Gospel Story Finder

“Look!” Danielle lounged against the bed, holding a pencil “cigarette” between her fingers.
“You look like a girl in the magazines,” Sidney said. “Will you smoke when you grow up?”
Danielle frowned. “I don’t know.” They all knew that her mom smoked.
“People die from smoking. Aren’t you worried about your mom?” Jessica asked.
Danielle tossed the pencil down. “Remember the policewoman who came to school and talked about drugs? Well, I went home after school that day and asked Mom to quit.”
“Wow!” Jessica exclaimed. “What did she say?”
“She said that she’d tried to quit when I was a baby, but it was too hard.”
“That sounds like my parents,” Sidney said. “When I told them that drinking alcohol was bad, my dad said, ‘It is a tradition in our family to drink wine, and I’m not about to break tradition!’”
“It’s strange,” Danielle said. “They teach us in school not to do something, but everyone still does it—even our parents and teachers.” She glanced at Jessica. “Everyone but your family.”
Jessica’s face grew hot. She didn’t know what to say. She was relieved when Sidney’s mom called to her. “Jessica, your mom is here!”
Jessica ran for the door. “Bye, Danielle. Bye, Sidney. I had a lot of fun.”
As Jessica joined her mom, she thought, It’s too bad Danielle’s mom smokes. If Mom smoked, I’d worry about it all the time.
Mom saw her frown. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” Jessica jumped into the car. “I’m just glad you’re so healthy.”
Mom started the car and pulled into traffic. “I’ll feel healthier after this baby is born.”
“A few weeks, right?”
“Right. That’s why Grandpa is watching you kids tonight. Dad and I are going on a date before life gets too busy.”
“Yahoo! Another late night!”
Mom laughed. “But not too late. Tomorrow is Sunday.”
Later, when Kaylie and Meghan were in bed, Jessica and Grandpa played games and talked.
“You’ve been painting your nails, Popcorn.”
Jessica smiled at her nickname. “Sidney and Danielle painted my nails.”
“I remember them—two little pixies.”
“That was a long time ago, Grandpa. We’re growing up now. I’m graduating from Primary in a few months.”
“A young woman! Not my granddaughter!” Grandpa harrumphed. “Pretty soon you’ll think you know everything—just like your mother at your age. Why, she was the one who persuaded me to become an active Latter-day Saint.”
“Grandpa!” Jessica gasped. “I thought you were an active member of the Church all your life.”
Grandpa shook his head. “I joined the Church when your mother was a young girl. Before I joined it, I smoked and drank. Later, I went back to my old bad habits. It was hard to quit again.” Grandpa shrugged. “I finally just gave up trying.”
Jessica stared at him. “And Mom got you to quit?”
“She came home one day singing about eternal families. She wanted to know which temple we were sealed in. When I told her that I couldn’t go to the temple, she cried.”
“But you were married in the temple, Grandpa! Mom told me.”
“Yes, but only after preparing myself. I had to work at it.”
“Did you ever feel like smoking again?” Jessica asked, remembering Danielle’s mother.
“All the time. But whenever I did, your mother knew. I can see a lot of her in you.”
Grandpa poured them each a glass of apple juice, and they went out to the back porch swing. Something was troubling Jessica, but how could she explain it to Grandpa? Finally she said, “Grandpa, our family is different.”
Grandpa grinned. “Downright peculiar.”
“Grandpa!” Jessica was relieved that he wasn’t angry, but she still needed help. She remembered how embarrassed she had felt when Sidney said that Jessica’s family did everything right. Why was she embarrassed about being good?
Grandpa took a sip of his juice. “So you don’t like being different.”
Jessica shrugged. “Danielle’s mother smokes, and Sidney’s parents drink wine, but our family never does anything like that. Some of the kids at school watch movies that Dad and Mom won’t even see. I just feel like I’m kind of strange.”
Grandpa smiled. “You are strange, Popcorn.”
“Grandpa, I’m not joking. It’s hard to be different. I’m afraid I’ll lose my friends.”
Grandpa got up and went inside. He came back with his well-worn scriptures and thumbed through the pages. “‘But ye are a chosen generation,’” he read aloud, “‘a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar people; that ye should shew forth the praises of him who hath called you out of darkness into his marvellous light.’”* He looked up. “Do you know what that means?”
“That we’re supposed to be different?”
“Yes, and we are different. You accepted the name of Christ at baptism, Jessica, and you promised to follow Him. Now you are getting old enough to see more clearly what that means and the wonderful difference it makes.”
Jessica thought it over. “My friends see the difference, too, Grandpa.”
“If they are true friends, they’ll stand by you. Some of them may even stand with you.”
Jessica thought, Maybe Grandpa’s right. Mom stood for what was right, and Grandpa quit smoking. What if I stand by Danielle?
She smiled up at Grandpa. “I’m glad Mom helped you quit smoking. Otherwise we might not be a forever family.”
“I’m glad, too, Popcorn. I’m glad, too.”

Kai Fitzhugh’s motivation comes from his family. He says that having a brother with special needs has motivated him to want to serve others with disabilities. The night of the prom was no exception. Like most high school dances, there’s a photographer who takes photos of couples in front of a pretty backdrop. Prom night at special-needs Mutual was no different. Kai was more than happy to stand in line with a girl who had a disability and have his picture taken with her. “It’s hard to explain,” he says, “but whenever I’m here serving, I just feel good inside.”

One day I was walking with my friend Alexis. Out of nowhere an older schoolmate said to me, “Move, nerd!” I asked myself, “What would Jesus do in this situation?” I told her that I liked the way she does her hair and the way she picks out her clothing. I felt a good feeling inside telling me I did a good job. My friend Alexis asked, “Why didn’t you say anything mean to her?”
Later after class, the girl came up to me and told me she was sorry. I accepted her apology.

What has helped your testimony grow stronger? Recently I had an experience that made my testimony grow and helped me realize that my Heavenly Father really does know me and love me. I was in a scary situation with my younger brother, and we prayed that the Holy Ghost would tell my mom to come and get us. She received a strong impression to come right away. When she showed up a few minutes later, we were so relieved and grateful that Heavenly Father answers prayers.

Three months into my mission, a new missionary from Idaho was assigned to be my companion. We had been together only a few days when I realized something very significant: my new companion knew the gospel, while I only knew the discussions. How I wished that I had prepared to be a missionary as hard as I had prepared to be a basketball player. My companion had prepared for his mission throughout his life and was immediately a valuable member of the team. How important it is for fathers and sons to work together on the basics in preparing for a mission.

“Let me tell you about two of your fellow elders I was with last week who walked together up by Lukachukai.
“I learned about them when I attended a stake conference. Among the speakers that morning was a handsome Navajo boy. He was frightened by this first experience at public speaking, but he was sustained by faith and by a deep, sincere testimony. Only a few short months before, the Church was unknown to him.
“Two of our young elders drove their truck as far up a muddy, rutted road as they could go and then ‘two walked together’ the remaining eight miles through mud and snow to teach a man and his grandson. Because of their dedication and determination, this young man, now a baptized member filled with the spirit of love and testimony, was speaking to the congregation. He, too, will soon be on a mission, walking with a companion down some distant country road or city street. He will walk his way into the homes and hearts of those who are seeking the Lord. Oh, the high adventure of missionary work!”

One day a woman came to my business office. She leaned across the desk and said, “President, I have carried a transgression on my heart for thirty-four years that I cannot carry one more step in this life. I know how tender-hearted you are, and I wouldn’t add one particle of a burden to your soul.”
I said, “My dear sister, before you go on, let me share with you a principle of the gospel. When you take a burden off your soul, it is lifted from the priesthood leader’s soul also.”
She said, “I know I will be cast out; I know I will be excommunicated, but does it have to be forever? Thirty-four years ago, before my first husband and I were married, I was involved in an abortion. Since that time, I have felt like a murderess. It was my husband’s idea, and I did not resist. I had an abortion. Later we got married. He was unfaithful constantly during the first two years of our marriage. I finally divorced him and have since remarried a wonderful man who is a convert to the Church. He knows everything, and he still wants to be sealed to me. President, do you think that either in time or in eternity we can be sealed together? I know I will be cast out, but does it have to be forever?” The tears flowed down her cheeks.
I had known this woman and thought she was one of the most Christlike women I had ever met. She always baked bread, rolls, or cookies for the people in the neighborhood. Whenever they had a ward party and the Relief Society sisters cleaned up, she always scrubbed the floor. She said that she didn’t feel worthy to stand by them and do the dishes after what she had done; she only felt worthy to scrub the floor where they walked. She told me that she had never gossiped about anyone else. “How could I,” she said, “after what I had done?”
I listened to her confession, humbled to tears, and told her, “I have never had a case of abortion before. I will need to write to President Kimball, President of the Quorum of the Twelve, and get his counsel.”
I wrote to President Kimball and shared the entire story. I told him she was one of the most Christlike women I had known and that she was willing to submit to any decision he would have for her. Two weeks later I received his response. I called the sister and asked her to meet me at the stake office as soon as she could. When I arrived at the stake center, she was already there. Her eyes were red, and she was pale. I know she must have been on her knees several times after my call, asking for mercy.
Again I sat across the desk from her and said, “I do not want to keep you waiting one second longer. We are not even going to stop for prayer. Let me read you President Kimball’s letter.
“‘Dear President Featherstone: You inquired about a woman who had been involved in an abortion thirty-four years ago. From the way you describe her it sounds like she has long since repented. You may tell her on behalf of the Church she is forgiven.
“‘After a thorough and searching interview, you may issue this sweet sister a temple recommend so she can go to the temple and be sealed to her present husband.’”
If the Savior had been sitting where the woman sat, I would not have felt any closer to him. I believe that is exactly what he would have done. It was as though a two-thousand-pound burden had been lifted from the heart of this good woman. She wept great tears of relief and joy. To this day, I do not remember who the woman was.

Dave reached the boat and squatted in the dirt beside it. I wonder who put the boat back, he thought. I wonder how they found him and how they knew where to put the boat. He thought of how that had been his idea, to build the boat, and how he had shown Rod how to do it. Now that was something Rod wasn’t good at—he had wasted a lot of good lumber trying to build his share of the boat. Dave remembered what Rod had said when Dave had mentioned it once: “I’m not too good at this, and I need to learn. What if you die or something? There wouldn’t be anyone here to show me how to build things. I need to learn.” And then he had laughed and shoved Dave, and they had started wrestling. That was another thing Rod was good at. Dave could beat him almost all the time when it came to pure grapple; but if beat meant pin, Dave was the sure loser.

I wonder what Rod’s doing right now, Dave thought, and then he began to whistle softly to himself. He was a little afraid. The quiet night, black and starless, the black and quiet lake where his best friend had drowned the night before, the thoughts of spirits and ghosts—he began to whistle the tune to “Magdalena Katalena” very softly to himself. But as he did, he thought to himself, I’ll bet Rod wasn’t afraid last night. And then he thought, as he shoved the boat out into the lake and jumped in after it, wetting only one leg and that only to the ankle, that it all wasn’t fair; it just wasn’t fair.
He turned his back to the front of the boat and began to row in deep and heavy strokes. It isn’t fair, he thought to the rhythm of his work, that Rod should have to die when he was so capable and so happy and so spiritual—how could a guy like that drown anyway?
He rowed on out to the spot where he heard that Rod had drowned and sat back in the boat and looked up into the sky. It was as black as the water beneath him, but the water scared him. If it could get Rod, he thought, what would it do to me? And he saw in his mind Rod’s face, white in wet blackness, a pale oval beneath the boat, clawing up to air but never finding it. Dave tried to shut the vision from his mind. He thought of the roadshow earlier that year, in the spring, when Rod had played the turnip and Dave had been the dwarf. Rod had been in Dave’s garden, a turnip almost as large as the gardener. They had laid him on Dave’s kitchen table up there on the stage, and Dave had brought out a knife to cut through his red and whiteness.
No, Dave thought to himself and sat up in the boat. You’re really morbid, aren’t you, Peters? So he tried to see Rod somewhere else, and where he saw him was at a special stake meeting as one of the youth speakers. “I’ve been assigned to speak on why I’m going on a mission,” he had begun, and Dave had groaned. What an awful way to start a talk, he had thought. But he did have to admit one thing: even if Rod wasn’t the best speaker in the world, when he spoke people listened because they knew he meant every word of what he said.
Dave gripped one oar by its end and squeezed it hard. What happened here last night? he thought. How could you let yourself drown? It’s unfair! And then Dave finally leaned over the edge to look into the clear black water. He thought of the legends that always circulated around the town in the summer that the lake was bottomless—and that giant prehistoric fish had been seen by skin divers again that spring.
The lake had been where Dave and Rod spent their free time. That blackness was a deep blue during daylight hours, the kind of blueness whose color by itself invited one to enter. Dave could see Rod, standing on the bow of the boat, clad in cut-off jeans and no shirt, saying, “See ya later, pilgrim!” and then jumping in. He could stay underwater longer than anyone else Dave knew.
He dipped his hand into the water. It was terribly cold, the kind of cold, he thought, that could cramp a person’s muscles in a moment. Why had Rod jumped in? Dave wondered. He knew better. He should have been more careful. They had lots of plans together—plans that would make him be careful. Like Ricks College next fall, where they would room together in the dorms; like the missions they had planned. Rod would be glad to see him make it. Dave remembered the long talks they had had about missions and girls and the gospel and their parents. They had shared fears and doubts. But later Rod became set and firm, his doubts gone. He knew where he was going. And he always knew the right things to say to help Dave make up his mind to do what he knew he should do—even though it sometimes took a lot of discussing before those right things came out.
Dave looked back up at the sky—there were stars out now; the clouds had parted some—and he felt the lump growing in his throat again, and thought, Don’t be stupid. Crying won’t bring him back. And he thought, I’ll bet Rod wouldn’t cry over you. He’d just smile and touch your hand at the funeral and whisper, “Take care, buddy. See ya before too long.”
But those thoughts didn’t help, and Dave’s throat swelled until he felt he couldn’t really breathe, and the white puffs that had been coming from his mouth and nostrils nearly stopped for a moment. And then the hurt pushed itself up and out his eyes so they glistened in the darkness and his breath caught, then rushed out, then caught again, and his eyes glistened.
And he lay back in his rowboat and sobbed in the dark over the lake.
“Why did it have to be you, Rod?” he said out loud. “You were the good one, the strong one. I won’t do much good here. But you were good; you could even milk with gloves on—” and then he smiled through his tears and laughed a little even while he was crying.
“Rod would think you’re a pretty dumb guy,” he said to himself. Then he whispered. “We were pretty good friends, weren’t we, Rod?”
He leaned over the edge of the boat. The white puffs of air floated over the water. They were coming more freely now. Heavenly Father, he said in his mind, Rod was a pretty good guy, and I’m sure you were proud of him. You know we were close friends—best friends—and I’m really missing him. I think we did everything together. I’m feeling kind of alone.
Then he closed his eyes tight, and felt the cold tears on his cheeks, and thought. All I ask of thee is to help me become the kind of person Rod was. I want to see him again.
Dave sat up straight on the boat’s crossbar. He and Rod had had a boat race once. A neighbor had loaned them his boat. They were going to go two out of three, but they didn’t need to. Dave won the first two races. They had laughed and teased each other, and then Rod had jumped out of his boat and swam in four or five quick strokes over to Dave’s boat and started rocking it till he had swamped it.
We haven’t had a good tussle like that for a long time, Dave thought.
And then he said, half aloud, “Beat you to shore, Rod.” He started rowing as hard as he could, puffing out the white air until his lungs felt raw. Getting a little out of shape, aren’t you, Peters, he thought to himself. Maybe you ought to go out for basketball this winter.
The boat hit the bank and he clambered out, getting both feet wet and not caring. He pulled the boat up completely onto the bank and left it there without looking back. His house was over a mile from the bank, and his folks might be getting worried, he thought. He took off in an easy run, singing under his breath, “Her lips stuck out like two big weiners; she used them round the house like vacuum cleaners. Oh, Magdalena Katalena Hoopensteiner—” his white breath clearing the way through the black night before him.

Illustrated by Mike Eagle
During general conference in 1906, David took his wife and two young sons to visit cousins in Salt Lake City. Between sessions they sat down to lunch.
Cousin: David, there’s an urgent phone call for you.
David: I’ve been summoned to the Office of the First Presidency.
David met Elder George Albert Smith, an Apostle, on Temple Square. Elder Smith escorted him to the office of the President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. As they walked David thought about how he had performed his stake calling in the Sunday School.
David: I wonder if I’ll be called to the Church Board of Education.
President Francis M. Lyman invited David to sit down. What he said next left David speechless.
President Lyman: So you’re David O. McKay. Well, the Lord wants you to be an Apostle … What’s the matter? Haven’t you anything to say?
David: I’m not worthy of such a call!
President Lyman: Not worthy? Not worthy?! What have you been doing?
David: Nothing of which I’m ashamed.
President Lyman: Then do you have faith that the Lord will make you able to fulfill this calling?
On the way back to his relatives’ apartment, David saw his father.
Father: So, Son, were you called to the Church Board of Education?
David: I’ve been asked not to say anything about my new calling yet.
David and his wife, Emma Ray, attended the afternoon session of conference together. Right before the session ended, a special announcement was made. Emma Ray burst into tears from surprise and joy when David’s name was read. At only 32 years old, David O. McKay was sustained a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.

Many years ago, Bishop Marvin O. Ashton (1883–1946), who served as a counselor in the Presiding Bishopric, gave an illustration I’d like to share with you. Picture with me, if you will, a farmer driving a large open-bed truck filled with sugar beets en route to the sugar refinery. As the farmer drives along a bumpy dirt road, some of the sugar beets bounce from the truck and are strewn along the roadside. When he realizes he has lost some of the beets, he instructs his helpers, “There’s just as much sugar in those which have slipped off. Let’s go back and get them!”
In my application of this illustration, the sugar beets represent the members of this Church for whom we who are called as leaders have responsibility; and those that have fallen out of the truck represent men and women, youth and children who, for whatever reason, have fallen from the path of activity. Paraphrasing the farmer’s comments concerning the sugar beets, I say of these souls, precious to our Father and our Master: “There’s just as much value in those who have slipped off. Let’s go back and get them!”
Right now, today, some of them are caught in the current of popular opinion. Others are torn by the tide of turbulent times. Yet others are drawn down and drowned in the whirlpool of sin.
This need not be. We have the doctrines of truth. We have the programs. We have the people. We have the power. Our mission is more than meetings. Our service is to save souls.
The Lord emphasized the worth of each man or woman, youth or child when He declared:
“The worth of souls is great in the sight of God. …
“And if it so be that you should labor all your days in crying repentance unto this people, and bring, save it be one soul unto me, how great will be your joy with him in the kingdom of my Father!
“And now, if your joy will be great with one soul that you have brought unto me into the kingdom of my Father, how great will be your joy if you should bring many souls unto me!” (D&C 18:10, 15–16).
Remember that you are entitled to our Father’s blessings in this work. He did not call you to your privileged post to walk alone, without guidance, trusting to luck. On the contrary, He knows your skill, He realizes your devotion, and He will convert your supposed inadequacies to recognized strengths. He has promised: “I will go before your face. I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear you up” (D&C 84:88).
Primary leaders, do you know the children you are serving? Young Women leaders, do you know your young women? Aaronic Priesthood leaders, do you know the young men? Relief Society and Melchizedek Priesthood leaders, do you know the women and men over whom you have been called to preside? Do you understand their problems and their perplexities, their yearnings, ambitions, and hopes? Do you know how far they have traveled, the troubles they have experienced, the burdens they have carried, the sorrows they have borne?
I encourage you to reach out to those you serve and to love them. When you really love those you serve, they will not find themselves in that dreaded “Never, Never Land”—never the object of concern, never the recipient of needed aid. It may not be your privilege to open gates of cities or doors of palaces, but true happiness and lasting joy will come to you and to each one you serve as you take a hand and reach a heart.
Should you become discouraged in your efforts, remember that sometimes the Lord’s timetable does not coincide with ours. When I was a bishop many years ago, one of the leaders of the young women, Jessie Cox, came to me and said, “Bishop, I am a failure!” When I asked why she felt this way, she said, “I haven’t been able to get any of my Mutual girls married in the temple, as a good teacher would have. I’ve tried my very best, but my best apparently wasn’t good enough.”
I tried to console Jessie by telling her that I, as her bishop, knew that she had done all she could. And as I followed those girls through the years, I found that each one was eventually sealed in the temple. If the lesson is engraved on the heart, it is not lost.
I have learned as I have watched faithful servants like Jessie Cox that each leader can be a true shepherd, serving under the direction of our great and Good Shepherd, privileged to lead and cherish and care for those who know and love His voice (see John 10:2–4).
May I share an additional experience I had as a bishop. I noted one Sunday morning that Richard, one of our priests who seldom attended, was again missing from priesthood meeting. I left the quorum in the care of the adviser and visited Richard’s home. His mother said he was working at a local garage servicing automobiles. I drove to the garage in search of Richard and looked everywhere but could not find him. Suddenly, I had the inspiration to gaze down into the old-fashioned grease pit situated at the side of the building. From the darkness I could see two shining eyes. I heard Richard say, “You found me, Bishop! I’ll come up.” As Richard and I visited, I told him how much we missed him and needed him. I elicited a commitment from him to attend his meetings.
His activity improved dramatically. He and his family eventually moved away, but two years later I received an invitation to speak in Richard’s ward before he left on a mission. In his remarks that day, Richard said that the turning point in his life was when his bishop found him hiding in a grease pit and helped him to return to activity.
My dear brothers and sisters, ours is the responsibility, even the solemn duty, to reach out to all of those whose lives we have been called to touch. Our duty is to guide them to the celestial kingdom of God. May we ever remember that the mantle of leadership is not the cloak of comfort but rather the robe of responsibility. May we reach out to rescue those who need our help and our love.
As we succeed, as we bring a woman or man, a girl or boy back into activity, we will be answering a wife’s or sister’s or mother’s fervent prayer, helping fulfill a husband’s or brother’s or father’s greatest desire. We will be honoring a loving Father’s direction and following an obedient Son’s example (see John 12:26; D&C 59:5). And our names will forever be honored by those whom we reach.
With all my heart I pray that our Heavenly Father will ever guide us as we strive to serve and to save His children.

In my gym class, we had to run the mile every Monday. We called them “Mile Mondays.” Everyone dreaded them because they were exhausting. Each Monday, one classmate was always picked on because he was a little overweight and always finished the mile a few minutes after everyone else. I felt bad for him and wanted to help him out, but I wasn’t sure how.
One day I had an idea. After I finished running the mile, I went back and ran with him until he was done. I was a little nervous because I wasn’t sure what everyone would think, but I decided that what other people think shouldn’t matter that much. I was surprised when more people joined me the next week. Every week, more people joined until eventually everyone in the class joined in! As we ran, we encouraged him by saying things like, “You can do it!” and “Only one more lap!” He began to smile while running, and people didn’t pick on him anymore. Each week he finished the mile in less time, and we cheered him on every time he beat his personal best.
I’m glad we could boost his spirit and help him do his best. It really brought our class closer together, and we were all a little nicer to one another. This experience helped me remember that we are all God’s children and of great worth, and everyone needs to be treated that way. I’m glad I decided to run a little extra, and I know that Heavenly Father gave us all added strength to help His children feel loved.

Joseph Serge Merilus left his native Haiti at the age of 19 and moved to the Dominican Republic in 1980 in search of work. Eighteen months later he went back to Haiti, fell in love, and returned to the Dominican Republic with his new bride, Marie Reymonde Esterlin.
As they began their married life together in their newly adopted country, Joseph experienced a spiritual hunger. He and Marie visited several churches seeking to satisfy that hunger, but as Haitian Creole speakers in a Spanish-speaking country, they had difficulty understanding and being understood. Eventually they ran into two Latter-day Saint missionaries, who invited them to church. After Joseph and Marie had attended several meetings, the missionaries patiently taught them the discussions in Spanish, and they were baptized in September 1997.
Joseph was called to serve in the Sunday School presidency, then as a counselor in the branch presidency, and later as branch president. But because of a series of misunderstandings and hurt feelings, much of it resulting from miscommunication, Joseph, Marie, and their five children fell into inactivity and were largely forgotten by local Church members.
During the next seven years, the couple had four more children and welcomed a nephew and a niece from Haiti into their home. Through much effort Joseph became fluent in Spanish and English and began teaching English and Haitian Creole for a local company.
In August 2007 two priesthood leaders, in the process of seeking out the Lord’s lost sheep, appeared on the family’s doorstep. They discovered that Joseph and Marie still had testimonies of the gospel, even though they had not attended meetings for seven years. The leaders invited the family to return to church, which they did the very next day—all 13 of them. They have been attending ever since.
Today Joseph is a branch mission leader in Barahona, located in the southwestern part of the Dominican Republic. His two eldest sons also serve in branch leadership, and his nephew, a newly ordained elder, is the Young Men president. Recently the family traveled to the temple, where they were sealed as an eternal family.
Just think of it, 13 lost sheep are now found because two member-shepherds were willing to search for, nourish, and bring this family back to the Lord’s fold. They were led to this home just as you and I will be led as we seek out the lost sheep who are our responsibility.

I was seven years old, and I didn’t know how to swim, so my mom enrolled me in afternoon swimming lessons with my friend Angie. At the end of each lesson, our teacher would take us out into the center of the pool to practice our strokes. We were always safe in the middle since our teacher supported us under our stomachs and we wore “bubbles” on our backs.
One day Angie and I didn’t have our bubbles on, so we clung to the side of the pool. Angie decided she wanted to try to swim across the corner to the adjacent wall, about four feet (1.2 m) away. I was hesitant at first, but then she dared me. So even though I was scared, I took in as much air as I could and plunged under the water, hoping to reach the other side. Instead of floating with ease as I had done before with my back bubble, I began to sink. I was in a state of panic. I knew I was going to drown. Then I remembered what my teacher had told me a few weeks earlier: “If you lose control while swimming, just stretch one of your arms straight up out of the water, and someone will come help you.”
With this thought in mind, I stretched my arm in the direction I thought was up. I didn’t feel any air. I stretched my arm in every direction, never finding the top. Just then my head bumped against the side of the pool. Angie was there waiting for me. I guess she hadn’t realized I was “drowning.”

The weather was beautiful, and we were nearing the end of another marvelous week at girls’ camp. As youth camp leaders we gathered the rest of the young women and began the transition from the light-hearted fun of the afternoon to the more reverent atmosphere we desired for that evening’s program. One of the leaders suggested we sing some hymns.
We clustered together and started singing. As we sang, I noticed someone was a little out of tune. I thought someone was being silly, so I glanced sideways at those near me. But when I listened more closely, I realized who it was.
One of the youth camp leaders with us that year had Down syndrome. She had a tremendous spirit and loved each of us without reserve. And we loved her. She sang with all her heart, often being touched by many of the words that most of us mouthed without really thinking about them.
I reflected on how many times Alisa had been the one to go up to one of the girls who needed a hug. I remembered how dedicated she was to the gospel. I recalled her sweet testimony at the many youth conferences we had been to. And then I realized how many times Alisa felt the Spirit when the rest of us were too busy, too silly, or too tired.
I suddenly understood that Alisa was in tune where it really mattered. She was in tune with the Spirit. As long as she stayed on the path she was on and followed the guidance of the Holy Spirit, someday she would likely raise her voice in perfect harmony with a heavenly choir to sing praises to our Lord. For now, though, the most important thing was to be in tune spiritually.

Christmas has always been a special time for us as a family. Growing up in Brazil, I remember that my family would always get together with our aunts and uncles to exchange presents on Christmas Eve. My siblings and I, as kids, would act out the Nativity, sing some Christmas hymns and then, my father would always share a message about the Savior Jesus Christ.
As we grew older, we kept this tradition. For a long time, my wife and I had our own kids and their cousins acting out the Nativity story.
As I look back, I do not remember the presents I got, but I do remember the sweet spirit of watching the kids acting out and singing Christmas songs together, and either my father or my mother sharing a special message with us. Since my father’s passing, my mother is the one who shares a message with us every Christmas. I look forward to that moment and, even if we cannot be physically present, we connect through technology and enjoy those moments together as a family. I now know that those feelings that I had as a child were the Holy Ghost testifying to me of the divine nature of Jesus Christ. As I ponder about these experiences on Christmas Eve, the scripture that comes to my mind is found in Matthew 6:19–21: “Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal:
“But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal:
“For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.”

Christmas morning in our house came early. Who can stay asleep when there are such exciting things to look forward to? I was awake by 2:00 a.m. I knew I wasn’t allowed to wake up my parents then, so I lay in my bed and dreamed. I was eight years old, and my one Christmas wish was for a Molly doll, a doll with dark hair and glasses, which looked a lot like me. I had dreamed about the doll so much that by Christmas morning, I had no doubt I would receive it.
Slowly the minutes ticked by. At 6:00 a.m., just when I thought I couldn’t stand it any longer, my two younger brothers and I ran to wake up my parents. Then we stood at the top of the stairs and waited for my dad to say that he was ready with the video camera. My mom held my eight-month-old sister, Anna, in her arms.
My dad called up the stairs, “Okay, I’m ready,” and it was as if he had started a race. We all tumbled down the steps at a breakneck speed. I had my eyes trained on the place where I knew Molly would be sitting, but she wasn’t there. I stopped in my tracks and took in the whole family room in a single glance. No, she really wasn’t there. I was so disappointed I could have sat on the bottom step and just cried, but I didn’t. After all, it was Christmas morning. I found the present Santa had left me instead. It was very nice, and I played with it a lot, but I still longed to hold a Molly doll in my arms.
Fast forward nine years. I was 17. The doll-playing phase of my life had passed. It was October, and the whole family was gathered around the table for breakfast. Since that Christmas when I was 8, my family had added three more kids, with one more on the way.
“I need someone to clean out the flower beds,” my dad said amidst the general commotion made by seven kids and two parents. “You know, clean up the dead flowers and then plant tulips for next spring.” He was looking directly at my brother, leaving no doubt as to whom he intended that someone to be. “I’ll pay whoever will agree to do it.”
Ben did not seem fazed by the incentive of money, for he did not volunteer his services. Someone else did.
“I’ll do it,” Anna, who was now nine, said with determination.
Over the next several weeks, I vaguely noticed that Anna seemed to acquire a number of new jobs. I didn’t pay much attention. “She probably needs money for Christmas presents, or maybe she’s saving for something,” I thought.
One day she and I were cleaning the room we shared when she asked me a question.
“Amy, if you could have a doll, which one would it be?” she asked.
“Oh, I would still want Molly,” I said absently. I didn’t think too much about the question. She asked me questions like that all the time, and I knew she also wanted a Molly doll for Christmas this year.
Christmas morning came. I still got excited about what the day would hold, but I also liked my sleep. I could now see why my parents refused to let us get them up before 6:00 a.m.
When the time came, my little brothers and Anna were so excited they were practically dancing at the top of the stairs. At Dad’s command, we all ran down.
I took in the family room with a sweeping glance, and, wonder of wonders, Anna had received Molly! I was excited for her and surprised that I did not feel even the slightest twinge of jealousy. It didn’t bother me that she had received the doll I had once wanted so much. We shared the joy of her gift.
After an uneventful breakfast, we all wandered out to the living room to open more presents. Anna was jumping up and down and looked as though she were about to burst.
“I want Amy to open the present from me!” she exclaimed. She was so excited she could barely contain herself. I wondered what on earth it could be. “Maybe it’s something she made,” I thought.
From behind the Christmas tree, Anna pulled out a long, oblong box. I was confused.
“Is this from Anna?” I questioned. “Just from Anna?”
“It’s just from Anna,” Mom answered.
As I began to slowly remove the wrapping, I became even more confused. It was a doll box. Anna was enjoying every second of my confusion.
As I pulled off the lid, my breath caught in my throat. There, nestled snugly inside the box, was a Molly doll identical to Anna’s.
“Oh, my goodness,” I breathed. How could this be from Anna? I looked to my mom for an answer.
“Remember all of the work Anna did?” Mom questioned.
I did remember, and the tears ran down my cheeks. With sudden clarity I remembered all the jobs Anna had been doing that I had barely noticed. Even more than the gift, the impact of how much my sister loved me made me sob.
Anna ran up and threw her arms around me. I held her tight and continued to cry. Soon other family members were crying too. You could feel the love that was in the room. Gently, I lifted the doll out of the box. I had never dreamed that I would actually receive this doll—and from my nine-year-old sister, of all people! Anna’s smile was scattering sunshine all around the room. Everyone was smiling and grinning through their tears.
As I held my doll, I realized I would not have traded this moment for anything. If I had received the doll when I originally wanted it, I never could have shared this Christmas in this way with Anna. Isn’t it funny how things happen? Before, I just couldn’t understand why I didn’t get what I wanted. Now I had received an even more precious gift—my sister’s loving sacrifice for me.
I would think about all these things for years to come. But right now, two sisters were running off to play with their new dolls.

As a kid, I didn’t have very many good interactions with girls. I always thought they represented the “opposite.” When I moved, I struggled because there were more girls in my new ward than there were in my old ward. I didn’t know how to talk to them.
Still, a girl in the ward was one of the first people to welcome me. We ended up becoming close friends. One day, I gave her a gift, but I didn’t know if she would like it. She misunderstood the present and thought I was romantically interested in her. As a result, we didn’t talk for six months.
It was tough because I really wanted to be friends with her. I was scared to apologize incorrectly and possibly make things worse. But I missed her friendship and felt awful that I’d made her feel bad. Before this, I’d always found praying kind of tedious, but I started praying constantly to the Lord for help.
One day while reading the scriptures, I came across Mosiah 18:9, which says we should “comfort those that stand in need of comfort.” I realized that I needed not only to apologize but also to try to comfort her and show more interest in our friendship. Doing things my way wasn’t working. I needed more compassion and humility.
The Lord provided the right moment for me to apologize. I went with my mother to take my siblings to a stake Primary activity, and I found my friend there with her family. I asked the Lord to help and inspire me so I could talk to her, and I was able to apologize.
Today, we’re great friends. We joke a lot, set goals together, and consider ourselves like siblings. Liking someone doesn’t always mean being in love with them. Sometimes, you just appreciate their good qualities and enjoy being with them.
I know the Lord helped me, because if it were up to me, I wouldn’t have succeeded. I might have spoken differently or exaggerated my apologies, and it wouldn’t have worked out. I needed someone more than myself.
That’s where asking God comes in. Many times, I don’t ask for help and try to do everything on my own. But we’re not alone, right? We always have God by our side.
God blesses me, not always with what I want, but always with what I need. During the six months my friend and I weren’t talking, I needed to learn how to receive personal revelation and listen to the Holy Ghost. Now I find it easy to pray, because I enjoy conversing with my Heavenly Father.

It was 1973. Struggling with some challenges, I deeply desired to know God, so I decided to read the Bible. One day I read about Solomon’s temple in 2 Chronicles 2–5, and I felt that such a holy place could be on the earth. So I fasted and prayed that I might be guided by the Holy Ghost to find it. I felt that if I found a temple, I would be able to tell one of the Lord’s servants about my problems, and he would help me solve them.
So I set out to find a temple. At the time I lived in Fontenay-sous-Bois, a suburb of Paris, so I started driving toward the city to find a temple. I saw many buildings, including churches and synagogues, but I did not find a temple. Upon returning home, I prayed and wondered why I couldn’t find a temple. Wasn’t I pure enough? Or was I simply unprepared?
I forgot all about my failed search until sister missionaries for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints came to my home in February 1980. They taught me that the closest temple was in Zollikofen, Switzerland—the Bern Switzerland Temple.
I was baptized on April 12, 1980, and I went to the temple for the first time just over a year later, on May 5, 1981. There I was able to do the temple work for several women in my family, including my grandmothers, aunts, and cousins.
Of these women, the only one I had known was my cousin Olga.
Olga, who was from Italy, married at a very young age, but sadly, her husband was violent and unfaithful to her. With the help of her father and her brother, Olga decided to escape when she was expecting her fifth child.
She went to live with her parents and brother. After the birth of her child, Olga passed away. Olga’s parents never recovered from the shock of her sudden death.
While I was performing the ordinances for Olga in the temple, one word kept coming to my mind: mission. But I was puzzled—I was busy raising three children by myself, and I couldn’t possibly go on a mission.
The answer came several months later. One day my cousin Renzo told me that Olga’s mother, my aunt Anita, had passed away. Suddenly I recalled that I had completed the temple work for Olga on a Tuesday, and her mother had passed away the following Friday. With great emotion, I felt impressed that Olga had been eager to receive her temple ordinances so she could welcome and teach her mother in the spirit world. Perhaps that was Olga’s mission.
But I had a mission to help my own parents as well. I had tried to talk to them about the Church on several occasions, but they hadn’t been interested. So after my mother and father died, I did the temple work for them as soon as I could.
When my parents were sealed, my heart was pounding, and my eyes filled with tears of love. I was then sealed to my parents. I could not stop thinking about my mother, and I wanted to embrace the sister who had been proxy for her. I thanked her for representing my mother. The sister too had tears in her eyes, and she thanked me for the experience. Even though I didn’t know her, we felt like members of the same family.
My parents were then sealed to their parents, and Olga, whom I represented in the ordinance, was sealed to her parents, my uncle Marino and aunt Anita.
Every time I recall those experiences, I am overcome with emotion. I think about Olga, and I hope she is fulfilling her mission on the other side of the veil. Because of temple ordinances, I am no longer the only member of the Church in my family. I believe that my parents accepted the ordinances performed for them. I am filled with joy and thank the Lord for making it possible for me to establish an eternal family through the blessings of His holy temple.

I was released from active duty in the navy in 1947 and returned to my home in Missouri. There I married the beautiful little dark-haired girl I had met and briefly courted four years previously. I well remember the first time I saw her. She was walking down the street. I was eighteen and she was fourteen—and I knew immediately she was for me. I spoke to her that day and we got acquainted, and I later told her she had four years in which to grow up because I was going into the navy but would come back and marry her.
So, four years later I kept my promise, and came back home to court my sweetheart, and we were married five months later. When we were married, we read and discussed the Bible together. After the births of our first two children I was recalled with other naval aviators to participate in the Korean conflict. I was assigned to a squadron based in San Diego, California, and then ordered to Hawaii for thirteen weeks of special training. I left my little family in San Diego.
No sooner had I departed and my wife had moved our possessions into our rented home than the Mormon missionaries came by and knocked on her door. They were tracting, and many of the questions that they discussed with her were the very questions we had pondered together, so she was very interested.
In one of her letters to me she mentioned that two young men had called on her and asked a lot of questions about religion, to which they seemed to have all the answers. Well, that made me a bit angry. What were young men doing calling on my wife, even in the name of a church, while I was away? I didn’t like it, especially since they were answering questions that I had been pondering all my life.
When I returned home from Hawaii, the first evening Connie, my wife, told me the Joseph Smith story. When she said that he had seen visions and had revelations, it seemed so ridiculous that I laughed in her face, and this made her cry. I then saw how much this story really meant to her, and I relented and said, “Well, the least I can do is read some of the material they left for you to study.”
No sooner did I start to read the Book of Mormon than I knew at last I had found that for which had been searching.
While reading First Nephi, I remember saying to myself, “Dear God, let this be true; please let this be the truth—for if it is, it answers all the questions I have been trying to answer all my life.” I hadn’t finished Second Nephi when I knew it was true.
I had prayed one simple prayer to the Lord for many years: “Dear God, please show me the truth. Please lead me to the truth.” I had sought truth in many places. Now here were two young men, bringing the truth right into my living room. And although they were very young, they had great powers with them—truth and God. I could not argue against what they offered, neither did I wish to.
I attended church for only a few Sundays before it became time for me to leave for Korea. When I went aboard ship on the last day of 1951, I took with me a triple combination and the Articles of Faith by James E. Talmage. I read the Articles of Faith during the first month at sea. One evening in February I heard it announced over the public address system aboard ship that Latter-day Saint services would be held in the crew library at 7:30 P.M. At the appointed hour I went to the library where I found four young men who looked very much like the two young missionaries who had knocked on my door in San Diego. I told them I was not a member of the Church but was interested in studying about it. They welcomed me with much enthusiasm.
When we arrived in Japan in the latter part of February 1952, the group decided that I was ready for baptism. So they accompanied me to the Japan Mission home where I was interviewed and received a recommend. On February 25, 1952, in the garden behind the Japan Mission home in 30-degree weather, seven thousand miles from my home in Missouri, I was baptized. Later I was confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. My wife was baptized four days later in San Diego, California. Our search had come to an end.
Once again the Lord had stood by his word: “Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you: For every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened.” (Matt. 7:7–8.)

Early in our marriage we lived in Anchorage, Alaska. One night I awoke from a deep sleep and found myself consumed with an urgent thought. I woke my husband and asked if he had locked the sliding glass door in the back of the house. He said he had. I tried to put the thought out of my mind and go back to sleep. I kept telling myself I was just being paranoid, but the feeling that I needed to lock the door persisted. Sleep would not come. Finally, I had a distinct impression: “Kelli, go lock the back door!”
I pulled myself out of a warm bed and walked downstairs. The glass door appeared to be locked. I started to walk away, but then I pulled on the door handle. The door slid open! The lock was set, but the door had not been closed tightly enough to engage the lock. I pulled the door closed, locked it securely, and went back to bed.
When morning came I gave little thought to my experience of the night before. But as I pulled the curtains open, something caught my eye. Large footprints in the snow led up to the door and then away again. The thought I had tried so hard to toss aside had kept an intruder from entering our home.
How very grateful I am for the prompting of the Holy Ghost, which protected our family that cold winter night. It has forever changed the way I listen.