Gospel Story Finder

I was invited to go on a camping trip with all the priests in my stake the summer before I left for college. I had just recently come back to Church after three years away. I had an extremely small testimony when I arrived at the stake center ready to go camping. I cared more about sleeping and remote-control cars than I did about the Lord. I had no clue what the trip was about, but I knew deep down I needed to go on it.
Through the entire trip my testimony kept strengthening. Every experience I had kept pushing me forward. I broke down in tears daily as I felt the Spirit touch me. On the last day of the trip, all the dirty and smelly priests gathered in the smallest branch meetinghouse I had ever seen. One by one we all shared our testimonies. When it was my turn to stand up, I felt the Spirit so strongly I started shaking. I could not stop crying, but I knew I was doing the right thing. I needed to share the testimony I had gained on this trip.
All the boys from my ward turned around and looked at me as I shared the precious gift I had been given. I could see they felt the Spirit, and this made the Spirit feel even stronger within me. I then knew, without a doubt, I was a child of God, and I had made the right decision to be baptized into the true Church of God. I knew at that moment I needed to become the best person I could be, so I would be able to be a loyal servant in the hands of the Lord.
I will always remember the looks on the faces of the priests in my ward as I shared my testimony that day. Every time I look back at that moment, I am touched by the Spirit. I had never borne my testimony before that day, nor had I received one I could share. But in that week I had grown more than I had grown since I was baptized six years earlier. I experienced the change of heart I had only read about. I had become fully converted.

Early in 1957, two missionaries knocked on his mother’s door and she invited them in. This was the start of John Douglas Jeffrey’s learning about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. As he and his mother spent time with the missionaries, the Holy Ghost bore witness to him that the Church was true because the missionaries were able to answer all of his questions.
Later, John moved to Townsville, Queensland, where he met more missionaries who continued to teach him, and also his new wife, Lois. In September 1957 they became the first people to join the Church in Townsville. He was baptised in Bluewater Creek just north of Townsville. (Baptisms in creeks or swimming pools were common in the early days of the Church.)
“Learning about the true Church changed my life,” John reflects. “I have wondered what I would have done if my mother said ‘no’ when those missionaries knocked on her door!” With a new gospel perspective, John and Lois saved up to visit the Hamilton New Zealand Temple, where their family was sealed for time and all eternity. “It took us a good while because we had four children and of course we had to take them to be sealed to us!”
John taught at the Townsville Grammar School and witnessed the struggles of a growing small branch. In those days there were few chapels in Australia and members met in homes or in rented halls. After 15 years in Townsville, he received an invitation to teach at the relatively new police academy in Oxley, Brisbane. He had only been at the police academy two years when he was invited to join the Church Educational System as a coordinator in Brisbane.
The first stake in Queensland was organized in 1960 with William E Waters called as the stake president. He was followed by a man from Scotland called William E Proctor. It was during this time that John was called to be the bishop of the Inala Ward. His time as bishop was short because after two years he was called to serve on the high council.
In those days, the geographic area of the stake was huge, covering much of the southeast of Queensland around Brisbane — north to Nambour, south to the Gold Coast, and west to Toowoomba. In 1975, John was called as president of the Brisbane Australia Stake.
President Jeffrey noticed how far some members had to travel to get to church each week, so he took a map and drew an 8 km radius around each congregation. He then worked with Church physical facility authorities in Sydney to create branches in the areas lying within those circles. Those branches met in school halls until they were strong enough to qualify for a chapel. This meant that members didn’t have to drive as far to attend Church meetings. This direction paved the way for the future growth of membership in Queensland.
In 1978, just three years after his call as the Brisbane Stake president, John recommended the stake be divided. He then became the president of the new Brisbane Australia South Stake. Only three years after that, in 1981, another stake was created and called the Brisbane Australia West Stake.
Today there are 12 stakes in the greater Brisbane area.
On top of his Church leadership service, John has also had vast experience with Church employment, he has been a coordinator for Seminaries and Institutes, and he was the Australia and Pacific Area director for the Church Educational System.
He went from new convert to branch president (Townsville Branch), to district president (Townsville District), to bishop (Inala Ward), stake president (multiple stakes), and then mission president (Winnipeg Canada). John also served as a regional representative (now known as Area Seventy), as the first president of the Brisbane Australia Temple, and as executive secretary to the Pacific Area Presidency.
“The Lord was very kind to me, putting me in positions where I was given great gospel experiences and training by the General Authorities,” John says. “Also, I was hired by Seminaries and Institutes because I loved to read and study the scriptures. Now in retirement I am more focused on efforts to . . . live like the Saviour taught.”
John’s wife, Lois Gay Tucker, passed away on 19 June 2014. They had six daughters and one son: Jennifer, Elizabeth, Karen, Anita, Lynis, Larissa and David. “I can bear testimony of the value of having a great helpmeet, having 57 years together we helped each other through many challenging experiences, including times with very little money to feed our family, but we always paid our tithing, and we survived those times with the Lord’s help . . . and we knew He would [help] because of our faith in Him.”
John, now 87, lives in Redland Bay in Brisbane Australia Cleveland Stake. He continues to be a faithful servant of the Lord and testifies of the gospel that continues to sustain him: “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is true, and we have a living prophet as His mouthpiece here on Earth, even President Russell M. Nelson!”

Leaving my quiet moment of reminiscence behind, I rose from the steps to clean the dog’s run. I grabbed the shovel and the hose and let Hush Pup, our old dog, out of his run to soak up some sunshine.
Just then my husband, who had been in the backyard building a deck, came around the house. He smiled, took the shovel from my hands without a word, and began to help. I was shocked. My husband was trying to finish the deck before the cold weather set in. He never left a project in the middle of the day. Grateful for the unexpected help, I started hosing down the other end of the run.
All of a sudden my husband began to scream. I looked up to see a swarm of wasps surrounding and attacking him. A calming voice in my mind said, “Spray him with water.” I did. Even while he ran I kept aiming the stream of water at him. Although the water repelled the wasps, he was still stung seven times.
While we attended to his left arm, where most of the stings were, a thought came to me. I had been spared! I’m allergic to bees. And due to the cancer, the lymph nodes had been removed from my left arm. If I had been stung, I would not have been able to fight the poisons from the stings and nobody would have been there to spray me with water.
A feeling of love and warmth filled my heart. I was so grateful my husband had listened to the promptings of the Holy Ghost. My life had been spared a second time.

My grandpa was not a member of the Church, but he taught me to be fair and honest with everyone. I remember being in the field with him when storm clouds quickly came up. Grandpa unhooked the horses from the wagon so that they could run back to the barn. Then he and I got under the wagon. As we lay there, waiting for the storm to pass, my grandpa told me all about his parents and brothers and sisters.

During my years in the military, I took many classes about how to be a good leader. But the most important lessons I ever learned about leadership were from my mother, who taught me how to treat people. As she washed dishes and I dried them, we talked. She taught me to always treat people kindly and to treat them all equally. This is what it means to be a good leader—treating others kindly and honestly.

This story happened in the Philippines.
“I miss G-pop,” Macy told her grandma. She called her grandparents G-pop and G-mom. “Ever since he went to the hospital, I’ve wanted to help him. But I don’t know how.”
Macy pushed around the food on her plate. It was her favorite breakfast—rice, eggs, and hot dogs. But she felt too sad to eat.
G-mom put her arm around Macy. “I understand. Sometimes we feel helpless when someone we love is going through a difficult time. But remember, there are two people who love us even more than we can imagine.”
“Who?” Macy asked.
“Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ,” G-mom said. “When we have faith in Them, They guide us and give us strength.”
As Macy listened, her heart felt hopeful. She knew that Heavenly Father and Jesus could help G-pop.
That night, Macy knelt by her bed and closed her eyes.
“Heavenly Father, please watch over G-pop and help him feel better. I love him, and I love Thee too. Please help me to know what I can do for him.”
The next morning, Macy woke up to the sun shining through her curtains. She had an idea! Singing Primary songs and Church hymns was one of the things she and G-pop loved to do together. Maybe that would bring him comfort!
She got up, said her morning prayer, then asked G-mom if she could visit G-pop. Soon, they were on their way to the hospital together. She was excited to finally see G-pop again and hopefully make him smile.
When Macy walked into the hospital room, G-pop was sitting up in bed with a blanket over his legs. He looked tired. But when he saw Macy, his face lit up with joy. She ran to him and gave him a gentle hug.
“Good morning, G-pop!”
“What brings you here, my little lang-lang Macy?”
Lang-lang meant “love.” It was G-pop’s favorite nickname for Macy.
“I want to sing for you,” Macy said. She sat beside him on his bed and opened her songbook. “I am a child of God, and He has sent me here . . .” she began.
G-pop’s eyes filled with tears of joy. He joined in and started singing too.
“. . . has given me an earthly home with parents kind and dear.”*
Their voices filled the small hospital room. Soon, G-mom joined in too. Macy had a peaceful feeling in her heart as they sang together.
When they finished, Macy reached out her hand, and G-pop held it tightly.
“Let’s pray, G-pop.”
Together they prayed, and Macy asked Heavenly Father to bless G-pop with strength and healing.
After the prayer, G-pop looked at Macy. “Thank you for your beautiful songs and prayers. You’ve helped me feel better. Even though you’re small, you have a big heart filled with love.”
Macy smiled. She was happy that her love and faith had helped G-pop feel better. She knew that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ would always be there to help her family in hard times.
Illustrations by Chrisanne Serafin

My older brother, Gary, is two years my senior and was born mentally retarded. He attended public schools until about fourth grade. Part of my early years were spent defending him from the teasing and taunts of his classmates. I couldn’t understand how anyone could be so unfeeling of his situation. Because of my experiences with my brother, I developed a sensitivity to people who are different in any way. We all need to be like Jesus and reach out to those who are different from us. Thinking about the Savior and making Him a part of our lives helps us develop compassion. Jesus ought to be our best friend. Through prayer and thinking about Jesus, we can develop a greater sensitivity to other people and their needs.

On my sixth birthday my parents gave me a Book of Mormon with their testimonies written inside the front cover. They challenged me to read it before my eighth birthday and baptism. As part of my bedtime routine, I read the Book of Mormon every night. Sometimes I read it while driving around or at the beach. The more I read, the better I became at reading. When I was seven and a half years old, I finished the Book of Mormon. It strengthened my testimony, and I know that the Book of Mormon is true. I feel prepared for my baptism and am excited for it. I have started to read the Book of Mormon again.
Lana B., age 7, Hawaii, USA

Anciently, certain women sacrificed as they testified and lived the teachings of Jesus. Certain women in the early days of the Restoration did the same. Drusilla Hendricks and her family were among those who, as new converts, suffered during the persecution of the Saints in Clay County, Missouri. Her husband was permanently paralyzed during the Battle of Crooked River. She was left to care for him as well as provide for her family.
“At one particularly distressing time, when the family was out of food, she remembered that a voice told her, ‘Hold on, for the Lord will provide.’”
When her son was needed to volunteer for the Mormon Battalion, at first Drusilla resisted and wrestled in prayer with Heavenly Father until “it was as though a voice said to her, ‘Do you not want the highest glory?’ She answered naturally, ‘Yes,’ and the voice continued, ‘How do you think to gain it save by making the greatest sacrifices?’”
We learn from this certain woman that covenant-keeping discipleship requires our willingness to sacrifice.

When Juliana Circe da Costa, a member of the Colônia Branch, Jundiaí Brazil Stake, turned 18, she was worried about attending Relief Society. “I was afraid I would be alone and wouldn’t be comfortable with the adult women in the branch,” she says. “In the beginning it was strange, but the Lord has a purpose for everything. I’m not saying it was easy, but I’m grateful to the Lord and the sisters who were so wonderful to me.”
Juliana’s Relief Society president, Rita Ribereiro Pandolfi, played a key role in Juliana’s transition. “In our branch we receive the young women with open arms,” she says. “We know they face many changes when they leave Young Women and begin attending Relief Society.”
Like Juliana, many young women find that entering Relief Society can be an adjustment. However, not all young women are apprehensive about joining Relief Society. For some, entering Relief Society is a welcome rite of passage. “I felt ready for the change,” says Rachel Kramer of the Chapel Hill First Ward, Durham North Carolina Stake. “I was just as ready to leave Young Women at 18 as I had been to become part of it at 12. I felt that the women in Relief Society were wise, brimming with the virtue of a life in harmony with the gospel. And I was glad to go on to the ‘meatier’ gospel discussions and to be around so many women I could look up to.”
Ready to attend or not, young women entering Relief Society need the same thing—to be loved and valued, have friends, learn, feel the Spirit, and be a part of the organization. Experience shows that there are ways to make the transition easier. Proper planning between Young Women and Relief Society presidencies, fellowshipping, and a strong support system of caring ward or branch members can help.

Both Arvind and Geeta Naidu are from Fiji and claim Indian heritage. Despite having lived in the U.S. for many years, they haven’t forgotten their Indian roots and have been to India several times looking for their ancestors.

Geeta explained, “In Fiji we are separated from India. We have lost contact. There are millions of us out there that love India and want to connect to our ancestors.”

Geeta’s grandfather Ibrahim was a Muslim. “He came from the village of Diwari in Haryana in 1911 as an indentured servant to work in the sugar cane fields,” she said. “He became a Christian, married and had four children. When his wife died in childbirth, he left them in an orphanage and returned to India. I am looking for him.”

Geeta continued, “We came to India trying to find our forefathers, but our initial attempts were fruitless, so we changed our strategy. A friend who is a family history consultant suggested that maybe the Lord’s mission for me was to become a ‘heart specialist’ to my people first, and it would lead me to my nana. These inspired words motivated us to turn our focus to our fellow Indian members to help them catch the vision of family history and temple work.”

Sister Elaine Cannon is a master of communication. A gifted author, editor, and speaker, she has a talent for sharing her heart with those who listen or read. The following article includes excerpts from Sister Cannon’s books, talks, and interviews. How better can we meet a master of communication than through her own words?
“Life is a wonderful adventure. Experience it deeply. Get involved. Record it in your journal. Live it all the way. Make friends with the seasons. Experience snow in your face. Breathe the spring, and press petals of summer; caress a baby’s softness, but stroke the wrinkles of age while marveling at the plan of life.”
Sister Elaine Cannon, General President of the Young Women, knows how to follow her own advice. She has lived the kind of rich, full life she recommends to others, and she has recorded it in her journal.
In fact, her journal held prophetic echoes of the future. When she was 11 years old she wrote: “I’m writing this down so that when I’m a grown-up working with youth I will remember what it felt like to be young.”
Understanding the feelings of others is among the finest of Sister Cannon’s many talents. She has a rare gift for recognizing and understanding the sorrows, concerns, and troubles of her fellow beings and providing the comfort they need. A multitude of people can testify that she gave them selfless and compassionate service when they needed it desperately, with no thought of recompense. She has taken many young people into her home and her heart to help them weather crises in their lives. She has shown an uncanny ability to recognize the unexpressed concerns of those around her. Her present calling constantly demands this gift of love and insight.
“I love these girls so much. I really feel that I’m an agent of Christ in loving these young women. And they need it. They need approval. It’s as if they’re saying, ‘I need someone to love me anyway—no matter how I look or what I’m doing or what I’m listening to.’ I feel that if I can love them, then maybe they will believe that Heavenly Father and the Savior can love them. It moves them a step closer to that faith. One of the great opportunities of this job is being in a position to perceive the need of people and respond to it, to validate people in their own minds.
“I feel that I have been called to use everything I am and everything I have ever learned to help Heavenly Father’s children. And I take this responsibility very seriously. I try to stay close to the Lord, and I find that he really does care about the individual. I feel his guidance in the decisions I make. I am very much aware that this is not my program, and so I must always try to know what he wants me to do.”
Sister Cannon’s greatest hope for the youth of the Church is that they will come to know their Savior. “You must come to know Christ. There just isn’t anything so relevant. Some people say to me, ‘What does anybody who lived 2,000 years ago have to say that could mean anything to me today?’ and the answer is ‘everything.’ The gospel of Jesus Christ is always relevant. The answers are there. Christ’s teachings really work. They work for every one of the concerns of youth today. Our challenge is to come to know what Christ is saying. I say to kids, ‘You’ve got to find out for yourselves. Does Christ live? Is he the Son of God?’ There is a plan that operates. God is at the helm. We cannot be happy unless we know this. It is sometimes the one thing that will keep a young man and young woman from making serious mistakes. They must love the Lord more strongly than they are drawn to each other.
“You can talk yourself out of anything, but if you’ve got real faith in the Lord, it will work when mother isn’t there, when the Church system isn’t there, when embarrassment doesn’t apply anymore and conscience may have gone sort of dead. If you love the Lord, you’ll say, ‘I can’t hurt him. He loves me. He cares.’ This was a marvelous thing for the dejected little girl I held in my arms in New York recently. She said, ‘nobody cares.’ I helped her to understand that the Lord cares. And suddenly she could care about herself when she knew that the Greatest of all cares.”

Your challenge may be as ordinary as one I had not long ago. I had bought a new high-speed modem for my computer, but when I hooked everything up according to the directions, it did not work. I went through the troubleshooting instructions, reconnected everything, and called the help desk of the manufacturer, but still it didn’t work. The equipment was even tested at the store where I bought it, and they couldn’t find anything wrong. So I took it back home. But this time I remembered to pray. That was the only thing I did that was different. This time the equipment worked, and it still works.

We found a place to stay in Ogden with a family named Ferrin. Mother got better and cooked for this household of grown men in return for our board and room. I fell in love with one of the Ferrin brothers, Jacob Samuel. We were married in the Endowment House, and we moved to Provo with my brother Heber.
Later my husband and I moved to Arizona, where we were once again pioneers in an unknown territory.

You will remember a tender story told by President James E. Faust. “As a small boy on the farm … , I remember my grandmother … cooking our delicious meals on a hot woodstove. When the wood box next to the stove became empty, Grandmother would silently pick up the box, go out to refill it from the pile of cedar wood outside, and bring the heavily laden box back into the house.”
President Faust’s voice then filled with emotion as he continued: “I was so insensitive … I sat there and let my beloved grandmother refill the kitchen wood box. I feel ashamed of myself and have regretted my [sin of] omission for all of my life. I hope someday to ask for her forgiveness.”
More than 65 years had passed. If President Faust still remembered and regretted not helping his grandmother after all those years, should we be surprised with some of the things we still remember and regret?

In the fall of my third year of teaching junior English in the adult high school program at Seminole Community College, I met William. He was small, dark eyed, with tight blonde curls, rather unattractive, unwashed, and, as I soon came to discover, almost totally illiterate. It was the early ’70s when long hair, drugs, and flower children were the order of the day. I thought, “Here’s another victim of the drug culture,” and my heart sank.
After making my introductory remarks, I asked the class, as I always do on the first day, to write about themselves. Looking from student to student, I noticed that William worked very hard on his paragraph, grasping the pencil in a strangle hold, licking the point every few minutes. William’s face was close to the paper, his brows knit close together.
The rest of the class completed the assignment rather quickly and grew restless. I let them leave. It took William 40 minutes to print a few lines, and when he at last handed it to me, I found it was nothing I could read. He stood at my desk staring at me while I looked at the paper.
“You want I should read it for you?” he said.
“Yes.”
“My name is William and I live off social security in my car in an empty garage in Lake Mary. I’m 19 years old and since I was 11 I been a drinker. Now I’ve decided to be a learner.”
I had never taught a student who could hardly read and write before. I didn’t have a clue how to handle the problem.
“You’ve misspelled every word,” I said.
William looked dismayed. “I can learn,” he said.
“All right. I’ll print them correctly, and when you come to class tomorrow, plan to write them for me.”
“A spell test,” he said, as though it were some magical word.
I looked away from him. “Look, William …” I meant to tell him that the class would be impossible, that his skills were so poor that he would fall behind immediately, and that there was no hope for him to catch up. I meant to tell him that he could not possibly succeed. But instead I said, “Your basic skills are somewhat limited. How hard are you willing to work?”
He stared at me.
“We’ll be studying difficult writers—like Shakespeare and Twain.”
“Who?”
“William Shakespeare. Mark Twain.”
“Oh,” he said, and after a pause he added, “I can learn.”
“It won’t be easy for you,” I said, “but if you work hard …”
I didn’t expect to ever see him again, but the following day William was the first one in the room. He took a front-row seat, and as I taught, his eyes followed me intently, his brows knit into the same shaggy line, his mouth slightly open as he listened. After class ended, he stood by my desk staring at me for the longest time.
“What is it?” I asked, irritated.
“I’m ready to spell,” he said.
And he was. He had memorized all the words, and as I called them out to him he wrote them quickly.
He stood watching as I marked his paper, putting a check by each correct word and then an A+ and a large I AM SO PROUD OF YOU at the top of the page. For the first time, I saw William smile. He took the test, folded it carefully, and put it into his shirt pocket.
“Now,” he said, “I’d like to pick up some on my reading. You got anything I can borrow?”
“I don’t think I have anything appropriate,” I said. Opening the desk drawer I began to look through the papers and books.
“What about that?” he said, pointing to a copy of Huckleberry Finn.
My hand hesitated, and then I shook my head. “It would be too hard for you.”
“I’ve done hard things all my life,” he said.
I pulled Ellie the Elephant Learns to Fly, one of my daughter’s books, from my desk drawer.
“That’s for little kids,” he said.
“It’s for new readers,” I said, handing it to him.
“I want that other one.”
Ignoring his comment, I opened the child’s book and began to read aloud, resting a finger under each word while he stood beside me watching and listening.
“Let me do it now.” He read hesitantly and with great difficulty. “See, if somebody shows me, I can learn. If I had that other book, I could work at it. I’m not stupid.”
I gave him Huckleberry Finn.
Each day I sent William home to the garage with a list of words clutched in one hand and one of my daughter’s books tucked under his arm. Every morning he came back with the material mastered. A few weeks later he returned the Twain text. “I read it,” he said, and the look of pride on his face brought tears to my eyes.
That week I gave him a bag containing a bar of soap, a washcloth, a towel, and deodorant. “This is an important part of education, too,” I said.
He looked in the bag and then at me, stunned. But the next day William was reading and writing and clean. He had progressed to the point that he insisted on taking his turn at reading poems from our American literature text aloud. And every day he stayed after class for an hour and we talked. Actually, he asked question after question, and I tried to answer them. His enthusiasm for learning was contagious, and soon three other students began to stay too.
One day William came into class with a list of quotations he’d copied from the library, and he shared them with us. He particularly loved “Knowledge is the wings wherewith we fly.”
“Watch me fly, teacher.” He spread his arms and flapped them, bringing laughter from the students and me.
William (this genius—the only true genius I ever taught) was my student for junior and senior English. When he graduated, I sat in the audience and watched with pride, tears brimming my eyes. He enrolled in the community college program and continued his education. On occasion he stopped by my office during the week, sharing with me the excitement of his new world. Each Friday afternoon he borrowed one of my books, which he quickly read and returned. On one occasion, he asked to read my Book of Mormon. I gave him a copy and learned a week later he’d called the missionary number left with my testimony on a front page. At his baptism, I gave him the Pearl of Great Price.
Last spring I received a card from William. He was teaching Spanish and American literature at a large university. “We’re reading Huckleberry Finn,” he wrote, “and I’ve never been happier. I seem to have a gift for languages,” he continued. “Remember years back when you had to teach me English? For all you did for me, I thank you, teacher. Thank you for lending me your wings while I was growing my own.”

I discovered file-sharing software as a college freshman, and, however innocently, I quickly got caught up in the world of free downloads. I thought that since it was so easy, and seemingly without penalties, it was harmless. Before long, my hard drive was jammed with almost 1,000 of my favorite songs.

Then I started to wonder about the collection of songs on my computer. Every time I listened to them, I felt guilty for enjoying something I hadn’t paid for. As much as I loved my music, I just couldn’t feel right about keeping it. I finally deleted the software.

A few months later, I heard rumors that the record labels were filing lawsuits against people who used the same file-sharing software I had just removed. Some people were being fined more than $100,000! I couldn’t believe it.

After the shock wore off, I realized just how serious music pirating is. Fortunately, I had removed all my files before the legal battles began, so I didn’t have to worry about paying monetary damages. But I realized that I hadn’t gotten away without damaging my spirit. I had known stealing was wrong since I was a child, and yet I had convinced myself that somehow this was different.

My daughter Carl Anne wrote to me describing a very difficult time in her life:
“In these lines of the song ‘Peace in Christ’:
‘There is Peace in Christ,
When we walk with Him.
Through the streets of Galilee
To Jerusalem.
Mend the broken hearts,
dry the tear-filled eyes.
When we live the way He lived,
There is peace in Christ,’”
“I have been impacted by these words because they remind me that in one of the most difficult moments I have ever experienced, I was able to recover because Jesus Christ helped me to remember the enabling power of His Atonement. I remember when my heart was broken, and I felt very sad about the loss of my first pregnancy—it feels like it was just yesterday—the day that I poured out my soul in prayer to My Heavenly Father seeking to feel peace and hope that everything would be all right. At that precise moment, I felt an intense warmth as if I were being embraced by my Savior Jesus Christ! Because He had experienced all of my pains and sorrows in the Garden of Gethsemane, I knew He felt my pain now. I knew without a doubt that Heavenly Father had a more perfect plan for me than I expected! Today, a year later, I am grateful to be the mother of a beautiful baby who brings me great joy, and to have the knowledge that it was all done in the Lord’s perfect timing.”

My mind raced back to the days of my youth on the farm. In the summertime one of our responsibilities was to haul hay from the fields into the barn for winter storage. My dad would pitch the hay onto a flatbed wagon. I would then tromp down the hay to get as much as possible on the wagon. One day, in one of the loose bundles pitched onto the wagon was a rattlesnake! When I looked at it, I was concerned, excited, and afraid. The snake was lying in the nice, cool hay. The sun was glistening on its diamond back. After a few moments the snake stopped rattling, became still, and I became very curious. I started to get closer and leaned over for a better look, when suddenly I heard a call from my father: “David, my boy, you can’t pet a rattlesnake!”

Sometimes the tables are reversed. A dear and cherished young friend, Wendy Bennion of Salt Lake City, was such an example. Almost seven years ago, she quietly departed mortality and returned “to that God who gave [her] life.” She had struggled for over five long years in her battle with cancer. Ever cheerful, always reaching out to help others, never losing faith, her contagious smile attracted others to her as a magnet attracts metal shavings. While ill and in pain, a friend of hers, feeling downcast with her own situation, visited Wendy. Nancy, Wendy’s mother, knowing Wendy was in extreme pain, felt that perhaps the friend had stayed too long. She asked Wendy, after the friend had left, why she had allowed her to stay so long when she herself was in so much pain. Wendy’s response: “What I was doing for my friend was a lot more important than the pain I was having. If I can help her, then the pain is worth it.”

Few things in life affect us more poignantly than the loss of a loved one. The lives of Bishop Richard Rodriguez and his wife, Ruth, have been punctuated by such a loss. Yet with eyes to see and ears to hear and through the sacred ordinances of the temple, they have faced this challenge with faith, which has led them closer to the Savior, to happiness, and to peace.
Richard and Ruth met while working at a cement production company in Azogues, a small town in the Andes Mountains not far from Cuenca, Ecuador. Richard was a convert to the Church, having joined with his mother and brother a few years before. At the time, Ruth was not a member.
“When I met Ruth, I couldn’t leave her,” he says, smiling.
They were married in 1996. Just a few months later, Ruth’s father passed away.
“His death was the cause of a severe depression in my life,” Ruth explains. “You never get over losing a loved one. You always feel the loss.”
In 2001, Richard’s mother died. Again, the loss brought much sorrow. But over the years, Richard had matured in his knowledge and testimony of the gospel, and that provided a comforting perspective.
“Because of the gospel,” he says, “I understood a little bit about how my mom was doing. I shared Alma 40:11 with Ruth and explained what happens to the spirit when it leaves the body. This was a great comfort to us both.”
Nevertheless, Ruth was still not interested in the Church, though she was friendly to Church members and the missionaries. “I just didn’t feel the need to change my religion,” she says.
Richard decided not to press the issue. “Every time we talked about the Church, the conversation ended badly,” he says. “And when I pressured her, it went badly. So I stopped. I didn’t want to do that to her.”
In the fall of 2001, the missionaries invited Ruth to a baptismal service. Her decision to accept the invitation changed everything.
At the service the sister who was being baptized shared her testimony. “She spoke about the miracles that had happened in her life since she had come to know the Church—miracles of health, well-being, and strength,” Ruth recalls. “This sister basically lived alone yet had this testimony.”
Ruth wondered how a woman who had faced such difficult trials could have that kind of faith. That question and acting on the invitation to attend the baptismal service touched Ruth’s heart and prepared her to receive a witness from the Spirit.
“That’s when I made the decision to be baptized. Later, when Richard and I were alone, I said, ‘Richard, what do you think about me getting baptized in December?’ And there you have it. I was already familiar with the Church and the gospel. But I still needed to hear the discussions from the missionaries.”
“God prepares the hearts of people,” Richard adds. “We can do some things on our own. I did many things, but it wasn’t until Ruth was prepared that this happened.”
Ruth agrees: “I had many challenges to overcome when we got married. When I finally overcame those challenges, that’s when I realized I didn’t need to wait for another miracle in my life. That’s when I was ready to be baptized.”
Ruth’s baptism in December 2001 marked a shift in their family focus. With that shift came spiritual strength and blessings that have guided them to this day.
“We were sealed in the temple on June 28, 2003,” Richard says. “Because of that, many blessings have come into our lives. Our first two children were sealed to us, and our next two children were born in the covenant. Our children are a blessing.”
Richard explains that serving faithfully in the Church has brought harmony into their home: “My wife and I are yoked together equally. We have faced challenges and trials, but we have been able to get through them united. We believe in the same things. Being sealed in the temple, we know that if we endure faithfully, the Lord will help us.”
When Ruth was baptized, only 25 members lived in what was then the Azogues Branch. Now a ward, it often has 75 or more members at sacrament meeting.
“You strengthen individuals when you strengthen families,” Ruth says. “As members keep the commandments and listen to all that the leaders teach us, we strengthen our families and the ward. It is like each family is a part of the cement that holds the ward together so that it can grow.”
As bishop, Richard has promoted efforts to strengthen families through making and keeping temple covenants and frequent temple worship. One manifestation of this emphasis is ward temple trips to the Guayaquil Ecuador Temple, about five hours away.
“We attend as a ward as often as we can,” Ruth says. “Our goal is to have every family sealed in the temple.”
“Attending the temple to be sealed has helped families grow spiritually,” Richard adds. “In recent years a number of families have been sealed. And now they prepare their own family names and perform ordinances for their ancestors. Those who do have developed a greater commitment to the gospel of Jesus Christ and found greater happiness. The temple has changed the vision of the members.”
Through sacred, personal experiences, the Rodriguez family has gained a powerful, personalized testimony of temple covenants and of performing vicarious work for ancestors.
“We have performed the work for my uncles and aunts, siblings of my father,” Ruth says. “We have felt that we should do the work for our family ourselves. I know the vicarious work we do is true. I feel great peace in the work we have been able to do for our ancestors. This has been a most special work.”
Richard testifies, “I love doing temple work for those who are waiting. This is the work of our whole lives. This is what we want to do.”
Attending the temple has changed their family. “When we were sealed in the temple, things changed radically,” Ruth says. “Our spiritual strength has grown.”
Richard agrees: “For our family, it has meant greater family unity, knowing that the family bond, which ultimately is the beginning and end of everything, gives us the strength to move forward. In life there are always challenges. But with the focus that the temple gives us, we can face the future in a different way. Being able to share these blessings—and especially to help other families do the same—brings great joy to our lives. I feel greater commitment in our home.”
Richard feels that the family’s decision to prepare to go to the temple, receive ordinances, be sealed, and then return to perform vicarious work for their ancestors has been one of their greatest blessings. “When we exercise faith and accept the restored gospel of Jesus Christ and especially when we go to the temple to receive sealing and saving ordinances through the priesthood, lives are changed,” he says. “One who receives the covenants of the temple is no longer the same.”