Gospel Story Finder

I've asked my daughter, Sarah, to briefly share something about what it is like to be a grandchild of the Prophet.

When I was a little girl, my Grandpa would sing to me an old Boy Scout song that went something like,
"The horses went around.Their feet were on the ground.Who's going to feed the cat while we're away, away?Go get the ax, there's a hair on baby's chin.Oh, a boy's best friend is his mother, his mother."
Grandpa would slightly alter the last phrase to,
"Oh, a girl's best friend is her Grandpa, her Grandpa."
Every time I would see him, my Grandpa would ask me, "Who's a girl's best friend?" I would enthusiastically reply, "Grandpa!"
As I've grown, I've realized that President Monson is, indeed, a wonderful best friend to have.

A best friend is someone to have fun with. Grandpa loves to create memories, and he would always plan fun activities for us, his grandchildren. We loved our fishing outings, going to breakfast, and trips to the amusement park. I distinctly remember thinking that my Grandpa was very cool because he rode with me on the roller coaster at Lagoon and on Space Mountain at Disneyland!

A best friend is someone who is interested in your life. It was always a nice feeling to know that Grandpa was proud of my good grades and he always attended my piano recitals. He was also interested in my friends. When I was dating my husband, Grandpa called and asked us out on a "double date" to the symphony. I thought nothing of it as I was accustomed to spending a lot of time with my grandparents. My husband, however, later confessed that he had never been more nervous for a date in his life! We all had a great time.

Lastly, and most importantly, a best friend is someone you love. President Monson is a happy person. Just being where he is brings me a sense of great joy. Some of my happiest memories have been simple moments like driving in the car with my grandparents or spending Sunday evenings together at their home.

Now, I'm a grown woman with a young family of my own. I live across the country in Connecticut. But, Grandpa still calls me on the phone just to say "hello" and to see how I'm doing. I know he loves me and I love him.

Even today, President Monson will ask me the question, "Who's a girl's best friend?" The answer is and always will be the same . . . "Grandpa!"

Some point the accusing finger at the sinner or the unfortunate and in derision say, “He has brought his condition upon himself.” Others exclaim, “Oh, he will never change. He has always been a bad one.” A few see beyond the outward appearance and recognize the true worth of a human soul. When they do, miracles occur. The downtrodden, the discouraged, the helpless become “no more strangers and foreigners, but fellowcitizens with the saints, and of the household of God.” (Eph. 2:19.) True love can alter human lives and change human nature.
This truth was stated so beautifully on the stage in My Fair Lady. Eliza Doolittle, the flower girl, spoke to one for whom she cared and who later was to lift her from such mediocre status: “You see, really and truly, apart from the things anyone can pick up (the dressing and the proper way of speaking, and so on), the difference between a lady and a flower girl is not how she behaves, but how she’s treated. I shall always be a flower girl to Professor Higgins, because he always treats me as a flower girl, and always will; but I know I can be a lady to you, because you always treat me as a lady, and always will.” (Adapted from Pygmalion, in The Complete Plays of Bernard Shaw, p. 260.)
Eliza Doolittle was but expressing the profound truth: When we treat people merely as they are, they will remain as they are. When we treat them as if they were what they should be, they will become what they should be. (Adapted from a quotation by Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe.)
In reality, it was the Redeemer who best taught this principle. Jesus changed men. He changed their habits and opinions and ambitions. He changed their tempers, dispositions, and natures. He changed their hearts. He lifted! He loved! He forgave! He redeemed! Do we have the will to follow?
Prison warden Kenyon J. Scudder has related this experience: A friend of his happened to be sitting in a railroad coach next to a young man who was obviously depressed. Finally the man revealed that he was a paroled convict returning from a distant prison. His imprisonment had brought shame to his family, and they had neither visited him nor written often. He hoped, however, that this was only because they were too poor to travel and too uneducated to write. He hoped, despite the evidence, that they had forgiven him.
To make it easy for them, however, he had written them to put up a signal for him when the train passed their little farm on the outskirts of town. If his family had forgiven him, they were to put a white ribbon in the big apple tree which stood near the tracks. If they didn’t want him to return, they were to do nothing, and he would remain on the train as it traveled west.
As the train neared his home town, the suspense became so great he couldn’t bear to look out of his window. He exclaimed, “In just five minutes the engineer will sound the whistle, indicating our approach to the long bend which opens into the valley I know as home. Will you watch for the apple tree at the side of the track?” His companion changed places with him and said he would. The minutes seemed like hours, but then there came the shrill sound of the train whistle. The young man asked, “Can you see the tree? Is there a white ribbon?”
Came the reply: “I see the tree. I see not one white ribbon, but many. There must be a white ribbon on every branch. Son, someone surely does love you.”
In that instant he stood cleansed by Christ.
His friend said, “I felt as if I had witnessed a miracle.”
Indeed, he had witnessed a miracle appropriately described by the third verse of a favorite Christmas carol, “O Little Town of Bethlehem”:
“How silently, how silently, The wondrous gift is given!
So God imparts to human hearts The blessings of his heaven.
“No ear may hear his coming; But in this world of sin,
Where meek souls will receive him still, The dear Christ enters in.”

My friends used to tell vulgar stories during break. At first I would just leave, but then I decided to be more forthright. I told them there were many good things to think and talk about. I explained that I didn’t want my mind filled with unprofitable things.
They all ignored my request to stop—except for my friend Ivette. Whenever others made inappropriate comments, she would say, “Go somewhere else.” Sometimes she went with me. Later she met with the full-time missionaries.
Suamny Milagros Cedano de Franco,Villa Canales Branch, Guatemala City Guatemala Villa Hermosa Stake

Martin Biney was born and raised in Accra, Ghana in a Christian home. He loved to play soccer and played it regularly growing up. When he was 23 years old (1986), he decided to leave home and move to Japan where he could study automobile mechanics. He found friends in Japan who played soccer, and when he wasn’t studying, he played soccer all the time. He met and became very good friends with Nae Sugawara (from Saitama-ken, Kasukabe-shi, Japan) while playing soccer. She and Martin would get together often. When he was 25 years old, he badly injured his leg while playing his favorite sport. This injury kept him from being able to play soccer well, so he considered other options to help him stay active. As a result, at age 27 he decided to take up boxing to replace his love for soccer.
Boxing was something new to the young athlete. He joined a local gymnasium and boxing facility where the coaches and staff saw great potential in his natural ability. In 1989, when he was 27 years old, he and Nae were married.
He worked as a delivery man for a transportation and shipping company. At the same time, he was raising his family and focusing on his boxing skills by working out three hours each day. In 1994, after years of dedicated hard work, Martin Biney won the middleweight boxing championship in the JBC. Everything seemed to be going well for him and his family.
Shortly after his victory as a middleweight champion, Martin was again injured in a life-changing automobile accident. Because of his injuries, he felt like he could not continue with his boxing career. He was discouraged and felt a loss in life. By this time, Martin and Nae were the parents of two young boys, Marvin, and Julius.
He continued to stay fit and to work, providing for his family. One day in 1995, the humbled Martin was assigned to deliver a copy machine to a local church. It was The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. While making the delivery, he met missionaries who introduced him to the restored gospel and the Book of Mormon. They gave Martin a copy of the Book of Mormon and started teaching him.
Martin enjoyed reading the Book of Mormon and recognized the Spirit and direction it provided in his life. A few months later, after receiving a personal testimony, Martin Biney was baptized and confirmed a member of the Church. As a new member of the Church, Martin attended every week, but for many years, his wife and children stayed home. Brother Biney states, “After I was baptized and received the gift of the Holy Ghost, I felt blessed. I had more confidence and felt impressed to go back to boxing.”
The Lord blessed Martin and, in 1997, at the age of 34, Martin Biney again became the middleweight boxing champion in Japan.
Martin’s wife, Nae, later decided to learn more about the Church, and in 2008 she was baptized. She and Martin were sealed in the Sapporo Japan Temple in 2021. They love the gospel and enjoy doing things together.
From the example of Martin Biney and his wife, Nae, we gain spiritual eyes to see that people everywhere, even in countries that are not predominantly Christian, there are those who hear the Savior’s voice and follow Him.
Martin and Nae serve as faithful members of the Urawa Ward in the Tokyo Japan Stake. The Bineys love serving in the Primary organization and find great joy in teaching the gospel to the children in the ward. He continues his passion for the sport of boxing as a referee and as a judge and shares his testimony of the gospel by his example to those he associates with, both in and out of the boxing ring!
His story helps us to see that we all are children of a loving Heavenly Father and that He is working to gather us together before the Savior’s return.

Joseph Knight arose early the morning of September 22, 1827. As he went outside to check on his animals, he noticed that his horse and wagon were gone. He was a guest in the home of the Joseph Smith family in Manchester, New York, and Joseph and Emma had borrowed his horse and wagon in the predawn to go to the Hill Cumorah.
Brother Knight was a dear friend of the Prophet and was among the first to hear Joseph describe the sacred experience of being visited by the angel Moroni. The angel had appeared to Joseph Smith once a year for the three previous years, and this morning was to be the fourth and last visitation. During this visit the angel Moroni had promised to let the Prophet take the gold plates if Joseph had been faithful.
When Joseph and Emma returned from the Hill Cumorah, the Prophet told Brother Knight something of his glorious experience. He told him of the size of the plates and described the glasses, or Urim and Thummim, which he (Joseph) had been given to help translate the Book of Mormon.

As a child, I learned from my parents how to pray. My father was assigned as the Principal for the LDS Middle School in Latai, Nuku’alofa. My father wanted the family to move from Liahona in order to be closer to his job. To understand the difficulty of this task, you have to understand that land cannot be bought in Tonga. Land is passed down from father to son. Being a righteous man, my father knew that moving our family closer to his job was right and best thing for all of us. So, our family fasted and prayed fervently to ask Heavenly Father for his help in finding a place. Our morning & evening prayers included our family’s plea to find a place. To aid in this endeavor, my father requested the help of other family members to keep a look out for a place for our family. A week later, my uncle told my father that a person named Katoa, was willing to gift him a piece of land in exchange for $300 pa’anga to help his family. At that time $300 pa’anga, was a lot of money, an equivalent of $150 US dollars. When my father met with this man, he found out that all of his sons were provided with lands, but the man had extra land. Depending on how much land or how many pieces of land you have, each male member, from oldest to youngest, will receive a piece of land. A meeting was arranged by the Acting Minister of the land to sign off the piece of land to my father. Katoa’s brother was also requested to attend this meeting, giving him the opportunity to dispute the gifting of the land to an “outsider” of the family. The dilemma was that although Katoa’s sons had lands, his brother had a son that did not have land. This meant that rightly so, the extra land should have been given to Katoa’s nephew. Our family prayers became more earnest, understanding the ordeal we were facing. If this was the Father’s will, we had faith that this almost impossible arrangement would work out. Friday morning, my father offered our family prayer and again, petitioned Heavenly Father’s help, if it was His will. My father and Katoa were at the office by 1:45 pm. 2:00 pm came and Katoa’s brother was nowhere to be found. The Acting Minister said that they would wait 5 more minutes to give Katoa’s brother a chance. After 2:05 pm, the paper was signed and my father was legally given the land. During our family prayer that night, my father offered thanksgiving for blessing our family with the piece of land obtained. Our communion with our Father in Heaven that night was a sweet and powerful feeling that filled each of us with a strong testimony that what we had been praying and fasting for was indeed in correspondence with our Heavenly Father’s will and that He had provided a way for us to fulfill that will. Our home was later built and we moved in. Many, many years later, our home became the meeting house for the Nuku’alofa 2nd Ward when we lost our chapel due to the lease not being renewed. Our ward was assigned to the Havelu Chapel for our church meetings. Our home became the meeting place for ward choir practice, mutual for single adults, early morning seminary, full-time missionary’s district meetings and countless ward meetings.

“We won’t have any openings for months, and if you work here, you would have to work on Sundays.” The manager of the first store to which I applied for a job sent me on my way.
It was the summer before my senior year in high school, and I had been driving all over town filling out applications. My plan was to save up enough money to be able to attend college when I graduated. On each application, I indicated I could not work on Sundays. I was firm in my commitment to keep the Sabbath day holy.
A few days later, I handed a completed application to the manager of another store. He quickly scanned the paper and in disbelief asked, “You can’t work on Sundays?”
Without hesitation, I answered, “No.”
He laughed derisively and replied, “You’ll never get a job in this town!”
Feeling deflated, I left the store and climbed into my car. I said a quick prayer out loud, “Heavenly Father, what am I going to do?”
The unmistakable feeling from the Spirit came, and I knew everything would be all right. The prompting was so strong that I responded out loud, “OK.”
About one week later, I received a telephone call. It was the manager from the first store. He said that some of their young cashiers had been stealing money from the registers and that he had fired them. He asked me if I would like to come work for him, adding that I would only have to work on Sundays if there was an emergency. I worked at that store for about one year and only worked one Sunday.
When I began my job search, I decided I would simply have to find a position that did not require Sunday work. I know now that the Lord had a hand in helping me find that job. I have a sure testimony, just as Nephi, 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).

In school the fifth graders were going to have a talent show. I really wanted to do something, but I couldn’t think of anything. Then one day I thought, Why not do the Primary song “When I Am Baptized”? I asked my friend Rachel if she would sing it with me, and I would play the piano. She said yes, and at the talent show we got the biggest applause.
Abigail P., age 10, with Rachel M., age 11, Oregon, USA

It has always been hard for me to sit quietly and watch general conference at home with my family. Last April, my family and I attended conference in the Conference Center in Salt Lake City, Utah. We arrived early and found our seats. I watched as hundreds of people began to file in and sit down. Many whispered quietly and waved to friends. All of a sudden, people began to stand, beginning on the far side of the Conference Center. It was like a slow, quiet wave. Soon I saw why. The prophet was slowly walking up a ramp, heading toward his seat. You could have heard a pin drop. Everyone stopped what he or she was doing and watched as the prophet, President Gordon B. Hinckley, took his seat. A warm, tingly feeling came over me. The Spirit testified that this kind, wonderful man was a true prophet of our Father in Heaven.
I now look forward to watching each general conference with my family. It makes me happy to see the beautiful building, and it is fun to try to locate the seats where we sat. It is good to remember how I felt when I saw the prophet.
Taylor Osborne, age 11Meridian, Idaho

While living in New Canaan, Connecticut, USA, the Thompsons were blessed with twin girls. When the girls were born prematurely and with Down syndrome, their ward came to the rescue, supporting them during the twins’ open-heart surgeries and months of hospital stays. Some of those early needs were easy to see. Members organized meals, childcare, house cleaning, help with Christmas, and more.
But the loving help didn’t stop as the children grew and the needs became less apparent. Loving friends, leaders, and ministering brothers and sisters made the effort to counsel with the Thompsons about how they could help.
“A friend asked me what was hard,” Sister Thompson said. “I mentioned that Sundays were difficult because my husband and I were often busy in our callings and had to leave our oldest daughter in charge alone. My friend immediately offered to take the twins for a few hours each Sunday. She did so for many months.”
When the twins reached their teens, leaders regularly sat down with the parents to plan activities that were inclusive and fun for the twins as well as for the rest of the young women. Another friend invited the girls to her house so that the Thompsons could participate in choir practice.
After the Thompsons moved to Utah, a couple was assigned to minister to their family. “They always asked before visiting what our needs were and what kind of message would best suit our family,” Sister Thompson said. “They took time to know every member of the family, which is important because the siblings of those with special needs often get overlooked.” The couple often invited the twins out for special activities, giving the family a break.
Sister Thompson would advise ministering brothers and sisters not to be afraid to ask the parents what is hard for them and how to help. “Just reach out. The more you get to know someone, the more you will understand how to best minister to them.”

I am reminded of three related learning experiences from my own youth. Each illustrates a specific point using a knife as the subject. The first story in this trilogy of knives begins when, as a young Boy Scout my troop had a fund raising event to sell tickets for a ward Spaghetti dinner. Back in those days, wards were allowed to charge money for attendance in order to raise local funds. To the Scout that sold the most tickets went a beautiful new Swiss Army knife. I did not have a pocketknife and I knew that every good Boy Scout had to have a good pocketknife. I honorably went about trying to sell everyone I knew a ticket, or better yet, family pack, to our ward Spaghetti dinner. But what began as a noble want, and an honorable process eventually changed course. When the night of the ward dinner finally arrived, I discovered that one other Scout had sold almost exactly the same number of tickets, as had I. I reasoned in my young mind that there was no way I could, or even should, lose. After all, I had invested so much work, time and energy into winning the beautiful Swiss Army pocketknife. I observed that my two close friends were staffing the table were members of the ward, who hadn't previously purchased tickets to the dinner, could make their purchase and enter into the cultural hall. After careful calculation, I convinced my friends, also members of the Scout troop, to credit these members, who had not yet purchased tickets, to my tally.

When the evening's dinner and events where completed, the time came to identify the winner of the ticket selling contest. How shocked and happy I feigned when the announcer loudly read out my name as winner of the Swiss Army Knife. To the applause of all I received my reward, knowing in my heart, that I had blighted my name and dishonored the very Scout Law to which every Boy Scout pledges. One of life's caustic lessens soon followed. Before the night was over, the knife that I may have won anyway, honorably and with integrity, was lost, forever. That night, I lost more than the knife. I lost sight of my original and honorable goal. So likewise, many go about with initially honorable goals and desires. However, somewhere along the way, these honorable goals become forgotten in efforts of empty pursuit.

“Wake up, Joseph Fielding,” whispered his mother as she gently nudged his shoulder. The boy rose automatically from bed and dressed in the dark. He knew that some woman was having a baby and that she needed his mother’s help. Being the oldest child, Joseph Fielding often drove his mother to one of her patients. Reminiscing once, he said, “I remember getting up in the middle of the night, taking the lantern to the dark barn and hitching up the horse to the buggy. I would drive my mother to the home of an expectant mother so she could serve as midwife and help with the new baby. I would sit in the buggy and wait. I wondered why babies were so often born in the middle of the night.”

Youth from five different Christian denominations joined for a day of music, faith, and unity on Easter Monday 2025.
The outdoor event took place on the 21st of April at Paofai Park, Papeete, Tahiti.
According to one of the organisers, Hina Brodien, “Despite the rain, over 800 young people participated, demonstrating a powerful collective spiritual momentum. The goal was to strengthen the faith of young people and unite them around Jesus Christ. The concert allowed them to experience a moment of communion beyond denominational boundaries.”
Brodien continued, “Through their involvement in music, workshops, and logistics, they learned to serve together in the Spirit of Christ.”
The event was part of the worldwide “Greater Love” Easter initiative begun by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and supported by members of other Christian denominations.
In Papeete, youth and young adults from the Catholic Church, Ma’ohi Protestant Church, Seventh-day Adventist Church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and Community of Christ participated in the day’s activities. Parents, youth leaders, and other friends came along to lend their support.
“Meeting Tents” organized by spiritual themes (prayer, blessings, praise, testimony, fellowship) welcomed small groups of youth. Each tent was hosted by a different denomination offering opportunities to learn about others’ faith.
Then an interfaith concert brought together the choirs of each church and a shared music group ("Himene Amui"), made up of youth from all denominations.
Despite the sometimes-rainy weather, participants sang and prayed fervently, revealing the strength of their faith.
Over 300 singers and musicians participated in the concert. The audience was made up of more than 1,000 guests including around 800 young people.
Around 50 volunteers mobilized logistics, communication, and security; and 13 coordinators from the five denominations brought everything together.
Young people expressed feelings of gratitude, freedom, and pride in publicly expressing their faith. Many discovered fellow believers in their school environments, breaking spiritual isolation.
The activities encouraged them to speak out, pray, testify, and sing together—creating new friendships and strengthening their Christian commitment.

I remember one summer I was very unsettled and hurt by a disagreement with a family member. Several family members, including the one who troubled me, decided to come together and counsel about it. I earnestly prayed and fasted to know what I should say or do. I needed more wisdom and love than what I had.

When we met that evening, the Lord’s Spirit mercifully softened our hearts. I remember I was taught by the words I spoke; they did not seem to be my own. They were filled with love, clarity, power, and the Spirit. I cried as I felt purely that God loved my family and wanted to heal us. I witnessed the Lord’s power, healing, and revelation come through earnest prayer and fasting. The windows of heaven opened widely that evening.

When we came to Copenhagen, Denmark, we waited there until there were about 300 that were going to Utah. Anthon H. Lund, who just before he died was the counselor to President Heber J. Grant, had charge of the company to Utah. We left Copenhagen to go to Hull in England over the North Sea. When we started, the weather was fine and there were the same joyful songs of the Saints as when we left Norway. Some even danced. But soon the mountainous waves began to roll. It was not long before some began to make haste to the side of the ship. Oh, didn’t they feed the fish! I laughed at them and wondered what was the matter with them. I tell you I didn’t laugh long. My turn soon came. But we arrived in Hull safe and sound, and there we boarded the train for Liverpool. We got there in about eight hours’ ride, and there we boarded the steamer Nevada for New York, North America.
It took us 14 days to cross the Atlantic. Some of the way it was very stormy, and I was seasick all the way. But we landed in New York safe and sound. There we boarded the train for Utah. In about four days we arrived in Salt Lake City, July 17, 1872, late in the evening. Before coming to the station the president of our company, Anthon H. Lund, told us that when we arrived at the station, a good many of us would meet relatives and friends, and some of them would take us home with them. But he said, “Do not let any of them take you home with them just then, for you will all be taken to a banquet. Instead, take them with you to the banquet.”
It was then about ten o’clock in the evening. The name of the house I did not know, but it was large enough for all of us to sit down at the tables at once. As far as I can remember, there were about 300 of us. They had all gone in but myself, for I did not think I belonged. I knew I was not a Mormon, though all the rest of them were. As I have told before, I was rather bitter. But Brother Lund came out and saw me a ways off. He came over to me and asked me where my parents were. I said they had gone in but I didn’t belong. He then took me by the arm over to the door and said in Danish, “Please go in. You are welcome.” So, of course, I went in. I tell you it was the best supper I had ever seen, all kinds of good things. When we got through with the meal, it was about midnight, but the tables were still spread and plenty of all kinds of good things on the tables. We were to go and help ourselves. It was all for us.
There was no one who called for us, so we stayed around in that hall till morning. I don’t know just what the rest of them did, but I lay down on a bench by the table and fell asleep. When I awakened, the sun was up and the rest were awake and busy. I didn’t wait for breakfast, for there was still plenty of food on the tables, and we were told that we were welcome to all and to help ourselves. I did so, and I surely had a good breakfast that morning as well as supper the night before.

Nils heard creaking, cracking, and then a great big crash! Everyone in the house jumped up to find the two missionaries buried in a pile of blankets and boards that had been Nils’s bed. His bed had been too small for these two grown men who were in Sweden preaching the gospel.
They had come just after supper and had stayed so late that Mama had insisted they stay the night. She had let them sleep in Nils’s bed while he slept on the floor.
Dismayed, Nils looked at his broken bed. Mama whispered, “Don’t worry. Papa will make you a new one.”
But Papa didn’t seem to have time. He worked all day and talked to the missionaries in the evenings. He said that the Book of Mormon explained everything he hadn’t understood in the Bible.
Soon Mama, Papa, Peter, Botilla, and Bengt were baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Nils and his baby sister would have to wait for their eighth birthdays. Even though they were happy, everyone else in town seemed angry—especially Grandmother and Grandfather. Nils’s family decided to go to America where they could be with other Church members.
“You will like America, Nils,” Mama said, “and when we get there, we will get you a new bed.”
The ship to America was crowded with other Swedish and Danish members of the Church. Nils slept on top of two giant water barrels. He was afraid that when the ship rocked back and forth he would roll off! He could hardly wait to see land and sleep in a bed that held still.
But Nils’s first bed in America didn’t hold still. After leaving the ship, they got on a train. Nils fell asleep listening to the clacking of the wheels. When they got off the train at a place called Council Bluffs, they loaded their belongings in wagons pulled by oxen. Nils had thought the ship was crowded, but this was worse!
“No room for mattresses or pillows,” shouted the man in charge. “Pack only your clothes and blankets!”
“No pillow, no mattress, and no bed,” Nils sighed.
His family shared a wagon with a widow and a newly married couple. Every night Nils and his family slept on the ground, and day after dusty day they walked until they made it to Salt Lake City. Once there, they shared a house with another family.
The family’s first home of their own in the valley was a little room dug from a hillside, with a dirt floor. They slept in blankets that could be rolled up during the day. They longed for a more permanent home.
Finally Papa found them some land for a place of their own. Once again, they packed everything into their wagon and rode to Huntsville, Utah. The valley there was green and full of tall grass, and the hillsides were covered with trees. Their second home was a rough cabin with a leaky willow-branch roof and corn-husk mattresses on the floor.
Finally, on Christmas Day, they moved into a real log home with a wood floor, pine shingles on the roof, and real beds! Four and a half years after leaving Sweden, Nils snuggled under his quilt in his own new bed. It creaked a little when he moved, reminding him of the night his old bed broke. How much had changed! Nils smiled. Maybe someday he would grow up to be a missionary in Sweden too. But if he did, he would watch out for little beds!
Years later, Nils P. Lofgren did return to Sweden as a missionary.

One day when I was 13, we sang “True to the Faith” (Hymns, no. 254) in sacrament meeting, and I thought it was just about the coolest hymn I had ever heard. I thought, Hey, I remember how to play the piano—sort of. At least I remember what a piano is. I convinced myself that, based on what I knew about piano playing, I could learn to play “True to the Faith.”
The only problem was that I didn’t realize “True to the Faith” is also a very difficult hymn to play. It’s written in a key with just one sharp, but lots of extra sharps and flats are thrown in here and there. After six months of practice I learned it, and I was on my way to being a pianist.
I continued with the piano over the next few years and found myself getting better. Heavenly Father increased my abilities, and I improved in sight-reading, improvising, and other related skills. My mother taught me chord theory and some other useful information. I frequently accompanied soloists and was the pianist for priesthood and Sunday School.
In college I played for sacrament meeting in my student ward and also began to create some arrangements of hymns for Christmas and Easter. At this point in my life I was playing the piano a lot.
During all this I received lots of praise. When I was still learning, members of my home ward would encourage me, telling me how well I was doing. Now people would compliment me on my prelude and postlude music, and my rendition of “Called to Serve” (Hymns, no. 249) always drew a few comments. I tried to acknowledge the Lord’s hand in my abilities and not let it go to my head. But sometimes I liked the praise and would do something snazzy with my playing to ensure that I received compliments.
When it came time for my mission I had my father give me a priesthood blessing. Before the blessing, he asked if there was anything in particular I was worried about. I told him I was a little concerned that if I didn’t have much chance to play the piano and write, and all the other things I enjoyed doing, when I came home I would be too rusty. Considering I hoped to make my living doing some of these things, my ability to do them was of major concern to me.
My father gave me a wonderful blessing. In the blessing I was told that while it’s true we need to exercise our talents or lose them, that rule doesn’t apply to missionaries; if I served faithfully, even if I never used my talents once in those two years, when I came home my abilities wouldn’t have diminished but would have increased. What a promise.
I didn’t have much chance to play while I was in the MTC until the night before I left. Those from my branch who were leaving had a meeting together with the branch president for some final words of advice. There were many tears and tender feelings. And I was asked to play the closing hymn, “God Be with You Till We Meet Again” (Hymns, no. 152). This stirred up more emotions and made the Spirit even stronger.
After the closing prayer, which built upon the Spirit we already felt, I played some quiet postlude music as people talked and began to filter out. I played “The Spirit of God” (Hymns, no. 2) very softly on the upper keys. It’s hard to explain, but sometimes just believing in the words of the song you’re playing, and having the Spirit with you, causes you to play so that the people listening feel what you’re feeling. You can actually express your emotions through the way you play the song. It doesn’t always happen (at least not to me), but it happened this time. I really felt what I was playing, and I really wanted to convey a message by the way I played it.
As I played, I noticed that someone was behind me watching and listening. I finished the hymn and quickly glanced to see who it was. It was Elder Smith, someone I didn’t know very well. He was standing there, crying.
He had already felt the Spirit during the meeting, like the rest of us, and now the music was helping to intensify it. So I kept playing.
That’s when it struck me. For perhaps the first time, I was playing the piano, not for my own enjoyment and not to receive praise, but to help someone feel the Spirit. I actually, truly wanted to be an instrument in the Lord’s hands and serve him. In this case, the best way I could serve him was to help convey the Spirit to one of his children through music.

Dwight (center) with his mother and friend Jeff on his baptism day.
Photograph courtesy of Dwight G.
I grew up learning Christian values. I knew I was created by God and that He would protect me as I kept His commandments. But eventually I drifted away from my faith and was filled with doubt. In 2020, my friend Jeff, who is a member of the Church, explained BYU–Pathway Worldwide to me, how it can help students learn English and earn a bachelor’s degree online.
I wanted to learn more!
In my country, most young people can’t afford to go abroad for a better education. BYU–Pathway was the solution I didn’t know I needed. My fear of the future was replaced with a new hope that blazed within me, and I knew God hadn’t abandoned me.
I learned many valuable habits and skills in my classes, like how to manage my finances, improve my English, and be a proactive employee. I quickly discovered that BYU–Pathway is not only an educational journey but a spiritual one too. In my classes, I also learned about Nephi and modern-day prophets and came to know that their teachings were true. And I realized that, if I wanted to fully grasp what I was learning, I needed to learn more about the Church.
I shared my feelings with Jeff, and he immediately contacted the full-time missionaries. Each day of study I had with the missionaries filled me with a light that brightened my view of the world. I was like a lost child who was finally coming home. I discovered I am a son of God, I have a purpose, and there’s another book (the Book of Mormon) written by ancient people who recorded the miracles that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ provided for them.
Eventually I was baptized and confirmed a member of the Church of Jesus Christ. And my faith in Jesus Christ has reached a height I never thought possible.
Dwight G., Maritime, Togo

As I surveyed the elderly people assembled for the nursing home sacrament meeting, I was worried. Several patients appeared to be asleep. One woman cried over and over, “I want to go home.” Most of those who were awake stared vaguely through clouded eyes. I wondered why the young men and young women of our ward had come to present this sacrament meeting. Other than giving these elderly Church members the opportunity to partake of the sacrament, why did we bother?
One of the young men conducted the service. It would be like any other sacrament meeting, with an opening hymn, an opening prayer, a sacrament hymn, the passing of the sacrament, speakers, and a closing hymn.
As we sang “Come, Come, Ye Saints,” I noticed one frail sister who, until this moment, had remained perfectly still, staring off into space. Now she sang every word from memory. When the sacrament was passed, almost every patient partook. I began to realize that the patients knew what was going on.
Following the sacrament, Shawna, the Laurel president, spoke on enduring to the end. I wondered how her words would affect people who had endured more than we could possibly imagine.
I was distracted from my thoughts by a very real presence in the room. I felt the Spirit as strongly as I’ve ever felt it before. Then I noticed that nearly all of the elderly brothers and sisters had their eyes focused on Shawna. The Spirit had linked us together as brothers and sisters, children of our Heavenly Father.
A scripture came to my mind: “And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity” (1 Cor. 13:13).
There may have been many reasons for that sacrament meeting, but the greatest of them was charity, the pure love of Christ.

A few years ago, Rachel and Melissa were both at home on a Saturday afternoon. The doorbell rang, and Rachel greeted two nicely dressed young men at the door. She thought they were salesmen. Their dad, Gerry, agreed to chat with the young men, who were actually full-time missionaries. Life in the Clancy home changed forever when the girls and their father were baptized.

The Clancy girls soon discovered that living their new religion meant having most of their friendships with people of other faiths, a role that both missionary-minded girls embrace. But where does their strength come from? Some comes from a handful of LDS friends and leaders, but most of what makes these girls strong is what happens within the walls of their home.

This family knows how to work together. Rachel handles laundry, including ironing, while Melissa helps with some of the outside chores, like mowing the lawn. They both look after their younger brother and sister, Matt and Stefany, while their dad is at work or handling Church responsibilities.

The Clancys know how to play, too. In fact, both girls say that most of their best gospel learning experiences come from conversations during fun times with the family jumping on the trampoline, hiking, or swimming.

“This year Dad and Matt and I spent several days hiking at a place called Ayers Rock,” says Rachel. “I like hiking but I’m afraid of heights and this was a really steep hike. We stopped and said a prayer and I felt better. When we got to the top there was a beautiful view. My dad and I talked about how it was a lesson about enduring to the end. It’s my favorite memory from that hiking trip.”