Gospel Story Finder

President Faust shows how selfless service made an empty cart full and a full cart empty.
Some years ago a priests quorum decided to gather food for the needy as a service project. Jim, one of the priests, was excited to participate and was determined to collect more food than anyone else. The time arrived when the priests met at the chapel. They all went out at the same time and returned at a specified time later in the evening. To everyone’s surprise, Jim’s cart was empty. He seemed rather quiet, and some of the young men made fun of him. Seeing this and knowing that Jim had an interest in cars, the adviser said, “Come outside, Jim. I want you to look at my car. It’s giving me some trouble.”
When they got outside, the adviser asked Jim if he was upset. Jim said, “No, not really. But when I went out to collect the food, I really got a lot. My cart was full. As I was returning to the chapel, I stopped at the home of a nonmember woman who is divorced and lives within our ward boundaries. I knocked on the door and explained what we were doing, and she invited me in. She began to look for something to give me. She opened the refrigerator, and I could see there was hardly anything in it. The cupboards were bare. Finally, she found a small can of peaches.
“I could hardly believe it. There were all these little kids running around that needed to be fed, and she handed me this can of peaches. I took it and put it in my cart and went on up the street. I got about halfway up the block when I just felt warm all over and knew I needed to go back to that house. I gave her all the food.”
The adviser said, “Jim, don’t you ever forget the way you feel tonight, because that’s what it is all about.” Jim had tasted the nutrient of selfless service.

In 1989, when Daniel and Thérèse Kola learned about the restored gospel, much of their income came from sales of coffee, tobacco, and alcohol at their café. After accepting the Word of Wisdom, though, they wondered if it was right to market things they wanted to avoid. They debated what to do until the day of their baptism. They decided to give up their old livelihood, like Christ’s ancient disciples.
“In the morning, the decision was made,” Daniel Kola recalled. They sold their shop and were baptised, confident they had done what the Lord would have them do. “We had that joy in our heart because we felt something.”
For the next seven years, Daniel and Thérèse served faithfully as the Church grew in their country. Like others in DR Congo’s first generation of Latter-day Saints, they learned step-by-step. In 1996, Congolese Church leaders were challenged to take the next step in their development. Although Kinshasa was nearly 4,000 kilometres from the nearest temple, in Johannesburg, South Africa, a group of over 20 local leaders were invited to travel to the temple together to be endowed with power from heaven and sealed to their spouses for eternity. It was the first group temple trip in Congo’s history.
The years after the temple trip were vital ones for the Church in Congo. In the late 1990s, stake after stake was organized in the country. Most of the men first called as stake presidents, including Daniel Kola, had participated in that temple caravan.
In 2007, Daniel Kola was called as an Area Seventy. The next year, he travelled to Utah to attend general conference and was blessed to attend the temple an additional five times to perform initiatory, endowment, and sealing ordinances for his ancestors, including being sealed to his own parents. “When I received my endowment, there was a lot I didn’t understand,” Kola reflected. “But today, I understand, and my knowledge is much more profound.”
As he developed a deeper appreciation for the temple, Kola also developed a greater interest in family history. Along with many others, he came to recognize that he lived at a crucial time, when the names and stories of many ancestors were still in living memory but at risk of being lost if they were not recorded. In 2018, Daniel Kola’s nonprofit organization contracted with FamilySearch to travel around the Democratic Republic of the Congo recording oral histories, aiming to gather 400,000 names in 12 months.

All was not happiness for Don, however, for he longed to see his home, his family, and his friends. In spite of his high resolve, his vision clouded when he looked down at his crippled legs. Wonderful Church members tried to fill his hour of need, and Don said, “Through their kindness they put a smile on my face and laughter in my mouth.”
As time drew near for him to be released, he began to worry about his acceptance by friends and family upon his return.
The day finally came when his foster parents arrived. It was an ordeal for Don to muster up enough courage to direct the question that had filled his mind completely. “Do you want me to come back?” he asked apprehensively. They softly replied, “Of course, Don. We have a bed waiting for you.” The kind response was too much for him! This time his tears flowed freely and mixed with theirs in a demonstration of joy and love.

My great-grandparents are two of my heroes. They settled in Kaysville, Utah, where they built a home for their growing family. They had just finished their home, when John Taylor, the President of the Church then, needed a place to stay. My great-grandparents offered their new seven-room, two-story home to the prophet.
President Taylor and his office staff moved in, and my great-grandparents and their children moved to an old log cabin behind the home. While President Taylor lived in the house, my great-grandmother cooked and washed for him and his office staff, along with the cooking and washing she did for her own family. She and her husband worked very hard to serve the prophet of the Lord. When I read about what they did, I am impressed with the examples they set. I want to live the same kind of life they did.

Janette Hales Beckham related this experience her husband had while attending medical school. “Getting into medical school is pretty competitive, and the desire to do well and be successful puts a great deal of pressure on the new incoming freshmen. My husband had worked hard on his studies and went to attend his first examination. The honor system was expected behavior at the medical school. The professor passed out the examination and left the room. Within a short time, students started to pull little cheat papers out from under their papers or from their pockets. My husband recalled his heart beginning to pound as he realized it is pretty hard to compete against cheaters. About that time a tall, lanky student stood up in the back of the room and stated: ‘I left my hometown and put my wife and three little babies in an upstairs apartment and worked very hard to get into medical school. And I’ll turn in the first one of you who cheats, and you better believe it!’ They believed it. There were many sheepish expressions, and those cheat papers started to disappear as fast as they had appeared. He set a standard for the class which eventually graduated the largest group in the school’s history.”
The young, lanky medical student who challenged the cheaters was J Ballard Washburn, who became a respected physician and was recognized by the Utah Medical Association for his outstanding service. He also served as a General Authority and is now the president of the Las Vegas Nevada Temple.

A true story from the USA.
Kevin shook the bishop’s hand and walked out of the office. He looked down at the little card he was holding. It was his very own temple recommend!
Dad was waiting for him in the hallway. “When can we go to the temple?” Kevin asked him.
Dad grinned. “We can set an appointment as soon as we get home.”
Kevin and Dad made an appointment to do baptisms for the dead. But when the day of the appointment came, Kevin was sick, so they rescheduled. And then they had to reschedule again because Dad had an emergency work trip.
Kevin began to wonder if he’d ever go to the temple.
When the day of the third appointment came, Kevin was ready! He and Dad planned to leave for the temple right after dinner.
Kevin smiled as he got ready for school. But his good mood disappeared when his math teacher announced a pop quiz. The quiz didn’t go well. Neither did the rest of the school day. And by the time Mom picked him up, he had a headache.
“Remember that you’re in charge for a bit at home while I run a quick errand?” Mom asked.
Kevin winced. He had not remembered.
The minute Mom left, Kevin’s brothers started arguing. When Kevin tried to help them solve the problem, they got mad at him. Could this day get any worse?
Yup! Just then, his little sister spilled milk all over the kitchen floor. As he mopped it up, Kevin’s heart was beating fast, and his muscles were tight.
Mom came back as he was putting the mop away. “Did your sister spill again?”
Kevin nodded and rolled his shoulders, trying to relax. “It’s been a bad day.”
“What happened?” Mom asked.
“It’s just been so stressful. It doesn’t seem like a good day to go to the temple.”
“We can choose a different day,” Mom said.
The thought of rescheduling again made Kevin feel even worse. “No,” he said. “I want to go. I just don’t feel very peaceful.”
“Heavenly Father will welcome you in His house whether or not you feel peace,” Mom said. “And Jesus Christ is the Prince of Peace. Lots of times you can find peace in the temple even if you’ve had a stressful day.”
Kevin sighed. “I’ll give it a try.”
During dinner and the drive to the temple, he kept thinking of all the bad things that had happened that day. He still felt tense when he and Dad got to the temple. But as soon as Kevin walked through the doors, he relaxed a little.
The temple was clean and quiet inside. Everyone wore white and spoke softly. As he changed into a white jumpsuit in the dressing room, Kevin noticed he was moving slower and speaking softer too. When it was his turn to do baptisms, he felt even better.
Dad baptized Kevin for four people who had died. Peace and happiness started to grow inside Kevin. It wasn’t just because he was in such a peaceful place, but also because he had helped people make covenants with God.
On the drive home, Kevin realized he wasn’t stressed anymore. And he was smiling again! He only had one question for Dad.
“When can I go back to the temple?”
Dad laughed. “Soon.”

After my husband would leave for work, I used to finish my daily housework and then lie down and spend a few hours on Facebook, Messenger, and Instagram. I spent almost 15 hours a week on social media. I couldn’t seem to stop sharing funny videos and images, but I seldom shared messages about the Church. Often at bedtime, my husband had to help me get off social media so I could get to sleep.
At this time, I set a goal to read the Bible all the way through to help me better understand the gospel of Jesus Christ. Each day I dedicated myself to read approximately three chapters. On days that social media ate up some of my time, I would try to read a little extra.
One night I put my Bible beside me to read a few chapters. But before reading, I grabbed my phone and spent the next hour and a half on social media. When I realized what time it was, I put my phone aside and knelt to pray. My prayer didn’t last even 10 seconds. As soon as I stood up, a voice came to my mind, saying, “I would that you invest as much time to prayer as you do to social media.”
I was surprised to receive such a direct message from the Spirit. I knew what to do and didn’t hesitate for a second. Immediately, I deleted the social media apps from my phone and began a social media fast.
A week later, I was endowed in the holy temple. Along with the covenants I made with the Lord, I promised Him that in my free time I would read about the Church and about the Prophet Joseph Smith and continue reading the Bible.
Heavenly Father has greatly blessed me for deciding to make a better choice by getting away from social media and spending more time learning about the restored gospel of Jesus Christ.

A new girl joined our school class in the middle of the year. She looked and spoke differently than the other students. She had moved around a lot and had a hard time making friends. She had sad things happening in her family and came to school crying on some days. I knew I wanted to try to help this girl, but I wasn’t exactly sure what I should do because she did not always like to talk with other children. I prayed about what I should do and could feel the Holy Ghost whisper that I should just try to be her friend.
I helped her with her schoolwork and told her that our Heavenly Father gave her special talents for her to use and share with others. I invited her to play with me and other students at recess. A few months later, she said I was the first friend she ever had.
She had to move again, and I felt really sad. I asked the school secretary to send a letter to her at her new address. In the letter, I told my friend I would miss her and that she would always be my friend. I drew pictures of us playing together and reminded her of some of her talents. I told her she should be brave and try to make a new friend because she could help someone else. I prayed that she would find a friend in her new school and that the other children would be nice to her.
I know that Heavenly Father loves all of His children, and I am thankful that He helps us to help each of them.

“Hundreds of thousands of dollars had to be raised, and such amounts of money are not easy to come by. One young couple saved $2,000 to come to Salt Lake City to go through the temple, a dream they had shared for many years. But when they were asked to contribute to the temple fund, they gave up that dream for the sake of another—the dream that every Brazilian Saint could go through the temple, instead of just a few.

“When I read about these and other sacrifices that Saints in Brazil had made, I realized my sacrifices hardly classify as sacrifices at all.”

Throughout the year the girls participated in a variety of money-raising projects. To the usual baked-food sales one of the groups added caramel popcorn, another sponsored a spaghetti dinner, and several of the classes sold concessions at stake sports events. The girls had car washes, pop bottle drives, and Christmas tree sales. One ward sponsored a carnival (complete with balloon-shaving and doughnut-eating contests); another cut out, made, and sold doll clothes; and a third took orders for and assembled silk flower corsages for Mother’s Day gifts. Several nonmembers became as enthusiastically involved as their Mia Maid friends.

Along with the money-raising events came “spirit-raising” events. Lessons were devoted to learning about the Saints in Brazil, temple marriage, and the significance, structure, and purpose of our modern-day temples. In addition, some of the girls were able to visit the Alberta Temple and do baptisms for the dead. But the highlight of the year was the special stake meeting held for all the Mia Maids, their parents, and leaders at the completion of the project. A Mia Maid from each ward explained how her class had raised the money and then gave her testimony of this special project. Next was the presentation of a story “The Dark Blue Suit” (see the July 1978 New Era), which gave a little insight into the faith and attitudes of some of the Saints in Brazil.

The conclusion of the evening was a talk by stake president Lamont Matkin concerning what the temple in Cardston should mean to the Mia Maids in the Lethbridge Stake.

Adviser Lesley Heath of the First Ward summed up her feelings about the year by saying, “It was a time of learning—about the Brazilian people, about the value of temples, and about the special beauty of each individual Mia Maid in my class. Only I, as their adviser, will ever know the real sacrifice of the two girls in our class who went the extra mile and donated twice as much of their babysitting money as they had promised. Only I will ever know of another girl who took the time away from a special event with her friends to work all day at the basketball concession stand. I’m grateful for this experience, and for the vision it gave us of what we can do.”

I returned home from my mission in Arizona, USA, just as the pandemic started spreading across the globe. During the last few weeks of my mission, I had been creating a vision for where I wanted my life to go once I returned home. I made specific plans and goals and was ready to get started! I planned to go to nursing school, to start new hobbies and find new friends, and to seize so many opportunities that come during young adulthood. I felt a sense of peace and assurance that God was guiding me and had great things in store for me after my mission.
That changed soon after I got home.
One by one, my plans were canceled because of COVID-19. I began to question and doubt the decisions and goals I had made. I chose to start looking for a job while waiting for online classes to start instead of moving to another state to begin school like I had originally planned. After a while, I felt I had lost my purpose and was wasting so much time. I was used to always having a jam-packed schedule as a missionary, and so I suddenly felt lonely, bored, and useless.
I wasn’t looking forward to the future. I didn’t want to face this life transition. I wanted to go back in time, to return to past friendships and places that had once made me happy. The vision and plans I had for my life just a few weeks before had disappeared, and I felt like I was paralyzed by darkness, fear, and discouragement. I didn’t feel like myself at all. I had just finished the most amazing experience of serving the Lord for 18 months, but now I felt lower than I ever had in my life.
I wondered why everything was going wrong and where the Lord’s promised blessings were. The reassurances I had felt in the final weeks of my mission seemed to have disappeared.
Then general conference came, and I realized how much I was lacking in one specific area of life—hope.
Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles gave a talk titled “A Perfect Brightness of Hope” (April 2020 general conference), and it especially stood out to me. I realized that because of my faith in Christ, I could and should hope for better things to come. Because Christ lives and is constantly working in my life, I realized my future will be just as miracle-filled and bountifully blessed as my past has been.
Because the Savior felt and overcame everything I will ever face, I could believe, despite every reason not to believe, that things were going to get better—even if my plans were sometimes skewed.

In October 1840, 34-year-old Vilate Kimball wrote a letter to her husband, Elder Heber C. Kimball of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. “President [Joseph] Smith has opened a new and glorious subject … which has caused quite a revival in the church,” Vilate wrote to Heber, who was serving his second mission to Great Britain. The subject of Joseph Smith’s teaching on this occasion was baptism for those who hadn’t had the opportunity in their lifetimes.
“Joseph has received a more full explanation of it by Revelation,” she reported. “It is the privilege of this church to be baptised for all their kinsfolks that have died before this Gospel came forth.” Vilate celebrated the revelation that in doing these proxy baptisms for deceased family members, “we act as agents for them; and give them the privilege of coming forth in the first resurrection.”
The Kimballs had moved from New York to be with the Saints in Kirtland, Ohio, and then moved to Far West, Missouri. Just a year later, in 1839, they had to flee Missouri with thousands of other Latter-day Saints to escape persecution at the hands of violent mobs. They made their home in Nauvoo, hundreds of miles from where their journey had started.
Although their arrival in Nauvoo had been under trying circumstances, Vilate’s October 1840 letter to her husband was teeming with excitement. “I want to be baptised for my Mother,” she exclaimed. “I calculated to wait until you come home, but the last time Joseph spoke upon the subject, he advised every one to be up and a doing, and liberate their friends from bondage as quick as possible. … Thus you see there is a chance for all. Is not this a glorious doctrine?”
Vilate was one of the first women to be baptized for the dead in Nauvoo.

I met Regis Carlus for the first time in 1995 in France. He was not a member of the Church. His daughter, Charlotte, was being sealed in the Bern Switzerland Temple the next day, and he had written, asking if he could stop by my office to meet me. He had heard that I often inquired about him, and he was perplexed as to why.

After being called as a General Authority and assigned to serve in the Europe/Mediterranean Area Presidency, I received Mr. Carlus’s request to meet and hoped that he would follow his children into the restored gospel.

When Charlotte’s father was a university student in the 1960s, the missionaries had taught him the gospel. He was drawn to the restored Church and felt the power of the Book of Mormon. He decided, however, that joining a small, American-based church would not help his professional career.

Now, as I greeted Mr. Carlus and exchanged pleasantries that day in 1995, he asked why I had demonstrated such an interest in him.

After praying with him, I told him that these few minutes with him might be the only time in this life that I would see him. I complimented him on his remarkable daughter and son and told him I respected him immensely for raising two righteous children.

Then I spoke to him of the purposes of the Savior in restoring His gospel upon the earth, the role of the priesthood, the importance of family and the sealing power, and the gathering of a covenant people across the world.

I told him I felt that when the missionaries taught him as a university student, his righteous destiny was to join the covenant people of the Church. I asked that he not be offended as we read two verses that I felt applied to him.

Together we read in Alma about those “called and prepared from the foundation of the world … on account of their exceeding faith and good works; in the first place being left to choose good or evil; therefore they having chosen good, and exercising exceedingly great faith, are called with a holy calling … while others would reject the Spirit of God on account of the hardness of their hearts and blindness of their minds, while, if it had not been for this [for they were on the same standing] they might have had as great privilege as their brethren” (Alma 13:3–4).

I politely shared with Mr. Carlus that I believed he had been prepared to be with us, and when he refused because of the appeals of the world, the Lord continued to bless him with two choice spirits to be his children. They embraced the covenant path meant for his family. Then I invited him to accept the invitation he had been given 30 years before.

Regis Carlus did not join the Church in this life, but his children had chosen the covenant path, and they have remained on the path.

I recently faced the issue of relevancy in my own life. While serving as bishop of a University of Utah student ward, I received an appointment that would take me to the United Nations and later to Switzerland, during the coming arms control negotiations there. I had grave doubts as to whether I should or should not accept this appointment, as it would necessitate my release as bishop and take me from my family for several weeks, pending their joining me at Geneva. I asked my stake president for guidance, and with his affirmative advice, I accepted.
On the last few occasions that I spoke to my ward family, I was forced by the prospect of our separation to speak upon subjects that I considered most helpful to them, as judged from the perspective we shared—that of a common belief in the gospel.
My talks on those occasions were entirely devoid of current events, either domestic or foreign. In fact, as I think back on the year spent as bishop, I do not recall a church meeting in which I spoke on a current event with my ward family. I do not say this to suggest that eternal gospel principles do not serve as guides in helping meet current problems, for of course they do. Nor do I mean to infer that current topics may not, in the proper setting, be appropriate subjects for Church talks and classes. However, given the relatively short time I had with my brothers and sisters, I felt that my time, my influence upon them, the force of my own knowledge, testimony, and priesthood power could better be spent upon basic things, eternal things.
Their lives, spanning more years into the future than my own, would undoubtedly include confrontations with specific problems that I could not now foresee. The best way to arm them to meet these challenges, I felt—and still do—was for me to talk about basic Church doctrine and to leave many current issues for them to resolve on the basis of their own application of gospel principles.

I spent two weeks in the hospital. I was bored, had bad headaches every day, and was afraid while waiting for the diagnosis. But one good friend of mine sent me some New Eras, and when I was reading them, I forgot about the pain and fear, and I felt peace in my mind and knew that everything will be okay.
I want to give my thanks to all the people who prepare the New Era because it’s a good way to spend time and find peace and hope in all the wonderful stories and talks and answers we are looking for.Tereza R., Czech Republic

When I was eight, I saw the prophet, President David O. McKay (1873–1970). He came to dedicate a new Church building in Palmyra, New York, USA. My family went to the dedication. A lot of other people came too. We were all excited to see the prophet!
I was pretty small, so it was hard for me to see around all the people. But I could still feel President McKay’s love. For just a minute, I saw his white hair and his kind face. I thought, “This is what a prophet of God looks like.” I had read about prophets in the scriptures, but this was my first time seeing a prophet or any General Authority in person. I realized that prophets are real people. And they love us! I’ll always remember the love and peace I felt that day.

David and Shauna Bond, parents of a formerly drug-abusing teenager, believe they were able to help their son end his drug abuse at an early stage in part because they were informed. Brother Bond was familiar with the signs of drug and alcohol abuse and recognized them in his son.
“When we discovered Mike was using drugs, I got anti-drug literature and told him he had to read it; then we would discuss it together,” says Brother Bond. “Mike thought he knew what it was all about, but he didn’t. Part of convincing him to stop was educating him to the dangers of drugs and letting him know that his parents were informed.”
Although there is, of course, no guaranteed treatment method, just as there is no guaranteed prevention, those three principles worked for Brother and Sister Bond. After recognizing their son’s problem, the Bonds acted firmly and without hesitation in a spirit of love. First, Brother Bond confronted Mike in a calm, loving way, telling him that any use of drugs in their home was unacceptable.
When Mike continued using drugs, the Bonds used every resource they could think of to get him off drugs and keep him off: They informed themselves about drugs; they communicated with school officials about Mike’s problem and asked them to report suspicious behavior; they searched for evidence of what Mike was using and who was supplying him; and they established rules for Mike and would not change them. All this was done with constant reassurance to Mike that the main reason they were willing to do so much was that they loved him so deeply.
“I just said, ‘Look, I love you too much to let this happen to you. You have a choice. I have a choice, too,’” says Brother Bond.
At one point, after Mike had said he wasn’t using drugs any more but his parents discovered otherwise, Brother Bond acted promptly and firmly.
“I asked Mike who was selling to him, and he wouldn’t tell me. I told him, ‘I’ll find out, and when I do, I’m going to prosecute him to the limit of the law. If it means I have to hire a detective to find out who’s supplying you, I’ll do it.’ I think Mike really heard that, and I don’t think he’s used drugs since then.”
Following through on a warning can be frightening for parents, who may fear alienating their already troubled child. Mike was furious at his parents for their intervention, and their relationship “definitely got worse,” says Brother Bond. But the temporary loss of communication was worth the end result: a drug-free son.

After returning from two years of missionary service in Bolivia, I began to look for ways to reduce the time it would require me to get through my education to become a physician. I was directed to a program sponsored by Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore, Maryland. This very prestigious school accepted 25 students a year from undergraduate schools across the country to be part of a five-year program that resulted in a Bachelor of Science, plus an MD degree. I was just starting my sophomore year of college, so admittance to this special program, though expensive, would save me a full year of schooling. Instead of two more years at BYU, followed by four years of medical school, I could achieve my degree in five years-time. It sounded fantastic. I committed to do what it would take to be considered.

My sophomore year at BYU was hard! I needed to take all of my prerequisite science classes at once! That made for a heavy load. It would also mean taking my medical school admission test (the MCAT) at the end of my sophomore year, competing with recent college graduates and grad students. But the determination was there, and I had the support of my new bride, Ann.

The school year finished. My grades were excellent and my MCAT scores were near the very highest percentile. With all the requirements met, I submitted my application. A few weeks later, I received a letter saying that I was one of 60 finalists that had been chosen from around the country. They desired that I come back to Baltimore for an interview. I made the trip back East, and, after meeting the other finalists, felt that my chances were quite good. I was older, married, had been out in the real world doing service work, spoke another language, and so forth. I was excited.

The morning of the interview came. I sat in front of half a dozen physicians and professors. Rather than ask about my experiences, one of the professors zeroed in on the fact that I had been a missionary. The spirit in the room grew heavy and dark as this gentleman begin asking negative questions and making accusations against me. “What makes you feel you have the right to go to another country and culture and push your beliefs on them? Who are you to decide what is best for another?” I felt like I was on trial. About all I could do was to bear my testimony and crawl back to Provo. I was certainly qualified but did not get an invitation to join the elite class of 25. I was disappointed and a little angry. It didn’t seem fair. My plans had not worked out. I felt I had been disqualified because of my faith.

Luckily, I have a great companion. She was able to console and brighten my outlook. After a while, I decided that rather than be bitter, I would look for a silver lining. I had a fabulous third year at BYU, taking whatever class I wanted because all of my medical school prerequisites were done. I decided to go ahead and apply to medical school as a junior, and was pleasantly surprised when the requests for interviews began to pour in. Then the acceptance letters began to appear! I ended up selecting an acceptance from the University of California, San Francisco medical school at the end of my junior year. Being a California resident, going to this medical school meant that I would not be up to my eyeballs in debt upon graduation, like I would have been at Johns Hopkins. As it turned out, I graduated with my MD degree at the very same time as the class I had so desired to be in graduated back East! UCSF was arguably a better school and closer to home. Ann and I made lifelong friends there. Because we had gone to school in San Francisco, I had substantial freedom in choosing where to go after my medical residency, not being in any significant debt. This opened up the opportunity for us to go overseas, something that would have been much less likely had I attended Johns Hopkins. Our overseas experiences, including the adoption of three children, blessed our lives in incalculable fashion. Looking back, seeing through my eyes more clearly, I would not change a thing. The lives we stepped into were better than anything we had planned or could have imagined.

Obviously, my vision pales in comparison to His! How fortunate that I didn’t get my way.

When I was young, my two older sisters faced some very serious heart challenges. Julie Ann inherited hers at birth. Kimberly's developed later in her childhood. Their conditions were unrelated to each other, but both impacted the heart. Here is a picture of these two angel sisters.
Neither of them won their battles--but what a legacy of love they both left behind. Before long, doctors became concerned that some genetic tendencies may have been passed down to me and my younger sisters.
They felt it would be wise to do some testing on the siblings. I recall being pulled out of school and taken to a children's hospital about an hour's drive away. They conducted a series of extensive and rigorous tests on my heart. I was fascinated with all the equipment and monitors. The burning question on my young boy's mind was, "Doctor, how's my heart?" Fortunately, they found all to be well.

I have been remarkably blessed by the moral influence of women, in particular my mother and my wife. Among other women that I look to in gratitude is Anna Daines. Anna and her husband, Henry, and their four children were among the pioneers of the Church in New Jersey, in the United States. Beginning in the 1930s, when Henry was a doctoral student at Rutgers University, he and Anna worked tirelessly with school and civic organizations in Metuchen, where they lived, to overcome deeply rooted prejudice against Mormons and to make the community a better place for all parents to raise their children.

Anna, for example, volunteered at the Metuchen YMCA and made herself indispensable. Within a year she was appointed president of the Mothers’ Auxiliary and then “was asked to run for one of the three women’s positions on the YMCA board of directors. She won without opposition, and so joined the very council that only a few years before had refused to let the Saints meet in their building!”

On August 25, 1975, a big bully who operated a shoe repair shop, along busy Herran street in Paco, Manila, resenting Elder Mabunga’s protest over the obvious overcharging for the repair of Elder Larkin’s pair of shoes, held the Filipino missionary by the collar and started to manhandle him.
The ensuing commotion caught the attention of an off-duty cop who was by chance in the vicinity and who came to the aid of the missionaries. The incident ended with a brief interlude of friendship with the cop, to whom they related their experience a week before, who in turn promised to help in the apprehension of the holdup men.
They shook hands and parted ways—but the harrowing experience of two unnerving incidents in a week’s time apparently was disconcerting to the two missionaries. Both forgot to take note of the cop’s name and address! That evening, they prayed hard for an opportunity to cross paths with him again.
One evening during the same week, they were teaching the gospel to the big Molinos family residing at Fabie Estate, Paco, Manila when someone knocked on the door. The elders momentarily stopped as the head of the family excused himself to open the door.
The Lord, indeed, works in strange ways. Who should come knocking on the door but the cop whose name the two elders forgot to take note of, and who turned out to be a relative on an unscheduled visit to the Molinos family without any purpose in mind.
The reunion resulted in a new turn of events in the life of the cop. He joined the Molinos family in listening to the message of the elders, hardly realizing that Elder Larkin and Elder Mabunga were silently thanking the Lord for an opportunity that came at the least expected moment.—P. Ocampo Jr.
Notes: The cop, Patrolman Antonio Buenaflor Molinos of Precinct 5, was baptized September 27, 1975, almost a month ahead of the big Molinos family of 2174 Road 5, Fabie Estate, Paco, Manila.
One of the holduppers was apprehended and jailed.