about it. I just wanted to get my degree!
At the start of the fall semester, I had classes on film and on the social history of photography. I was excited about both. But as I looked over the syllabus of my film class, I noticed that students would be required to watch many R-rated movies. In my photography class the teacher stated that the pictures we would be studying would be violent, disturbing, and sexual. She said that was what photography was mostly about these days.
My heart sank as I contemplated what to do. I knew that the gospel taught against such things, but these classes were required. I thought of the scripture about being in the world but not of the world (see John 15:19). Could I be in these classes but not of them?
I prayed to know what to do and to have the faith to do what was right. I also counseled with my wife, parents, and brother. As I spoke with my brother, he reminded me of the following verse: “For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?” (Matthew 16:26).
I knew that education is important, but was I in the wrong field? How could I drop out of school temporarily when the light at the end of the tunnel was so close?
Late one night while I was up with our sick baby, the thought came to me to look up President Thomas S. Monson on the Internet.
Late one night while I was up with our sick baby, the thought came to me to look up President Thomas S. Monson on the Internet. Soon I was watching a general conference talk President Monson had delivered in October 2011. I listened intently as he talked about the deterioration of society’s moral compass, saying that inappropriate and immoral behavior had become acceptable by many.
Then he said exactly what I needed to hear: “We must be vigilant in a world which has moved so far from that which is spiritual. It is essential that we reject anything that does not conform to our standards, refusing in the process to surrender that which we desire most: eternal life in the kingdom of God.”1
These words pierced me with great power. As tears ran down my face, I knew that a living prophet had answered my prayer.
Although I have postponed my plans for graduation, I know that the Lord will bless my family and me as we follow the prophet, reject the views of the world, obey the commandments, and support gospel standards.

Amy bounced up and down in her seat.
“What are you so excited about?” Mom asked, smiling at her from the front of the car.
“It’s England Day!” Amy squealed. Mrs. Harvey’s second-grade class had been learning about countries around the world. Amy had already learned to do the Mexican hat dance and sing a song in Japanese. Today her class was having a special party with lots of English food.
“Your ancestors joined the Church in England,” Mom reminded her. “They were very brave and stood up for what they believed in.”
“Today I’ll pretend to be just like them. It’ll be fun!” Amy said happily.
When she reached her classroom, Amy stared in awe. The school chairs were arranged in a circle around a table filled with warm crumpets, lemon custard, and raspberry jam. There was even a bowl of English toffee! Amy couldn’t wait for the party to start.
But then Amy noticed something. At the back of the table, a small, blue teapot was labeled TEA. Amy felt a knot form in her stomach.
Mrs. Harvey clapped her hands for the children to settle down. “Class, take a seat!” she sang out. “Today we’re having a very special party—a tea party! In England, people drink tea and eat crumpets as a snack. Who can tell me what a crumpet is?”
Amy’s classmates eagerly raised their hands, and one explained that a crumpet is a small cake. But Amy just sat in her seat feeling sick. Tea! She knew that tea and coffee were bad for her body. A commandment in the Word of Wisdom said not to drink them. The knot in her stomach kept growing. If she refused, what would her teacher and classmates think?
Then Amy thought of a better question. What would Jesus think? What would her ancestors think? Amy remembered Mom saying her ancestors were brave people who stood up for what they believed in. They followed Jesus Christ. They had been baptized in England, the same way Amy had been baptized. She still remembered that warm, clean feeling from her baptism, and how she always wanted to choose the right.
Slowly the knot loosened, and she knew what she had to do.
When Mrs. Harvey came to pour her some tea, Amy put her hand over the cup. “No, thank you,” she said. “I don’t drink tea. May I have a glass of water instead?”
“Of course you may,” Mrs. Harvey said, and she continued down the row.
As Amy drank her water and ate a crumpet dripping with jam, she felt warm inside. She had obeyed the Word of Wisdom, and—like her ancestors—she had been brave and stood up for what she believed.

This story happened in Taiwan.
Melanie ran as fast as she could across the school play yard. Three of her classmates were just a few steps ahead of her. They were almost to the line that marked the “safe area.”
She stretched her arm out. She pushed her legs harder. Finally, she tagged two of them just in time!
“Got you!” Melanie said. Her friends laughed as they collapsed to the ground.
“You’re fast,” Jia said as she breathed in and out.
Melanie had almost tagged Jonny too. But she just missed him.
Jonny pointed at her and laughed. “Too slow!” Then he called her a name.
Melanie frowned. Jonny was mean to her a lot! She didn’t like it.
After school, Melanie sat at the kitchen table. She worked on her homework with her older sister. But she couldn’t stop thinking about what Jonny said.
“Liv, what do you do when someone is mean to you?” Melanie asked.
Liv looked at her. “Was someone mean to you?”
Melanie nodded. “A boy at school. He teases me all the time!”
Liv put her pencil down. “That’s really hard. I’m sorry.” She leaned back and folded her arms. “Maybe you could do something nice for him.”
Melanie scrunched up her nose. “Something nice?” That didn’t sound very fun.
“Yeah!” Liv nodded. “If you’re nice to him, maybe he’ll be nice back. Have you tried that?”
Melanie shook her head. She wasn’t so sure about this idea. Why would she be nice to someone who was mean?
That night, Melanie said a prayer. “Heavenly Father, please bless that Jonny will be nicer to me.” She paused. She thought again about what Liv said. “And please help me find a way to be nice to him too. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
But what nice thing could she do?
A few days later, Melanie’s class went on a hike together. There were lots of big green trees and cool streams on the trail.
When it was time for a break and lunch, Melanie ate with her friends. Then she noticed Jonny sitting under a tree. He was alone. Maybe I can share my treat with him, she thought.
Melanie walked to Jonny and sat down. “Hi, Jonny.”
Jonny looked up at her. “Hi.”
“Do you want a cookie?” she asked.
She handed one of her cookies to Jonny. He took it and smiled. “Thanks.”
“Did you like our hike?” she asked.
“Yeah. The bridge we crossed was awesome.” He bit into the cookie. “Mmm. This is really good.”
“Thanks! I made them with my mom and sister.”
Melanie and Jonny finished their lunch together. They talked about a card game they both liked. Jonny was actually pretty funny. They laughed a lot. Melanie liked this much better than when he teased her.
“Do you want to play a game?” Jonny asked as they followed everyone else down the hiking trail.
Melanie nodded and smiled. “Sure!”
They took turns hopping between rocks during the rest of the hike. Melanie had a lot of fun. When the hike was over and it was time to go home, she was sad to say goodbye.
“Let’s play that card game next week,” Jonny said.
Melanie nodded. “OK! Bye, Jonny!”
Melanie waved goodbye and smiled. Jonny wasn’t the boy who teased her anymore. Now, he was her friend.
Illustrations by Skylar White

Again I have to interject a comment about my mother. On one occasion when I was writing the score for Indian, I was back at Richfield and the recording engineer called to see how it was coming. I said, “It’s going great, just fantastic! You’ll love this sequence!” I went on and on, and afterwards my mother said to me, “Merrell, we never brag about ourselves; we never tell how good we are.” I said, “They’re putting out 20 thousand dollars just to record it. They want to know how it’s coming along.” She said, “Just remember that you shouldn’t become too boastful because the Lord won’t bless you.” I try to remember that—the Lord isn’t pleased if we’re too boastful. We should show thankfulness.

I learned years ago a very important lesson. I think it was the second time I’d ever met President Harold B. Lee; I had been introduced to him once before. I was serving as a member of a stake high council, and on one occasion the stake president presented in our meeting the name of a man to be called to a position of leadership in the stake. I was teaching seminary at the time, and Brother Leon Strong, also a seminary teacher, had talked to me a time or two about this man. We’d commented on what an able man he was and how sad it was that he couldn’t do more than he did because of a handicap relating to his wife. She had one personality trait that I think could be characterized by the term malicious; I think that identifies what it was.

When the stake president presented the name of this man for a presiding office in the stake and called for a vote, the two of us cast negative votes. That’s rather unusual. The president talked it over for a few minutes, and then said that he felt he’d like to proceed anyway, and asked if we would sustain him in issuing this call. Immediately the issue changed. In my mind, then, it was a vote to sustain the stake president, not necessarily a vote for this man to office, and when he called for a vote, Brother Strong and I joined the other ten members of the stake high council affirmatively, approving the call of this man to office.

When our stake conference was held, a month or two later, when the ordinations were to take place, Elder Harold B. Lee, of the Council of the Twelve was the visitor. After the conference we’d assembled in the stake center for the ordinations. Elder Lee had ordained a bishop and his counselors and some others, and then this man was called forth to be ordained by the member of the Council of the Twelve. Brother Strong nudged me—we were sitting together—and with a smile on his face he leaned over and said, “Well, Brother Packer, now we’ll see whether this Church is run by revelation.”

Elder Lee put his hands on the head of this man, began the usual introductory words to an ordination, then hesitated. Then he said words to this effect: “The other blessings relating to your activities and life and occupation that you’ve heard pronounced upon the others here apply to you as well, but there is a special blessing.” And then that man received the longest blessing, the most pointed of them all; and in reality, it was not a blessing for him but a blessing for his wife. It was a very interesting thing to see.

Immediately, when the meeting was over, I went to Brother Lee and said, “Did you know this brother before you ordained him?”
“No,” he said. “I didn’t know him. I think I hadn’t seen him till I came into this room.”
I said, “He received a very unusual blessing.”
And Elder Lee said, “Yes, I felt that.”
Later the president of the stake explained: “I meant to talk to Elder Lee about that and tell him that here was a man that had need of a special blessing, but in the press of business, we just didn’t have time.” And so Brother Strong was right. That day we did see whether this Church is run by revelation or not.

I raced from math class to my locker. I couldn’t wait to meet my friends for lunch. Starting middle school was pretty scary. But after a few weeks I had made some new friends. I could even make it to my classes without getting lost!
When I got to my locker, I saw my new friends standing around Alex. They were looking at something he was holding.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“It’s Alex’s lucky day!” Josh said. “He went to the library to buy a mechanical pencil, but someone put too much money in the machine, so he got an extra pencil for free!”
Alex held out the pencils for me to see. They had green and blue stripes with yellow erasers.
“Wow,” I said. “But … what about the person who lost the money?”
“Come on, Maya. Whoever lost it is long gone,” Josh said. “It’s their fault they put in too much money.”
“Well, yeah, but the money still belongs to someone else, doesn’t it?”
Alex’s smile faded a little. “I guess it does, but I don’t know who put in the extra money.”
“Don’t listen to her, Alex. It’s yours!” Josh turned to me. “Why are you trying to make him feel bad?”
Everyone seemed to agree with Josh. What if I ruined my new friendships because I disagreed?
I took a deep breath. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad,” I said to Alex. “But maybe you could talk to Mr. Reed in the library about it.”
“Hey, guys,” Liz interrupted, “we’d better get to the cafeteria before they run out of pizza!”
The group headed to the cafeteria, leaving Alex and me alone. Alex looked at the pencils and then at me.
“I think I want to talk to Mr. Reed,” Alex said. “Will you come with me?”
“Sure,” I said. “Let’s go.”
We walked to the library, and Alex explained to Mr. Reed what had happened. Mr. Reed checked the vending machine where Alex got the pencils.
“There’s nothing wrong with the machine,” Mr. Reed said. “Someone must have put in money for two pencils but only turned the knob once. I don’t have a way to find out who did it, so you can keep the extra pencil. Thanks for being honest.”
As we left the library together, I worried that Alex would be mad at me for talking him into going to the library for nothing. We were halfway down the hall before Alex spoke.
“Thanks, Maya. I didn’t feel totally good about keeping the pencil, but I wasn’t sure what to do. I feel OK about it now.”
I was so relieved. “I’m glad you’re not mad at me,” I said.
“Mad?” Alex looked surprised. “Why would I be mad? I made my own choice. Thanks for going with me to see Mr. Reed.”
“No problem,” I answered. “I still need to get my lunch from my locker. I’ll meet you in the cafeteria.”
I grabbed my lunch from my locker and ran to the cafeteria. I was glad I’d spoken up and that everything turned out OK. I was smiling all the way to the cafeteria. Today felt like my lucky day too!

Some years ago, Elder ElRay L. Christiansen told about one of his distant Scandinavian relatives who joined the Church. He was quite well-to-do and sold his lands and stock in Denmark to come to Utah with his family. For a while he did well as far as the Church and its activities were concerned, and he prospered financially. However, he became so caught up in his possessions that he forgot about his purpose in coming to America. The bishop visited him and implored him to become active as he used to be. The years passed and some of his brethren visited him and said: “Now, Lars, the Lord was good to you when you were in Denmark. He has been good to you since you have come here. … We think now, since you are growing a little older, that it would be well for you to spend some of your time in the interests of the Church. After all, you can’t take these things with you when you go.”
Jolted by this remark, the man replied, “Vell, den, I vill not go.” But he did! And so will all of us!

On April 1, the paper mill was temporarily shut down. I was reading a pamphlet called The Plan of Salvation when I began to feel a certainty that what I was reading was true. The Holy Ghost was bearing witness, making everything clear to me. I knew that Joseph Smith was a prophet, that the Church was true. I was crying. I had found something so precious. I wanted to tell my co-workers, but they would not understand. I went home early and found Karen at my home. “I know that the plan of salvation is true,” I told her, “and I want to be baptized.” She arranged for the missionaries to teach me.
The following day, I had my first discussion with Elder Johnson and Elder Barangan. I had such a strong desire to be baptized that I went to their home very early the next morning. When I told them of my desire, Elder Johnson told me that to be baptized I must obey the Word of Wisdom and attend church. I said, “I started obeying the Word of Wisdom when I saw the filmstrip, and I have attended the church several times.” They taught me three more discussions. Then on Easter Sunday, 7 April 1985, I was baptized. I felt that this was the very moment I had waited for since I was born.
That day was also Fast Sunday. I fasted, shared my testimony in sacrament meeting, and paid my tithing for the first time. After sharing my testimony, I had an even stronger conviction that I had made the right decision. I felt complete—no longer drifting, but with sure direction. I know that the Spirit bore witness to me.
Since my baptism, I have served a mission and have been an ordinance worker in the Manila Philippines Temple.
I feel so blessed to have the gospel in my life. I know that the Book of Mormon I rescued from the trash is the book that rescued me.

The missionaries first traveled east to New Bedford, Massachusetts, where they hoped to find a ship going to their mission area. When they couldn’t find one, they booked passage on a ship traveling to the Society Islands (French Polynesian Islands) in the South Pacific. They set sail on 9 October 1843.
After they had been at sea only a few weeks, Elder Hanks, a young man who had suffered from ill health, died and was buried in the Atlantic Ocean. The three remaining missionaries continued on. Their voyage took them east and south across the Atlantic, around the Cape of Good Hope, across the Indian Ocean, along the southern coast of Australia, and into the Pacific.
The first island reached by the ship was Tubuai in 1844. The people there showed the missionaries kindness and hospitality, and when some of the people pleaded with the elders to stay, Addison Pratt left the ship to teach them. Serving alone there for many months, struggling to learn the Polynesian language, he baptized 60 out of a population of 200 and organized the first branch of the Church in the South Pacific. To this day, the Latter-day Saint community on Tubuai is a strong one.
Elder Pratt’s two former companions traveled on to Tahiti, where their teaching met with far less success. After a few months, Elder Rogers traveled west to a small group of islands and Elder Grouard sailed to the island of Anaa in the Tuamotus. Elder Rogers again met with little success and much opposition. When rumors finally reached him of the death of the Prophet Joseph Smith, he began to fear for the safety of his family in Nauvoo, and he returned to America. He died during the exodus from Nauvoo.
The people of Anaa, on the other hand, came to greatly love Elder Grouard. He was the first white missionary of any religion to come to their island, and many of them accepted the truth he taught. He baptized over 600 people, organized five branches, and called local officers to serve. He wrote to Elder Pratt and asked him to come to Anaa, as there was too much work for him to do alone.
Elder Pratt responded to his companion’s invitation, and a conference of the Church was held on Anaa with more than 800 in attendance. At this time Addison Pratt decided to travel back to Church headquarters to request more missionaries to help in the work in the South Pacific. Leaving Elder Grouard behind, he traveled first to California, then to the Salt Lake Valley, arriving in September 1848, one week after his wife and four daughters had arrived there from Winter Quarters.
He shared his experiences with the Saints, taught Tahitian classes, and prepared to return to Polynesia. In 1850 he set out with a new companion, James S. Brown, and the promise that his own family and other missionary families would soon follow. They did follow, and despite growing problems with the French government in the islands, the missionaries and their families served until 1852, when they were forced to return to America.
Forty years passed before LDS missionaries were allowed back into French Polynesia. When they returned, the missionaries found that many members had remained faithful despite the lack of contact with Church headquarters, but many others had fallen away. The work began anew in 1892 and has continued with a few interruptions to this day. The gospel truth has shone in these islands for 150 years!
There are now four stakes in the Society Islands, and a beautiful temple stands in Papeete, on the island of Tahiti. The stories of the early missionaries are remembered and shared often by those who now send their own sons and daughters as missionaries to other countries and other islands.*

Natanael held Mom’s hand tightly as they walked into the Primary room. Today was Natanael’s second week in the Sunbeam class. His stomach felt fluttery, and with each step, he walked a little more slowly.
Last week, Primary had been kind of confusing. During singing time, Mia kept standing up and turning around in circles. Natanael was tired of sitting, so he stood up too. But then his teacher asked him to sit back down. During sharing time, some of the older children talked and laughed. Sometimes it was too noisy to hear what Sister Miranda, the Primary president, was saying. When his friend Cara started crying, it made Natanael feel like crying too.
As he got closer to the front row, Natanael didn’t want to let go of Mom’s hand. He was worried that Primary would be confusing this week too. Then he saw his teacher.
“Hi, Natanael,” Sister Tejada said. “I’m glad to see you.” Sister Tejada patted the seat next to her.
Natanael liked his teacher’s friendly smile. He let go of Mom’s hand and sat down by Sister Tejada.
“I’ll be back to pick you up after class,” Mom said. “Remember to be reverent.”
Natanael wasn’t sure he knew how.
After the opening prayer, Sister Miranda stood up. “Today we have a special visitor,” she said.
Suddenly, a puppet appeared from behind a table next to Sister Miranda. The puppet wiggled, waved his arms, and said, “Is it time to go yet? I need a drink!”
Some of the children giggled.
“This is Arlo’s first time in Primary,” Sister Miranda said, “and he doesn’t know how to be reverent. But before he can be reverent, he needs to learn good Primary manners.”
Natanael was surprised. At dinner Mom sometimes reminded him to put his napkin on his lap. That was good manners. And Dad always asked everyone to thank Mom for the nice meal before they started clearing off the table. That was good manners too. But what were Primary manners?
Arlo leaned backward over the front of the table. “Hey, everybody looks funny upside down!” he said.
“Good manners are rules that show we respect other people,” Sister Miranda explained. “Arlo doesn’t know the rules for good Primary manners. Do you think we could teach him?” she asked.
Sister Miranda went to the chalkboard and drew an arm. “What should Arlo do with his arms?” she asked.
“Fold them!” Mia called out.
“That’s right,” Sister Miranda said.
Arlo sat up. He folded his arms and raised them over his head. “Oh, you mean like this?” he asked.
Natanael knew that wasn’t right.
Sister Miranda asked if everyone in Primary could show Arlo how to fold his arms.
Natanael quickly folded his arms. Arlo folded his arms too.
On the chalkboard, next to the drawing of the arm, Sister Miranda wrote, “Fold our arms.”
As Sister Miranda drew more pictures, the children taught Arlo the rules for good Primary manners. Natanael was glad that he knew most of them already.
Now Arlo wasn’t wiggling or waving his arms or calling out. His legs were still, and his arms were folded. The children were listening quietly too. Primary didn’t seem noisy and confusing anymore. Natanael felt calm and happy. It wouldn’t be too hard to be reverent in Primary. He already knew how.