Gospel Story Finder

As a small child in Midwolda, in the Netherlands, I walked every Sunday to a little evangelical church in our village. My parents didn’t go to church or even speak of religion, but I loved to hear the minister’s beautiful stories about Jesus Christ. How I loved God! But I couldn’t understand the minister’s description of God—so great that he could be in all places at once, yet so small that he could live in my heart.
It wasn’t until I was seventeen that I heard a song that helped me understand the true nature of our Heavenly Father. I had just met the missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and my future husband and I had gone to our first cottage meeting in Amersfoort, where we then lived. There I heard the hymn “O My Father,” whose words would change my life:
O my Father, thou that dwellest in the high and glorious place,
When shall I regain thy presence, and again behold thy face?
In thy holy habitation, did my spirit once reside?
In my first primeval childhood, Was I nurtured near thy side?”
(Hymns, number 139.)
I would never forget that song and the loving Father that it described. However, my future husband’s father asked us to stop seeing the missionaries, and we were not baptized.
But three years later, married and living in Rotterdam, we found the missionaries at a street meeting and asked them to teach us in our home. In September of 1928, my husband and I were baptized. On our way home after the baptism, I felt like the happiest person in the world.
In the years to come, we had our share of hardships. But all our experiences showed us the goodness of our Heavenly Father and taught us of his personal care for us.
When our first child was about a year old, she became so ill that the doctors gave us little hope that she would survive. Through that agonizing time of watching her suffer, I felt so close to God that I could almost feel him. We had great faith in the priesthood, and our daughter recovered after she had received a priesthood blessing.
Even during the horror of World War II in the Netherlands—with my husband in hiding, bombs exploding, cold and hunger—the Spirit of our loving Father kept us close to God and close to the Saints. One day when I was serving as Relief Society president, I went with my ten-year-old daughter to visit an older sister who lived alone. When we arrived at Sister Smit’s small home she was reading. She told us she was so hungry that she had decided to read the Bible, because spiritual food could fill her, too.
In those days food was rationed, and in my pocket was a coupon for a loaf of bread for our children. I felt so concerned for this hungry sister that I gave my daughter the coupon and sent her to buy bread for Sister Smit. On the way home, I wondered how I would tell my children that I had given away the bread. I knew I had done the right thing, but now what was I going to feed them.
Upon arriving home, I found the answer. Some family friends in Zwolle had arranged for a letter to be hand-carried to us by their nephew. With the letter were three bread coupons.
Over the years, our Heavenly Father has continued to bless us in miraculous ways. In 1947 our daughter was called to serve a mission. Although we had very little money, and our family would greatly miss the income from her job, we agreed to support her. Never was our family so blessed as during our daughter’s mission. Occasionally someone would tell me that they wished their child could serve a mission, but that they didn’t have the money. I always told them that we didn’t have the money either, but that the Lord blessed us so that somehow we were able to support her each month.
As I look back over my eighty years, I feel that among my greatest privileges in life has been to know that I am a child of God, and that he will guide me through mortality if I will stay close to him. And if I am worthy, he will be waiting to greet me in his “holy courts on high.”

A young bishop of my acquaintance can testify to the impact of unkempt appearance on those around us and its relationship to the drug culture. One evening last June, Bishop E. Wayne Nelson of the South Shore Ward in Griffith, Indiana, received a telephone call from a jailer in an Indiana city, fifty miles from his home. The jailer was holding two Mormon boys who were charged with possession of narcotics. Bishop Nelson made several visits as these young men waited in jail for their cases to be heard. He learned that both were from Utah, the sons of active Latter-day Saint parents. Both had tampered with drugs in this state. Both had adopted an unkempt appearance, including shoulder-length hair. Soon after they arrived in Gary, Indiana, to look for work, and while they were walking down a street, a peddler of narcotics approached them and invited them to make a purchase. Faced with that temptation at that time in that place, the boys chose not to resist. Soon after this transaction they were arrested and charged with possession of the drugs they had purchased. After the bishop heard their story in jail, he asked them, “Why do you think the peddler approached you?” One boy responded, “I guess it was our appearance; we just looked like users.” These young men had taken upon themselves the badges of the drug culture, and they were easily identified and approached by those who sought to profit from their weakness.

Photograph by Randy Clegg
Opportunities to create new and uplifting activities can come anywhere and anytime. For example, a group of young men camping in Goblin Valley State Park (south-central Utah, USA) found a creative and exciting way to share the gospel: they buried some treasure.

Their modern-day treasure hunt was made possible with geocaching, where, with the use of a global positioning system (GPS) device or mobile phone, all you need is a set of numbers to help you find an exact location even in the middle of nowhere. The standard practice in geocaching is to take what you find when you reach your destination, usually something small such as an inexpensive toy, and then leave something else for the next person.

These young men were learning about geocaching on their campout. They wanted to create an official geocache of their own, but with a twist. Instead of taking and leaving small objects, they wanted visitors to read (take) and mark (leave) scriptures.

“I’ve looked at a lot of geocaches in the past, and I’ve never seen anything like this before,” says John B., 16, one of the young men in the group.

Each member of the group marked a favorite scripture with his name next to it in a single copy of the Book of Mormon. John also included his testimony along with written instructions to those who will visit the geocache in the future.

The young men then placed the Book of Mormon in a weatherproof container surrounded by rocks and made note of the GPS coordinates. They have high hopes that this geocache, which they registered online, will be visited for many years to come.

“It was a lot of fun,” John says. “This was a way for us to share the gospel.”

These young men led out—being “the first on the dance floor”—by sharing scriptures that strengthened them and inviting others to follow their lead.

As our family discussed our most memorable family home evening, what stuck out had nothing to do with a fun activity, clever object lesson, or special treat. It was a simple but profound experience that began with a lesson our 17-year-old son, Fielding, prepared about forgiveness.
After the lesson, everyone had an opportunity to express his or her feelings about what we liked about each other and what we wished we could improve in ourselves. We talked about the challenges we each faced and helped each other find solutions. We cried together, asked forgiveness of each other, and set goals to be better.
Family home evening has become one of our favorite times. We love how it allows our children to express themselves more freely and with confidence.

Just two weeks after the group’s arrival, Joseph heard Church President Brigham Young issue a call for volunteers to go out and help the 600 members of the Martin Handcart Company still in the mountains in deep snow.
Joseph left that day with the other volunteers.
In the mountains the snow was almost three meters deep, and the wagons couldn’t get through. The volunteers had to carry the supplies on their backs to the handcart company. With the others, Joseph helped set up a camp to prepare the members of the company for the final effort to reach Salt Lake City.
Finally, all the handcart pioneers were safely gathered to Zion, where they went about the business of starting new lives.

The Prophet recognized in himself many weaknesses, but he set about to overcome them. He recorded that on one occasion, a man came into his home and in a rage called him almost every name under heaven. The Prophet wrote that he was so incensed he kicked the man out of his house and all the way to the front gate. He then went back to his office and wrote in his journal how unbecoming of a prophet his actions had been. He never lost his temper again.

Some years ago, when the Missionary Executive Committee was comprised of Spencer W. Kimball, Gordon B. Hinckley, and Thomas S. Monson, Brother and Sister Hinckley hosted a dinner for the committee members and our wives. We had just finished a lovely dinner in the beautiful home—which Brother Hinckley constructed and on which he did most of the actual work—when suddenly there was a knock at the door. President Hinckley opened the door and noted his home teacher standing there. The home teacher said, “I don’t have with me my companion, but I felt I should come tonight. I didn’t know you would be entertaining company.”
President Hinckley graciously invited the home teacher to come in and sit down and instruct three Apostles and their wives concerning our duty as members. With a bit of trepidation, the home teacher did his best. President Hinckley thanked him for coming, after which the home teacher made a prompt retreat.

While in that position he heard the president of the Church, President Ezra Taft Benson, give a talk in general conference in which he encouraged members to get out of debt, including paying off mortgages. President Eyring’s business knowledge gave him reasons why, given the then current economic conditions, it might not have been a good time to pay off the mortgage that he and his wife had on their house. However, their humility in following the direction of the prophet of God gave them the will to do it. Although they were not sure that they could do it, once they started trying, an opportunity materialized for the Eyrings to sell an asset that had been hard to sell and then to use the proceeds to pay off their mortgage. In the October 2010 general conference, after recounting how that happened, President Eyring said the following:

A person might say that was only a coincidence. But our mortgage was paid off. And our family still listens for any word in a prophet’s message that might be sent to tell what we should do to find the security and peace God wants for us.

One day I was listening to a talk given by a young woman who was preparing to go on a mission. In her talk she emphasized the fact that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ love us very much. Heavenly Father loves us so much that He gives us standards so we can be protected from the world’s damaging traditions and unhealthy habits.
When I got home from church that day, I wrote down in my journal what I had learned. What I didn’t know at the time was that this information would not only add to my conversion process but would also prepare me for a decision that would try my testimony. Two weeks later my dance coach showed us the costume for a certain dance routine, and to my dismay it was too immodest for me to feel comfortable wearing. I decided to ask my coach to either change the costume or take me out of the routine.
I hoped that because I did the right thing, Heavenly Father would soften my coach’s heart and everything would work out without major consequences. Unfortunately, my coach quickly took me out of the routine. I was devastated. Later, my parents reminded me that I had made the best decision. They supported me completely.
I’m glad that I was able to make the right decision and stand up for my values. Heavenly Father gave me certain values to live by because He loves me. Knowing this helped me learn that modesty is very important in ways that I may or may not yet understand. I am grateful to have this knowledge given to me to help me through adversity.

Several years ago I was riding on a train from Edinburgh, Scotland, to Glasgow with a noted British lawyer. We had engaged him to present our claim of discrimination by the city council of Glasgow. We were seeking a building permit, which had been repeatedly denied by the city council at the instigation of an opposing ministerial group as not needed inasmuch as there was an abundance of vacant or unused church buildings. We had been granted a hearing before the secretary of state for Scotland, a member of the prime minister’s cabinet.
As the early morning train sped toward Glasgow, I asked the distinguished counsel if he had any additional questions about our church. I was concerned about his limited understanding of our expansion, of why we were building modern church buildings and why we had hundreds of missionaries in Great Britain. He assured me that he was quite comfortable in representing us and presenting our case that to him appeared to have merit.
As we discussed other aspects of our growing presence in Great Britain, he said, “I hear, but it couldn’t be true, that you baptize for dead people.”
I said, “Yes, it is true—not only true that we do it today, but the eternal principle of vicarious service of baptism for the dead was taught during our Savior’s earthly ministry.”
I explained that all of God’s worthy children of all ages can become heirs of salvation in His kingdom. I briefly reminded the lawyer of Jesus teaching Nicodemus that “except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.
“Nicodemus [said] unto him, How can a man be born [again] when he is old? can he enter the second time into his mother’s womb, and be born?
“Jesus answered, Verily, verily, I say unto thee, Except a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God” (John 3:3–5).
I also made reference to the early Apostles’ teachings regarding Christ’s resurrection and the resurrection of all, including Paul’s great statement: “Else what shall they do which are baptized for the dead, if the dead rise not at all? why are they then baptized for the dead?” (1 Cor. 15:29).
The engaged lawyer seemed comfortable. He presented our case effectively. We won our building permit. The chapel now stands in Glasgow, Scotland.

Last summer, the Olympic Games were held in Sydney, Australia. Certain rules and disciplines were attached to the various Olympic events: runners and swimmers had to stay in their lanes, shot-putters had to stay within the circle marked on the playing field, wrestlers had to stay on the mat—or the athletes would be disqualified. In addition, the use of performance-enhancing drugs was forbidden.
One young man from Denver, Colorado, who won an Olympic silver medal later was awarded the gold because the gold-medalist in his event was disqualified for using a banned steroid. In his response, he referred to his unfortunate competitor’s loss of the medal:
“I do feel sorry for him. But we all have choices. … He made his choice, and I made my choice. …
“I believe God was watching out for me. I believe he watches out for all of us. I’ve learned so many lessons from how this has taken place. I experienced the agony of defeat before the thrill of victory. That made me so much more of a stronger person, mentally and spiritually.”6

A true story from Ghana.
Anane grinned as he walked through the street. The smell of frying fish and the busy chatter of people filled the market. He was on his way to Uncle’s house. Mum had given Anane some money to give to Uncle.
He looked around at all the stands selling produce, foods, and other items. Then something caught his eye.
There was a food stand that had two of his very favorite treats, toffee and biscuits. He looked at the money Mum gave him. One hundred cedis is a lot, he thought. His favorite treats were only 10 cedis. Uncle probably wouldn’t even notice if some was missing.
Anane bought the treats. He popped a toffee into his mouth and kept walking to Uncle’s house.
Uncle was standing outside his house as Anane walked up.
“If it isn’t little Anane! Come on over,” said Uncle. “What can I do for you?”
“I brought you some money from Mum.” Anane handed him the money, then put his hands back in his pockets. Would Uncle notice that some of the money was missing? He watched as Uncle counted it.
“Thank you for bringing this over,” Uncle said.
Anane was glad Uncle didn’t notice the missing money. He said goodbye and started the long walk home. On the way, he finished eating his toffee and biscuits.
“How was the walk to Uncle’s?” Mum asked when Anane got home.
He shrugged. “It was good.”
“Thank you for taking that money to him for me,” said Mum.
Anane looked down at the floor. He started to feel guilty. What if his parents found out he had spent some of the money? He didn’t want to lose their trust.
The next morning, Mum asked Anane to buy some things at a nearby shop. “Come straight home after you are done at the shop, OK?”
“OK.” Anane walked through the market, but he didn’t stop to buy anything. He scrunched his eyebrows and thought, This time I’m going to do exactly what Mum asked.
As soon as he was done, he went right home. He gave Mum all the leftover money.
That Sunday, Anane went to his Primary class. “Good morning!” his teacher said. “Today we are talking about obedience. It is important for us to listen to our parents and make good choices.”
Anane thought about the money he spent on the toffee and biscuits. He felt his stomach drop. He knew he had made a wrong choice.
After church, Anane wanted to talk to his parents. His heart was racing.
“Mum, Dad? You know the money you gave me to take to Uncle?” Anane asked. “Well, I bought some treats with some of it.” He looked down at the floor. “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you for being honest,” Dad said. “I’m proud of you.”
Anane smiled. He was so happy that he told the truth. And he felt good inside after telling his parents. He was already making a better choice.

COLIN: I still had my fair share of tough experiences, but I also had some good experiences. It was like half and half. I discovered that a lot of people are going through tough times, and that the gospel can remind them to look at the good side of life. One lady we taught was discouraged, and we talked to her about trying to be happy, about the real meaning of life and the plan of salvation. Later on, just as I left the mission field, she was baptized. I felt really good inside because I felt the Spirit, and I know she did too.

One day after school, Vernon rode his horse from house to house collecting the milk money for the past two weeks. At each house he put the money into a leather pouch that he hung on the saddle.
When he got close to home, he realized the leather pouch was gone. He looked on the ground around his horse to see where it had fallen, but he couldn’t find it.
Vernon got on his horse again and rode back up the road. He rode all the way back to town searching for the leather pouch, but he couldn’t see it anywhere. As the sun began to set, he rode his horse up and down the dirt road two more times. Still he couldn’t find the money.
As it got dark, Vernon knew his parents would expect him home soon. He also knew that the milk money was all his family had to buy food for the next two weeks. He felt sick to his stomach as he thought about going home without the money. He just couldn’t go home until he found it.
Vernon thought he might get into trouble for losing the money. For a moment he thought about hiding so he wouldn’t get into trouble. But he knew that would only cause his parents to worry. Then he remembered that you should pray to Heavenly Father when you need help. Vernon got off his horse and knelt down at the side of the road. As he prayed, he explained that he had lost the money and couldn’t find it. He asked Heavenly Father to help him find the leather pouch before it got too dark to see.
When he finished praying, Vernon felt that if he would walk instead of ride the horse, he would find the money. But the sun was going down and Vernon knew this was his last chance to look before it got dark. If he rode his horse he could go faster, he thought to himself. But once again, he felt he should walk.
Leading his horse by the reins, Vernon began walking back toward town. As he walked, Vernon looked everywhere—behind weeds and rocks and in old, dried-up mud puddles.
Then, about halfway to town, Vernon kicked a large tumbleweed. There on the road where the tumbleweed had been sitting was the leather pouch. A few of the coins were spilled on the ground. As Vernon gathered the coins, he could see that all of the money was still there.
Vernon knew that if he had ridden his horse down the road again, he would have missed the leather pouch and it would have been too dark to look again. He knelt by the side of the road and thanked Heavenly Father for helping him find the leather pouch.
When Vernon got home, he told his mom and dad about how he had lost and found the money. He told them that he had prayed and had felt that he should walk instead of ride his horse. That night, Vernon and his family knelt together in prayer and thanked Heavenly Father for helping Vernon find the milk money.

And Anna? She’s still sharing the Book of Mormon with friends. Out of her more than 60 penpals, she has found four with an interest in the gospel. She has sent each of them a copy of the book.
“One young woman lives in a little town in Siberia,” Anna says. “There are no missionaries there, and she is far from the closest branch of the Church. I write to her about the things we learn in the missionary discussions, and she likes that. She knows about the Bible, and I told her we study the Bible, too. But I told her the Book of Mormon, Another Testament of Jesus Christ, makes the Bible more complete. She said to send her a copy so she could see what we mean.”

Among the monolithic serpents, jaguars, and other creatures of ancient American worship, 12 attractive young people walked and pointed and laughed and whispered and looked. There is a lot to see in the Mexican National Museum of Anthropology—the finest anthropological museum in the world.
The young people were from Benemérito de las Americas, an LDS school that includes primary, secondary, normal, and preparatory schools. Its students come from all over Mexico, and its graduates are making names for themselves in all walks of life. There is not a finer school in all Mexico. Today 12 students had come to explore their heritage in Chapultepec Park, the ancient pleasure gardens of the Aztec emperors and now the largest and most beautiful recreational area in Mexico City.
The Museum of Anthropology was their first stop. Mexico owes its language and much of its legal and cultural system to its Spanish ancestors, but it owes its deepest pride and sense of belonging to its Indian forefathers. It is to the Indian cultures, both pre-Hispanic and modern, that the museum is dedicated.
The group stared in awe at the Colossus of Tula, one of the huge stone sentries that guarded a Toltec temple. They admired the intricate carvings and colorful frescoes of Mayan temples. They examined the mysterious Olmec stone heads that are as tall as a tall man. They smiled at the Tarascan ceramic sculptures that depict a long-ago everyday life, and wondered at the Aztec sun stone and the monolithic Aztec serpents and skull-faced deities. They were thrilled with the incredible workmanship of the ancient artists and stoneworkers as they visited hundreds of displays from many ancient peoples. They read the stories of vanished civilizations in stone and clay with a growing sense of pride, because these were their ancestors, and because they knew, as the learned men who built the museum did not, that they were of the house of Israel.
They then moved to the upper level of the museum where Mexico’s modern Indian cultures are represented. When the museum was built, representatives of tribes all over Mexico were brought in to build authentic dwellings and implements for the exhibits, and the young visitors gained new insight into their country.
After leaving the museum the group paused a moment by the fountain-home of an immense stone statue of Tlaloc, the ancient American rain god. When the 168-ton statue was excavated and moved to Mexico City to be displayed at the museum, the city was lashed by the heaviest rainstorm ever recorded in the dry season.
Next the group strolled through Chapultepec Park. The park is immense, covering many acres of grass and trees, several museums, an amusement park, a zoo, a botanical garden, sports fields, playgrounds, a lake, bridle paths, and many refreshment stands. Along their route they stopped at a kiosk by the lake to eat a snack, watch the boaters on the lake, and feed the friendly swans.
Then it was on through the park, past happy crowds and balloon salesmen, and even some men selling wind-up toy monsters, to cyprus-hung Chapultepec castle atop its hill. When Cortez arrived, Montezuma had a palace there, and it wasn’t long till a Spanish viceroy had erected a stronghold on the spot. The Emperor Maxmillian made it into a sumptuous palace, and it was later to serve as a military academy. Today it is the National Museum of History, housing artifacts, paintings, documents, and memorabilia from the stormy and colorful history of Mexico. It was here that young cadets clutched the Mexican flag and lept to their deaths rather than surrender during the Mexican-American war. The six niños heroes, as they are known, are now pictured on a ceiling mural in the castle. Here Maxmillian and Carlotta established their ill-fated court, and from here Maxmillian watched his “empire” crumble when France withdrew her troops.
Bold murals covering the broad sweep of Mexican history, filled with the image of the patient, strong, indestructible Indian and the flash of uniform and sword, were everywhere. Looking down from the walls are the great figures in Mexican history—Father Hidalgo, whose strong voice signaled the beginning of the revolution against Spain; Benito Juarez, the farsighted Indian who arose from anonymous poverty to become the president of the republic and the most beloved figure in Mexican history; Zapata, Guerrero, the controversial Villa, and others who ignited Mexico’s second great revolution, a revolution for equality and reform that Mexico’s leaders say will never end; and many others, great and small.
The young Latter-day Saints studied the symbols of their nation with deep respect and patriotism. It was clear that they believe in their country and are determined to contribute their own talents to its greatness and goodness.
After leaving the castle they wandered around the grounds for awhile, just as Maxmillian might have wandered on a cool afternoon. They visited the only known statue to a cricket, built there because Chapultepec means cricket in the language of the Aztecs.
After leaving the castle they paused a moment for amusement in a hall of mirrors, where the curved surfaces reflected grotesque caricatures of their laughter.
Their last stop was the Museum of Modern Art where Rivera, Orozco, Siquieros, Tamayo, and other great Mexican artists are displayed. Mexican art tends to be bold and vibrant and vital, making strong statements in strong colors, but there is often a sadness too, because Mexico has known sadness. Having seen the painting and sculptures indoors, the young people walked through the gardens outside, studying the large abstract sculptures planted there and discussing their possible meanings, sometimes seriously, sometimes with tongue securely in cheek.
While waiting for their school bus to pick them up, the young people had time for some reflections on their day and their lives.
“I was amazed by the artistry of those ancient craftsmen,” one young lady said. “We can see the kind of life they lived and almost live it again with them by studying what they left behind.” Another commented, “I’ve been impressed with everything we have seen about our ancestors. I could see how these old cultures related to the history of the Book of Mormon.”
An 18-year-old student commented, “I was impressed by the philosophy of the great poets and thinkers of ancient America. Today I could feel as they felt and understand them.”
Another young person found the visit to Chapultepec castle to be the most moving experience. “It brought great honor to our nation when the six niños heroes gave their lives rather than let their country’s flag be dishonored,” she said.
One thoughtful young man felt he saw the hand of the Lord in the history he had studied at the castle. “I could see,” he said, “how the Lord prepared Mexico for the gospel. Great men such as Hildago, Juarez, Guerrero, and Allende made it possible for us to have liberty and religious tolerance, and we can see how the purposes of the Lord are fulfilled.”
The young students all share a profound loyalty to the Church school they attend. “Benemérito prepares us to be leaders of the Church and the nation,” one young man said. “From Benemérito will come great architects, engineers, doctors, lawyers, chemists, physicists, and teachers. If we study hard and live as we should, we can help fulfill the prophetic promise that the Lamanites will blossom as a rose.”
Above all, these young men and women love the Lord. “I am grateful that I have been taught the gospel,” a young girl said. “The gospel is the greatest blessing in my life. I know that someday I will see my Father in heaven, and so I will keep his commandments.”
The lives of these young men and women are reminiscent of these words by the ancient sage Huehuetlantolli, engraved on the wall of the museum:
And they began to teach them:
How they should live.
How they should respect people.
How they should give themselves to that which is proper and upright.
That they should avoid evil,
Fleeing quickly from wickedness,
Perversion and greed.

Ruby didn’t like to put on her socks. She didn’t like to put on her shoes. She liked Mom to do it for her. But Mom couldn’t today. Mom was taking care of Ruby’s baby brother, Ezra.
It was Sunday. It was time for church. Ruby cried about putting on her socks. She cried about putting on her shoes. Her family was late for church.
On Monday night, it was time for family home evening. The family sang a song. Mom said a prayer. Ruby’s big brother, Danny, gave the lesson.
Danny read a story from the Bible. The story was about Noah. God asked Noah to build a ship. Other people made fun of Noah. But Noah did what God asked.
“When we choose the right, we feel happy,” Danny said. “When we choose the right, it makes Heavenly Father and Jesus happy too.”
Ruby thought about that. She didn’t feel happy when she cried about her socks and shoes. Maybe she could make a better choice.
The next day, Mom needed to go to the store. “Ruby, please put your socks and shoes on,” Mom said. “I’ll get Ezra dressed.”
Ruby started to cry. She didn’t want to put on her socks. Or her shoes. Then she remembered the story from family night. She could choose the right!
Ruby put on her socks and shoes. She brushed her hair. She put on her coat. “I’m ready,” she said.
Mom smiled. “Thank you,” she said. “You’re getting so grown up.”
Mom’s smile made Ruby happy.

One of our grandsons, when he was five years old, became confused when his family moved into a new ward. He thought the meetings were over and went outside. When he realized he was alone and could not find the family or their car, he knelt down and prayed for help. Just a few minutes later, one of the counselors in the Primary presidency came out and asked him if he was lost. A Primary teacher had called to her from the door of a classroom and said that someone was missing. The teacher asked the counselor to find out who it was. The counselor felt impressed to look outside and went straight to our grandson. Later, the teacher and counselor both commented on how strong their impressions were that he needed help. We were thankful that his parents and Primary teachers had taught him that Heavenly Father loves him and had taught him to always pray for help.

The faith of children has always helped me to realize how close our Heavenly Father really is to us. Children’s prayers have also taught me that our Heavenly Father doesn’t expect each prayer to be long or for us to use big words. My granddaughter Lisa doesn’t pray very long, and she doesn’t use big words. But I know that her prayers are heard and answered because she loves her Heavenly Father and He loves her.
When I was six years old, my mother took me to the groundbreaking service for our new chapel in Santa Monica, California. As we arrived, Mother noticed that I had brought the small sand shovel that I usually took on our family outings to the beach. I had hoped that I could help by digging some ground at the chapel site. They let me use my shovel that first day, and my faith was increased because I helped to build a church for our Heavenly Father. My, how good I felt! The seeds of service and faith were planted in my heart. It is my wish to keep that same feeling of faith and desire to serve that I had as a six-year-old child.
Years later when my childhood dreams of a mission were realized, I was called far away to New Zealand. There I first met the Maori people who have brought so much into my life by their simplicity, sincerity, and great faith.
One of my first assignments was to a Maori village called Judea, where the missionaries were helping in the construction of a small chapel. At that time I was trying to learn the Maori language. Each day I prayed to our Heavenly Father for help. And then one day I was surprised to be surrounded by Primary children. My prayer for help with the new language had been heard, and our Heavenly Father had inspired the branch president to send these children to help me. They followed me everywhere I went for weeks, talking to me in Maori. Their first lesson I shall remember forever:
Hei tito tito te ngeru me te whiro
Te kau peke runga te marama
Ka kata te kuri ki tana mahi pai
Ka oma te rihi me to punu.
The words sounded beautiful, but they were meaningless to a new missionary. I thought I was learning an old Maori war chant. What a surprise to me when I found out the children were teaching me “Hey, diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle, the cow jumped over the moon. …”
How grateful I shall always be to those children of New Zealand for the wonderful blessing they brought to their new missionary.
In another part of New Zealand the missionaries always stopped for the night at a certain Maori home where they could be sure of a place to sleep, and they knew the Spirit of the Lord was always there. There were eleven children in this family, and each took his turn to say family prayer. They always sincerely prayed that they might one day be able to go to the temple to be sealed together by the power of the priesthood for time and all eternity. This family was so poor that it seemed impossible for them to save enough to buy tickets for Mother, Dad, and eleven children to travel all the way to the Hawaii Temple five thousand miles away. But their faith was great and the prayers of the entire family persisted. How could such a blessing ever come to pass?
Every New Zealand missionary was humbled beyond words when the announcement was made just a few years later by President David O. McKay that a new temple would be built in New Zealand—within fifty miles of the little Maori family who possibly could never have saved enough money to travel to Hawaii. God moves in mysterious ways his wonders to perform. People with sufficient faith will never be denied the blessings of heaven.
Our family will not forget our little friend Becky, who invited us to hold our family home evening in her home. Even though her daddy was not a member of the Church, she wanted him to participate in a family home evening. Most of all, she wanted him to become a member of the Church.
Becky’s daddy said he would be glad to have us go to their home for family home evening. We had a beautiful time together. The spiritual lesson was followed by refreshments, some games, and family prayer. As we were saying goodnight, Becky looked up at me and asked, “Bishop Simpson, will you do me a favor?”
“Of course,” I answered, “anything you say.”
“Will you please baptize my daddy for me?”
That request, filled with the hope and faith of a child, sank deeply into the heart of her daddy, and it was just a few weeks later that his baptism was performed.
No wonder Jesus said, “Except ye … become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven” (Matt. 18:3).

After Elder Kimball left, I shared my conversion experience with my friends, and they mocked me. But I knew the gospel was true and could not deny it, so I decided to find another vocation. I started a garment business as my father had. Gradually though, I realized that I could not progress unless I gained more education. I was in my mid-20s, and the idea of going back to school was daunting, but I spent the next nine years acquiring education. I ran my business in the morning and studied in the evening. I spent all my earnings on education. I was determined and prayed for divine help. I pursued a bachelor’s degree in psychology, sociology, and arts from Agra University. Finally, I attended the Meerut University to study for a law degree.
During the early part of those nine years, there was one Latter-day Saint family in Delhi, the Shortlefts, who worked in the U.S. Embassy. I traveled to Delhi for sacrament meeting in their home. In 1962, Elder Richard L. Evans (1906–71) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles visited us, and in 1964, Elder Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles came. I remember placing a garland on Elder Hinckley and handing over my pot of saved tithing, which I had been accumulating for many years.
Unfortunately, these moments of fellowship—though helpful—were infrequent, and while in India I was devoid of the constant fellowship of other Saints. This troubled my heart. As the years wore on, lonesomeness was taking a toll on me, and I saw no future for me in India. I longed to have the priesthood and live among the Saints.
When I felt it was time to be closer to the Saints, I discontinued my law course and immigrated to Canada. When I landed in Edmonton, Alberta, I went to the nearest ward. I met Bishop Harry Smith and immediately felt a sense of belonging and fellowship in that ward. I visited the Cardston Alberta Temple, even though I could not receive my endowment yet.
I wanted to visit Salt Lake City and surprise my good friends Elder Kimball and Brother Lamar Williams. Finally, in the spring of 1969, eight years after my baptism, I visited Salt Lake City and met with Elder Kimball. He was delighted and spent the rest of the day with me.
While in Salt Lake City, I went to a salon for a haircut. I shared my testimony with the barber, who was a convert himself. One gentleman, waiting for his turn, overheard me and told me about his travels to India. He paid for my haircut, invited me to dinner, and drove me to Brigham Young University. I was impressed by the campus. I mentioned that I wanted to continue my studies here but could not afford it. The man offered to pay $1,000 for my tuition. I was surprised and immensely grateful.
Brother Dipty (left) with Paul Trithuvadass, another pioneer Church member from India, on Temple Square in Salt Lake City.
I joined the social work program at BYU. In 1972, after graduating from BYU, I moved to Salt Lake City to pursue a master’s degree from the University of Utah. Later I moved to California, USA, where I earned a PhD in clinical psychology, taught courses on how to stop domestic violence, and authored a book. I am now retired and live with my wife, Wendy, in Nevada, USA.
There was a time when I went through much personal strife, challenges, and tribulations. My focus on the gospel and the blessings of the temple helped me overcome many of life’s challenges.
I often look back at my journey from being a “jungle boy” in rural India to being where I am today and know that my life and faith are truly miracles. The Lord’s embroidery of my life is more beautiful than I ever expected. How wonderful it was to have the Lord’s anointed prophet Spencer W. Kimball school me and walk with me at key times in my life’s journey.
I often think back to my time with President Kimball. He would invite me to his family camping trips, picnics, and Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners. Even then I knew that he truly was an Apostle and prophet of the Lord Jesus Christ.
I met President Kimball one last time while he was very ill. But he still smiled at me and hugged me. He was my first LDS contact, and I knew he would never let go of me.
I am thankful to God for our prophets and the restored gospel. Our Church is the divine model the world needs today. Because of the Church I was able to gain an education and grow as a person. I am grateful for that day when I knew prayer was real and that I was willing to listen to the still, small voice and investigate the Church. I am grateful that I allowed the Lord to shape my life. I know that if we seek His kingdom, everything else will be added to us (see Matthew 6:33).