Gospel Story Finder

Like many people, Pedro sets goals for himself. Unlike a lot of people, Pedro consistently reaches those goals. “If he sets a goal,” his father said, “he doesn’t rest until he has reached it. He fights hard to reach it, and he always gains it. For example, we were talking about what he wanted to do professionally. He said that he wanted to be a lawyer. I made a promise to him that if he worked hard enough to get accepted into Harvard Law School, I would somehow find a way to support him financially.” Pedro knows that fulfilling his dream means getting good grades and learning to speak English well. He is working hard at both.

Many spiritual nutrients come while serving on a mission—from being totally involved in the work of the Master. They come from helping people become spiritually awake so that they can accept the gospel. Over a century ago when Elder J. Golden Kimball presided over the Southern States Mission, he called for a meeting of the elders. They were to meet in a secluded spot in the woods so they would have privacy. One of the elders had a problem with one of his legs. It was raw and swollen to at least twice the size of his other leg. But the elder insisted on attending this special priesthood meeting in the woods. So two of the elders carried him to this meeting place.
Elder Kimball asked the missionaries, “Brethren, what are you preaching?”
They said, “We are preaching the gospel of Jesus Christ.”
“Are you telling these people that you have the power and authority, through faith, to heal the sick?” he asked.
They said, “Yes.”
“Well then,” he continued, “why don’t you believe it?”
The young man with the swollen leg spoke up and said, “I believe it.” Here is the rest of the story told in Elder Kimball’s words: “[The elder] sat down on a stump and the elders gathered around him. He was anointed and I administered to him, and he was healed right in their presence. It was quite a shock; and every other elder that was sick was administered to, and they were all healed. We went out of that priesthood meeting and the elders received their appointments, and there was a joy and happiness that cannot be described.” Their nutrient of faith had been replenished and their zeal for missionary work revived.

A trickle of sweat ran down Jake’s crazy hair onto his forehead. “It’s getting hot,” Jake said as the sun beat in the windows of the doughnut shop.
I agreed as I rang up one last customer before my break. Jake agreed to cover the register so I could head to the break room for a cold soda. The manager was sitting quietly across from me.
“Say, Anita,” he said. “I know you’ve only been here a few weeks, but you’re the type I can trust, aren’t you?”
“Sure.”
“Money was taken from the register last week. This has happened several times in the last few months. I’ve talked to a few other employees, and they suspect Jake. He’s the type.”
I nodded. “If I were to guess who took the money, I’d guess him.”
“I think I’m going to fire him,” the manager said.
My break ended, and I was back to work. That evening Jake and I folded boxes. Jake tried talking to me as usual, but all I could think about was the stolen money. Every time I looked at his weird, dyed hair or tattered black clothes, two words kept coming to mind: punker and thief.
“Customer,” Jake said suddenly. He looked up at the clock. “This should be the last customer.”
“Thank goodness,” I mumbled.
I packed the woman’s doughnuts and rang up the order. “That will be $3.39,” I said.
The woman handed me a five. Then a sick feeling hit me. I had forgotten to ring up the special price we were having that day.
“My change?” the woman asked.
I instinctively handed her the change and tried to smile. As she drove away, I felt terrible. I should have given her the sale price.
I turned to find Jake standing behind me. “You didn’t ring up the special.”
“I know. I should have.”
Jake pushed back a strand of his hair, then picked up his jacket. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said. Then he paused a moment. “You can make it up to her. She comes in all the time.”
After Jake left, I thought about what he’d been called that day, and yet he had encouraged me to be honest. Could he have really taken the money?
The next day I couldn’t keep my mind on work. I knew I’d been wrong about Jake, and I had to set things right. I kept hearing in my mind the scripture “Judge not unrighteously, that ye be not judged: but judge righteous judgment” (JST, Matt. 7:1).
At break time, I went to talk to the manager.
“What do you need?” he asked.
“It’s about Jake,” I said.
“No time for that right now,” he said. “We’ve just about caught our thief. I’ve been on the phone with several angry customers and the police department this morning. It seems one of our employees has been altering checks as well.”
“And it’s not Jake?”
“Not unless he’s got blond hair and blue eyes. That’s the description everyone is giving. Now you’d better get back to work.”
When I got back to the counter, I was smiling. I said to myself, Remember this day every time you try to judge someone.
“What are you smiling about?” Jake asked.
“Oh, I guess I’m just glad to be working here.”
“Why would you be glad for that?”
“I’ve learned a lot so far.”
“What can you possibly learn in a doughnut shop?”
“You’d be surprised,” I answered.

Yvette gets up at 4:00 A.M. every day to study for school, which starts at 7:00 A.M.. Once, getting good grades seemed impossible to her. “When I used to study, I was never able to remember and understand the things I was studying,” she said. “When I had tests, I’d get very nervous and not remember anything. My father told me that before I study and before taking tests, I should pray. When I follow his advice, I always do better. Before I started praying about my studies, I was never one of the better students in my class, but now I’m in third or fourth place in the whole school.”

As they translated, Joseph and Oliver were struck by these teachings. Like his brother Alvin, Joseph had never been baptized, and he wanted to know more about the ordinance and the authority necessary to perform it.8
On May 15, 1829, the rains cleared and Joseph and Oliver walked into the woods near the Susquehanna River. Kneeling, they asked God about baptism and the remission of sins. As they prayed, the voice of the Redeemer spoke peace to them, and an angel appeared in a cloud of light. He introduced himself as John the Baptist and placed his hands on their heads. Joy filled their hearts as God’s love surrounded them.
Illustrations by Ben Sowards
“Upon you my fellow servants,” John declared, “in the name of Messiah I confer the Priesthood of Aaron, which holds the keys of the ministering of angels, and of the gospel of repentance, and of baptism by immersion for the remission of sins.”9
The angel’s voice was mild, but it seemed to pierce Joseph and Oliver to the core.10 He explained that the Aaronic Priesthood authorized them to perform baptisms, and he commanded them to baptize each other after he departed. He also said they would receive additional priesthood power later, which would give them authority to confer the gift of the Holy Ghost on each other and on those they baptized.
After John the Baptist left, Joseph and Oliver walked to the river and waded in. Joseph baptized Oliver first, and as soon as he came out of the water, Oliver began to prophesy about things that would soon happen. Oliver then baptized Joseph, who rose from the river prophesying about the rise of Christ’s Church, which the Lord had promised to establish among them.11
Following John the Baptist’s instructions, they returned to the woods and ordained each other to the Aaronic Priesthood. In their study of the Bible, as well as their translation of the ancient record, Joseph and Oliver had often read about the authority to act in God’s name. Now they carried that authority themselves.
After their baptism, Joseph and Oliver found that scriptures that once seemed dense and mysterious suddenly became clearer. Truth and understanding flooded their minds.12

By the time Anna was two, her family was living above her father’s shop in a tiny building at Number 18 Camomile Street, London, England. Across the way stood a rank of hackney coaches. The old horses often waited for hours in the rain, and in the wintertime stamped their feet on the treacherous frozen cobblestones to keep warm. They were plagued by flies during the summer and developed harness sores from pulling their heavy loads.
There was one coal black horse there with a white flash on his forehead, and every day Anna watched him as she waited, nose against the glass, until her mother was free to take her across the street to see him.
Mary Sewell often held her daughter up so that she could feed an apple to the horse. As he ate, Anna talked to him while checking his bit or untangling a knot in his mane. The coachman was amazed that the child showed no fear.
Anna’s mother, a remarkable woman, taught her own children. She took Anna and her brother to the country each day and they returned, brown from the sun, carrying wild flowers and birds’ nests to study. To earn money to buy her children books, she wrote a reader called Walks with Mama and sold it for three pounds.
Anna was elated when the family moved to an old mansion called Palatine House at Stoke Newington, for there she was able to attend her first school.
One cloudy day when she was fourteen, Anna raced off to school in her usual hurry, forgetting her umbrella. After school that day it began to rain. At the gate Anna fell and sprained her ankle. Doctors in those days didn’t have the benefit of X-ray machines, and sometimes mistakes were made in the treatment of bones and ligaments. For the rest of her life Anna was crippled. At times she could walk a little, but much of the time she was an invalid.
The family’s move to Lancing, when Anna was twenty-five, enabled the family to keep a pony and carriage. Each day Anna drove her father to Shoreham to catch the Brighton train, and then in the evening she picked him up. During these drives Anna was unaware that she was laying up much information that she could use later in writing Black Beauty.
By the time Anna was fifty, she was virtually an invalid, but her diary reveals that she must have been a very busy one.
An entry dated August 21, 1877, reads: “My first proofs of Black Beauty are come—very nice type.”
This book that was thought over and lived with for so many years before being written comes to life in spare, direct, and truthful words. Anna’s Quaker background gave her great reverence for people and justice.
Although the book proved very popular with all age groups, the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals showed little interest. But George T. Angell of Boston, founder of the Massachusetts Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, had been watching for a story to promote humane treatment of horses. After reading Black Beauty, he raised enough money to print 10,000 copies of the book. And he made an appeal to the readers of the SPCA magazine.
By the end of 1890, two hundred sixteen thousand copies of Black Beauty had been sold. Twenty years later the book was still selling a quarter million copies yearly.
Anna Sewell died a year after the book’s publication on April 25, 1878, of a painful lung infection. When the horse-drawn hearse arrived at the door, her mother looked down from an upstairs window and saw that the horses had bearing-reins [checkreins]. “Oh, this will never do!” she exclaimed and hurried to order the cruel, restricting reins removed. This loving mother thereby performed one more service for her daughter and for her daughter’s friends, the horses.

My mother still speaks fondly of “the wonderful time” she and my father had on their senior mission at the Church’s Deseret Ranches in central Florida, USA—a mission that almost didn’t happen.
After decades of working as an engineer for several companies, Dad finally started his own construction business. Things went well until his financial officer embezzled the company into bankruptcy. With the loss of their business, my parents also lost the comfortable retirement they had anticipated.
I thought a mission was out of the question for them until the day they excitedly phoned to say they had been called to serve. Soon, they found themselves on the Church’s sprawling 300,000-acre (121,405 ha) ranch in Deer Park, Florida.
The ranch is primarily a cow-calf operation, but it also dedicates hundreds of acres to citrus production and other products and projects. My parents and six other senior couples spent most of their time cleaning, repairing, and maintaining dozens of homes for cowboys, ranch workers, and their families. They also served in the Orlando Florida Temple and in their ward in nearby Deer Park. As soon as they arrived, they went to work.
While Jerry Morris cleans a refrigerator (above), Ivan Morris (below, left) and Albert Liston replace a window.
Photographs courtesy of the author
“Little did we know about the needs for upkeep and all that is required to maintain the housing units here,” my father wrote to us. He said they worked Monday through Wednesday and served in the temple on Thursdays.
“Then, Friday, back to work, which includes all phases of housing work and cleanup: door, window, carpet, and wall repair; pulling nails, spackling, priming, and painting. Two other elders do the plumbing and electrical. The list goes on and on.”
My mother and the other sisters cleaned the homes—“from floor to ceiling.” My mother also painted. The sisters took a break on Tuesdays to do family history work at the Cocoa Florida Family History Center.
“I just can’t believe all of this is happening for Grandpa and me,” my mother wrote. “We really feel that this is where we are supposed to be, doing more and more each day. We really are blessed. Having all of you saying prayers for us is making our time here very special.”
My parents served while they were in their 70s. I wondered if they were working too hard, but they seemed to thrive despite the workload.
“We miss not seeing you, but what a blessing it is being here,” my mother said. “Grandpa and I love what we are doing here helping in the Lord’s work. Our testimonies are growing each day.”
During their 18-month mission, my parents missed their family, especially the grandchildren. But they loved serving alongside other senior couples and the members of their Florida ward.
“The other sweet senior missionaries are great,” my mother wrote. “Dad and I feel at home with all of them. Some have health problems and family problems. We all help each other in many ways.”
My parents loved their ward callings, and they felt right at home in their ward.
“The members here in the Ellsworth Ward are as close as any family could be. They take care of each other,” my mother told us. “They are such special Saints. They show their love to us missionaries every day. It’s nice being a small part of their life.”
My parents’ temple service on Thursdays was another highlight of each week.
“While we are there, the cares of the world are locked outside,” my father wrote. “It is a real joy to be serving in the Lord’s house.”
Photograph of Orlando Florida Temple by David Bowen Newton
As outdoor enthusiasts, my parents felt blessed to serve in an area teeming with wildlife and picturesque landscapes.
“Our mission is full of great surprises. What a wonderland,” my father wrote. “We see lots of animals. Deer abound. We can look out our dining room window and see sandhill cranes. We have even seen a few alligators. In summation, this is a very beautiful place.”
“Our mission is full of great surprises,” my father wrote.
Photograph courtesy of the author
In one letter, my mother wrote, “Dad and I watched a cattle roundup a few weeks ago. What a sight!” In another, she said: “The sunsets are spectacular. If I could paint one, I would. The sky is so high here, and the stars are so bright that it seems you could almost touch them. But we don’t like being on these roads after dark. You don’t know what kinds of critters are going to jump out!”
In my mother’s words, their mission was “a humbling and faith-growing time.” Like missionaries everywhere, they found joy and spiritual growth as they lost themselves in service. They shared those blessings in counsel to their grandchildren.
“Grandma and I feel that service to others and living a gospel-based life is so important,” my father wrote. “So, set your personal goals higher than what is standard for average society.” In another letter, he said, “Stay close to the Lord. Don’t let the world get to you.”
My mother added, “Be happy, full of love and service always.”
As their mission came to a close, my mother wrote: “It’s going to be hard to leave. Many blessings have come our way. We have made good friends. But we are so excited to be home and see you all again.”
My parents had been home more than 10 years before I learned how much they had sacrificed in order to serve. But, after much discussion and many prayers, they mustered their faith and accepted a call. They never regretted it, and they often reflected on how their mission blessed them during and after their service.
“This mission has been so much more than we could have hoped for,” my mother wrote toward the end of their mission. “We have never felt so close to the Lord as we have here. He is helping us in everything we are doing. We are at our best here and loving it all.”

Months later, my youth leaders challenged me to read the entire Book of Mormon before attending a summer camp. I agreed but procrastinated, and I soon fell behind. In a rush to catch up, I began to read for longer periods of time. I can still recall sitting on my porch reading for the better part of an hour. Before this, I was lucky to read for 10 minutes at a time. For the first time in my life, I lost myself in the scriptures. I realized that Alma the Younger was a real person. He wasn’t just a story my leaders taught me. He actually rebelled against his prophet father, and, through faith and the Atonement, was still able to change. I wondered what happened next. I had pieces of the story in my mind, but it hadn’t come together into a whole. I kept reading, watching him grow. For the first time I actually enjoyed what I read.
These experiences and many others began to build my small testimony. Yet, I still questioned. I questioned a lot. I decided to read the Book of Mormon daily and ask for confirmation that it was true. After many nights of reading and many prayers, I felt I received an answer from heaven. It was something I couldn’t create. There was no one else around to lead me to the feeling. I felt a warmth—almost like a light—in me. It somehow seemed to calm and excite me simultaneously. I felt that my Heavenly Father had heard my prayer. He sent a message through my thoughts that the Book of Mormon is true and the Church is His kingdom on earth. I also felt He wanted me to know that He had been answering my prayers continually throughout my life. I just hadn’t realized it. Where would my testimony be without the scriptures?
Later I read the same scriptures to calm my nerves on a plane to the mission field. I read them to inspire and motivate me through my college years. I read them to confirm if I should ask my wife to marry me. I read them for guidance in my career. I read them to find out how to be a better father. Every day I felt I learned and grew more. My testimony became stronger. I found the strength to trust in the Lord more and more.
The majority of my Christmas presents I received growing up were eventually packed in boxes, broken and discarded, or given to secondhand stores. But I still have those maroon scriptures with my name embossed on the cover. They are faded and worn. Some pages are torn, and the margins are filled with notes and quotes.
I cannot think of another Christmas gift that I have used more or one that has affected me more than what was in that little white box. Over time, it changed my life. It helped me come to my Savior Jesus Christ and learn to follow Him. It helped me gain a testimony of His gospel and motivated me to do my part in it. It has helped me become more like Him. What could be a more fitting Christmas gift? I thank my Heavenly Father that my parents gave me a gift I didn’t want.

“A Latter-day Saint missionary couple at the trading post baptized my husband when he was ten years old, and he attended Church services from that time on. He was selected to be part of the Church’s placement program and was to be sent to Utah to live with a foster family and go to school. An hour before the bus was to leave, a friend, Brother Bloomfield, put a bowl on his head and gave him a quick haircut. All of his belongings were put into a shoe box—he had no shoes. There were more holes in the Levis he was wearing than there was denim material. He was put on a bus at night, given two dollars by Brother Bloomfield, and told that he would arrive there by morning.”
At this point, I was thinking how difficult it must have been for that little boy to leave his family to go all alone on a bus to a place with a different culture where he knew no one. The only tie that he had with them was that he was a member of the Latter-day Saint Church.
The General Authority’s wife continued: “On the first day at his new school in Utah the children all gathered round my husband. They had never seen an Indian before. ‘Where’s your war paint?’ they asked. ‘Where are your moccasins?’
“The new foster parents were concerned because their Indian son was so shy. In fact, the only words he spoke to them during the first three months were yes and no. At Christmastime they gave him some new clothes—two pairs of pants, four shirts, two pairs of stockings, etc. The mother asked him to go upstairs and try them on. After quite a while he came downstairs with all of the shirts, pants, and socks on at the same time. It was difficult to get used to a new language and customs.
“Even though my husband’s now very busy, he enjoys football and basketball. When he’s hot, he has a great corner shot and can’t miss! When he has spare time, which isn’t often, he loves to play the harmonica. Last Christmas he played for the General Authorities at their Christmas party.
“My husband believes that family home evening is a great time to train children to be leaders. He always has one of our children conduct. One of them will assign the prayers and choose the hymns. At the conclusion, the one conducting thanks all those who participated. Usually the person who gave the lesson is sincerely complimented. Then the closing song is announced and the name of the one to give the closing prayer.
“One morning the children’s father had to leave at 5 A.M. for an early meeting at the Church offices. Later he called when the children were just getting up and we all had family prayer with him on the telephone.”
His small children had these comments: “When Daddy comes home, he tells me that if I eat my dinner he’ll give me a horsey ride. Sometimes he’ll give my friend a ride too!”
“Dad is helping me to save money for my mission.”
“My daddy shows us how to clean. He always tells us to clean the counter when we wash the dishes.”
“He’s kind.”
“When he plays football with us, we all have to speak nicely.”
When asked about her husband’s favorite topic to speak on, she said, “He always says that we’re all God’s children, no matter what color we are, and that our church has no room for prejudice. When he speaks, he represents the whole Church, not just the Lamanite people.”

As a young teen growing up in Santiago, Chile, Andrea González never had much except for a dream—a university degree that would allow her to support her family if necessary.
To get there, she hoped to graduate from seminary, get good grades at school, and score high enough on her college placement exam (PSU) to go to a university where she could study engineering.
But by the time she had started her final year of high school in preparation for the PSU, she started to wonder if any of that was possible. “All my goals seemed impossible to achieve,” she recalls.
Andrea was trying to break into a competitive and male-dominated field of study. Because of the competition, the top universities were looking for extremely high scores on the math portion of the PSU, scores usually earned by those who could afford to attend private schools.
To try and overcome these obstacles, Andrea kept a daunting schedule her final year. She was up early and studying after school until late, eating when she had a free moment and squeezing in seminary four nights a week.
“It was discouraging sometimes,” she says. “I had to sacrifice a lot. I don’t know how many times my friends heard me say, ‘No, I’ve got to study’ or how often I’ve been teased for being smart.”
But she knew she couldn’t give up if she wanted to secure her future.
Her sacrifices paid off. On the math section of the PSU, Andrea was one of 200 students in the country to earn a perfect score of 850 and one of only two girls from public schools to do so.
She also graduated from seminary, got the good grades she studied so hard for, and was named by her classmates as the year’s “Best Friend” because of all of the time she spent helping others with their own studying.
But Andrea believes her success has less to do with how much she knows than it does with what she knows she must do. In other words, blessings come from following the Lord’s counsel, not our own (see 2 Nephi 9:28–29). “It’s not worth anything to be smart if we ignore God,” she says. “You always have to put God first.”
Learning that principle as she studied for her college entrance exam was critical to the other test Andrea was taking—the test of life that everyone must take.
The Lord Himself explains this test in the scriptures: “We will prove them herewith, to see if they will do all things whatsoever the Lord their God shall command them” (Abraham 3:25).
“Heavenly Father tests us to see what we will do,” Andrea says, thinking back on the difficult schedule she had to keep and the teasing she sometimes had to endure. “To pass life’s test, we have to be obedient,” Andrea says.
And not just when things are going well but during the hard times too.
“The great test of life,” said President Henry B. Eyring, First Counselor in the First Presidency, “is to see whether we will hearken to and obey God’s commands in the midst of the storms of life.”
Often her two tests collided. That’s when Andrea learned that putting God first was the secret to passing both tests.
Many times she had to choose between Church activities and school activities, between studying the gospel and studying for her test. She says she learned early on that she felt better if she chose Church first. It strengthened her testimony that Heavenly Father would help her with her concerns if her first concern was Him.
These experiences also taught Andrea another important lesson. “He is capable of helping me with the tests He has given me,” she says.
Or as one of her heroes, Nephi, said, “I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them” (1 Nephi 3:7).
Andrea knows that even though she has passed her first test, there is a lot she must learn before she’ll feel ready to pass the next.
But she knows if she puts God first, He’ll help her pass that test too.

As the only Church member in my family, I had to overcome many obstacles to serve a full-time mission. One of these was financial, and I spent countless hours looking for jobs so I could earn enough money for my mission. Finally I found a job watching over someone’s home. Although I made only a small amount, I managed to pay tithing. Then I found another job teaching English to three children. It more than doubled my salary, and I could keep both jobs. What a blessing! After working for some months—always paying my tithing—I finally received my call to serve in the Cambodia Phnom Penh Mission.
Sometimes I think of the Lord as a master and myself as one of His servants. If I am a lazy servant who does nothing but sleep, eat, and entertain myself, will He be able to reward me? No. But if I labor diligently, will our Master withhold His blessings from me? No. He will reward me more than I deserve. And if we are obedient to the law of tithing, how generous will our blessings be then? He has said that there will not be enough room to receive them (see Mal. 3:10; 3 Ne. 24:10). This is the Lord’s wonderful promise to all who pay tithing.
Eng Bun Huoch, Ta Khmau Branch, Phnom Penh Cambodia South District

At the age of 17, my grandfather left Denmark to find a new life in America. He worked his way to Mendon, Utah, where his uncle lived. He was employed by his uncle to help him with his farming. After some period of time, he came to his uncle and said: “You Mormons are a funny people. I have worked with you for many months, and not once have you tried to tell me anything about your religion or invited me to attend church with you.” His uncle asked him if he would like to know something about it, and he answered affirmatively. So his uncle told him about the Prophet Joseph Smith and the coming forth of the Book of Mormon. He gave him a copy of the Book of Mormon to read. After doing some reading in the book, my grandfather gave it back to his uncle and said, “I don’t see anything in that book that has much value to me.” The next day he was out plowing the field, and his thoughts turned to the story his uncle had told him about the coming forth of the Book of Mormon. He thought in his mind that no young man with limited education could have produced such a book. Maybe he should give it a second look. He asked his uncle if he could borrow the book again. This time he could not put it down. The Spirit burned within him that this book was true. He asked for baptism and remained active throughout his entire life.

Much of Brother Bollbach’s service has been as a missionary in the land of his birth. In 1969, six weeks after Fritz had opened the workshop, Fritz and Elli’s bishop called them into his office and asked them a question. The bishop had to repeat the question three times: “Fritz, the Lord wants you and your wife to serve together in the mission field. What do you think about that?”
“I was shocked,” Brother Bollbach remembers. “I could say nothing.”
Unable to answer the bishop’s question, he asked Elli, “Well, Mama, what do you think?”
She glanced at Fritz and said, “The decision is yours. I will be your eyes.”
He turned back to the bishop and replied, “Bishop, we will go where the Lord wants us to go.”
The Bollbachs were soon serving in the Germany Central Mission. Their main responsibility was to help bring people back to church. “Many of them did not want to pray because they said they had nothing to be grateful for or they just didn’t need anything,” Sister Bollbach explains. “However, Fritz inspired them and helped them to be grateful for life and for God’s blessings.”
One of his first assignments was to serve as branch president in Gelsenkirchen. At first Brother Bollbach was hesitant when the mission president called him to the position. “But you know that I’m blind,” Brother Bollbach told him.
“Yes, of course I know that,” the mission president replied. “God knows it as well.”
Brother Bollbach labored as branch president there until he had a mild heart attack a year later. “I wondered if I should go home after that,” he recalls. “But the doctor examined me and said it was all right for me to stay. So we stayed.”
After they returned from the mission field in 1971, Elli went back to working in the Salt Lake Temple, and Fritz reopened the workshop and put his wood pieces on display. As people flocked to see Brother Bollbach’s carvings, many thought it impossible that a blind man had done such splendid work. “Unbelievable, but not impossible,” he told them. “You must have faith in the Lord and confidence in yourself. All people—no matter what race or creed—are children of God and brought talents with them to earth. It depends upon the individual to discover and realize those talents through diligent effort.”
In 1975, the Bollbachs were surprised by another mission call, this time to the Germany Frankfurt Mission. About the same time, Elli discovered she had cancer. “No one can imagine the fear we felt,” Fritz explains. “Within one week, she underwent three operations. The curious thing was the blessing the bishop gave her. He said to her, ‘Elli, you will recover, and you will again go into the mission field with Fritz to serve God.’ We wondered how he could say such a thing.”
Sister Bollbach recuperated from the operations, and they served an eighteen-month mission in Pirmasens, Germany, near the French border.
Less than a year after returning home, the Bollbachs locked up their house and workshop a third time to serve in the Germany Munich Mission, where Brother Bollbach was called to be branch president in Nürnberg. Although the branch had more than 450 people on its records, only about 20 members attended regularly.
The Bollbachs knew they had challenges, but they also knew how to overcome them. With faith, prayer, obedience, and diligence, they concentrated on visiting less-active members. “A miracle happened,” Brother Bollbach exclaims. “The branch grew. Several months later, the branch was divided into three branches—Feucht, Fürth, and Nürnberg. I know it was the blessing and help of God. We were just the instruments in his hands.”
After coming home, the Bollbachs served as Sunday School teachers for about ten years. Because Fritz could not read the lessons, Elli recorded the lesson manual and passages of scripture onto a tape. Fritz would then listen to the tape several times and would study with Elli for up to eight hours. “I searched out the questions and had them put on tape,” he says. “Then I learned them by heart so we could teach the class together.” They finally were released when Brother Bollbach became too sick to continue the weekly assignment.
The Bollbachs say all their Church assignments have made them happy. “We used our time only for the Church and for God and for learning,” Brother Bollbach comments, “and we were glad. But it was not ourselves, but the power of prayer and the help of God that allowed us to do the work. Without God and Elli, I could not have made it. Without His help, I could not see spiritually with my heart.”

When I was a boy, my father (Gordon B. Hinckley) often would use an interesting phrase when he was offering the family prayer. He would say, “Heavenly Father, please bless us that we may live without regret.” I did not understand what that phrase meant for many years. Then, when I was about ten, I had an experience that helped me understand it better.
On warm summer nights, my friends and I enjoyed sleeping out under the stars. Our favorite camping spot was “the hollow,” a steep, wooded gully near our homes. There were no houses or businesses in the hollow, so we boys felt like real adventurers. Over the years we constructed several huts there—tree forts and ground forts—from scrap wood we collected.
One night after dark, one of my friends suggested we explore the new homes under construction on the other side of the hollow. We scrambled up the bank, raced across an alfalfa field, and began tiptoeing through skeletons of just-framed houses. It was exciting to wander through other people’s homes, imagining the families who would soon move in. We were about to learn an important lesson, a lesson that, in part at least, would teach me about regret.
In the corner of one house we found a pile of wood—perfect for building our huts. The wood had been used in pouring cement for the home’s foundation. We convinced ourselves the workers would throw it away. My friends and I grabbed the wood and dragged it to the hollow, talking all the way about what sort of hut we would build with it. We hid the wood among some trees and soon fell asleep.
The next morning we heard a loud groan. One of my friends was standing at the top of the hollow looking over the alfalfa field.
“We’ve left a trail!” he shouted. “We’re going to get caught!”
Hurrying to his side, I saw a wide path of trampled alfalfa, leading to the edge of the hollow above our hideout. If the builders wanted to know who had taken their wood, they need only follow our tracks.
My friends and I decided to go straight home and not return to the hollow for several days. For hours I hid in my parents’ closet. Every police siren in the distance was surely coming for me!
“Why are you staying in here?” my mother asked.
“Oh, I’m just a bit tired,” I fibbed. “It’s quieter in the closet.”
By the end of the week we figured no one had discovered that the scrap lumber was missing. We met at the hollow and went to work on our new hut. But I think we all felt embarrassed about what we had done.
That Saturday my father went to his office to catch up on some work. As he often did on a Saturday, he invited me to come along. He was then an employee of the Church and worked in the Church Administration Building. The office of President David O. McKay was down the hall. I had been introduced to President McKay and had spoken with him on several occasions. A tall man with wavy, white hair, he looked just like I imagined a prophet should. He spoke kindly, and I always hoped to see him when I visited Dad’s office.
But that Saturday was different. We were leaving the building when President McKay stopped us in the hallway. I couldn’t look at him. As I reached up to shake his hand, I felt as if his eyes were reading the words “wood thief” on the top of my head. How I regretted taking that wood! Even though we knew that wood was going to be scrapped, we also knew we should have asked before taking it.
My father’s prayers finally made sense! I knew that when my time came to stand before the Lord, I wanted to feel worthy.

A young father was literally sinking. He, his two children, and his father-in-law had gone for a walk around a lake. They were surrounded by majestic pine-covered mountains, and the sky was blue, filled with soft white clouds, emanating beauty and serenity. When the children grew hot and tired, the two men decided to put the children on their backs and swim the short distance across the lake.
It seemed easy—until the moment when the father began to feel pulled down, everything becoming so heavy. Water pushed him to the bottom of the lake, and a frantic feeling came over him. How was he going to keep afloat—and do so with his precious young daughter on his back?
His voice disappeared in the distance as he called out; his father-in-law was too far away to answer a desperate plea for help. He felt alone and helpless.
Near panic, he realized that his water-saturated shoes were weighing him down. While working to stay afloat, he began to attempt to get his heavy shoes off his feet. But it was as if they were held on with suction. The laces were swollen with water, cinching the grip even tighter.
In what may have been his last moment of desperation, he managed to pry the shoes from his feet, and at last the shoes released their hold, quickly falling to the bottom of the lake. Free from the heavy weight that had been dragging him down, he immediately propelled himself and his daughter upward. He could now swim forward, moving toward safety on the other side of the lake.

I was too slow for football, too short for basketball, and too weak for wrestling. I played freshman and JV baseball, but by the time I reached my junior year in high school, the other guys going out for the varsity team were faster, taller, and stronger.
Three strikes and I was out.
I wasn’t popular enough to run for student government, talented enough to pursue the performing arts, or courageous enough to try debate.
Game over at 17, right? Not necessarily.
In English class, I could write essays the night before they were due—and still get a decent grade. I had no problem ordering a burrito in Spanish or asking for directions to the bathroom in German—thanks to my foreign language classes. Somehow, I made the honor roll despite my grades in math. And I could make people laugh.
But did I really have any talents? I wasn’t sure until I got older.
Back in high school, I had no way of knowing that the fun I had—and the time I spent—studying Spanish and German would help me learn three languages as a full-time missionary. Nor did I know that my latent talent as a writer would lead me to my livelihood. But perhaps the Lord did.

When I found myself in unfamiliar territory, facing a divorce that I didn’t want, I experienced pain and rejection that I have never felt before. I was in my mid-40s, alone to finish raising my teenagers, hold down a full-time job, and pay the mortgage. I was overwhelmed, tired, and worried, but mostly filled with the most incredible pain I have ever felt.
Because of my gospel foundation and my desire to live righteously, I knew I had to forgive my ex-husband. I knew it was important to not be critical of him in front of the children, but how was I going to get past those feelings of rejection that made me want to cry out in agony?
Day after day in my anguish, I turned to the scriptures, seeking direction from the Spirit. I searched diligently day and night. I needed to know what I could personally do at this unfamiliar crossroads of my life to follow the Savior’s example, to heed His call to follow Him.
As I studied the scriptures, I wrote down each attribute of Jesus Christ that I desired to develop in my own life. I recorded teachings from the stories and parables that He shared during His mortal ministry. I noted the things that spoke to my heart about forgiveness. I diligently penned in my notebook the hardships and trials that the Lord faced and how He overcame them.
Over time I recognized that His pain was much worse than mine, yet He forgave those who hurt Him. He was a perfect example. That notebook, filled with lessons from the Lord’s life, became a source of great strength to me. It was my lifeline. Following His example, I was determined to endure my trial as well as I could. I was willing to move forward through my pain.
It worked! Now a few years later, I am blessed to have a good relationship with my ex-husband. Even though he has remarried, our relationship as the parents of our children is sweet and pain free. By following Christ’s example of not criticizing him, I overcame the negative feelings of pain and rejection. I can love!
What a valuable lesson I learned during this intense trial. I am grateful for my Savior’s perfect example. He is my rock and my foundation. And I never feel alone. I have His love, His Atonement, His perfect example, and the love and blessings of a beloved Heavenly Father.

Lance looked around the Scout camp at the beautiful scenery—jagged mountains, green forest, and the still surface of the lake. His view was interrupted as Cooper, a new member of his Scout troop, walked by lugging his gear. Cooper hadn’t said a word during the drive up to the camp. Lance thought Cooper seemed secretive. Did he have something to hide?
“Maybe it’s just because he’s new to the troop and doesn’t really know anyone yet,” Lance thought.
But he couldn’t help wondering if Cooper could be trusted. Earlier, Cooper had taken another Scout’s pocketknife. The knife’s owner, Cameron, stopped him. “Hey, that’s my knife,” he said.
Cooper looked down. “I have one just like it,” he said. “I thought it fell out of my bag.”
“Why don’t you check your bag?” Cameron suggested.
Lance thought Cooper pretended to look surprised when he found his own knife in his bag. “Oh, sorry,” Cooper said. He handed Cameron’s knife back to him and walked off.
Even though Lance could hardly wait until the next morning to start earning more merit badges, he was also excited about the large cave they were going to sleep in. In the light of the flickering campfire, Lance lay in his sleeping bag admiring the badges he had already earned. He had badges for Environmental Science, Archery, Climbing, Leatherworks, Swimming, and Rowing. While at Scout camp, he planned on earning badges for Fishing, Canoeing, and—
Out of the corner of his eye, Lance noticed someone watching him. It was Cooper. He was lying apart from the others in the dimness of the cave, eyeing Lance’s badges. Lance folded his merit badge sash and put it next to his backpack. Then he turned his back on Cooper and went to sleep.
The next morning, Lance’s Environmental Science and Archery badges were missing! He wished he had zipped his sash inside his bag. Then he remembered how Cooper had been looking at the badges the night before. Lance looked around, but Cooper was nowhere to be seen.
Lance’s heart beat quickly as he searched through Cooper’s backpack. The badges weren’t there. “He probably hid them in a less-obvious place,” Lance thought.
The more Lance thought about it, the angrier he got. He had gone on Scouting activities with the other boys, and nothing like this had happened before. Lance knew Cooper had taken his hard-earned badges.
Outside the cave, Lance saw the Scout leader, Brother Maxwell. Lance approached him and asked him where Cooper was.
“He just went through those trees to take pictures of the sunrise,” Brother Maxwell said. “Can I help you with something?”
Lance explained what had happened. “Cooper has been acting suspicious ever since we got here. First he took Cameron’s pocketknife, but Cameron got it back. Now he’s taken two of my badges. I know it was him because of the way he was staring at them last night. He’s so quiet, like someone who has something to hide.”
Brother Maxwell laid a hand on Lance’s shoulder. “We can’t accuse anyone without proof, Lance. Maybe he’s shy because he’s new to the group. And maybe he was staring at your badges because he’s looking forward to earning some of his own. Let’s go take a look in the cave and see what we can find.”
“I already did, Brother Maxwell,” Lance said. “I looked everywhere, including in Cooper’s stuff. He’s probably taking that walk so he can hide the badges until we’re ready to leave.” Lance suddenly saw Cooper step out of the trees, carrying a camera. “There he is,” he said. “Let’s go ask him.”
“Not yet, Lance,” Brother Maxwell said. “First we’re going to have a look in that cave.”
Inside the cave, Brother Maxwell examined Lance’s sash and studied the area around Lance’s backpack and sleeping bag. “Well,” he finally said, “you’re right about there having been a cave bandit here last night, Lance. But I think you’re wrong about who it was.”
“What do you mean?” Lance asked.
“Judging from the tiny paw prints in the dirt, those merit badges were probably chewed off your sash by a pack rat.”
Lance’s mouth dropped open. “A pack rat?”
Brother Maxwell nodded. “They like to collect objects such as watches, buttons, or, in this case, merit badges.”
“But I’ve got to find those badges!”
The Scout leader smiled. “If we can find the rat’s nest, we’ll most likely find your missing badges.”
After breakfast, everyone searched the area. Before long the bandit’s nest and Lance’s badges were found.
Lance apologized to Brother Maxwell. “I was wrong to accuse Cooper, and to judge him. It must be hard to be the new kid in the group.”
When Lance went back to the cave, Cooper was inside. Once again, he eyed the badges as Lance tucked them inside his bag.
Lance straightened up and turned to Cooper. “I’m going to try to earn my Canoeing badge today. Want to come?”
Cooper looked at the ground, but there was a shy smile on his face. “Sure. I’d like to try too,” he said.
Lance grinned as he and Cooper ran out of the cave into the bright summer afternoon.

Journey with Joseph started out as a single song. It was written by Kurt Metzger, a member of the ward, to be sung by the youth. The song was written as a tribute to the Prophet, titled “Great Shall Be the Memory of Your Name,” and was sung at a youth conference. End of story.

Well, not exactly. The youth sang it again in a church meeting a few weeks later, and the bishop soon called Brother Metzger to write an entire presentation. And so Brother Metzger got to work. As the weeks flew by, ward members busily sewed costumes, painted scenery, and choreographed dances. The youth spent hours and hours learning lyrics by heart, then moving on to the next song, which was sometimes still in various stages of composition as they learned it. For some people, the idea of getting a full-length presentation written and produced in six months would seem crazy. But the youth had the energy, the leaders had the creativity, and they all had the dedication to make it work.

It wasn’t easy, but Jon Kirkham, who plays the part of Hyrum Smith in the presentation, says that sometimes the things that require the most sacrifice also become the most valuable.

“I’m so busy with school and everything that lately things have just been nuts. Last week I came home from my job and discovered neither of the cars were home, so I had to ride my bike to the church. It’s about half an hour by bike, but once I got there I didn’t care how tired I was. It’s just incredible being there with everyone and learning about the Prophet and the Church,” says Jon.

Seventeen-year-old Mindy Coon plays Lucy Mack Smith. “I tried to really understand how much love Joseph’s mother had for him,” she says. “She was one of the first people to recognize that what Joseph was saying was true. Learning about her so that I could portray her was really a humbling experience.”

Eighteen-year-old Nate Brian, who plays Joseph Smith, also feels that he has gained insight from being in the production. “Being able to, in a very small way, live the life of Joseph Smith has been so incredible. I’ve realized so many things, and it strengthens me to know that even though we’re human, if we live righteously, we can achieve great things.”

And it goes on and on. Through the long hours of practice and the stress of learning new things rapidly, the youth also come to understand much better what the early Saints went through to get the Church and its programs up and running. It’s all about sacrifice, loving others as yourself, enduring heartache and illness, and having enough faith in the Lord to carry you through.

But it isn’t just about hardship; it is also about living the gospel. It is about the happiness and blessings that come as a result of obedience. And it is about sharing the gospel message with others. Lots of things have changed for missionaries since Joseph Smith was a prophet—they ride bikes instead of buggies, and they don’t wear all that cumbersome clothing. But no matter what they wear or where they are, their message has remained the same. And, if you know where to look, you just might find member missionaries who are so excited about the gospel, they’ll even sing about it.

“Bedtime!” Mommy called from upstairs.
Grace’s blonde curls bounced as she hopped up the stairs and into her room. She grabbed her fluffy stuffed bunny and jumped into bed. Then she jumped right back out again.
“Mommy, I can’t go to bed yet. I forgot something very important.”
Mommy smiled. “I think you’re right.”
Grace ran to her dresser and pulled out her favorite fuzzy pajamas. She put them on and slid back under the covers.
Suddenly she sat up . “I still forgot something very important.”
“I think you’re right,” Mommy answered patiently.
“I need a glass of milk. I always have milk before I go to bed.”
Mommy left and came back with a glass of cold milk. Grace drank every drop, then licked off her milk mustache.
“Now I’m ready for bed,” Grace said, snuggling deep into the warmth of her covers.
Only a second later, she popped out again. “Mommy, I still forgot something very important.
Mommy nodded. “I think you’re right.”
Grace hurried to the bathroom sink and brushed her teeth until they were shiny white. Then she washed her face and hands.
“Now I’m ready for bed.” Grace scampered back to her room and dove into her empty bed.
Before there was even time to say good night, she tumbled out again. “I still forgot something very important.”
“I think you’re right,” Mommy chuckled.
“I could never go to sleep without a hug and a kiss from my favorite people in the whole world.” She ran down the hall and bumped down the stairs to the living room. She pulled the newspaper out of Daddy’s hands and gave him a big bear hug and a kiss. Then she ran back up to her room, squeezed Mommy tight, and kissed her good night. “Now I’m ready for bed,” Grace said, crawling under her quilted covers and pulling them up to her eyes.
She pulled them right back down. “I still forgot something very important.”
“I think you’re right,” Mommy replied.
“I need a bedtime story. It will give me sweet dreams all night long.”
Mommy read Grace’s favorite fairy tale.
“Now I’m ready for bed,” Grace sighed. “I’m dressed in my warm pajamas. I had a yummy glass of milk. I brushed my teeth and washed my face. I kissed Mommy and Daddy good night, and I heard my favorite bedtime story.”
Then Grace gasped and her eyes got big. “Mommy, I forgot the most important thing of all!”
“I know you did,” Mommy agreed.
Grace slipped out of bed onto her knees. She folded her arms, bowed her head, and closed her eyes. Her mother joined her. Then Grace said a prayer to Heavenly Father. She thanked Him for all that she had, and asked Him to bless her. Grace was glad to talk to Heavenly Father. She knew that He listened to her prayers. When she finished in the name of Jesus Christ, she felt warm inside. Happily she climbed back into bed. Mother tucked the covers under her chin and turned off the light.
Now I really am ready for bed, Grace thought as she drifted peacefully off to sleep.