Gospel Story Finder

Illustrations by Shauna Mooney Kawasaki
Matt: Do you know what I’m thankful for, Grandpa?
Grandpa: Rocky-road ice cream?
Matt: No. Well, yes. But do you know what I’m even more thankful for?
Grandpa: Pepperoni pizza with double cheese?
Matt: You’re smart, Grandpa! But I mean do you know what I’m even more thankful for than my very most favorite and scrumptious food?
Grandpa: What?
Matt: You.
Grandpa: Oh. Well. Wow! I’m honored, Matt. Because I’m grateful for you too. So grateful that I want to be your grandpa forever. Shall we both do all we can to make sure that happens?
Matt: That’s like asking if we should both have a double scoop of rocky road.
Grandpa: What a brilliant idea!

I love the parables used by Jesus Christ to teach gospel principles. I would like to share a real-life parable of sorts with you this morning.
One day I walked into the cafeteria at Church headquarters to have some lunch. After getting a tray of food, I entered the dining area and noticed a table at which all three members of the First Presidency were seated, along with one empty chair. My insecurities caused me to make a quick detour away from that table, and then I heard the voice of our prophet, President Russell M. Nelson, saying, “Allen, there’s an empty chair right here. Come and sit down with us.” And so I did.
Near the end of the lunch, I was surprised to hear a loud crunching noise, and when I looked up, I saw that President Nelson had stood his plastic water bottle straight up and then flattened it and replaced the lid.
President Dallin H. Oaks then asked the question I wanted to ask, “President Nelson, why did you flatten your plastic water bottle?”
He replied, “It makes it easier for those who are handling recyclable materials because it doesn’t take up as much space in the recycling container.”
While pondering that response, I heard the same crunching sound again. I looked to my right, and President Oaks had flattened his plastic water bottle just like President Nelson. I then heard some noise to my left, and President Henry B. Eyring was flattening his plastic water bottle, although he had adopted a different strategy by doing it while the bottle was horizontal, which took more effort than with the bottle straight up. Noticing this, President Nelson kindly showed him the bottle-straight-up technique to more easily flatten the bottle.
At that point, I leaned over to President Oaks and quietly asked, “Is flattening your plastic water bottle a new recycling requirement of the cafeteria?”
President Oaks responded, with a smile on his face, “Well, Allen, you need to follow the prophet.”
I’m confident that President Nelson was not declaring some new recycling-based doctrine in the cafeteria that day. But we can learn from the prompt response of President Oaks and President Eyring to President Nelson’s example and President Nelson’s attentiveness to help teach those involved a better way.

I was born in Germany to good, caring parents who were members of the Church. During World War II, when my father was 10 years old, he was introduced to the gospel by a friend in Stettin, which is now part of Poland. Because of the war, there were no missionaries in Stettin at that time. After he accepted the gospel, my father taught his family, and they were converted. He later met my mother, who was also living in East Germany. There were no missionaries there either. My father taught my mother the gospel, and she accepted it. They were married and then moved to West Germany shortly before I was born.

Silverio was standing in the toy aisle when his Mom called him. “Sí, mamá?” He walked over to her.
“Could you please take this eye shadow to the cashier and ask how much it costs? And ask if it comes in green, please,” she said in Spanish.
“Oh, sure.” Silverio picked up the eye shadow, looked at it for a second, and then hid it in his hand. He didn’t want to be seen carrying makeup around the store.
Even though his family had been in the United States for most of Silverio’s life, Mom still had a hard time with English. She tried to learn, but sometimes the words wouldn’t come out. Sometimes Silverio wished he didn’t have to help her.
When Silverio reached the cashier, he held out the eye shadow. “Excuse me, ma’am, how much is this?” he mumbled.
The cashier stared down at him. “You want to buy eye shadow?”
Silverio pointed to his mom standing a few feet away and said quickly, “It’s for my mom.”
The cashier scanned the price. “Six dollars,” she said.
“Thanks. And … does it come in green?” Silverio felt his face turn red.
While the cashier typed into her computer, Silverio looked to check if anyone was watching him. The coast was clear. “Nope, only blue and purple.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Silverio hurried back to Mom and dropped the eye shadow in the cart without looking at her. “Séis dólares, y no la tienen en verde.”
“Gracias, Silverio. Is everything OK?”
He shrugged. “Yeah. No pasa nada. I’m fine.”
When they got home, Silverio went right to his room and sat on his bed. Interpreting for Mom was so embarrassing! Maybe he should tell Mom he wouldn’t do it anymore. He slumped down on his bed and sighed. No, he couldn’t do that to her. She worked so hard, and he didn’t want to let her down.
“Silverio, ven aquí por favor,” Mom called.
“Coming,” he called back.
Mom was at the table looking at old pictures of her family. “I just wanted to tell you thank you,” she said in Spanish. “I’m really grateful you interpret for me. I know it’s not easy, and might be embarrassing, but it means a lot to me.”
Silverio stared at the pattern on the rug. “Well … you do a lot for me, and I’m grateful too. You’re my mom, and I love you.” He gave a small smile.
Mom smiled back. “I love you too,” she said. “Let me share with you a scripture I like to read when I’m worried about what other people are thinking of me.”
She pulled their Santa Biblia from the shelf, turned to Colossians 3:23–24, and read from it. “And whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not unto men; knowing that of the Lord ye shall receive the reward of the inheritance: for ye serve the Lord Christ.”
Silverio looked at the Bible and reread the words. “So whenever I help people, I’m serving Christ?”
Mom smiled. “Exacto!”

Ten-year-olds are pretty smart. We like to figure things out on our own.
My dad always tells me to liken the scriptures to myself. Liken means that you try to use what you learn from the scriptures in your life. So, when we’re reading together as a family, I sometimes blurt out something before Dad can explain it to us. Like, “I know, Dad, we’re supposed to fast and pray, like it says in the scriptures.”
He smiles because I always get the right message.
But one time, I found out that the scriptures really can be a lot like my life! It all happened when we went on a family reunion backpack trip.
I carried my own big backpack and sleeping bag, and I didn’t complain. After all, it was only supposed to be four miles (6.5 km) to the lake. I could make it, no problem.
The hike wasn’t too hard, but I was glad to stop for a rest after two miles (3 km). Then we saw the first trailhead sign. It said that the lake was still six miles (9.5 km) away. My dad didn’t have to tell me that the trail was really twice as long as we first thought. I already figured that out. He did need to remind us to make our water last longer.
My dad’s advice was important but hard to follow. The afternoon sun felt hot, and we hardly had any shade on the trail. It seemed like we were never going to reach the lake.
The grown-ups stayed in the back with the youngest kids, and the older cousins went on ahead. I stayed with three cousins my age, and we ended up somewhere in between.
When we couldn’t see anyone ahead or behind us anymore, we started to get nervous. Our backpacks felt heavy, and our water bottles were empty. How much farther did we have to go?
Finally, we got so worried and tired that we decided to stop and pray.
After the prayer, we picked up our backpacks and trudged on.
Just a little while later we heard hoofbeats coming up the trail. We waited and saw a man on a horse riding toward us.
He stopped and gave us some water. He explained that our older cousins had hurried to the lake with a water filter to start pumping water to bring back to us. The man heard about how we needed water and had agreed to help. “Do any of you need help with your backpacks?” he asked.
I looked at my cousins, and they smiled back at me. We actually felt pretty good!
“You better go on and help the others,” we said to the man. “We’re fine.”
And it was true! The rest of the way to the lake it felt like angels were lifting our packs and pushing us along. When I told my parents about it later, Dad beamed and Mom got tears in her eyes.
A week later my family read Mosiah 24. My eyes opened wide when we read these words: “And I will also ease the burdens which are put upon your shoulders, that even you cannot feel them upon your backs” (verse 14).
“That’s what happened on the trail,” I blurted out. I didn’t have to think about how to use this scripture in my life—this scripture already described my life! It was amazing! I could hardly wait to find other scriptures that were like my life.
And that’s how I learned I could liken the scriptures to me, and I could also liken me to the scriptures!

Recently a young couple whom Kathy and I love wrote me about the precious baby they were expecting.

The father wrote: “[When my wife was] 10 weeks pregnant we found out that our miracle baby has the genetic condition of trisomy 21, commonly known as Down syndrome. We felt the pressure … from the medical field to consider termination. A few weeks later we discovered … our unborn child … would require multiple heart surgeries in her first year of life. Throughout this process as we prayed fervently for divine help, … we have felt the Spirit give us comfort. We received revelation and understanding that our daughter is an elite child of Heavenly Father and has an immense desire to be in our family and to come to earth.”

The baby’s mother wrote: “[We] were completely shocked, confused, and honestly devastated by the news. … When I was 14 weeks pregnant, we found out that our baby had multiple congenital heart defects, one that could be potentially fatal. We saw countless doctors and specialists from 10–18 weeks’ gestation. … At each of our appointments, we were asked if we wanted to continue with the pregnancy or terminate. … The Savior healed my heart and gave me a sense of peace and excitement about our baby girl. … [Heavenly Father] has shown me time and time again that He has a perfect plan for me [and] I trust Him.”

They excitedly welcomed their baby girl exactly one week ago today. She is theirs and they are hers forever.

I was nervous because I couldn’t help but think about my friend Danny (name has been changed). For months Danny had been talking about how much he looked forward to serving a mission. But that changed after he met with the bishop.
Because Danny had engaged in unworthy behavior with several young women, he later told me, he had disqualified himself from full-time missionary service. He was no longer free to choose a mission.
Danny, in the words of President Boyd K. Packer, President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, had fallen to Satan’s temptation “to misuse [his] moral agency.”1
True freedom, as For the Strength of Youth teaches, comes when we use our agency to choose obedience. Loss of freedom, as Danny learned, comes from choosing disobedience.
“While you are free to choose your course of action, you are not free to choose the consequences. Whether for good or bad, consequences follow as a natural result of the choices you make.”2
Because the scriptures teach that we are “free to choose,” “free to act,” and free to do things “of [our] own free will” (2 Nephi 2:27; 10:23; D&C 58:27; Helaman 14:30), we often use the term “free agency.”
But did you know that the phrase “free agency” does not appear in the scriptures? Instead, the scriptures teach “that every man may act in doctrine and principle … according to the moral agency which I have given unto him, that every man may be accountable for his own sins” (D&C 101:78; emphasis added).
Elder D. Todd Christofferson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles has taught: “The word agency appears [in scriptures] either by itself or with the modifier moral. … When we use the term moral agency, we are appropriately emphasizing the accountability that is an essential part of the divine gift of agency. We are moral beings and agents unto ourselves, free to choose but also responsible for our choices.”3
President Packer adds, “Agency is defined in the scriptures as ‘moral agency,’ which means that we can choose between good and evil.”4 This God-given gift means we are “free to choose liberty and eternal life, through the great Mediator of all men, or to choose captivity and death, according to the captivity and power of the devil” (2 Nephi 2:27).
Because moral agency plays an important role in the plan of salvation, Satan sought to destroy it in the premortal world. He was cast out for his rebellion and now seeks “to deceive and to blind men, and to lead them captive at his will” (Moses 4:3–4).
Satan wants us to make choices that limit our freedom, lead to bad habits and addictions, and leave us powerless to resist his temptations. The beauty of the gospel is that it makes us aware of our choices and the consequences of those choices. Wise use of agency keeps our choices open and improves our ability to choose correctly.
When the plan of salvation was presented in the Grand Council in Heaven, the Savior showed us how to use our moral agency correctly. He said, “Father, thy will be done, and the glory be thine forever” (Moses 4:2). Because He was willing to do the will of the Father then and later in the Garden of Gethsemane and on the cross (see Matthew 26:39; Luke 22:42), Jesus paid the price for our bad choices and provided a way for us to be forgiven through repentance.
If we follow the Savior’s example, instead of saying, “I do what I want,” we will declare, “I do what the Father wants.”5 Using our moral agency this way will bring us freedom and happiness.
As I went to see my bishop for my first mission interview, I was grateful I had made good choices. A few months later I was serving the Lord in Guatemala—teaching others the plan of salvation and the vital role moral agency plays in that plan.

One summer I participated in a youth leadership summit hosted by a popular teen magazine. Once there, I soon made friends with the other girls. We addressed important issues like how to overcome bullying, the smart use of technology and social media, and how to be a good friend.
During my group’s free time, one of the girls pulled out her phone and began to watch a video that was very offensive. When I realized what they were watching, I was really confused. If we were the leaders, then why were they choosing to watch this awful video?
I asked them to turn the video off, which they did, but soon turned on another video that was even worse. I decided to walk away and left the room. Another girl followed close behind me, and we spent free time somewhere else.
I thought about Sister Ann M. Dibb’s general conference talk, “I Know It. I Live It. I Love It” (Oct. 2012 general conference). When we really know, love, and embrace our faith in the Savior, we can receive the help we need when tough choices have to be made.
I had been taught the gospel my whole life. In that moment, I had been able to live what I knew to be right, but most importantly, I loved the peace I felt from making the right choice.
Mia H., Missouri, USA

What do you picture in your mind when you think of Wyoming? If you are driving through this part of the United States, you will not see a lot of big cities. Instead, you will see a big, beautiful sky, prairie, lots of rocky mountains, and antelope darting through the vast landscape.
But if you are driving near Independence Rock, Wyoming, during the summer, you may notice on the horizon something a little unusual—a line of handcart pioneers walking along a dry, dusty Wyoming trail. On closer examination, these “pioneers,” even though they are dressed in the style of the 1850s, are really very modern teens and their leaders. Despite the intense heat, the young men have on long trousers and long-sleeved shirts. Many of them are also wearing hats to keep the sun off their faces. The young women are in equivalent attire—long dresses, aprons, and sunbonnets.
In our day of automobiles and airplanes, it’s hard to imagine why these people have chosen to haul their food, water, and other supplies in wooden handcarts. But there they are. These young people have chosen to take time off from their summer jobs and other activities to give up the comforts of their homes and to walk as far as 30 miles under the hot Wyoming sun—all for one reason. They think it’s worth it just to have a taste of what some pioneers went through in the early days of the Church.
In 1855, Brigham Young counseled converts who were unable to outfit themselves with teams and wagons to walk the 1,300 miles across the plains pulling handcarts rather than delay, wait, and work to earn enough to buy expensive wagons. In all, 10 handcart companies traveled this way, 8 of which were very successful and had few casualties. However, two handcart companies, led by James G. Willie and Edward Martin, experienced suffering and heartache as they left too late in the year and ran into unexpectedly early snowstorms. Both companies were in grave danger of not surviving. The Willie Company was a few days ahead of the other company and was rescued first by wagons sent from Salt Lake City. Those in the company were frostbitten and starved. Sixty-eight of 404 in the company died.
The Martin Handcart Company, however, was forced by the storm to stop in a small valley on the side of a mountain with very little shelter. After wading through deep snow up to this point, the pioneers stopped in a cove, formed by rock outcroppings. Trees provided protection and fuel. There they waited for help and supplies from Salt Lake City. In just five days, 56 of the 145 total who died in the crossing perished. But thanks to heroic rescue efforts of Church members sent by Brigham Young, the majority, 431 of the Martin handcart pioneers, survived the trip.
Today the Mormon Handcart Visitors’ Center, near Martin’s Cove, is a reminder of not only the ill-fated handcart companies but also a tribute to the many pioneers who traveled with handcarts across the plains. Each summer hundreds of visitors come to learn more about these people, many of whom left their homes and relatives behind, bringing little more than the clothes on their backs. The pioneers sacrificed much in order to bring themselves and their families across the plains to Utah where they could live in peace, without persecution.
While some Church members today have direct pioneer ancestry, many do not. Yet all of us are indebted to the pioneers who helped establish the Church in its early days, and their sacrifices are part of every member’s heritage.
This debt is part of the reason the youth of many area stakes come to Martin’s Cove to walk miles through the hot desert dressed as pioneers, pulling their camping equipment and food in handcarts.
For many teens from the Pueblo Colorado Stake, for example, walking where the pioneers walked helped them realize the dedication and sacrifice of the early pioneers. Hearing the stories of the pioneers and the experiences they went through helped strengthen the testimonies of those who walked just a small part of the trail.
Other groups walking the trail at the same time had similar experiences. Christine Johnson from Orem, Utah, reflected upon the experience of the Saints as they traveled: “I wonder what they would have thought when they were looking around and saw just miles and miles of nothing.”
Adam Pinegar, also from Orem, said his trek gave him a feel for how difficult it was for the handcart pioneers. Although it was tough, Adam said he would do it again. “It was worth it. I thought of my ancestors who actually came across with the Martin Company. They suffered so much to get to the Salt Lake valley, so I could live where I do and have the gospel.”
Erin Woodward’s sixth great-grandfather walked across the plains. Erin, from Westminster, Colorado, thought of this grandfather and his family as she participated in the trek with her stake.
“Now I feel like the silliest girl in the whole world,” she said. “I mean, I have been so into my materialistic things. Seriously, I have a curling iron in my pocket. I even have makeup and everything. I feel horrible because the real pioneers didn’t live as well as I do. Before this I never really understood how blessed I am.”
These young men and women walk through the desert with a backdrop of significant Church history sites—Devil’s Gate, Independence Rock, and Martin’s Cove.
For many, Martin’s Cove is a sacred spot. It is beautiful, with many trees. The feeling is peaceful and calm. The pioneers camped on one side of the cove and buried their dead in shallow snow graves on the other. As the youth walk through the area, they take off their hats and whisper out of respect for those who died.
Tiffany Campbell from the Pueblo stake said the cove made her think a lot about those people and their determination to get to the Salt Lake valley.
The teens from Christine’s Orem ward walked to the cove last, after they had already walked the majority of their trek. “Once we got up there it hit us that this was really the place where they couldn’t go anymore, where they had to stop, and where so many died. It was amazing to be up there after doing the rest of our trek. It was kind of quiet and peaceful and spiritual.”
As their journey was ending, Stephanie Stewart, also from Pueblo, described what she learned from the miles and miles of walking: “I am going home with a better understanding of how hard it was and what the pioneers did so that we could be free of persecution.”
Many other youth echoed her feelings: “I just think it is really neat to see what they did and what they gained from it,” said Michael King from Roy, Utah. “Of course we can get a little taste of it, you know, but we cannot fully understand.”
After visiting Martin’s Cove, these young people freely admit they cannot completely comprehend what the early handcart pioneers went through. But their reenactment experience has changed their attitudes. They know they face storms of another kind in modern life. But learning to survive is a lesson that was taught by those who have suffered before us. These modern teens also learned that we can all follow the example of faith and determination set by the pioneers. The handcart companies passed their tests. Now it’s our turn.

There is an urgency in this work that motivates us to extend the blessings of the temple to as many of our Heavenly Father’s children as possible. I was impressed with an experience of President Wilford Woodruff when he told of a visitation he received from the Prophet Joseph Smith some time after the Prophet was martyred. According to President Woodruff’s own account: “[Joseph Smith] came to me and spoke to me. He said he could not stop to talk with me because he was in a hurry. The next man I met was Father Smith; he could not talk with me because he was in a hurry. I met half a dozen brethren who had held high positions on earth, and none of them could stop to talk with me because they were in a hurry. I was much astonished. By and by I saw the Prophet again and I got the privilege of asking him a question.

“‘Now,’ said I, ‘I want to know why you are in a hurry. I have been in a hurry all my life; but I expected my hurry would be over when I got into the kingdom of heaven, if I ever did.’

“Joseph said: ‘I will tell you, Brother Woodruff. Every dispensation that has had the priesthood on the earth and has gone into the celestial kingdom has had a certain amount of work to do to prepare to go to the earth with the Savior when he goes to reign on the earth. Each dispensation has had ample time to do this work. We have not. We are the last dispensation, and so much work has to be done, and we need to be in a hurry … to accomplish it.’

“Of course, that was satisfactory,” President Woodruff concluded, “but it was new doctrine to me.”

Wouldn’t you get a little nervous if your high school counselor suddenly and unexpectedly called you into the office?
You would especially be nervous if you were Richard Aballay, a senior at a Catholic seminary in New York City. Richard had seen the commercials about the Mormon church on TV, had contacted the missionaries, and was baptized. But he hadn’t yet mentioned his baptism to anyone at the school, where boys prepare to become Catholic priests.
“How are you doing in your subjects?” the counselor began politely on that fateful day in late October.
“Fine,” said Richard, cautiously.
Then the counselor jumped to his real concern. “Are you affiliated with another church?”
“Yes.”
“Which one?”
“The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”
“Why?”
“I have come to know the Savior better in this church. I know this church is doing more for me. It is the church of God.”
As the counselor began to lecture, warning Richard that being a member of a different church was grounds for dismissal, Richard thought how easy it would be to say he had made it all up. Then he could finish his senior year in peace.
“But I couldn’t do that,” Richard said later. “You can’t deny the truth when you have it.”
By the next day it was official: Richard had to leave.
The following week was torment, Richard said. But with much prayer, his family was able to find space for him in another good school.
“From that experience,” Richard says, “I have learned that the Lord will never abandon me.”
In fact, the experience gave Richard the chance to tell more people about the gospel, since his classmates wanted to know why he would leave school for his new beliefs.
Being dismissed from school is not the only challenge Richard has faced. He grew up in the Bronx, a borough of New York City. It is not an easy place to live.
“I know for a fact that if it weren’t for the gospel, I would probably have gone into something crazy,” he says. “The inner city is hard. But I know the greatest blessing in my life has been the priesthood.
“Ever since I was first ordained a deacon, I noticed a great change. I just felt that the Lord was with me. And I had a confidence—I could walk into my school where kids were doing bad things, and I could say no. It helps keep me straight. I’m always saying to myself, ‘I want to honor the priesthood.’”
The gospel has helped him in other ways, too. One is that since he joined the Church, Richard has been able to overcome a speech impediment. Before receiving the Holy Ghost, “I could not say a word in public,” Richard says. After his confirmation, he was able to bless the sacrament, give talks in church, and take roles in two road shows. “Like it says in Ether 12:27—my weakness became a strength,” he says. Richard used to go to parties a lot. But after the last one, he says, “I saw things there, and I didn’t feel right. For some reason I knew I didn’t belong.”
He left the party and vowed to become more involved in service, schoolwork, studying the scriptures, and listening to good music—and to not watch so much television.
“It was hard,” he says. “I wanted to keep up with things going on outside. I didn’t want to be a social hermit. But I felt that if I was going to go on a mission, and if I was going to get married in the temple, and if I was going to receive callings, I had to be worthy.”
Many of his friends think this is a strange road to take. They also think it strange that he decided to accept a call to serve as a full-time missionary in the Paraguay Asunción Mission. And Richard agrees with them.
“As I look at it, the life-style one lives as a disciple of Christ—as a member of the Church—is a strange one from the rest of the world. God doesn’t work or think in the same ways man does, and he doesn’t want us to act and think the way the rest of the world does. So because the Lord works in ways that seem strange to the world, we appear to be a strange and peculiar people. But I’m proud of being strange! I don’t think there’s anything strange with it.
“The truth is, now that I’m on the other side, I think the life-style that other people live is strange. I want to make their life-style one that I know will be better for them—and that would be bringing them to Christ.”
The Apostle Paul invited all to be “no more strangers and foreigners, but fellowcitizens with the saints” (Eph. 2:19). Richard Aballay extends the same invitation to the strangers of the world. In doing so, the boy from the Bronx has become a man.

My mother, Madeline Bitner, was another great influence in my life. In her youth she was a fine athlete and a champion sprinter. She was always kind and loving, but her pace was exhausting. Often she would say, “Hurry up.” And when she did, we picked up the pace. Perhaps that was one of the reasons I had quick acceleration when I played football.
My mother had great expectations for her children and expected the best from them. I can still remember her saying, “Don’t be a scrub. You must do better.” Scrub was her word for someone who was lazy and not living up to his potential.
My mother passed away when she was 87 years old, and I think about her often and miss her more than I can say.

Working on personal appearance was of great interest to the girls in the Orem Utah Stake. For several Saturday mornings, the girls met to learn about choosing and caring for a wardrobe, personal grooming, and poise. The workshops stressed the importance of letting their outward appearance reflect their inner beauty. Lorien Eastly and Jody Brinholt were unanimous in their selection of a favorite workshop session. They both enjoyed learning how to walk and how to handle themselves in potentially embarrassing situations. Jody said the workshops gave both her and her friends more confidence. “Now we just feel a lot better about ourselves. Our leaders taught us that when we look good we don’t have to be concerned with ourselves and we can pay attention to others.” Poise and beauty were added to the basket.

The youth of the Malta Second Ward, Declo Idaho Stake, challenged the adult members of the ward to read the Book of Mormon in three months. Many of the ward adults took the challenge. The youth established some rules for the challenge. Team members could only count what they read from that time on. They couldn’t just listen to records or tapes unless there was a special situation.
The youth team consisted of all young people in the ward over 12, including single Young Adults. Everyone married and in the adult classes made up the adult team. At the end of the three months, the losing team would prepare a dinner and dance for the winners.
It was interesting to see the enthusiasm build as the ward caught the spirit of the reading. The following comments from ward members were typical: “This has helped my family so much. We have the most wonderful spirit in our home now.” “I didn’t know the Book of Mormon was so interesting. I could hardly put it down.” “I understood the book better this time than I ever have before.”
As the final day arrived, it was announced that one-third of the adults finished within the deadline, and over half the youth. The youth were ecstatic about their success.
The celebration was held with a great dinner and a family dance.

When Raimundo Carvalho was 18, his father died. His father had earned a living washing clothes for other families. Now that meager income was gone.
“I was the oldest child, the only son, with four younger sisters. So, I needed to help my mother provide for the family,” he remembers. “We faced a lot of challenges and we were really poor.”
Raimundo learned to make shoes. Soon, however, it became apparent that he couldn’t keep up on his studies and work enough to provide the help his mother needed. “Taking care of the family came first,” he says. “I was able to finish my classes that year and that was it.”
In his heart, he knew he would come back to school again. But when and how?
He continued to work, and the family survived.
“Then I met and married this beautiful woman,” he says, smiling at his wife, Eréroythe. “And we built a family of our own. Today we have three children and three grandchildren.”
Eró, as his wife is known, encouraged Raimundo to go back to school. “But because of my responsibilities as a husband and a father,” Raimundo says, “I knew I couldn’t pursue the education I wanted at that time. I didn’t abandon my dream—I just put it on pause. It became something I would do in the future.”
What he could do, he found, was to encourage his wife and children in their education.
“The scriptures teach us that the glory of God is intelligence,1” he says. “They also say we should bring up our children in light and truth2 and that we should seek learning by study and faith.3 These principles became standards for our family.”
Today, Raimundo is 62. And that dream he put on pause? It’s finally coming true. He recently graduated from high school. What’s more, he’s preparing to enter college. “I have to take a challenging test to get in,” he says. “But I want people, old and young, to see that they can set a goal and achieve it.”

Another of the great blessings of my life has been to feel the closeness of heaven during those moments when I sit at the bedside of people as they pass away. Early one morning some years ago, I entered the hospital room of a faithful Latter-day Saint widow who had cancer. Two of her daughters were sitting with her. As I went to her bedside, I quickly discovered that she was no longer suffering, because she had just died.

In that moment of death, the room was filled with peace. Her daughters had a sweet sadness, but their hearts were filled with faith. They knew that their mother was not gone but had returned home. Even in our moments of deepest grief, in the moments when time stands still and life seems so unfair, we can find comfort in our Savior because He suffered as well. It was a privilege for me to be in that room.

Note how carefully we have been instructed on how to confer priesthood authority. When I turned 12 years old, my father, Charles Oaks, and my bishop, George Collard, laid their hands on my head and conferred upon me the Aaronic Priesthood and ordained me a deacon.

Several years later, then Elder Gordon B. Hinckley used this same heavenly directed procedure to ordain me a Seventy. Each ordination reflects additional divine trust and a new opportunity to serve on the Lord’s side.

I was 13 years old when I first saw the full-time missionaries. I was living apart from my family at the time, going to school in another town in the Philippines. One day while riding the bus, I saw two nicely dressed young men sitting near me. I didn’t know who they were, but I was impressed with what I assumed were their uniforms. For some reason, I wanted to wear one, too.

My father’s dying words impressed me so deeply that I did wear the “uniform” of a full-time missionary. I served in the Philippines Quezon City Mission.

Several years ago I spoke at a meeting for members and investigators in the Peru Lima South Mission. I don’t know why I started talking about revelation and the importance of having a prophet, but as I did, I noticed two young men on the first row listening attentively and taking notes. After the meeting, those two young men came to me and said, “You talk about prophets and about revelation. We thought that there weren’t any prophets after John the Baptist.” The young men had been sent by the local priest to find out what I said. I had to catch a plane and didn’t have time to explain more about prophets and revelation. However, I did tell them that if they wanted to have personal revelation, they should read the Book of Mormon and follow the counsel in Moroni 10. I gave them each a Book of Mormon and marked Moroni 10:4–5 [Moro. 10:4–5]. Three months later I received a letter from those young men telling me that they had been baptized. One year later I received another letter saying that they were both preparing to go on missions. The Book of Mormon was what converted them.

Shaking Sister Turner’s hand was like handling a delicate antique. [Names have been changed.] We had come as we did every Sunday.
“My, your hands are like ice!” she exclaimed for the 10th time in 10 visits. I smiled as I set the sacrament bread and water on the bedside table.
“It’s a cold walk from the church to here,” I explained, sweeping snow off my white shirt for effect.
“Well, where’s your jacket then?” came the quavery accusation, to which I could only shrug as usual. The slow rasp of some medical machine was the only sound as my companion priest opened the Doctrine and Covenants to find the sacrament prayers (see D&C 20:77, 79).
I thought back to when, as a new priest, I had been assigned “home sacrament.” With some embarrassment, I had had to ask who these homebound members were and where they lived. How long had I lived in this ward? Twelve years without even meeting these members?
After blessing and passing the bread, my companion handed me the open scriptures. Clearing my throat, I read the prayer with what I hoped was a voice powerful enough to match the furrowed concentration on Sister Turner’s face.
Watching Sister Turner struggle to raise the cup of water to her lips, I ached in sympathy. How did this fragile sister do it? How could she stay so pleasant after suffering immobilizing pain as long as she had? My thoughts turned to the others we would be visiting. Each of them, despite suffering terribly from the effects of sickness or old age, exemplified endurance, compassion, and love. Each of them had a treasure trove of stories, studded with gems of wisdom. But most of them, as the beeping machines attested, had little time left. Why hadn’t I discovered these treasured brothers and sisters long ago?
As we rose to leave, Sister Turner predictably joked, “You have to be 102 to get this sort of service.” We chuckled and wished her a fond “See you next week,” with a silent “we hope.” We stepped out into the snow with the fervent thank-you from Sister Turner’s daughter still in our ears. We sometimes doubted whether or not Sister Turner remembered us, but we never doubted that she sincerely appreciated our visits.
We knocked at another door. “Come in, boys! I was hoping you would come today!”
I smiled again as I shook the snow out of my hair. “Sister Holt! It’s a pleasure to see you!” And it was.