Gospel Story Finder

Last Sunday I decided that I wanted to try to fast for the first time. My dad is a pilot in the Air Force, and he had been gone for two months flying over Afghanistan and Iraq. I really miss my dad when he is gone for so long. He was finally scheduled to start his trip home, but his connections for the military flights were not working out, so he was going to be a week late coming home. I told my mom that I was going to fast for my dad so he would be safe and be able to come home on time—something my dad said was impossible.
It was really hard to fast, but I knew I was doing it for a good reason, and that made it easier. We were so excited to get the news that my dad made the connection he thought would be impossible to make. He was able to come home on time, and he was safe—just what I had fasted and prayed for.Hunter Johnson, age 7 Penn Valley, California

When I was president of the Southern States Mission, one of our missionaries preached on that dream of Nebuchadnezzar in one of our meetings where we had some investigators, and I stood at the door to greet them as they went out. A man came up and introduced himself as a minister, and he said, “You don’t mean to tell me that you think that the Mormon Church is that kingdom, do you?”

And I said, “Yes, sir, why not?”

He said, “It couldn’t be.”

I said, “Why couldn’t it?”

He said, “You can’t have a kingdom without a king, and you don’t have a king, so you don’t have a kingdom.”

“Oh,” I said, “my friend, you didn’t read far enough. You just read the seventh chapter of Daniel, where Daniel saw one like the Son of Man coming in the clouds of heaven, ‘and there was given him dominion, and glory, and a kingdom, that all people, nations, and languages, should serve him.’ (Dan. 7:14.)

“Now,” I said, “my friend, tell me how can the kingdom be given to him when he comes in the clouds of heaven if there is no kingdom prepared for him? That is what we Latter-day Saints are doing.”

During what was to be the last year of running my business, the church approached me about coming to work for the church as an architect. After working in the Southwest Area office for a couple of years, I had the feeling that I should submit my resume to the head of the Architecture and Engineering Department. The feeling wouldn’t go away. So, I finally sent my resume to the director of the department. He said they were going to be posting for a job opening, but they just hadn’t got around to it. I was hired near the end of 1996.

When I was a young man, I couldn’t have dreamed of the experiences that yet lay in waiting for me. The Lord had greater things for me to do than what I was qualified for.

A few months later the surprise of surprises happened when we heard about the now-well-known story of the development of the small temple concept. President Hinckley told of his coming home from a trip through northern Mexico, conversing with a stake president in Colonia Juarez on what more could be done to help the saints in the colonies, and was inspired to have our department work on ideas for a small temple. He handed the sketch he had drawn of a small temple plan to our managing director, Brother Little. Everyone in the office was asked to sketch their ideas of what it could look like. The President attached some criteria to the idea. It wasn’t to be larger than 6,000 s.f. and cost no more than a million dollars. We accomplished one of those criteria.

I was privileged to develop a floor plan with two other architects, that divided the temple into two areas, one was the Aaronic priesthood side for the baptismal font and the other was the Melchizedek priesthood side for the other ordinances. I was then asked to develop the exterior elevations for the concept. I had never designed anything close to a temple in my private practice, yet here I was designing a temple. I was not qualified. I had no experience. I didn’t really know what it should look like. But, as I was drawing lines on the computer, I remember having ideas come to my mind that I knew were not mine. The Spirit gave them to me. I kept drawing lines and completed this idea for the first small temple, which became the Monticello Utah Temple. I prepared elevations for the other floor plan concepts as well. However, we forgot to develop a scheme based on the President’s sketch. So, we quickly completed this option as well. Brother Little presented the options to President Hinckley. We might think, “I did this” or “I did that,” but if we have the Holy Ghost with us always and pray with faith to receive inspiration and expect to be inspired, the Lord will inspire us. I was only the pencil. But in our digital day, I was the computer mouse being pushed around to create lines on a screen.

There’s an ancient oriental legend that tells the story of a jeweler who had a precious pearl he wanted to sell. In order to place this pearl in the proper setting, he conceived the idea of building a special box of the finest woods to contain the pearl. He sought these woods and had them brought to him, and they were polished to a high brilliance. He then reinforced the corners of this box with elegant brass hinges and added a red velvet interior. As a final step, he scented that red velvet with perfume, then placed in that setting this precious pearl.
The pearl was then placed in the store window of the jeweler, and after a short period of time, a rich man came by. He was attracted by what he saw and sat down with the jeweler to negotiate a purchase. The jeweler soon realized that the man was negotiating for the box rather than the pearl. You see, the man was so overcome by the beauty of the exterior that he failed to see the pearl of great price.

Years ago I served as elders quorum president in our California ward. One of my responsibilities was to home teach Helen Royston, a convert to the Church and one of the widows in our ward. She was barely five feet tall, and I imagine she didn’t weigh 100 pounds. For as long as I can remember, Helen faithfully taught Primary, including classes with some of my own children. Her home was modest, and it always seemed to be filled with an impossible number of visitors who were in need of a refuge or just down on their luck. Helen made her living working in a laundry. I often wondered how such a little, older lady could withstand such difficult work. I calculated that during her career she must have steam pressed literally millions of articles of clothing.

During ward council meeting one Sunday, we were considering an expenditure that was on the borderline between necessary and extravagant. After some discussion our wise bishop said, “Remember, we are spending Helen Royston’s tithing.” That resolved the issue. I have never forgotten that council meeting. Since that day, each time I hear the story of the widow’s mite I think of Sister Royston. It guides me today in my role as the chief financial officer of this university. How amazing it is that funds considered sacred are made available for your education and benefit.

This project helped 11 villages with 18,000 people. In short, the people of Gubbi Taluk in the Tumkur District needed water. During the summer months, women would have to walk four kilometers to bring drinking water to their homes. The people have some wells, but they are very dirty, causing waterborne illness, diarrhea, cholera, skin diseases, etc. This area also has seen farmers commit suicide as they cannot carry on their debt and are unable to bear the sight of their starving children.
LDS Charities (LDSC) partnered with St. Thomas Mission to dig three new borewells and three new tower holding tanks along with repairing two existing towers and tanks. The contractor also enjoyed helping to create one water tank for the farmers’ livestock and several washing stations for each village. The finances came from LDSC, but the people, connections, and trust came from the Mission. Father Francis said, “We believe that you are angels sent by God to the people to quench their thirst.”
The government was not able to do this project due to the scarcity of funds, and so they are thankful to LDSC for having taken up this project. When the wells were dug and the water burst from the ground, the people were leaping for joy and they said, “LDSC is a gift from God.”
One village woman said, “Now I can get water every four days with many pots, instead of walking long distances every day to fill one pot.”

My mother died when I was just a year and a half old. I was too young to remember much about her, and my father didn’t talk about her. I know from pictures of her, and from talking with my uncles, that she was a beautiful woman both physically and spiritually. I missed her every day of my young life.
After Mother died, I lived with my grandmother while my father taught school and moved from town to town. Then when I was eight years old, my father, who had remarried, wanted me returned to him. I found myself with a father I didn’t know, and a stepmother and two baby sisters that I didn’t know. Later two younger brothers were added to the family.
I had a difficult time adjusting to a new family. Part of it may have been my fault, but I never did feel accepted. What’s worse, my father was a very strict individual, given to almost insane rages. This did not contribute to family harmony or communication. I can’t say that our life was a very happy one.
It’s been many years since those childhood days. I’ve grown up and have spent my professional life as a pilot, in part providing emergency flights for infants that are seriously ill or injured. It’s a career that demands a practical approach to life. I don’t think anybody could call me over-imaginative or given to hallucinations. I’ve always figured a fact is a fact is a fact.
And the fact is, when I was 13, we were living in a small town, and my bedroom was a little lean-to that was built on the back of the house. I had been physically injured, hurt, and was very, very depressed. That night I lay in bed and cried and prayed. I wanted my mother.
In the quiet darkness, she visited me. I felt her influence. I saw her and she said, “Do not despair. You are deeply loved.” Then she was gone.
I will never forget those words. There was a calm. I felt better and went to sleep.
The next morning I didn’t dare tell anybody what had happened. I was afraid I’d be ridiculed or possibly even punished. I’ve never told anyone about this until today.
And yet this memory has stayed with me through my entire life. The mother I never knew penetrated the veil between our world and the other world. I know a mother’s love is strong enough to do this, because I have experienced it.

When Elder Richard G. Scott was young, his father was not a member of the Church. His mother was a member, but she didn’t go to church very often. When Richard turned eight years old, he didn’t get baptized. Then his Grandma Whittle came to visit.
Grandma Whittle was a very good example. She helped Richard and his brothers learn how important it is to be baptized and go to church. Soon Richard and his older brother were baptized.

Our second son lived much of his youth apart from the Church. When he turned 20, he had an experience that made him want to change his life. With love, prayers, and help from his family and members of the Church, and ultimately through the compassion and grace of the Lord, he returned to the Church.

He was later called to serve in the Washington Seattle Mission. He initially suffered great discouragement. Every night for the first three months, he would go into the bathroom and cry. Like Elder Cowan, he sought to understand “Why am I here?”

After he served for a year, we received an email that was an answer to our prayers. He wrote: “Right now I can really feel the love of God and of Jesus. I will work hard to become like the prophets of old. Though I am also experiencing a lot of difficulties, I am truly happy. Serving Jesus really is the best thing ever. There is nothing as wonderful as this. I am so happy.”

He felt as Alma did: “And oh, what joy, and what marvelous light I did behold; yea, my soul was filled with joy as exceeding as was my pain!”5

Returning to where we began, please remember that as Latter-day Saints you are gifted. Picture this familiar fast Sunday scene, recently described to me. A young child, standing on a stool, was barely visible over the pulpit. Her father stood next to her, offering encouragement and assisting with soft whispers to her ear as she proudly shared, “I am a child of God.”

The next testimony that followed came from a young adult who began with a nervous quip: “I wish I had someone whispering in my ear like that.” Then she had a flash of inspiration and testified, “I do have someone whispering in my ear like that—the Holy Ghost!”

Many missionaries open their mission call surrounded by family and friends. I opened mine all alone in a potato field. I was a student at Ricks College (which later became Brigham Young University–Idaho). We didn’t have social media or the internet back then, and I was away from my family. So I went into the field, offered a prayer, and opened the letter.
“You are called to labor in the Ohio Cleveland Mission,” it said. I thought it was especially sweet that Kirtland, Ohio, was part of the mission, though I didn’t understand its significance at that time.
My first assignment was the Ashtabula Ward, part of the Kirtland stake. On our way to my first area, my companion, Elder Shawn Patrick Murphy, and I stopped at the Newel K. Whitney store in Kirtland. Today there is a large visitors’ center there, but at the time it was a small place. I remember walking up the stairs to the room above the store where Joseph Smith held the School of the Prophets. I knew little of the history of the place, but I still felt something distinct as we entered that plain room with its simple wooden benches.
The director of the center was a former mission president, President Brewer. As he spoke about this place where the Brethren studied and learned together, I felt the Spirit deeply. I began to see the role Kirtland played as a hinge point in the history of the Church.
In the early 1830s, Independence, Missouri, was identified as the site of the New Jerusalem. The Saints had begun to settle there. But they were then forced out because of differences with other Missouri residents and opposition to the Saints’ beliefs. In 1834, Joseph organized a group of about 230 men, women, and children, later known as Zion’s Camp. They were to travel 900 miles (1,450 km) from Ohio to Missouri to help the Saints regain land they had legally purchased. The journey was not successful in getting the land back, but it created a setting that helped prepare many future leaders of the Church, including Church Presidents Brigham Young and Wilford Woodruff.
It wasn’t just the preparation of leaders that was important. The sanctifying effect of Zion’s Camp prepared a people who were willing to sacrifice to build a temple.
In Kirtland, the Prophet received revelation after revelation about the organization of the Church, all in preparation for what would be the crowning achievement—the building of the temple.1 And sacrifice literally brought forth the blessings of heaven.2 The Saints were so poor they could hardly afford the necessities of life. Yet they consecrated their time, talents, and possessions—the very covenant we make in the temple today—to build the house of the Lord.
Today the Kirtland Temple is owned and maintained by another church—the Community of Christ. When a guide from that church took us through the building, I felt the Spirit as he quoted from journals of those who witnessed marvelous events at the temple’s dedication. These events included seeing angels and the temple seeming to be ablaze with light.3 The Spirit confirmed to me that this had indeed been a house of God.
I served in the Ashtabula Ward for seven months. Almost every preparation day, we took those we were teaching to visit the Newel K. Whitney store and talk about the Kirtland Temple. Many times we recited the inspiring account of Christ’s appearance at the temple:
The Lord Appears in the Kirtland Temple, by Del Parson
“His eyes were as a flame of fire; the hair of his head was white like the pure snow; his countenance shone above the brightness of the sun; and his voice was as the sound of the rushing of great waters, even the voice of Jehovah, saying:
“I am the first and the last; I am he who liveth, I am he who was slain; I am your advocate with the Father” (Doctrine and Covenants 110:3–4).
In addition to the Savior, others also visited the temple—Moses, Elias, and Elijah. They committed to Joseph keys for the gathering of Israel, the dispensation of the gospel of Abraham, and temple and family history work. (See Doctrine and Covenants 110:10–16.)
Because these visitations are so significant, I think we sometimes overlook the significance of other things that also occurred. In the dedicatory prayer, Joseph Smith addressed the Lord God of Israel, “who keepest covenant and showest mercy,” and pleaded with the Lord to “accept the dedication of this house unto thee, the work of our hands, which we have built unto thy name” (Doctrine and Covenants 109:1, 78).
By appearing in answer to that prayer, Jesus Christ, as the mouthpiece of God the Father, showed that He accepted His house, the ordinances that would be performed there, and the covenants that would be made there. That acceptance has been granted to every temple that has been dedicated since then, as well as to the covenants made and ordinances performed in those temples.
In the dedicatory prayer, Joseph also specifically asked the Lord to bless those who served in presidencies, as well as their families. Today, those blessings are extended to Relief Society presidents, quorum presidents, Young Women presidents, stake presidents, mission presidents, and so on. (See Doctrine and Covenants 109:71.) Then Joseph asked the Lord to “remember all thy church, O Lord, with all their families … that thy church may come forth out of the wilderness of darkness, and shine forth” (Doctrine and Covenants 109:72–73).
Joseph sought specific blessings for presidencies and their families, for members and their families, and for the Church as a whole. We regularly witness the fulfillment of those blessings as the Church shines forth as a light in the darkness.
The dedication of the Kirtland Temple exemplifies for me three basic truths:
We are blessed when we prepare for the temple. The Saints had to prepare for the Kirtland Temple to be built. They had to sacrifice, purify themselves, and develop willing hearts. We need to do the same to become more ready to receive blessings the Lord has for us.
We can receive revelation in the house of the Lord. The visions given to Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery in the Kirtland Temple provided guidance, direction, and understanding. On a personal level, we can also find inspiration when we go to the temple seeking answers.
We can find refuge in the temple. In a time of persecution and poverty, the Saints in Kirtland found that the house of the Lord was a sanctuary from the worries surrounding them. The same is true for us today.
Over the years, I have found that the things I learned about the temple as a young missionary in Ohio have blessed my family and me. For example, in the temple a year after we were married, my wife, Amy, and I received an impression that it was time to have a child. We were students, and because of tight finances I was tempted to cast the prompting aside. But the Lord was preparing us.
We had three miscarriages over the next two years, and I wondered, “Why the prompting to have children if we’re not able to have them?” Then we moved to California, worked with a fertility specialist, and finally had our first child, Mackenzie.
By following the inspiration we received in the temple, we began a process that took three years. If we had not followed the prompting when we did, it would probably have been at least another three years before we had our first child. We count that experience as a blessing of preparation and revelation.
We had a second child, Emma, but then we had another miscarriage and the loss of our son, Stewart. In subsequent months and years, as we sought peace, we learned that most of the symbols in the temple point us to the Savior and the healing balm only His Atonement can give.
I am grateful for the blessings of the temple. I testify to you that it is a place of preparation, revelation, and peace.

Let me share a little experience that happened a few years ago. President Oaks mentioned that I had the privilege of teaching in the seminary and institute program at one time; that was a great training ground for me. The particular class involved in this story numbered forty-four. They were excited, early-morning students that used to get up at five in the morning to meet me at six and have class. There was one little girl—let us call her Marlene—who was very lonesome, the typical wallflower that you have seen depicted in many ways. She used to arrive about one or two minutes before the class started, or even a minute or two after, so that she would not have to mix socially. She always used to sit alone close to the back of the class. It was very obvious to me, the teacher, that she could not mix socially. And I pondered. What could be done? It was all right for me to talk to her on a one-to-one basis, but what she was reaching out for was the peer group, and no one seemed to respond. Everybody was caught up in his or her own world—and that is understandable with young people.

One day, while we were studying from the book of John about the miracles of Jesus, it seemed to strike me, in a spiritual way, that miracles were all right in the time of the Savior, but how about now? I also knew that in the class was Gail. Gail was an exciting, refreshing girl who just seemed to attract everybody. Everybody wanted to sit next to Gail. She was the typical extrovert, and yet not too selfish; but it was obvious that in the size of the group she had not noticed Marlene either.

One day I kept Gail after class for a minute. I said, “Gail, we have been studying about the miracle of Jesus. Would you like to perform a miracle?”
Thinking that maybe she could turn the water to wine or walk on the water, she said, “Oh, that would be wonderful! Let’s do it.”
And I said, “Well, it’s a different kind of a miracle. Would you like to transform a girl who doesn’t belong into somebody that does? Have you noticed Marlene in the back of the class?”
She said, “Yes.”
“Have you noticed that she has no friends?”
“Yes.”
I said, “I’ve checked it out and I find that you are both in the same high school. Would it be too hard at lunchtime to seek her out and include her in your circle? I’ll promise you that if your girlfriends see what you do with her, they’ll take an interest too, because they love and respect you and your popularity.”
She said, “Oh, that would be fun!”
And I said, “Now, extend that to this class every day. I don’t know how you are going to do it, but you find a way to sit next to her. Would you do that? And I’ll watch you very carefully, but I won’t make it obvious.”

The next day at seminary Marlene came about two minutes before the class was to start, and Gail quickly maneuvered herself to the chair next to her. Several of the other girls in the class did a double-take. “What’s she doing that for?” That persisted for the next three or four days, and the other girls began to say, “Well, what’s Marlene got that would attract Gail?” And within two weeks a little wallflower who did not belong, even in the Church, commenced to unfold, and we found a spirit and a talent that was unbelievable. Even her teacher was surprised at the difference. I challenge you, young people, to reach out. If the gospel is really true—and it is—you and I of all people can help those that somehow do not seem to belong. Would that not seem to you to be consistent in the gospel of Jesus Christ? It certainly does to me.

How can 125 seminary students in a newly created stake get to know each other fast? Spend a Super Saturday at a branch president’s holiday resort—and that’s just exactly what the young people of the Asheville North Carolina Stake did, at the invitation of Branch President Jim Cooper of the Cherokee Branch. The participants were excited about meeting more young Latter-day Saints. President Cooper turned over his new recreation complex to the young people, and they were soon swimming, playing handball, dancing, playing foosball, Ping-Pong, and electronic games, and enjoying the saunas and whirlpool. After an enjoyable meal of Navajo tacos (fry-bread topped with chili, lettuce, tomatoes, and a mound of grated cheese) and a game of basketball, the group went to the Cherokee Branch chapel for a lesson on parent-youth relationships, a scripture chase, and role-playing activities. It was a great Saturday, and everyone made a lot of new friends!

Brother and Sister John ministered to me and my children in so many ways. They have been an example of Christlike love.
My ministering brother had been with us since we first moved to Idaho. He made many efforts to befriend my then-husband. Not only did this good brother visit us monthly, but he also called or texted to offer his assistance when I stubbornly told him I didn’t need anything.
After my separation, he and his wife became ministering partners, and they lovingly, and without judgment, met with me often. They invited us to sit with them at the local Independence Day parade and to join their extended family at a barbecue.
Our ministering brother found out my children’s favorite characters and carved them into plastic pumpkins for Halloween. They have helped us string Christmas lights, prepare our home for winter, spray our weeds, answer the children’s questions about electronics, and dig my van out of the snow. They brought me the softest blanket as a Christmas gift, which has comforted me many nights when I’ve been lonely and uncertain of what life would bring.
But the most important act of service was the many priesthood blessings this kind brother bestowed upon me and my children. He truly was an example of the scripture, “They did watch over their people, and did nourish them with things pertaining to righteousness” (Mosiah 23:18). So many times, when my anxiety felt like it had reached its peak, he and his wife would come over to talk with me, and the conversation would end with my receiving a priesthood blessing.
He gave my children priesthood blessings before the school year started. He participated in my daughter’s confirmation. This loving couple’s generosity has been an example of Christ’s love for me and my kids.

I would like to tell you about my experience of reading the Book of Mormon. I started reading the Book of Mormon on my own when President Hinckley asked us to. I really wanted to finish before Joseph Smith’s birthday. I got as far as 2 Nephi. I was really worried I wouldn’t finish. At Thanksgiving my grandpa let me take home his tapes of the Book of Mormon. I listened to 16 tapes and got to Ether 8. Grandpa was missing the last tape. I started reading again to try to finish. On Christmas morning I was surprised to get all the CDs of the Book of Mormon. I listened to the last two CDs on Christmas Day. I was so happy that I finished the Book of Mormon.

Let me share with you the experience of Julie, a young woman who was able to face a challenge by following the promptings of the Holy Ghost. She was studying the Old Testament one day, and the thought came to her mind, “Read Matthew 5. Read Matthew 5.” She thought, “Why would the thought come to me to read the New Testament?” She acted on that prompting and read in Matthew, “Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you” (Matthew 5:44).
The next day she had some difficulties with her friends who were unkind and betrayed her. At first she was very upset, and then she thought, “I’ve been prepared for this. The Spirit prompted me to read Matthew, and I must love and pray for my friends.” The small step of reading the scriptures prepared her to respond in a Christlike way. From that experience, she was assured that the Lord knew her, and through the promptings of the Holy Ghost, she knew what she was to do.

I was born a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I went to my meetings every Sunday and tried to keep the commandments. I went to seminary all four years and did as much missionary work as I could. But it wasn’t until I went away to college that I decided I really wanted to gain a testimony of my own.
I had already read the Book of Mormon several times, both with my family and on my own. Every time I read it, I would pray to know if the words I received were true. I never felt like I received a firm answer to those prayers, and over time I grew more and more discouraged. I was afraid that not receiving that witness meant that the Church wasn’t true.
But I was determined to try again. I began reading the Book of Mormon again, studying and pondering it as I had never done before. Near the end of the fall semester at college, I finished the Book of Mormon. I sat on my bed and thought a lot about how I should go about asking again. Tears flowed down my cheeks as the fear of not being answered crept over me. I prayed to Heavenly Father and told Him how I was on my own now and needed a witness that the Book of Mormon was true. At the end of my prayer I waited and waited, but once again, no answer came. I felt a deep weakening in my heart, and I cried because once again my prayers seemed to have failed.
The next morning I attended my religion class. My teacher began to talk about prayer. In the course of his lecture he said, “Don’t ask the Lord a question you already know the answer to.” I immediately felt the Spirit, and three words entered my mind, “You already know.” I realized that I already knew that the Church and the Book of Mormon were true. My mind filled with thoughts of how I knew it was true. I thought about the joy the gospel had brought into my life. I thought of the peace and happiness that I always felt when I was living the commandments. I thought of the many times I had felt the Spirit.
Now if I get discouraged as I work to build a testimony of my own, I remember the joy the gospel has brought me throughout my life. I remember the times I have felt the Spirit. And I don’t discount the subtle reassurances I have felt of the gospel’s truth.

Then one December evening in 1997 our daughter, Pricilia, fell ill. She had a high fever, and blood started coming out of her mouth. My husband was not home, and I was confused and afraid. I could see the shadow of death on her face.
As I prayed for help, the Spirit prompted me to take her to our branch president, who lived far from us. Somehow I managed to get her down from our third-floor flat, carrying her on my back, and out to the main road. It was too late to catch a bus, so I desperately tried to get a taxi.
The first taxi driver who came by refused to take us, saying, “I don’t want to carry a dead person in my car.” However, a second taxi driver responded to my pleas and helped us even though I had no money. When we got to our branch president’s compound, the guard at the entrance refused to let us in. But he phoned the president, and the president came out and carried Pricilia up to his flat. He laid her on his couch, placed his hands on her head, and gave her a blessing. I heard him sigh and pause, then tell Pricilia that it was not yet time for her to go home and that she must fight to live.
Immediately after the blessing, Pricilia opened her eyes. We took her to the hospital, where we learned she had cerebral malaria. We also learned this disease could kill her. For the next eight days she remained unconscious in the hospital. The doctors did not believe she would survive.
The day Pricilia was discharged—healthy and normal—the doctor told me that few people survived who were as sick as she had been. Those who lived were left disabled. “Pricilia is a lucky girl,” he said. But I knew luck had nothing to do with her recovery. She had been saved by priesthood power.
Today, Pricilia is a healthy and happy girl. She has not been sick one day since leaving the hospital. She is everything a parent could want a daughter to be. Furthermore, the sicknesses that so beset our family have passed. We have outlasted these trials and have truly been blessed.

Illustration by Dinara Mirtalipova
Russia is very cold in the winter and often overcast, making the days gloomy and somewhat miserable. It was late November and on top of the depressing weather, I was feeling lonely, inadequate, and incapable of being a good missionary. I had just been assigned to train a new companion, and while Sister Hart was wonderful, the pressure was now on me to learn the language better, be an example, and find someone—anyone—to teach.
We had just gotten word that our new mission president was going to hold a zone conference in Yekaterinburg, five hours from our area of Perm. Early on a chilly December morning, Sister Hart and I went to the train station.
As we waited I pondered on the feelings I’d been having. I thought of the upcoming holidays and my longing to be with my family. The excitement to be on a mission had faded and now I felt like I hadn’t accomplished much as a missionary in my nine months out. Finally the call for our train’s arrival chimed, so we boarded and took our seats. I found myself thinking of the Savior. I closed my eyes and prayed that I would be able to know how to rid myself of these feelings and better focus on Him.
At the zone conference the next day, President Rust’s talk was beautiful and heartfelt. When Sister Rust got up to speak, she shared a simple story about how the Savior is the shepherd who would go and find the one sheep that had wandered off and bring that sheep back to the fold. She talked about the sacrifices the Savior has made for us, and finally she bore a powerful testimony of the opportunity that we as missionaries have to serve Him by bringing His lost sheep to the fold. Sister Rust challenged us to think of what gift we could give to the Savior for Christmas.
When she made that challenge, I felt the strongest impression that the gift that I was supposed to give to the Savior was to simply talk to more people. Up until that point I had been terrified to start up conversations with complete strangers—especially in Russian! I didn’t want them to think I was dumb for not understanding them, so it was just easier not to say anything at all. I knew, however, at that moment, exactly what I needed to do. I needed to stop thinking of myself and start thinking of my brothers and sisters. I set a goal to speak to someone about the gospel on every transportation vehicle I took for the rest of the month and to devote that as my Christmas gift to the Savior.
When Sister Hart and I boarded another train back to Perm the next morning, I started on my goal by talking to the people I sat next to. They weren’t very interested in what I had to share, but at least I tried!
Every day was a struggle as I fought to give my gift to the Savior, but slowly I found myself feeling happier and more confident—I felt I was better fulfilling my calling as a missionary. Christmas came and went, but I decided that I would continue talking to people. I started talking to them not only when we took public transportation but also on the streets, in the store, at the library, and everywhere else we went.
We didn’t find anyone to teach through my talking to people more; however, I feel that I planted gospel seeds. We made new friends with bus drivers, people at our local grocery store, and others. The best part was that when we saw someone again, we would often see them smile, and they would be the one to say hello to us first. I have faith that those seeds we planted will someday blossom when new opportunities arise for those people to learn about the gospel. Heavenly Father works in small and simple ways, and sometimes it just starts with a simple “hello.”
Thinking back now to that time on the train to Yekaterinburg, I realize that Heavenly Father answered my prayer. He helped me see that missionary work isn’t about me—it’s about others, and when we put others above ourselves and our own worries and sorrows, we find the happiness we are all seeking. It’s amazing to me how giving the Savior is, for even when we strive to give Him everything we can, He blesses us and gives us back a hundredfold.

Several weeks ago, I awoke early and began preparing for a meeting that was to take place in a distant city. While preparing, the most unusual thought came into my mind. It was this: "Judah and Joseph are going to meet today." The thought caused me to wonder, "What did it mean?" Then, as is so often the case with us mortals, the press of time overwhelmed the "thought for the day," and I was soon on a plane winging to my appointment.
Upon landing, my colleagues and I made our way through the airport to the car and driver that had been arranged for. As we approached the vehicle, our driver, Eric (not his real name), greeted us, helped with our bags, and made certain we were comfortably situated. I was in the passenger seat next to him, and as he prepared to pull away from the curb I asked: "Eric, are you a believer?"
It was obvious that the question took him by surprise, but he was polite, thought for a moment, then somewhat awkwardly began to answer: "Well," he said, "I am Jewish, and suppose..." Sensing his discomfort, I continued: "You see, Eric, we are going to an important meeting, and we are believers. With your permission, we would like to pray. Is it alright with you if, before you pull away from the curb, we have a prayer together here in your car?" Eric readily agreed, a dear friend of mine said the prayer, and we proceeded on our way.
Later that day, Eric drove some of us back to the airport. In the course of the return trip we learned about him, his work, his wife and family, and some of his hopes in life. Then the conversation went something like this: "Eric, you must have really wondered about us this morning when I asked if you are a believer."
Eric replied: "I have thought about that question throughout the day. As I said, I am Jewish. Some days I believe there is a God. Other days, I am not sure."
He was genuine and open in his answer. My heart was deeply moved. I explained to him the impression that had come over me earlier that morning about Judah and Joseph. "Eric," I said, "you are from Judah, we are from Joseph, and we have met as described. We want you to know there is a God in Heaven. He is our Heavenly Father, and we are all His sons and daughters. On this truth you can rely." At parting, Eric accepted my business card and the invitation to come to Utah and allow us to show him some of the things he might otherwise not see.