Gospel Story Finder

Margaret tucked her children into bed. Her son, Jeffrey, opened one eye. “Mummy, when can we go to the temple?”
Margaret kissed his forehead. “As soon as it’s finished.” She turned out the light.
Margaret was looking forward to the temple dedication too. She was excited to be sealed to her family. But the temple was far away in New Zealand. It would cost a lot of money to travel from their home in Australia. They had saved for months. They even sold their car. But they still needed 200 more pounds.
She knelt to pray. “Heavenly Father, please help us get the rest of the money we need.”
Just then her husband, Don, walked in. “I saw my father today. He apologized for not visiting us, and he gave us this.”
He handed her a piece of paper. It was a check for 100 pounds! Margaret could hardly believe it. Don’s father hadn’t talked to them in months. It was a miracle!
A few days later, Margaret’s parents visited. “We’ve been saving some money,” her father said. He pressed 100 pounds into Margaret’s hand. “Have a good trip!”
Margaret smiled. They had enough money now!
There was one more problem. The trip would take six weeks. Don’s boss said he couldn’t be gone that long. After a lot of prayer, Margaret and Don decided Don would quit his job.
Finally it was time to go. Margaret and Don helped their children onto the train. They rode it for five whole days.
“Are we there yet?” Jeffrey asked Margaret.
“Not yet,” she said. “Now we’ll take the boat to New Zealand.”
But there was more bad news. The boat had crashed. It wasn’t taking passengers. Had they come this far for nothing?
No! Margaret’s prayers were answered again. Someone gave them plane tickets. Soon Margaret and her family were flying over the ocean. Next stop, New Zealand!
When Margaret finally stepped inside the temple, her heart was warm. She even got to shake the prophet’s hand. “Heavenly Father will bless your family because you chose to come here,” he said.
Later, Margaret and her family dressed in white. They knelt around an altar to be sealed. Margaret beamed. Now they could be together forever!
When they got home, Margaret and Don had only 5 pounds left. But Margaret remembered the prophet’s promise. Heavenly Father would bless them.
And He did! The next week, Don came home with happy news. “I got a job! It’s even better than the one I had before.”
Margaret hugged him tight. She knew going to the temple would always be worth it.

Petey didn’t want to be a Sunbeam. I knew because I sat on the row behind the little chairs. At first they were empty. Then, one by one, the new Sunbeam class walked in.
I nudged my friend Ryan. “Hey, there’s your little sister Maggie!”
He shrugged, but I could tell by his smile that he was proud to be a big brother in Primary now.
I knew some other Sunbeams, too. There was Ralph’s little brother Jakey and Caitlyn’s little sister Ashley. The only one I didn’t know very well was the boy with the wild brown hair—Petey. His hair stuck out all over the place like a bird’s nest.
The bishop had introduced Petey’s family to the ward during sacrament meeting just last week. I’d turned around to see if they had a boy I could play with, but the only names he announced were the parents’ names and “Peter Alexander.” Petey didn’t have any brothers or sisters. Maybe if he’d had a brother or sister, he wouldn’t have been so scared.
As soon as the Sunbeams walked to their chairs in front of the whole Primary, Petey started to cry—loud. Sister Evans tried to make him feel better by holding him on her lap and showing him her happy/sad-face puppets, but it didn’t do any good. He sucked in big gulps of air and cried even louder. Finally, Sister Evans carried him out.
Some of the children giggled when they could still hear him bawling in the hallway, but I felt sorry for him. I remembered going to a friend’s birthday party once. There must have been 20 children there who I’d never seen before. It was scary being around a bunch of people I didn’t know, but at least I knew my friend and his parents.
Petey probably didn’t know anybody at Primary. That’s when I got an idea—what if I wrote him a letter? I could draw him some pictures and tell him that I’d be his Primary buddy if he wanted. I was so happy with my idea that I didn’t even mind when Janice kept kicking the back of my chair or when my brother took my favorite spot on the bench during sacrament meeting.
With Mom’s help, I wrote my letter that night. It was fun! I told Petey he’d learn a bunch of neat songs in Primary. And I told him about the Primary talent show that was coming up. Maybe he’d get to hear me sing with my brothers and sisters. Then I drew a picture of Nephi shooting an arrow and my remote-control monster car racing another car. I figured if I liked those things, then maybe he did, too. I signed my name and asked Mom to help me find his address. Then, at the last minute, I cut out one of my school pictures and dropped it in the envelope so he’d recognize me at church. Mom mailed it for me the next day.
I got so busy at school that week I forgot I’d even sent the letter—until Sunday! After we arrived at church, I hurried to the Primary room and waited for him to come in. That’s when my stomach started doing flip-flops. The longer I waited, the more I wondered. Had he gotten my letter? What if sending it had been a really bad idea? What if he didn’t like it? What if he didn’t want a Primary buddy? What if he didn’t want to come back to Primary at all?
Then I saw him! He trudged in behind Sister Evans and slid onto the little chair right in front of me.
“Hi, Petey!” I said, but he must not have heard me because he didn’t turn around or say “hi.”
I could tell he still didn’t want to be a Sunbeam because he sat really close to his teacher and stared down at his lap. “At least he’s not crying,” I thought hopefully.
Then disaster struck!
“Peter, would you please come up front so we can sing you a welcome song?” Sister Peterson asked. She hadn’t been at church last week, so she didn’t know that Petey was shy.
I held my breath.
“Come on up, Peter,” she said with a smile. “Don’t you want to hear our welcome song?”
Petey shook his head, clutching his teacher’s arm even tighter.
All the other children were waiting for Petey to burst out crying. And maybe he would have. His chin was already trembling, and his eyes were wide like a frightened rabbit’s.
That’s when I surprised myself. “I’ll go up with you, Petey,” I heard myself say.
Petey switched from looking at all the children to looking at just me. Did he recognize me from my picture? I guess he did, because a tiny smile crept across his face.
“OK,” he said quietly.
He held my hand really tight as we stood in front of the whole Primary. They sang the welcome song nice and loud like they did every time they welcomed someone new.
“Way to go!” I whispered when I took him back to his seat.
He grinned and waved at me.
And that’s when I knew—Petey was going to like being a Sunbeam after all.

In my case the Book of Mormon became the keystone of my testimony over a period of years and through a number of experiences. One powerful experience in forming my testimony occurred while I was a young missionary serving in my first area: Kumamoto, Japan. My companion and I were house-to-house proselyting. I met a grandmother who kindly invited us into the entry of her home, which is called a genkan in Japanese. She offered us a cold drink on a hot day. I had not been in Japan very long, and I had recently completed reading the Book of Mormon and had been praying to know with certainty that it was true.
Because of my newness to Japan, I didn’t speak Japanese very well. In fact, I don’t think this woman understood much of what I was saying. I began teaching her about the Book of Mormon, describing how Joseph Smith received from an angel an ancient record engraved on plates and how he translated them by the power of God.
As I offered her my testimony that the Book of Mormon is the word of God and another testament of Jesus Christ, I received the strongest impression, accompanied by a warm feeling of comfort and serenity inside my chest, which the scriptures describe as “your bosom [burning] within you.”4 This feeling reaffirmed to me in a powerful way that the Book of Mormon truly is the word of God. At that time my feelings were so strong that tears came to my eyes as I talked to this Japanese grandmother. I have never forgotten the special feeling of that day.

I grew up as a member of the Church. I was taught the principles of the gospel by my parents and was baptized and confirmed by and received the priesthood from my worthy father. I felt the influence of the Spirit in my life, but I did not receive a witness of the reality of the Atonement until one Easter in my teen years.
A group of several hundred seminary students gathered for a testimony meeting before dawn. I suppose that I shared my testimony that morning, but I can’t be sure. What I know is that during the meeting as the sun rose on a new Easter, the Spirit came into my heart and testified of the reality of Jesus Christ, His life, His teachings, His Atonement, and His Resurrection. I have felt the confirmation of that testimony many times during the more than 30 years I have testified of Jesus Christ as a missionary, father, friend, and Church leader. But the anchor for me has been the witness I received from the Spirit that Easter morning.

Following the earthquake there was a run on gasoline. The fuel trucks that could maneuver over broken roads traveled very slowly, resulting in three-hour waits for gasoline, if any was available at all. But the Lord provided for us in miraculous ways. For example, while evacuating sisters and elders to safety in Niigata on the other side of the island, we realized we had driven 18 hours on a single tank, with a gas gauge that always registered “full.” As we neared Niigata, the gas gauge immediately dropped to “empty.”

Fortunately, our loving Father continued to direct an orderly evacuation amid severe devastation. Long-distance travel was dangerous. There were continuing aftershocks. Public transportation was shut down. Water and electrical supplies were interrupted, and it was nearly impossible to buy gas or food. Sister Tateoka and I understood very well that we were the only ones able to reach two elders in a mountainous area and two other elders over the mountain on the other side of the island. Freeways were closed, so this last trip would require a five- or six-hour drive one-way north up the mountain on back roads, another two to three hours over the mountains and down to Tsuruoka, and four more hours back to safety.

We left early on the morning of March 16 and arrived at Elder Ohsugi’s and Elder Yuasa’s apartment around 5:00 p.m. To pick up the last two elders, we needed to travel back south, over a mountain summit, and down to the city of Tsuruoka. With less than half a tank of gas, we knew that we could not turn back. As we began traveling to pick up the last two elders, snow began to fall. Soon, we found ourselves in a blinding snowstorm, traveling at less than 15 miles (24 km) per hour. I could not see the lines on the highway.

At 7:30 p.m., as we finally reached the summit, we were stopped by the police. An officer informed me that an avalanche had blocked the road and closed the mountain pass. He told me that we could go no farther; we had to turn around and take an alternate route to the other side of the island around the avalanche. Without enough gas to go around the avalanche, it appeared we had no way to reach Elder Lay and Elder Ruefenacht in Tsuruoka.

Dejectedly, we turned back as directed by the police. I asked the elders in the van to call every member of the Yamagata Ward to see if we could find someone who could give us some gasoline. We stopped and prayed earnestly, drawing upon all of the power of heaven we could. We prayed for another miracle and again turned to the Lord.

The missionaries called every active member. But no one had gasoline. Gas stations had run out of supplies and were closed. Then the elders were impressed to call an less-active friend, Brother Tsuchihashi. Our Heavenly Father had once again directed our path. Brother Tsuchihashi could give us 20 liters (5 gallons) of gas. But to meet this good brother, we had to travel another hour north, the opposite direction of where we wanted to go. The quantity of gas would be helpful but not sufficient to allow us to travel around the avalanche.

Having faith, we traveled north, still not knowing how we would pick up the other two elders. We made it to Shinjo City, where we received the 20 liters of gas. Soon thereafter, I received a call from President Yoshida, my counselor, who by now was very worried that we had not yet returned. He asked where we were, and when I told him Shinjo, he was shocked that we were so far out of our way. It was beyond his ability to reach us and help us return.

Then he looked on his map, and in a broken voice stammered, “There is a little-known mountain pass that will take you from Shinjo to the elders in Tsuruoka.” The Lord had prepared a way for us to be precisely where we needed to be to drive around the avalanche. The gasoline we were given was exactly the amount necessary to make the trip safely around the avalanche to pick up the elders.

When I contacted each missionary after the earthquake and learned how they had all been directed to safe ground just prior to the earthquake and tsunami, I felt so grateful. Two missionaries, who had been protected from the tsunami by climbing to an evacuation center’s fourth floor, expressed their gratitude for being kept safe in a time of great peril.

They felt that the words of Helaman described their situation: “The Lord our God did visit us with assurances that he would deliver us; yea, insomuch that he did speak peace to our souls, and did grant unto us great faith, and did cause us that we should hope for our deliverance in him” (Alma 58:11).

Young men in Uganda start playing football as small boys, using tightly bound branches for a ball. Ever since he was very young, Dennis had a gift for the sport, and his high school gave him a scholarship to play for their team. After he completed high school, a professional team offered him pay, room, and board. It was a dream come true, but Dennis knew this would likely interfere with his plans to go on a mission later in the year.
Dennis’s desire to do what his Heavenly Father wanted him to do was so strong that he did not even want to be tempted to remain on the team when the time would arrive for him to serve a mission. Many people questioned his choice, but Dennis is certain he made the right decision—for himself and others. “My two little brothers and my little sister were just baptized,” he says. “I never thought my sister would hear the gospel. When I see God doing miracles in my family, it gives me a bright hope for my future.”

One of those more recently called leaders is Bárdur Á. Gunnarsson, current president of the Reykjavík Branch. He, too, first heard of the Church in 1982, but that was a time in his life when his thoughts were far from religion. Even though his lifestyle was not so different from most other young men in his country, he had many obstacles to overcome. “I tried several times to quit smoking and drinking, but I didn’t have the strength to do it,” Bárdur recalls. He had a family, but it was one that began without the blessing of a marriage ceremony. Finally, four years after the elders first knocked on his door, his desire to unite his family and to seek forgiveness led him to be married to Ólöf Bjarnadóttir, the mother of his three daughters. Ólöf was not ready to be baptized at that time, but she did give her consent for him to take their three little girls to church every Sunday. “My patriarchal blessing told me I would go to the temple with my wife and children, and I worked very hard to make this happen,” said Bárdur.

Bárdur’s dream of uniting his family began to come true in 1994 when word was received that the Icelandic temple ceremony was scheduled to be recorded in the Salt Lake Temple. In May of that year, Ólöf accompanied him to Salt Lake City, along with the small group who had been called to make the recording. While there, surrounded by their friends, Bárdur baptized his wife in the baptistry of the Salt Lake Tabernacle. They were sealed in the London Temple one year later.

Dallin wiggled with excitement on Grandma’s brown leather couch. The suspense was almost more than he could stand. “Hurry, Uncle Jason. Hurry!” he shouted.
Uncle Jason was about to read his mission call. The whole family was there to watch him open his letter.
Jason carefully opened the envelope and silently read the letter. His eyes lit up. “I’m going to Argentina!” he yelled.
A few months later, it was time for Uncle Jason to go to the missionary training center. Dallin watched Uncle Jason pack his suitcase with white shirts, dark pants, ties, and scriptures. Then he put in a pair of shiny new shoes.
“Wow!” said Dallin. “Can I try those on?”
“Sure. Go ahead,” said Uncle Jason.
Dallin slipped his feet into the big brown shoes and tromped around the room. He imagined himself as a missionary. He stood up a little taller. “When I go on a mission, I want a pair of shoes just like yours,” he said. “They’re so shiny, and they make me look cool!”
Uncle Jason grinned. “They sure do.”
At the MTC, Uncle Jason learned how to teach people in Spanish. Sometimes Dallin got letters written just to him. In one letter Dallin learned that Jason was finally flying to Argentina!
Month after month passed. Dallin missed Uncle Jason a lot. But it was fun to read his stories about teaching people the gospel. One week Uncle Jason wrote:
This week was the greatest! I got to baptize Carlos and his whole family! They have strong testimonies and are happy to be members of the Church.
One day Dallin decided to run over to Grandma’s house to see if she had a new letter from Uncle Jason. When he walked through the door, he saw a big smile on Grandma’s face.
“Guess what came in the mail today!” she said. She held up a white envelope with red and blue stripes.
“Another letter!” Dallin opened the envelope and began reading:
Today my companion and I walked for four hours trying to find the home of a man we met in the market. He wanted to learn about the plan of salvation. When we finally found his house, he wasn’t there. We’ll try again tomorrow. I want to find him before I come home next week.
“Next week?” Dallin said, looking up at Grandma. “Uncle Jason comes home from his mission next week?!”
“I can hardly believe it myself,” said Grandma.
When the day finally came, Dallin went to the airport with his family. He squeezed Grandma’s hand as they waited for Jason. Soon he saw several missionaries with nametags walking toward them.
“There he is!” Dallin shouted.
Uncle Jason looked older and taller than Dallin remembered. His shirt wasn’t as white as it used to be. And his shoes were faded and scuffed.
His missionary shoes are ruined! Dallin thought.
Uncle Jason hugged Grandma. Then he bent down and hugged Dallin. “You’ve gotten so big! Did you miss me?”
“Yes!” said Dallin. He squeezed Uncle Jason tight.
On the ride home, Dallin stared down at Uncle Jason’s worn-out shoes. He listened to him tell about his mission. He had walked miles and miles on dusty roads searching for people to teach. He had spent hours and hours planting gardens and doing other kinds of service. He had worked hard serving Heavenly Father and the people in Argentina.
No wonder his shoes were so worn out, Dallin thought.
Go to “Family Night Fun” for an activity to go with this story!
After a long time, Dallin finally spoke. “Uncle Jason, when I come home from my mission, I hope my shoes look just like yours.”

Samantha turned her back to the cheerful view outside her window. She tried to tune out the happy sounds coming from downstairs, but it didn’t work. A tear escaped from her eye, and she hastily wiped it away—she did not want to be caught crying. They have been so nice! she thought.
Other families had not been. They hadn’t really been mean or anything, and her physical needs had always been met—but she’d never felt like she had a real home where she belonged. And after a few weeks or months, she would move on to a new house and a new family—which was fine because she didn’t really miss the previous one much.
But the McMillans were different. Samantha could tell they really cared for her. That’s why thinking about leaving some day made her so sad. It’s better not to become too close, she thought. Another tear trailed its way down her cheek. Why am I upset? I should be happy. This is a nice family, I feel at home here, even though I’ve been here only four days.
Suddenly footsteps galloped up the stairs. That has to be Amy, she thought, smiling.
The door flew open, and six-year-old Amy bounded in, her pigtails bouncing and a huge smile on her face. “Samantha! Samantha! Mom has our dessert downstairs! You’d better hurry, or Kevin will eat it all up!” The whipped cream smeared across her cheek made it obvious that Amy had eaten hers already. She stopped abruptly and looked closely at Samantha in the darkening room. “Are you sad?”
Samantha jumped up. “Oh, I’m just thinking. What did your mom make for dessert?” she replied, trying to change the subject.
“Pumpkin pie, of course. We always have pie on Saturday night. You can even put cream on it if you want!”
“I bet you had cream on yours!”
“How’d you know?”
“A good guess,” Samantha said as she wiped the cream from Amy’s cheek.
“Well, come on!” Amy grabbed at Samantha’s hand. “You need to hurry if you want any.”
As Amy bounded down the stairs, Samantha followed, unsure of herself and of where she fit in with this family.
The McMillans were sitting at the table, eating their pie. A place was set for her, and a piece of pie had been cut and put at her place. She sat down silently and looked around the table. Everyone smiled a greeting except Kevin, who was eyeing her piece of pie. She smiled and looked down at her hands shyly.
“We already blessed the pie, Samantha,” Mrs. McMillan said. “Won’t you have some with us?”
Samantha was relieved. She felt awkward when they said these prayers. She remembered her first meal with them. All of a sudden everyone had bowed their heads and were quiet, and she’d had no idea what they were doing. She had glanced around the table and tried to copy what she saw. No one had noticed because they all had their eyes closed. Suddenly remembering Mrs. McMillan’s question, she quickly said, “Kevin can have mine, I’m still full from dinner.”
“Yes!” Kevin shouted.
“Kevin! You’ve had two pieces already!” Mrs. McMillan said in disbelief. “And you ate more than anyone else at dinner!”
“I know, Mom, but I’m a growing boy!” Kevin replied, reaching for Samantha’s pie and giving her a great big smile of thanks.
Samantha giggled and looked at Amy, who giggled too.
“Well, it’s time for bed now,” Mr. McMillan said a few minutes later as he stood up and began to gather the dishes on the table. “I’ll help your mother with these while you kids run up and get your pajamas on. We’ll come up and tuck you in shortly.”
As she and Samantha climbed the stairs, Amy grumbled about having to go to bed so soon. Kevin ate his last bite of pie and fell in step behind them.
Samantha followed Amy into their room, and they began to change into their pajamas. Samantha was eager to wear the new pink ones Mrs. McMillan had bought for her. But when Amy knelt at the side of her bed to say her prayers, Samantha felt the awkward feeling seep into her chest again. Mr. and Mrs. McMillan had offered to help her pray, but they didn’t insist when she said maybe later, after she got more used to the family routines. Amy soon stood up and hopped under the covers. She glanced over at Samantha and asked, “Are you going to say your prayers tonight?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Samantha said, getting into bed. She turned out the lamp on the nightstand. Mr. and Mrs. McMillan came in and wished them good night and sweet dreams, then closed the door quietly. The moon shining through the trees cast shadows on the wall, and Samantha watched the shadows sway back and forth as the night breeze blew.
“Amy, why do you p-pray every night?” Samantha asked, feeling awkward even asking.
“Because I need to talk to Heavenly Father.”
“Why do you need to talk to Heavenly Father?”
“I need to thank Him for my mom, dad, and brother. And my friend Jesse is sick, so I need to ask Heavenly Father to bless her and help her get better. Oh, and I need to thank Him for the nice day we had—and for sending you to live with us.”
“For me?”
Amy nodded.
“And you’re praying to a person?”
“Sure, but not a person like us—God is our Heavenly Father and He’s perfect. Mom says He loves us and wants us to be happy. He answers our prayers, though sometimes not the way we want to have them answered.”
“Do you really believe that there is a Person who hears you when you pray?”
“Oh, yes, I’m sure. I always feel good inside when I pray.”
“Do you think He will listen and answer prayers for anyone—even for me?” Samantha had many feelings inside that she wanted to share with someone who loved her, especially someone like the Heavenly Father Amy had described.
“Of course!” Amy chirped reassuringly.
“How do you say a prayer? I mean, do you say it like your family does at dinner?”
“Yep! Do you want to pray now? I’ll help you!”
Without waiting for an answer, Amy scrambled over and knelt beside Samantha’s bed. Samantha knelt next to her and closed her eyes. Amy thanked Heavenly Father for the nice day and asked Him to bless the family, including the goldfish. As Samantha echoed Amy’s words, she began to feel good inside. They ended their prayer in the name of Jesus Christ and climbed into their beds.
“We can pray together again in the morning, and you can do the talking,” Amy said and then was soon asleep.
Samantha couldn’t sleep. All she could think about was how she felt and what Amy had said. In her heart she began to say another prayer, thanking Heavenly Father for the McMillans.

When Mitchell Compton was young, his mother often said to him, “Mitchell, God saved you for something special.” Then she would straighten his shirt and kiss him on the forehead. Mitchell didn’t know exactly what that meant, but he felt that it included protecting his four sisters, since he was the only son in the family.
As the years slipped by, his mother’s words receded into his memory. Mitchell drifted into intoxicating fun with friends. He knew he was not setting a good example for his sisters when he attended wild parties with kegs of beer. He sadly saw that his little sister was following his lead. Alcohol opened Mitchell’s gateway to drugs. By age 16, he was stealing to pay for his addictions. He spent many soul-searching years in jail.
Seven years later, his little sister died in a car crash. Her blue Mercury sedan landed upside down in a drainage ditch filled with three feet of water. Mitchell arrived at the scene of the accident too late to rescue her. He felt empty, like a vacuum had sucked out all his strength. Later, when he took the tragic news to his mother, she sobbed in a thin, bird-like cry and then collapsed into the arms of her friend. Mitchell was frozen at the sight. He was supposed to protect his little sister.
Wanting to get his life on track, he began attending AA (Alcoholics Anonymous) meetings. While Mitchell was there, a young missionary pushed a Book of Mormon into his chest and then disappeared. Mitchell devoured the book and thought it was the truest form of religion he had ever read. When he rode public transportation, he often found other missionaries and discussed the Church’s beliefs with them.
Later at another AA meeting, Mitchell decided to believe in God and His Son, Jesus Christ. He started to pray, as Moroni instructed, but Mitchell felt nothing. He guessed he just didn’t know how to pray.
Mitchell found a free book at another AA meeting that dealt deeply with praying with a broken heart and a contrite spirit. Mitchell took it home and read it. When he finished, he put the book on his bed and fell to his knees. He begged to be forgiven as his tears wet his bedcovers. Then slowly, as if the veil had parted, he felt the forgiveness of his Savior.
Mitchell decided to take the missionary lessons. The warm feeling of the Holy Ghost continued with him each time he sincerely prayed. Later the missionaries gave tickets to Mitchell and his wife, Shauna, to attend the October 2014 Sunday morning session of general conference. They told Mitchell that if he would attend with a question in his heart, it might be answered.
Mitchell went to conference with this question to the Lord: “Should I be baptized, and on what date?” Throughout the meeting, he silently prayed, but it seemed his flow of inspiration had stopped. He prayed earnestly once again: “Lord, what day is a good day to be baptized? Please hear me.”
While President Thomas S. Monson spoke, the answer came to Mitchell. He heard an exact sentence in a soft voice, as if someone were sitting beside him. “Mitchell, any day is a good day for you to be baptized. It’s time for you to come home.”
Mitchell silently cried. His wife and the missionaries were crying as well. They seemed to understand what had happened to him.
The Tabernacle Choir added an additional confirmation as they sang:
Earnestly, tenderly, Jesus is calling,
Calling, O sinner, come home, come home, come home.1
Mitchell was baptized in November 2014. He and Shauna were later sealed in the Salt Lake Temple. They also performed the ordinances for his little sister who had died. Shauna was the proxy for his sister. As Mitchell lifted her from the baptismal water, he clearly heard his mother’s voice: “Mitchell, God saved you for something special.” He finally understood. He had not been there to save his sister from alcohol and death. But he was now there to rescue her so that she could live—live eternally with her Father in Heaven.
Since then, Mitchell and his wife have performed temple ordinances for many generations of his family. Although his mother has long since gone to the spirit world, he knows she now understands more clearly as well. By doing temple ordinances for his whole family line, he is making it possible for all of them to “come home.”

Illustration by Jessica Parker
I was six when I had to leave my birth family. It was very sad and scary. A few months after this happened, I first heard about Jesus Christ.
I started visiting a family who became my foster family. They had lots of kids who were kind to me and loved the Savior. My new family let me go to church with them, and I felt safe and happy there.
It took a few years of going to church and reading scriptures before I understood what the gospel was, and I wanted to get baptized very badly. I was 12 years old when I was finally adopted by my foster family, and I was allowed to be baptized if I wanted to!
At my baptism, I bore my testimony and felt God’s love surround me with a great strength.
Reading the Book of Mormon and learning about Jesus has helped me know I’m not alone and that I’m a child of God. Even when things don’t go how I want, He will always be there for me.
Violet B., Hawaii, USA

Some years ago while I was attending the Grand Junction Colorado Stake conference, the stake president asked if I would meet with a grieving mother and father whose son had announced his decision to leave his mission field after having just arrived there. When the conference throng had left, we knelt quietly in a private place—mother, father, stake president, and I. As I prayed in behalf of all, I could hear the muffled sobs of a sorrowing mother and disappointed father.

When we arose, the father said, “Brother Monson, do you really think our Heavenly Father can alter our son’s announced decision to return home before completing his mission? Why is it that now, when I am trying so hard to do what is right, my prayers are not heard?”

I responded, “Where is your son serving?”

He replied, “In Duesseldorf, Germany.”

I placed my arms around that mother and father and said to them, “Your prayers have been heard and are already being answered. With more than twenty-eight stake conferences being held this day attended by the General Authorities, I was assigned to your stake. Of all the Brethren, I am the only one who has the assignment to meet with the missionaries in the Duesseldorf Germany Mission this very Thursday.”

Their petition had been honored by the Lord. I was able to meet with their son. He responded to their pleadings. He remained and completed a highly successful mission.

I moved to another village to live with a friend. As I was telling my story to my friend and some of her neighbors, one neighbor said, “Mariama, we don’t have anything to offer you except an invitation to church tomorrow. That’s where we find safety. That’s where we find hope.” I loved God already and needed comfort in my life, so I decided to go.
My first Sunday in that LDS branch is a day I will never forget. I learned of hope. You could just see that there was hope in those people, and I was drawn to them. I was given the Book of Mormon and started reading right away. I remember hearing in church about how families could be together again after death and then reading in Alma 11 where Alma teaches about how our bodies will be made perfect again in the Resurrection. I felt the Spirit so strong as I thought of my family. I knew that the Church was true and that we could be together forever—each of us well and whole.
There were no missionaries in Sierra Leone at that time, so I took the lessons from my branch president and was baptized soon after. We were blessed in our town, because the Church sent food and humanitarian kits for the members of the Church and others. The food kept us all alive. Everyone was so grateful even to receive a small bag of rice or beans. I received a blanket and a hygiene kit that included a toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo, soap, a comb, and a washcloth.

A beauty contest for guys? Well sure, why not? It’s the custom at Springfield High School in Oregon, and last year the only three LDS contestants won first, second, and third places.
Eric Markworth of the Springfield Second Ward was crowned Mr. SHS. First runner-up was Kevin Jones, also of the Springfield Second Ward. Second runner-up was Johnny Gambee of Springfield First Ward. His sister Beth was the emcee for the event. The contestants were judged in formal wear, sportswear, and talent.
All four of the LDS students involved were early-morning seminary students, and all but Johnny, who is a junior, graduated from four years of seminary. That means the winner might have to crown himself next year. The previous winner and first runner-up will be on missions.

While working for Stowell, Joseph stayed with the family of Isaac Hale and became acquainted with a daughter, Emma. She and Joseph were married on January 18, 1827, and moved to the Smith family farm near Palmyra. That fall, at the end of the four years, the Prophet received the ancient plates from Moroni at the Hill Cumorah. At the same time he was given the power to translate, aided by two transparent stones called Urim and Thummim that had been deposited in the stone box with the plates. Joseph Smith said the stones were set in the rim of a bow fastened to a breastplate. “Through the medium of the Urim and Thummim,” he said, “I translated the record by the gift and power of God.” (History of the Church 4:537, Wentworth Letter, IM Jun 1978.)

No sooner did Joseph obtain the sacred records than some people plotted to steal them from him. The Prophet changed their hiding place several times—trying a hollow birch log, a barrel of beans, a space under the hearthstone—and finally he and Emma decided to move to Harmony, Pennsylvania, where Emma’s father offered them refuge. Joseph and Emma were without the means to make the 240-km trip, so Martin Harris, a prosperous farmer who believed Joseph’s account of the origin of the plates, contributed fifty dollars to help them.

On my mission, my companion and I taught a family with several children. During one of our planning times, we prayed and discussed what lesson we should teach the children next, and we both agreed to teach about prayer.
When we came to their house, the grandmother and the kids were so excited. We began the lesson with a prayer. The children were quiet and ready to listen. We explained to them how and why to pray. To end our lesson, we asked them, “Who wants to give a closing prayer?” All of them wanted to pray! So we made a schedule for them to give the prayers each time we came to give a lesson. We also invited them to pray when we were not around.
After that lesson, I thought, “Why do little children find it easy to pray while our older investigators have a hard time praying?” I found an answer in the Bible Dictionary: “As soon as we learn the true relationship in which we stand toward God (namely, God is our Father, and we are His children), then at once prayer becomes natural and instinctive on our part (Matt. 7:7–11). Many of the so-called difficulties about prayer arise from forgetting this relationship” (“Prayer”; see also Guide to the Scriptures, “Prayer,” scriptures.lds.org).
From that time on, I tried to help people understand their true relationship with our Father in Heaven. Our Father in Heaven wants to talk to His children, just as our earthly parents want to talk with us. He loves us, He wants to talk to us, and He wants us to talk to Him.

I’m 16 years old and have been getting the New Era for over a year now. I never really read it until my mom read it one day and fell in love with it and told me there were neat stories in it. My mom is the president of the Young Women and encouraged all of us girls to read it.
I would like to thank Cyndi Erickson from Utah. Her letter was printed in the February 1988 Feedback section under the title “Don’t give up!” I’ve been going through some hard times, and when Mother read that letter in our Young Women meeting I got tears in my eyes. When I came home I read it again. Cyndi, I want you to know that you’ve touched someone’s heart. You’ve helped me put my life together, and I’m sure you’ve touched others too. I’m a new person now, and I love it. I love the Church, the gospel, Heavenly Father, my family, and the New Era!
Shelli BiglerWalnut, California

Next day we visited the Global Expo centre. It was the most emotional day, seeing 2,800 refugees living without basic medical help, and a mountain of volunteers in dire need of additional financial help. The volunteers, from many different churches, were addressing spiritual as well as physical needs. We were with Bellwether International, a human-rights nonprofit organisation, and with them we were able to give socks and other practical clothing.

I am sure that family prayer motivated a letter written some years ago by a young Latter-day Saint girl attending a Colorado high school. The students had been asked to prepare a letter to be written to a great man of their choice. Many addressed their letters to well-known athletes, to a noted astronaut, to the president of the United States, and to other celebrities. This young lady, however, addressed her letter to her father, and in the letter she stated: “I have decided to write this letter to you, Dad, because you are the greatest man that I have ever known. The overwhelming desire of my heart is that I might so live that I might have the privilege of being beside you and Mother and other members of the family in the celestial kingdom.” That father never received a more cherished letter.

Take eight lively people. Mix them in a small van for forty hours. Add mechanical failure, rain, car sickness, and seasickness. What do you get? “Heaven,” according to the Marrero family.
“It was the most spiritual experience of my life,” said Raquel, age fifteen, of her family’s trip to the temple to be sealed together for time and eternity.
For many people, a temple trip isn’t quite the sacrifice that it was for the Marreros. They live on the island of Tenerife, which is one of Spain’s Canary Islands, located about fifty miles off the coast of Morocco. When they were finally prepared to go to the temple, the nearest one open was in Germany, so that’s where they headed, crossing the ocean and passing through three countries to get there.
The cost of plane fare would have been outrageous for the family that consists of Luci, 7; Fabio, 9; Oliver, 11; Raquel, 15; Desiree, 17; Oscar, 19; and parents Miguel and Angela. As it was, they had to work for two years, Miguel doing carpentry and the rest of the family taking on odd jobs, to earn the money to travel the way they did.
The way they traveled was in a furgón, or van, that Miguel had converted into a camper with two beds. They began by driving the furgón onto a ferry and traveling by water five-hundred miles to Spain.
“We all got seasick,” said Raquel. “We were glad to see dry land again.”
But that was only the beginning of the journey. Ahead were hours and hours of driving through Spain, France, and Germany and sleeping under the stars at night. “To pass the time, we’d honk and wave at others with Spanish license plates,” said Desiree. “And we sang every hymn and Spanish song we knew—many times over.”
“Dad drove and fixed the car,” added Raquel. They had electrical problems, among other things, which made it difficult to drive at night without stopping every few minutes to fix the headlights. Finally, when they made it to Frankfurt, they pulled over and waited for dawn, so they could drive undistracted to the temple in the light.
Well, almost undistracted. It seems the temple is located in Friedrichsdorf, outside of Frankfurt, and with their limited German, the Marreros couldn’t find it. They finally hired a Spanish-speaking cab driver to show them the way.
“When at last we saw the angel Moroni on top, it was such a joy,” said Raquel. “It was beautiful—even more beautiful because we’d suffered so much to get there.”
Oh, and what things they experienced inside! “It was so wonderful when we were sealed—everyone in white, even the little ones, looking so beautiful,” said Desiree. “Now we know that we can be together forever with the ones we love.”
The Marreros spent about four days at the temple, the parents doing sealings, the older children doing baptisms for the dead. When the time came to leave, they were reluctant to go, especially since they knew all about the tedious road trip that lay ahead.
But their lives had changed in those four days. “We didn’t quarrel as much,” Raquel noted. “We knew we were an eternal family.”
“The trip was a lot like life, really,” observed Desiree. “You go through some tough times, and you work really hard, but it is worth it when you make it to the celestial kingdom. We made a lot of sacrifices so that everyone could arrive together.”