Gospel Story Finder

After school I went to get my rain boots off the porch and put them on so I could play in the puddles. But I felt a warning from the Holy Ghost not to put them on because there was a spider in one of them. I went inside and told my grandma to get the spider out. She swished her fingers around inside the tops of the boots and told me to put them on—there wasn’t any spider. But I knew there was! I told her to turn my boots upside down and bang them on the cement. She did, and a black widow spider about the size of a nickel came out. Grandma showed me the bright-red hourglass shape on it and then smashed it. If I had put my foot inside, the spider might have bitten me. I’m thankful that the Holy Ghost warned me.

When I was in Barcelona on my mission, my companion and I were walking by our church building when we saw a young woman walking toward us. We felt prompted to talk to her, so we stopped her and asked the woman if she had ever seen our church building before. We learned that her name was Maya (all names have been changed), and I invited her to come to a game night that we were planning with other young adults the following Friday. She accepted.
At the game night, I still remember how Maya and Alicia, a friend of ours who was a recent convert, were laughing together. Alicia was such a good friend to Maya. She asked Maya about her family, her interests, and her religious beliefs and built a friendship with Maya over time. We learned more about Maya’s religious background and her devotion to God, and she also expressed an interest in learning more about how we communicate with God.
Over time, as my companion and I, Alicia, and the rest of the ward got to know Maya and kept inviting her and showing her love, she felt the Spirit of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ and decided to be baptized. As we remembered patience and brotherly kindness (see Doctrine and Covenants 4:6), I know that the authentic friendships Maya experienced influenced her decision.

I staggered away from the table saw, my ears ringing, my stomach churning. Warm blood reached my elbow and flowed to the cement floor. With the palm of my undamaged hand, I cradled the mess, terrified at the sight of the red blood, white bone, and yellowing skin.
“Tim, what happened? Tim? Tim!”
I heard a voice yelling my name. It was Jeff, the only other person in the shop. Through blurred vision, I saw him running toward me.
“Go. Go get help! Call an ambulance! Hurry!” I screamed, and Jeff ran out the door.
Now alone, I lay on a large roll of plastic to stave off my dizziness. I had just finished a year of college and landed my dream job—working for the United States Forest Service in the remote mountains of southwestern Colorado. A week earlier I had received my mission call to Melbourne, Australia. I was to finish my summer job in Colorado, then report to the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah.
Where are they? I wondered. I started to get up, thinking I would go outside, get in the truck, and drive myself to the hospital. With dizziness returning quickly, I lay back down on the slippery plastic and closed my eyes. Soon I heard the wail of an ambulance.
“He’s in here.” I recognized Jeff’s voice.
Opening my eyes, I saw Jeff and a uniformed man and woman from the ambulance standing over me. Almost simultaneously, the man grabbed my cut hand and the woman took my pulse.
“You’re going to be all right,” he said as he wrapped my hand with white gauze. I was relieved the injury was out of sight.
“How old are you?” asked the woman.
I whispered the answer. My throat was dry, making it difficult to speak. She asked more questions about allergies, past medical problems, and medications I was taking. I responded quickly until she got to her last question.
“What family member do you want me to call to come to the hospital?”
I thought of my family, more than 950 kilometers away. Mom would be eating lunch at work, and Dad would be sleeping after working a late-night shift as a security guard. My younger sister, Erin, would be in school.
“Tim?”
“There isn’t anyone who can come now. I don’t have any family in Colorado,” I replied. As they lifted me into the ambulance and drove toward the hospital, I remembered times that summer when I had hiked into isolated wilderness areas to repair eroding trails and hadn’t seen anyone for days. When I came back into town, I always felt detached and alone, the way I felt now.
“Tim.” It was the woman from the ambulance. Her voice sounded distant. She continued, “Is there someone else I could call—a minister or a priest?”
I thought of the small branch in Gunnison, Colorado. The members had been friendly to me during the past few months, but I didn’t want to bother them with this problem. I looked down. The blood had saturated the white gauze. I winced when I thought of the ripped flesh inside.
“Call Willy Akers or Bud Smith,” I said at last. President Akers had just been called as branch president, and Bud Smith was his counselor.
“I know Willy. I’ll call him when we get inside,” she said with assurance.
The ambulance stopped in front of the small hospital. I saw the doctor waiting for me to be wheeled in. Once inside, I looked around at the small emergency room as they placed me on an examination table. The doctor spoke calmly to the nurse as he unwrapped the dark, red gauze. I looked away.
Finally, he finished and directed the nurse to wrap it again. Without a word, he left. I could hear his voice on a telephone in the next room and knew he was speaking about me. He stopped talking after a few minutes and entered the emergency room.
“Tim,” he started, speaking slowly, “you’ve cut yourself pretty badly, and I don’t have the equipment or expertise to do much for you. I just called for a helicopter to fly you to a hospital in Denver. They will do everything they can to save your hand there. Meanwhile, I’ll give you some pain medication to make things more comfortable for you on the way. Do you have any questions?”
I managed a weak no, then thought about what he had just said. The words “save your hand” kept repeating themselves. I had never had a cut that required more than a few stitches, and now I faced the possibility of losing one of my hands.
“It’s a good thing this happened while I was home for lunch or you wouldn’t have caught me,” President Akers said as he entered the small room. Brother Smith followed close behind. “They tell me you get to go on a helicopter ride.” I nodded, too weak to speak.
“Would you like a blessing?” Bud asked. I nodded again, and in the curtained partition of the two-bed emergency room in a small hospital, I was promised two things: my hand would be all right, and I would be able to fulfill my mission to Australia. President Akers went back to work, and Brother Smith stayed with me until I was loaded onto the helicopter.
“Now I’m really alone,” I thought as I flew above Gunnison. I knew a few people in this small town of 6,000, but in Denver, a city of half a million people, I knew no one.
But I was wrong. When the helicopter landed and I was wheeled through the open doors of the hospital, a missionary couple from the Colorado Denver South Mission greeted me. Their gray hair and warm smiles reminded me of my grandparents.
“Your branch president’s wife called and asked if we’d visit you sometime this week, and we came right over,” Sister Jeffreys explained. They sat by my bed until late that afternoon when the surgery team had assembled and was ready to operate.
I wanted Elder and Sister Jeffreys to stay, but we knew they would not be allowed in during the operation. I said good-bye and watched them walk down the long hallway.
“Hello. I’m Lile Hileman, one of the anesthesiologists here,” a man said, approaching my bed. “I was supposed to get off at 4:30, but when I saw you were the only Mormon besides me here, I thought I’d ask if it would be all right for me to be your anesthetist.”
“Do you know what you’re doing?” I joked for the first time since cutting myself.
“For you, I’ll learn fast,” he said, laughing.
It took the surgeons more than 14 hours to repair the damage, and I was in Denver for just as many days.
The day after the accident, my mom flew to Denver from our home in Orem, Utah, and she was greeted at the hospital by the full-time missionaries. For the three days she was in Denver, she stayed in the home of Church members she had never met.
After my mom returned home, and during the ensuing weeks, I continued to receive visits from the Jeffreys and Brother Hileman. In addition, six members of the local singles ward came three times each week to cheer me up. The night before I left, they all “kidnapped” me from my room and took me to an ice-cream shop close to the hospital.
I flew home, and after six more operations and months of therapy, I was able to use my hand again. Although my mission call was delayed six months, I served two years with added vigor, for I now could teach the people of Melbourne about the caring brothers and sisters who they’ll always have as part of their Church family.

After more than 50 years, I can still hear the words of a tournament official: “Sorry, son, we must disqualify you for signing an incorrect scorecard.” My disqualification came as a result of my mentioning to the official that I needed to correct my score. For weeks I said to myself: “Why didn’t I remain silent? Besides, the error was an innocent mistake. The total score was correct.” Though my performance was good enough to find me in the winner’s circle, I left the awards presentation empty-handed. And that’s the way it is.

Following my baptism on 20 August 1994, in the Makélékélé Branch, Brazzaville District, I asked myself the following question:
How should I prepare myself?
In Doctrine and Covenants 11:21 we read: “Seek not to declare my word, but first seek to obtain my word, and then shall your tongue be loosed; then, if you desire, you shall have my Spirit and my word, yea, the power of God unto the convincing of men.”
This inspired me to enroll in institute, where I studied the Book of Mormon. This enlightened my life, allowed me to gain a testimony of the restored gospel, to come unto Christ, and inspired me to make a decision to serve a full-time mission. Touched by the obedience shown by Nephi, I decided to do as he did in 1 Nephi 3:7: “I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them.”
I received my mission call a week before the civil war that broke out on 18 December 1998, in Congo-Brazzaville, my home country. I was 28 years old. I had to answer the Lord’s call which was extended to me through His servant, President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910-2008). I walked for 224 miles to get to the neighboring Democratic Republic of the Congo—the country in which I was called to serve my mission.
As we serve our fellow men, challenges can be turned into opportunities to grow. As I read the Book of Mormon and pondered over the scriptures, I came to discover that the Lord helped Nephi at all times. That gave me hope that the Lord would also help me if I made righteous decisions to serve Him through a full-time mission. In this experience, I moved forward freely, in spite of obstacles, with my mission call letter from President Hinckley, our then prophet. I felt the presence of Lord’s Spirit throughout my journey into the mission field.
It is important to know that a missionary is an instrument in the hands of the Lord, and that the purpose of a missionary is to “invite others to come unto Christ by helping them receive the restored gospel through faith in Jesus Christ and His Atonement, repentance, baptism, receiving the gift of the Holy Ghost, and enduring to the end.”1 We will have to reflect upon the following question: What can we do to prepare ourselves if we wish to achieve this purpose?
We all—parents, youth, and children—can and should prepare ourselves to serve as missionaries—whether we serve as ward or branch missionaries, plan to serve at a young age, or hope to be called later in life as a senior missionary. Worthy young men should—and women might—consider serving a full-time mission. Speak with your bishop or branch president. He can help guide the process of preparation for a full-time mission and understand parents’ responsibility in this work.
In Matthew 28:19–20 the Lord has said: “Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost:
“Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and, lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world.”
This tells us that it is the responsibility of all those who follow Him to engage in missionary work. In Doctrine and Covenants 88:81 the Lord reiterated this declaration at the beginning of this dispensation: “It becometh every man who hath been warned to warn his neighbor.”
Sister Epiphanie Christel Mabiala was born in Pointe Noire, Republic of Congo. She and her husband are the parents of three children. She was called as an area organization adviser in July 2021.

Now, may I give one example of both basic and master planning.

Some of you may recall a brief report I gave last October on the Church branch in Bermejillo, Mexico. With the help of welfare services missionaries, the branch president and his welfare services committee undertook some basic planning to apply the very basic welfare services program of the Church in their branch. Their work resulted in significant changes in the lives of Church members. They painted their homes, penned their livestock, and taught the essentials of personal and family preparedness, emphasizing good health practices.

The results today are that a chapel is under construction with most of the work being done by the members, including making their own bricks. President Rodolfo William Mortensen, the mission president, indicates that the branch is now a ward. Nearly every family has a garden; some even produce honey from bees. Most families have started a year’s supply of food. Convert baptisms have increased sharply in the past year. All this has happened because Bishop Castaneda, a convert of eight years, had the vision of how to lead his people in living the gospel in Bermejillo. Basic planning, starting with the welfare of his members and reaching out to touch every facet of their lives, has lifted this ward to heights previously not thought possible.

I laughed at her. I couldn’t help it. She was so sweet and open and sincere. Even though she was four years younger than myself, she was probably the best friend I had ever had. She had introduced me to the gospel. She had changed my life. Lori was the only Mormon girl I’d ever known, and it seemed to me she was a pretty decent specimen of the ideal.
Last summer the library hired two new high school students, and Lori was one of them. Friendly and talkative, it didn’t take her long to establish herself on good terms with all the other workers or to make sure that everyone knew she was a Latter-day Saint. I had read about the Mormons and Brigham Young in the history books at school, but I didn’t really know anything. And I couldn’t understand why this girl made me feel suddenly so curious, so interested in something I had never even thought about before.
That was only a year ago. I marveled how one brief year could totally change a person’s life. Nothing was the same as it had been before I learned about the gospel and joined the Church. I was involved in different activities now and had different friends. I thought different thoughts and wanted different things. And I was happier, and more miserable, than I had ever been in my life.

After Grandma and Seth finished their waffles, she told him a story. “When Grandpa and I started thinking about going on a mission, I was concerned about you. I prayed that Heavenly Father would help you to understand our feelings. Then at general conference, Elder Robert D. Hales said if we serve a mission, our families will be blessed.
“Grandpa and I want those blessings for you, Seth. We also want to show you that it’s important to follow the prophet. We want you to share this special time with us and be happy.”

The day after the assault, some friends of mine asked if I would like some alcohol to help me through the situation. I had been a member of the Church for little over a year, and I wasn’t active at the time. But something in me knew that if I drank any amount of alcohol, I would become dependent on it.

When my mind cleared after a few days, I decided that this assault would be a moment in my life, but it wasn’t going to ruin my life. I went through the court case. I remember shortly before the sentencing, people had told me that the man who had assaulted me was a good man from a respectable family and that this assault was so out of character for him. They said he had made a mistake due to drinking alcohol and he was so remorseful that he couldn’t live with himself for what he had done. They convinced me to ask the judge to be lenient with him.

On the day of sentencing, I gave my victim-impact statement and told the judge that the man had simply made a mistake while drunk and that I thought he should get psychiatric help rather than a prison term. The judge thanked me and, due to my statement, he sentenced the man to only six years in prison. After this, I tried to get on with my life. I got married and had children.

Sometime in 1997 or 1998, I got a phone call informing me that the man was back up in the papers. He had been released from prison and had assaulted three other women. This news brought everything back to me. I felt somewhat responsible because I spoke up for him.

The guilt I felt caused me to suffer from depression. I was a strong member of the Church at that time, but it was still hard. My head was so confused that I couldn’t always hear the still, small voice. Priesthood blessings helped me because I was able to better understand what my Father in Heaven wanted me to know at that time. I know I was able to get through this because I had the gospel in my life.

President Russell M. Nelson has told of a nurse who asked then-Dr. Nelson a question after a difficult surgical procedure. “Why are you not like other surgeons?” Some surgeons she knew could be short-tempered and profane as they performed such high-pressure procedures.

Dr. Nelson could have answered in any number of ways. But he simply replied, “Because I know the Book of Mormon is true.”

His answer prompted the nurse and her husband to study the Book of Mormon. President Nelson later baptized the nurse. Decades later, while presiding over a stake conference in Tennessee, USA, as a newly ordained Apostle, President Nelson enjoyed an unexpected reunion with the same nurse. She recounted that her conversion, brought about by his simple testimony and the influence of the Book of Mormon, helped lead to the conversion of another 80 people.3

In 1898, Inez Knight and Jennie Brimhall were the first two single women called as sister missionaries for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Shortly after arriving on their missions to England, the two women went to preach in Oldham, a small manufacturing town near Liverpool.
Inez Knight and Jennie Brimhall prayed for help in their missionary service in England.
Right: photograph courtesy of Jennifer Whatcott Hooton
The two sisters, their mission president, and other missionaries gathered one evening. “They formed a circle on a busy street corner, offered a prayer, and sang hymns until a large crowd formed around them.” Their efforts were so successful that the mission president “announced that a special meeting would be held the following day, and he invited everyone to come and hear preaching from ‘real live Mormon women.’”

Dear Buddy,
Today was a Thanksgiving Day that I’ll never forget! We spent the morning tracting without much success. It was cold, and everyone was busy and didn’t want to talk. Then we spent the afternoon with some members who had invited us for Thanksgiving dinner. And did they ever put on a feast! The food was so good that I kept eating and eating until my belt yelled for mercy. Sister Marshall seemed to enjoy watching us eat, and she kept passing the food around. Then when we left, she gave us each a big package of leftovers wrapped in aluminum foil. It’s great to have members like the Marshalls who help the missionaries.
But it was what happened as we were riding our bikes home that made this an unforgettable Thanksgiving Day. Even though it was cold and windy and almost dark, we took the long way home to help work off some of our dinner. On a lonely road on the outskirts of town, we came upon a girl with long black hair who looked about your age. She was gathering sticks at the side of the road, and she was wearing a long-sleeve blouse, a shawl around her shoulders, a skirt, and sandals.
Elder Butler and I stopped, concerned about her being out in the bitter cold. Her name is Rosita. She didn’t know much English, but she took us to her mother, who was also gathering wood not far away. We helped them gather broken branches and old sticks until everyone’s arms were full. Then they took us to their home.
They live in a small shack with a woodburning stove in the middle. The only one who speaks much English is the father, and he was on a mattress in the corner, sick with a fever.
Their name is Morales. They recently came from Central America. Mr. Morales said that he brought his family to the United States to have a better life. He had a job here, but he lost it when he got sick.
There was hardly any furniture, and the room was smoky and drafty. They need so much—even simple things, like clothes for winter. All they had was what they’d brought in three suitcases. And each other. As I looked into their faces, I felt that I was in the presence of modern Pilgrims. Suddenly Thanksgiving became much more real to me. It is more than parades and football games on TV and tight belts from eating too much turkey and yams and pumpkin pie. Thanksgiving means hope and freedom.
Elder Butler and I gave Mr. Morales a blessing, and we gave our leftovers from dinner at the Marshalls to the Morales. They thanked us again and again and asked us to come back to visit them. We will.
Riding home, I no longer felt the cold wind blowing in my face and up the sleeves of my coat. All I could feel was the warmth of gratitude for all the blessings that we enjoy.
Love,Reed

By Justin Christy
When I met Shuho at the gym, he said he wanted to learn English and go to a golf exchange program. I told him about the English classes at the church, but it took several weeks before we were able to attend. In the meantime, as we worked out together, we talked a lot about gospel topics, about the Book of Mormon, and about life in general.
The friendship and examples of the Church members he met caught his attention and helped him learn about the gospel. It is the Spirit that leads to conversion; all we do is deliver the message and support people as they choose for themselves.
It used to be stressful for me to think about sharing the gospel. But I have found that if we just open our mouth at the right time, we will have missionary opportunities. All we need to do is invite people to a church activity or meeting. If we are open-minded, there will always be opportunities to share the gospel.

I was also able to enjoy that same Christ-centered culture growing up in a home where my father honored his priesthood and gained the trust of the entire family due to “the integrity of his heart.” Let me share with you an experience from my youth that illustrates the lasting positive impact that a father who understands and lives the principle of trust built on integrity can have on his family.

When I was very young, my father founded a company that specialized in factory automation. This business engineered, fabricated, and installed automated production lines worldwide.

When I was in middle school, my father wanted me to learn how to work. He also wanted me to learn the business from the ground up. My first job included maintaining the grounds and painting areas of the facility not visible to the general public.

When I entered high school, I was promoted to work on the factory floor. I started to learn how to read blueprints and run heavy steel fabrication machinery. After high school graduation, I attended university and then entered the mission field. Returning home from my mission, I went straight back to work. I needed to earn money for the next year’s school expenses.

One day soon after my mission, I was working in the factory when my father called me into his office and asked if I would like to go with him on a business trip to Los Angeles. This was the first time my father invited me to accompany him on a business trip. He was actually letting me go out in public to help represent the company.

Before we left on the trip, he prepared me with a few details about this potential new client. First, the client was a multinational corporation. Second, they were upgrading their production lines worldwide with the latest in automation technology. Third, our company had never previously supplied them with engineering services or technology. And finally, their top corporate officer in charge of purchasing had called this meeting to review our bid on a new project. This meeting represented a new and potentially important opportunity for our company.

After arriving in Los Angeles, my father and I went to the executive’s hotel for the meeting. The first order of business was to discuss and analyze the engineering design specifications of the project. The next discussion item concerned operational details, including logistics and delivery dates. The concluding agenda item focused on pricing, terms, and conditions. This is where things got interesting.

This corporate officer explained to us that our price proposal was the lowest of those who had submitted bids on the project. He then, curiously, told us the price of the second-lowest bid. He then asked us if we would be willing to take our proposal back and resubmit it. He stated that our new price should come in just below the next highest bid. He then explained that we would split the newly added dollars 50–50 with him. He rationalized this by saying that everyone would win. Our company would win because we would be making considerably more money than our original bid provided. His company would win because they would still be doing business with the lowest bidder. And, of course, he would win by taking his cut because he put this great deal together.

He then gave us a post office box number where we could send the money he requested. After all of this, he looked at my father and asked, “So, do we have a deal?” Much to my surprise, my father stood up, shook his hand, and told him we would get back to him.

After leaving the meeting, we got into the rental car, and my father turned to me and asked, “Well, what do you think we should do?”

I responded by saying I didn’t think we should accept this offer.

My father then asked, “Don’t you think we have a responsibility to all of our employees to maintain a good backlog of work?”

While I was contemplating his question and before I could answer, he answered his own question. He said, “Listen, Rick, once you take a bribe or compromise your integrity, it is very difficult to ever get it back. Don’t ever do it, not even once.”

The fact that I’m sharing this experience means that I have never forgotten what my father taught me on that first business trip with him. I share this experience to illustrate the lasting influence we have as fathers. You can imagine the trust I had in my father due to the integrity of his heart. He lived these same principles in his private life with my mother, his children, and all with whom he associated.

Once I went camping on the beach with my family, a few friends, and my dog, Max. We swam and played all day. Then we watched fireworks when it got dark. We all had a fantastic time.
When the fireworks ended, I looked for Max. But he was gone! I panicked and yelled that Max was missing. As tears poured down my face, we all looked for him in the woods. I felt a small voice tell me to pray, so I did. But my whole body felt limp like noodles, and I was scared for Max.
We didn’t find him, so we hiked back to our tent. I kept praying in my head, but I started to lose hope. I cried myself to sleep.
A few hours later, my parents shook me awake. Max was sitting right next to me! My parents had heard the sound of Max’s collar jingling outside our tent. I held him tightly and quietly thanked God for answering my prayers.

I was having a hard time feeling like I fit in. My family had recently moved clear across the country. The ward we moved into had a large youth group, but this was the first time I would be the “new guy.” The worst part was that I had to go to a new school, and the thought immediately flashed through my mind, “Who am I going to sit with at lunch?” Maybe I would see someone from church, but I didn’t want to barge in on someone else’s lunch table, especially since I didn’t know if they would even want me there!
The first day at school seemed to drag on forever. Finally the lunch bell rang. As I slowly entered the lunchroom, I prayed to Heavenly Father to help me find someone I knew. I glanced around to see if I could recognize anyone. No one. So I made my way to a table on the far side of the lunchroom and ate my lunch.
Later that day during math class, I recognized a familiar face. I had seen David at seminary that morning. He asked to see my schedule and discovered that we both had the same lunch period. “Hey, where were you at lunch today?” he said.
“I ate on the far side of the room,” I responded.
“Well, tomorrow come and sit with me at lunch,” he said.
I’m grateful for a loving Heavenly Father, who knows each of our needs and who answers each of our prayers. I’m also grateful for someone who was willing to extend a hand of friendship. Something as simple as an invitation can make all the difference.

Sometimes we need more than comfort or strength alone; sometimes the blessings we need are more tangible. Tania D. remembers such a time. Her family was facing an especially trying time financially. “It was a Saturday evening, and we had only 40 pesos [about US$1] left for the week, and we didn’t have dinner or even charcoal for our stove at home,” says Tania. “My mother gave me a list of all these things we needed, and we needed 250 pesos to buy all of it. The first thing we needed to buy was charcoal so we could cook dinner.” Tania could see there was not enough money for everything. Then she realized they would not have money for bus fare to go to church the next day. “I told my mother that we didn’t have enough for the fare to go to church. But my mother is really faithful, and she simply told me that ‘God will provide.’
“On my way to the store I was crying because we didn’t have enough money for everything, and I didn’t know what to do,” Tania says. As she rolled up one of the 20-peso bills and put it into her pocket, she did the only thing she could think to do that would help—she said a prayer. “I prayed to Heavenly Father that we could somehow find a way to accommodate our needs.”
But when she got to the first store, she found that the price of charcoal had gone up from 5 pesos to 20 pesos. “I was hesitant to buy it,” Tania says, “but I could feel the Holy Ghost whispering to me to buy it anyway, so I did. Now I had only 20 pesos left, but I still had many things to buy, including diapers for my brother and clean water to drink. So I went to the next store to buy food for our meal, and it was too expensive. I reached into my pocket where I put the 20 pesos, and there were five 20-peso bills in the roll. I started crying right in front of the store owner.
“In the end I was able to buy all of the things we needed,” Tania says, “and we had enough for fare to go to church the next day. When I got home, I went to my room and offered a prayer to God to thank Him for the blessing He had given to us. I know that God really lives and answers our prayers, especially those times when we need Him most and we offer a sincere prayer. He really will answer that prayer.”

Early in 1846, when Henry was 17, the Saints had to leave Nauvoo. For the wagon trek across Iowa, Jonathan C. Wright hired Henry to be a chore boy and drive an ox team. Henry liked this job, except for Brother Wright’s restriction that Henry walk his horses but never run or race them.
While Henry was camped with the Wrights at Council Bluffs, Iowa, a United States army recruiter arrived. “I had told my comrades that he would not get a man,” Henry said. But President Brigham Young called a meeting in a brush-covered bowery and asked that 500 men enlist for the Mexican War. Henry felt impressed to answer the call, so he joined the army. Mr. Wright, upset at losing his hired hand, “was wrathy and said that I could not go.” But Henry went. He was not yet 18 as required by the government, “but as I had nearly got my growth in height I passed without difficulty.” Besides, nobody asked him his age.

Pooja Prabhakar, 18, says she has received many blessings because of the gospel. “I have been brought into the light of truth, and I am happy that I can prepare myself to go back and live with my Heavenly Father.” She says that becoming a member of the Church has changed her life in many ways: “I begin each day with scripture study. I dress modestly. I use good language. I used to have a habit of making fun of others, but because of the Church I learned that I shouldn’t be doing that, so I stopped.”

She says she was 14 years old when she first attended Young Women. “I loved it,” she says. “I was very much reserved, but as I went on, I became jolly happy. I learned how to be a good daughter to my parents, a loving sister to my siblings, and a peacemaker at home. It’s been jolly nice, especially when I received my Personal Progress medallion.”

Now as she transitions into Relief Society, she has many pleasant memories—of singing songs at a residence for the elderly “to show our love;” of gaining a testimony that the Book of Mormon is true, that Joseph Smith was a prophet, and that President Thomas S. Monson is a living prophet; and of “learning more about the gospel every time I come to church.”

She tells of an experience she and her friends had one day on their way to school. “We saw an older woman who was trying to find her way to the chemist [pharmacy] to get a prescription filled, so we stopped and helped her.” They not only walked with her to her destination, but they went inside and made sure she was able to get what she needed.

“I’m glad to know God would let us help her,” Pooja says.

I remember the song, “We Meet Again in Sabbath School.” (Hymns, no. 193.) And we did meet again and again and again, all my life. And I remember when my mother died up in Salt Lake City when I was eleven, there had been a goal set for us to attend Sunday School every Sunday of the year. She died in October. I had never missed a Sunday School since the first of January, I had been present every week, and I had a difficult time to square myself with myself to miss the Sunday that her body lay in state in our home.
I really didn’t understand then how hard these teachers labored to teach us, and how grateful I am for the great army of teachers in all the organizations of the Church who are so devoted and untiring to teach the children of Zion.
And then, if sometimes we had forgotten the verses, we could all join lustily in singing the chorus of the songs:
Join in the jubilee; mingle in song;
Join in the joy of the Sabbath School throng.
(Hymns, no. 177.)
The song “Love at Home” (Hymns, no. 169) we sang in our home evenings, which the Kimball family always held in the early days of this century.
I remember the song “In Our Lovely Deseret,” which Sister Eliza R. Snow wrote. She composed many of our songs. I can remember how lustily we sang:
Hark! Hark! Hark! ’tis children’s music,
Children’s voices, O, how sweet,
When in innocence and love,
Like the angels up above,
They with happy hearts and cheerful faces meet.
(Sing With Me, no. B-24.)
I am not sure how much innocence and love we had, but I remember we sang it, even straining our little voices to reach the high E which was pretty high for children’s voices. I remember we sang:
That the children may live long,
And be beautiful and strong.
I wanted to live a long time and I wanted to be beautiful and strong—but never reached it.
Tea and coffee and tobacco they despise.
And I learned to despise them. There were people in our rural community who were members of the Church who sometimes used tea and coffee and sometimes tobacco. The song goes on:
Drink no liquor, and they eat
But a very little meat
[I still don’t eat very much meat.]
They are seeking to be great and good and wise.
And then we’d “Hark! Hark! Hark” again, “… When in innocence and love Like the angels up above.” And then the third verse went:
They should be instructed young,
How to watch and guard the tongue,
And their tempers train, and evil passions bind;
They should always be polite,
And treat ev’rybody right
And in ev’ry place be affable and kind.
And then we’d “Hark! Hark! Hark” again.
They must not forget to pray,
Night and morning ev’ry day,
For the Lord to keep them safe from ev’ry ill,
And assist them to do right,
That with all their mind and might
They may love him and may learn to do his will.
And then we’d sing, “Hark! Hark! Hark” again. I was never quite sure whether the angels were limited in their voice culture as we were, but we were glad to take the credit.
One of the songs that has disappeared was number 163, “Don’t Kill the Little Birds,” and I remember many times singing with a loud voice:
Don’t kill the little birds,
That sing on bush and tree,
All thro’ the summer days,
Their sweetest melody.
Don’t shoot the little birds!
The earth is God’s estate,
And he provideth food
For small as well as great.
(Deseret Songs, 1909, no. 163.)
I had a sling and I had a flipper. I made them myself, and they worked very well. It was my duty to walk the cows to the pasture a mile away from home. There were large cottonwood trees lining the road, and I remember that it was quite a temptation to shoot the little birds “that sing on bush and tree,” because I was a pretty good shot and I could hit a post at fifty yards’ distance or I could hit the trunk of a tree. But I think perhaps because I sang nearly every Sunday, “Don’t Kill the Little Birds,” I was restrained. The second verse goes:
Don’t kill the little birds
Their plumage wings the air,
Their trill at early morn
Makes music ev’ry-where.
What tho’ the cherries fall
Half eaten from the stem?
And berries disappear,
In garden, field, and glen?
This made a real impression on me, so I could see no great fun in having a beautiful little bird fall at my feet.
And then there was the song that Evan Stephens wrote, “The Mormon Boy,” and how proud I was when we were to sing in the congregation:
A ‘Mormon’ Boy, a ‘Mormon’ Boy
I am a ‘Mormon’ Boy.
I might be envied by a king,
For I am a ‘Mormon’ Boy.
I liked this song; I have always gloried in those words: “I might be envied by a king, For I am a ‘Mormon’ Boy.”
I liked the song “What Shall the Harvest Be?” because it gave us a chance to sing in parts.
My beloved brethren, as I close I bear testimony to you that I hold the priesthood. You hold the priesthood. This is the priesthood that Elijah held, and the prophets Peter, James, and John also. They and their associates held the priesthood. But without the sealing power we could do nothing, for there would be no validity to that which we do. That’s the thing that counts. That is why Elijah came. That is why Moses came, for he conferred upon the head of Peter, James, and John in that dispensation these privileges and these powers, these keys, that they might go forth and perform this labor. That is why they came to the Prophet Joseph Smith, and the Lord said, “I will send you Elijah the prophet before … the great and dreadful day of the Lord.” (Mal. 4:5.)
Why should he send Elijah? Because he held the keys of the authority to administer in all the ordinances of the priesthood, and without the authority that is given, the ordinances could not be administered in righteousness.
Salvation could not come to this world without the mediation of Jesus Christ. How shall God come to the rescue of the generations? He will send Elijah the prophet. The law revealed to Moses in Horeb never was revealed to the children of Israel as a nation. Elijah shall reveal the covenants to seal the hearts of the fathers to the children and the children to the fathers. The anointing and sealing is to be called, elected, and the election made sure.
“I know that God lives. I know that Jesus Christ lives,” said John Taylor, my predecessor, “for I have seen him.” I bear this testimony to you brethren in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.