Gospel Story Finder

When members of the Loganholme Ward of the Beenleigh Stake were looking for a new way to love, share and invite, they took on a tech savvy project to help family history enthusiasts all over the world.
Latter-day Saints believe in the eternal nature of families and have a strong focus on researching their family trees.
For family history enthusiasts all over the world, the process of searching for names has significantly changed over the last two decades. One of these major changes is the introduction of indexing, an online system where volunteers view a digital image of a record, then type in the names, dates and places listed on that record. This digital data is used to create a searchable index that makes it possible for people to find records about their ancestors.
To get the ward members excited about the project, the Loganholme Ward leaders set a goal, to index 10,000 names from April to December 2022. Excitement spread like wildfire and by mid-August, the goal was reached and extended to 20,000.
This particular service project was chosen for a number of reasons, but mainly because it is accessible for a range of ages and skill levels. Early in in the challenge, the ward gathered and learned together how to access records and correctly assess and record the information. Due to the accessibility of this project and the training that was available, many individuals of all ages have joined the cause.
According to one participant, “To see the range of ages come together in a common goal is an incredibly unifying experience.”
But why indexing? In an article released by the Church aimed at the youth in 2014, it states, “Every name you index has the potential to help others find their ancestors and help those ancestors receive the necessary ordinances in the temple. Because of your efforts in indexing, historic records can be made searchable online so that lives can be blessed on both sides of the veil.”1
Through indexing, not only have people been able to link the generations of their family together, but they have also created a greater bond with their living family.
Every Thursday evening, ward members can gather at the chapel and work together, sharing knowledge and stories. Each participant can share their knowledge and wisdom with each other. Young children have been spotted helping older participants with technology as older participants share stories of days gone by and how the world has changed. Everyone can share their knowledge and ask questions if they need assistance, and the group celebrates individual successes together.
“Everyone involved has had such an amazing experience working on these records,” one observer said.
“Many are now finding the search for their ancestors addictive, spending their Sabbath researching for new clues and preparing family names for the temple.”
One of the local Church leaders commented, “What’s great about indexing is that anyone and everyone can participate regardless of your age or experience. Testimonies were strengthened, and an increased interest in temple and family history work was established.”

Two missionaries who were aflame spiritually had spent an active day establishing a branch of the Church in a remote village. At 5:30 that morning, they had taught a family before the husband left for the fields. Later they had struggled to plaster their adobe walls to keep out blood-sucking insects. During the week they had laid a small cement floor and had hung a five-gallon can with a shower head to keep clean. They had begun a sanitation facility and put new gravel and sand in their water filter. For part of the day they had worked beside men in the fields to later teach them. They were exhausted and ready for welcome rest.
There came an anxious knock at the crude wooden door. A small girl was crying. She had been running and was gasping for air. They struggled to piece together her message, delivered amid sobs in a torrent of words. Her father had suffered a severe head injury while riding his donkey in the darkness. She knew he would die unless the elders saved his life. Men of the village were at that moment carrying him to the missionaries.
The seriousness of their desperate situation began to engulf them. They were in a village with no doctors or medical facilities. There were no telephones. The only means of communication was a rough road up a riverbed, and they had no vehicle.
The people of the valley trusted them. The missionaries were not trained in medicine. They did not know how to care for a serious head wound, but they knew someone who did. They knelt in prayer and explained their problem to an understanding Father in Heaven. They pled for guidance, realizing that they could not save a life without His help.
They felt impressed that the wound should be cleansed, closed, and the man given a blessing. One companion asked, “How will he stand the pain? How can we cleanse the wound and bless him while he is in such suffering?”
They knelt again and explained to their Father, “We have no medicine. We have no anesthetic. Please help us to know what to do. Please bless him, Father.”
As they arose, friends arrived with the injured man. Even in the subdued candlelight, they could see he had been severely hurt. He was suffering greatly. As they began to cleanse the wound, a very unusual thing occurred. He fell asleep. Carefully, anxiously, they finished the cleansing, closed the wound, and provided a makeshift bandage. As they laid their hands on his head to bless him, he awoke peacefully. Their prayer had been answered, and his life saved. The trust of the people increased, and a branch of the Church flourished.
The missionaries were able to save a life because they trusted the Lord. They knew how to pray with faith for help with a problem they could not resolve themselves. Because they were obedient to the Lord, the Lord trusted them and answered their prayer. They had learned how to recognize the answer when it came as a quiet prompting of the Spirit. You have that same help available to you if you live for it.

Some years ago, while attending a luncheon, I sat next to a very able and perceptive young attorney. I had come to know this young man quite well. I knew him to be a member of a Christian faith other than our own. He knew that I was an active Mormon.
After a few superficial niceties, he asked me some serious questions. He first asked, “Is the Mormon Church Christian?” He added that his question was a theological rather than a moral one; he wanted to understand the role of Jesus in Mormon theology.
Such a broad question overwhelmed me. As I paused to collect my thoughts and to formulate an answer, I realized than any explanation of the role of the Savior in Mormon belief had to begin much earlier than with Christ’s mortal mission. I answered my friend by briefly telling about twelve roles of Jesus the Christ.
First, I explained in brief terms our belief in the eternal nature of man by paraphrasing and explaining several verses of the ninety-third section of the Doctrine and Covenants, where Jesus informed the Prophet Joseph Smith of the eternal nature of the intelligence of man: “I was in the beginning with the Father, and am the Firstborn.
“Ye were also in the beginning with the Father …”
“Man was also in the beginning with God. Intelligence, or the light of truth, was not created or made, neither indeed can be.
“Behold, here is the agency of man.” (D&C 93:21, 23, 29, 31.)
Second, I described the great council in heaven where all the Father’s children met to learn of his plans to further our eternal development. Jesus was the Father’s advocate for that plan which protected that agency of man inherent in the concept of beings possessing an uncreated and eternal existence. Lucifer wanted to alter the plan and eliminate the agency of man. (See Moses 4:1–3.)
Third, we discussed the role of Jesus as the creator of this and countless other worlds, in furtherance of the Father’s plan, which was accepted by the majority of his children. I quoted from the great vision given to Moses:
“And by the word of my power, have I created them, which is mine Only Begotten Son, who is full of grace and truth.
“And worlds without number have I created; and I also created them for mine own purpose; and by the Son I created them, which is mine Only Begotten.” (Moses 1:32–33.)
This view of Jesus in relationship to the universe was entirely new to my friend and left him deeply impressed.
The next role of Jesus, though known and preached by the early church, again was foreign to my friend. I explained that Jesus was Jehovah, God of the Old Testament, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and he who gave the Law of Moses. Jesus informed the Prophet Joseph of this fact in the Kirtland Temple (D&C 110:1–4) and had long before explained his role to the Nephites:
“Behold, I am he that gave the law, and I am he who covenanted with my people Israel; therefore, the law in me is fulfilled, for I have come to fulfill the law; therefore it hath an end.” (3 Ne. 15:5.)
This view of Jesus as Jehovah, the God of the Old Testament, prior to his birth in the flesh, was preached by the early church for four hundred years before being superseded by apostate doctrines. A constant affirmation of the early Jewish Christians as they were accused of subverting the Law and the Prophets, was that what was preached was not new but very, very old, having been preached by Jesus himself to the prophets from the beginning. Arthur Cushman McGiffert, (U.S. theologian, 1861–1933) in his edition of The Church History of Eusebius, notes that this first great church historian held to the same view as did all the early Fathers, that Jesus was the personage who appeared to the prophets in the divine appearances in the Old Testament.
“Eusebius (Palestinian theologian, church historian and scholar, A.D. 260?–340?) accepts the common view of the early Church, that the appearances of God of the Old Testament were appearances of Christ; that is, appearances of the second person of the Trinity. Augustine (early Christian church father and philosopher, A.D. 354–430) seems to have been the first of the Fathers to take a different view, maintaining that such appearances of Christ were not consistent with the identity of essence between Father and Son.” (McGiffert, ed., The Church History of Eusebius, 1890.)
It was only at the point of the fifth great role of the Master that my friend’s knowledge gave us a common background in our discussion of the role of Jesus in Mormon theology. We agreed in our belief that Jesus was born of a virgin, Mary, in fulfillment of prophecy; that he taught the gospel to the people of his day (in our belief, he once again taught the gospel to his people, in direct fruition and fulfillment of his earlier teachings to the prophets) and was crucified. I explained that Mormons believe that Jesus established his church with priesthood power while he was on the earth; that the church was not the creation, as some believe, of Jesus’ followers after the crucifixion. The Master ordained his apostles, sent out the seventy on missions, and had an organization of identifiable officers prior to the crucifixion.
The central role of the Master, of course, that role which could not be performed by another, was that of Jesus the Christ, who was crucified for the sins of the world. I bore testimony to my friend that I believed this is the most literal way. I told him that though I did not fully understand how one could take upon himself the sins of others and thereby bring into effect a universal resurrection, I knew with all my heart that it was so and that this part of the plan is self-operative and need nor be understood to be effective.
I knew that our belief regarding the sixth role of Jesus would be entirely new to my friend and, because of its peculiar nature, probably alien to his understanding or appreciation. I explained as best I could the mission of Jesus Christ to hades, or hell, or the underworld, the place of departed spirits. Once again I affirmed that this mission was well known to the members of the early church. This mission was true and of critical importance to the Father’s plan.
Jesus told of his intention to his apostles as he spoke to them at Caesarea Philippi just prior to the transfiguration. The Prophet Joseph Smith said that Peter, James, and John received important keys and endowments at the time of the transfiguration, which fact would make more meaningful the Master’s previous comments to Peter regarding binding and sealing powers. (History of the Church: 3:387). After hearing Peter’s great confession, “Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God,” in response to the Master’s question, “Whom do men say that I the Son of man am?” The Savior said to Peter that the “gates of hell shall not prevail” against the church (See Matt. 16:13–19).
Hell did not mean to the King James scholars who translated the New Testament what it means to some people today. It did not denote the place where bad people go, the domain of Satan. Rather, it was a synonym for hades, the place of the dead, where all the spirits of all people went at the time of death. Further, “the gates” of a city referred to the outer defenses of the city, keeping those within it separated from those without. Therefore, what the Master was saying to those disciples was simply that the gates, or the outer defenses or boundaries of hades, the place of the dead, would not be able to prevent the church from penetrating hades and freeing those people there bound by death. He was, in effect, announcing his descent into hades, the introduction of the gospel there, and his triumph over the lasting effects of death upon mankind.
I reaffirmed that his belief was among the most ancient beliefs of the early church, the complete knowledge of which had been restored through the Prophet Joseph Smith. In one of the great priesthood sections of the Doctrine and Covenants, the Lord revealed to Joseph that he had a plan of salvation sufficient that “not only those who believed after he came in the meridian of time, in the flesh, but all those from the beginning, even as many as were before he came, who believed in the words of the holy prophets, who spake as they were inspired by the gift of the Holy Ghost, who truly testified of him in all things, should have eternal life.” (D&C 20:26.)
The same message was taught by Irenaeus, a second century Christian scholar, in language surprisingly close to that used by Joseph:
“For it was not merely for those who believed on Him in the time of Tiberius Caesar that Christ came, nor did the Father exercise His providence for the men only who are now alive, but for all men altogether, who from the beginning, according to their capacity, in their generation have both feared and loved God, and practiced justice and piety towards their neighbors, and have earnestly desired to see Christ, and to hear His voice.” (Irenaeus, book 4, “Against Heresies,” in The Writings of Irenaeus, vol. 1, Ante-Nicene Christian Library, 1867, pp. 454–55.)
I explained that this doctrine of universal opportunity of salvation involved the introduction of the gospel into hades. Clement of Alexandria writing in the second century, stated:
“Wherefore, the Lord preached the gospel to those in Hades. Accordingly the Scripture says, ‘Hades says to Destruction. We have not seen His form, but we have heard His voice’ … But how? Do not the scriptures show that the Lord preached the gospel to those that perished in the flood … The apostles, following the Lord, preached the gospel to those in Hades. For it was requisite, in my opinion, that as here, so also there, the best of the disciples should be imitators of the Master; so that He should bring to repentance those belonging to the Hebrews, and they of the Gentiles … the Lord descended to Hades for no other reason but to preach the gospel … For it is not right that these should be condemned without trial, and that those alone who lived after the advent [of the Savior] should have the advantage of the divine righteousness … If, then, He preached the gospel to those in the flesh that they might not be condemned unjustly, how is it conceivable that He did not for the same cause preach the gospel to those who had departed this life before His advent” (Clement of Alexandria, book 6, “The Miscellanies,” in The Writings of Clement Alexandria, vol. 2, Ante-Nicene Christian Library, 1867, pp. 328–34. Italics added.)
A similar knowledge was given by revelation to a modern prophet, Joseph F. Smith, as he earnestly sought the meaning of Peter’s account of Christ preaching to the spirits in prison (see D&C 138).
Many of the fathers of the early church emphasized time and again that Christ descended into hades and organized a missionary force from among the prophets, his disciples from the time of the Master’s mission as Jehovah.
I mentioned to my friend that an ordinance necessarily related to this function of the Master was that of baptism for the dead, or baptism by proxy. I noted that this was what Paul was referring to when he cited this ordinance to the saints at Corinth as proof of the reality of a physical resurrection: “Else what shall they do which are baptized for the dead?” (1 Cor. 15:29). This practice of proxy baptism survived in the rural parts of the Roman Empire, relatively uncorrupted by the philosophies of the urban centers, until well into the fourth century and perhaps longer.
My friend’s background permitted us to talk of the seventh role of Jesus with common understanding. We discussed the resurrection, the appearance of Jesus to Mary, to Peter and the brethren, to the two on the road to Emmaus, to Peter and others fishing in Galilee; and finally the ascension of the Lord. I pointed out to my friend that the Lord undoubtedly used this time to further instruct his apostles. Whatever the subjects of those teachings, he left indisputable lessons to us all on the literal nature of the resurrection (his appearance to the brethren: “Behold my hands and my feet, that it is I myself: handle me, and see; for a spirit hath not flesh and bones, as ye see me have” [Luke 24:39]) and the promise of an equally literal return (at the time of the ascension: “Ye men of Galilee, why stand ye gazing up into heaven? this same Jesus, which is taken up from you into heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye have seen him go into heaven” [Acts 1:11]).
The eighth great mission of the Master again found my friend in ignorance. I described the ministry of the Lord to the Western Hemisphere, in fulfillment of his statement to the Jews: “And other sheep I have, which are not of this fold: them also I must bring, and they shall hear my voice; and there shall be one fold, and one shepherd.” (John 10:16). I told my friend that the Father introduced his Son to the people of this continent: “Behold my Beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased, in whom I have glorified my name—hear ye him.” (3 Ne. 11:7.) I described how Jesus organized a church like that which he had established in the East. Twelve disciples were called and ordained; great miracles were performed—the blind were made to see, the lame to walk. Children were blessed with miracles not matched by those in the East. A dissertation was given by Jesus on the nature and functions of the House of Israel unequaled by any other single scriptural reference. The sacrament was instituted and the Holy Ghost bestowed. Finally, after a three-day ministry, Jesus ascended.
I mentioned a ninth mission of the Master about which we know very little other than that it occurred. Jesus, in speaking to the Nephites, stated that he had yet other sheep who would also hear his voice (3 Ne. 16:1–5). Consequently, there must have been other people who enjoyed a personal ministration of the Master, though we do not now have the records of such a ministry.
The tenth mission of the Master was the ushering in of the restoration through the Prophet Joseph Smith. I described, through my own testimony of the occasion, how Joseph Smith asked God to direct him to the true church. I related the events of the First Vision: that the Father and the Son appeared to Joseph, and from the time of that event other angelic ministrations occurred to Joseph Smith sufficient to restore the knowledge of the gospel and the priesthood power to again establish the Church of Jesus Christ upon the earth as it had been when the Master personally established his church at the meridian of time.
I grouped together as the eleventh mission of the Master several appearances of the Savior to different people, from Joseph Smith, subsequent to the First Vision, to others of the prophets, including Lorenzo Snow, pointing out to my friend the reality of the Master’s direction of his church today as in time past.
Finally, I described to my friend the final and yet unfulfilled role of Jesus Christ in the great plan of his Father. I stated that Mormons believe in the literal second advent of the Master, to rule over the earth that he, under the direction of the Father, created.

Permit me to illustrate this point. A young man of faith practiced diligently and became a championship swimmer. He excelled to the point that scholarship offers from many universities were extended. One by one he turned them aside. His father asked, “Son, why won’t you accept one of these free-ride scholarships?”
“I can’t,” the boy answered. “I’m going on a mission, and it would not be honest for me to accept it and then drop it before the year is gone.”
Angrily the father shouted, “How foolish can you be! You are throwing away an opportunity of a lifetime.”
“I’m sorry, Dad,” the boy added respectfully, “but I take seriously what the Lord said about his coming again, and when he does, I don’t want to be found in the swimming pool practicing the backstroke.”

Before leaving his hometown of Mystowice to serve as a missionary, Elder Tomaszewski left a challenge for his younger brother Patryk, who was also deeply involved in jujitsu. “If you want to find out why I’m doing this, why I’m giving up my sport, read the Book of Mormon and pray about it.”
And what has been his best day as a missionary?
The day he learned that his younger brother had taken his challenge to read and pray about the Book of Mormon. Patryk Tomaszewski also received a testimony. He was baptized in August 2004.
Now there are two Tomaszewskis to share the joy of the gospel.

A week passed and he had been able to keep his secret. But now he was in the Lutheran church, last on a bench, seated with others his age. His mother and father were also there, sitting on the front row in the middle of the church, a place of honor reserved for parents on confirmation day. At 14, members of the Lutheran Church are considered ready for full membership. On confirmation day they appear before a congregation and answer questions on the Lutheran catechism asked by the pastor.
Christian knew he couldn’t lie about his beliefs; he had to tell the truth.
At last it was his turn. He stood up from the bench and walked toward the pastor. His father was smiling with pride. Christian’s legs felt weak and his mind clouded with confusion. The church was full, and he felt everyone’s eyes upon him.
The pastor’s voice high and loud, echoed in the church.
“Do you believe in God?” it chanted.
“Yes,” Christian’s voice was small. He whispered a prayer.
“Can you describe God?” the voice asked.
There was a vast silence in the great building. Christian felt as if the world were watching and listening. Then, a clearness and strength came from within. His voice was strong and clear.
“God is not a being without body, parts, or passions; and he does not sit on the top of a topless throne. God is a good, kind, Heavenly Father, who hears and answers prayers, and man is made in the image of God.”
For the first time in the service the pastor looked up, his eyes wide and questioning. Christian turned and looked at his father. He saw a face that was stone hard.
The pastor continued the questioning, and Christian answered according to his new beliefs.
The pastor finished the changed catechism questions, looked solemnly at Christian and in a hiss of voice said, “You answer as if you were a Mormon.”
“And if I do, I’m proud of it,” Christian replied.
Christian’s father, Hans Monson stood. He glared angrily at Christian, slammed the tip of his oak cane heavily against the wood floor, turned, and walked from the building, his cane cracking loudly with each step.
That night Christian received the beating from his father that he had expected for days. After that, with the help of his mother, he was able to avoid his father for several days. Then one evening while he was bringing wood into the house and stacking it near the fireplace, his father came into the room.
There was a moment of terrible silence. Hans Monson, a thick-chested man, a woodcutter by trade, suddenly struck at the boy with his cane. Christian avoided most of the blows that followed, but whenever the cane reached him, it caused a painful welt on h is flesh.
Out of breath Hans Monson stopped, his muscles tense and his blonde hair wet with perspiration. Christian, feeling faint, stood. His face was pale.
“Father, I know it’s wrong for me to disobey you. I’m sorry for that, but I m not sorry for what I did. I know it was right, and I’m not afraid to be beaten for the gospel, for truth.”
Breathing heavily Hans grabbed a large piece of wood from the fireplace stack and threw it. He threw wood at Christian until the stack was gone; then he opened the door and told Christian to get out.
“There’s no room here for a Mormon devil,” he shouted as Christian left. The door slammed. That was the last Christian would see of his father.
The night air was biting cold. Christian felt weak, overpowered by pain, confusion, and a terrible sense of loss. He still felt love and respect for his father. He staggered to the barn and fell on a pile of oat straw.
Later in the night Christian felt a soft hand touch his shoulder. His mother sat next to him on the straw.
“Why? Why did you have to do it, Christian?” she asked. Her voice was full of tears.
“I studied it, and I prayed about it. I know it’s true,” he answered, feeling strength in his own words. “I tried to tell you, but you wouldn’t listen. I cannot deny what I know to be true. It would be like denying Christ, our Savior. I could never do that, no matter how much it hurt.”
In the cold, musty darkness of the barn, they talked until the pearl-gray light of dawn came. Christian felt the warmth of a bond between him and his mother tighten stronger than it had ever been; it grew into something he would remember all of his life, a memory that would warm him and give him strength. In the gray, sullen light he saw a bright tear roll down her face. She held him tight and warm knowing she would never see her son again, at least not in this life.
She stood suddenly and walked into the house. Christian picked up the bundle of food she had brought him and began walking toward the city of Drammen. The elders had told him there were other Mormons there. Light, powder flakes of snow were falling silently on the road.

For yet others, a testimony of the Book of Mormon comes more slowly, after much study and prayer. I have a friend who read the Book of Mormon searching to know if it was true. He applied the invitation in Moroni to ask God with a sincere heart, with real intent and faith in Christ, if the Book of Mormon is true.6 But he did not immediately get the promised spiritual answer. However, one day as he was deep in thought, driving down the road, the Spirit testified to him of the truth of the Book of Mormon. So happy and overwhelmed was he that he rolled down the car window and yelled, to no one in particular and yet to all the world, “It’s true!”

It was in February of 1976 that they came to Salt Lake City to be the guests of Dave and Chris Boyd. The Boyds did not speak Spanish nor did the Bolivians speak English when they first arrived in Utah. Chris said, “It’s close to a miracle how we have been able to communicate. We’ve been able to work with the time schedules, solve medical problems, and enjoy each other’s company.
They learned English quickly and after only a few months could understand much of what was being said around them. When they played for school children throughout the Salt Lake Valley, they would ask them in English to clap or answer their musical questions in certain parts of the songs. They learned easily to say “Thank you,” “I’m very happy to be here,” and “My name is _____. What is yours?” They also learned to say “I’m hungry!”
They were most homesick for Bolivian food. Chris said that they would graciously eat anything she cooked for them. But they are used to food that has no chemical additives in it, and when they began eating American food, they had a hard time adjusting to it. In Bolivia they eat a lot of vegetables but insist on cooking them. Many Americans eat raw vegetables; Rama Nueve calls it rabbit food.
They make most of their own instruments. The flutist makes his flutes from cane stock. The bell tones he can make are pure and clear and seem even richer than those from flutes of silver. One of the instruments they use is the charango. It is made from an armadillo-type animal, a tatú. The shell is used as the back or sound part of the instrument.
All of the young Bolivians are exciting, accomplished musicians, but not one of them can read printed music. They began playing instruments by ear at a young age. “Many of the youth have a great desire to learn to read music but don’t have access to teachers who know the skills,” Chris said.
They brought seven different costumes with them from South America. They explained that there are 40 or 50 regional costumes in Bolivia. These costumes grew out of early uniforms worn by the Bolivians when they were required by European occupants to wear certain clothes as marks of identification.
When asked what it is like to have six Bolivian youths move in, Chris said: “It is like having brothers and sisters move into your home for a few months. I will really miss them when they’re gone. Their tempo of life has affected my way of living. I’ve had to learn to relax. But on the other hand, their tempo has changed too. They are so busy right now that they hardly have time to watch the sunset.”
During the time they weren’t singing at concerts or benefits of some kind, they were catching up on their sleep or writing letters home. One of the favorite things they learned while they were in Utah was how to roller skate. “It’s a sport we don’t have in La Paz.” It may well be introduced upon their return. They have also learned to swim and dive. Chris said that anything they enter into they do with their whole soul. They have taught others the Bolivian folk dances and want very much to learn how to dance in the American fashion.
From the first week they arrived in Utah they wanted to be involved in a family home evening at least once a week. So, on Monday nights they were invited into homes all over the Salt Lake Valley and enjoyed American family home evenings. But on Sunday nights they decided to get together and take turns giving the lesson to their own group. They made popcorn and usually ended the evening singing LDS hymns in Spanish.
They like Utah and its people. The thing they noticed most was the layout of the Utah communities where most of the streets run directly east and west or north and south. “In Bolivia,” Luis said, “the telephone books are full of street names—no numbers. A taxi driver knows how to get to any address. Some streets wind up into the mountains, and it’s really easy for a stranger to get lost. Here, you just figure out the numbering system, and you can find your way around. It’s so organized. I like that.”
On May 26, 1976, Rodolfo Villalba left Salt Lake City to return home to Bolivia as a full-time missionary for the Church. “My heart is full of beautiful things I want to share with my people,” he said. After his mission he wants to come back to Utah and Brigham Young University; then he will return again to Bolivia to become a productive member of his community.
Rodolfo Murilla also returned to Bolivia at the end of May—there was a rumor that he had someone special waiting for him. The other four, Raul, Luis, Elizabeth, and Lidia, stayed in the U.S. to attend Brigham Young University. They are serious about becoming good representatives of Bolivia. After their education, they all say they want to go back to help their homeland. Lidia wants to study sociology. Luis wants to go into some technical field. Raul feels that it is a great opportunity, “one in a lifetime, to study in another country. And to do it in the Church university is really something!” His father is not a member but wants the best opportunities for his son. Raul is the oldest of the children in his family, and his father wants him to set a good example for his younger brothers and sisters.
When asked what was the greatest experience they had while they were traveling, they immediately replied, “Meeting President Kimball.” On April 26 in the Church Office Building, the group was introduced to President Kimball. They spent time speaking with him through an interpreter. “It was the highlight of my life,” said Elizabeth. “I’ll remember that over everything else. It was a privilege and a humbling honor.”
Each of the youth has a vibrant testimony of the gospel and is aware every moment of the need to be a good example of Church membership. Every concert they gave while in Utah was closed by singing the simple song “I Am a Child of God.” They sang it first in Spanish and then in English. They said it was how they could bear their testimony so that everyone could understand.

My big sister and I were playing outside and we weren’t getting along. We argued, and I felt bad inside. I went into my house and prayed that I would feel better and not be mad at my sister. After my prayer I felt much better. Soon my sister came into the house and asked me what was wrong. I told her that I was OK, and we started to play again. This time we didn’t argue.Emma V., age 7, with help from her parents, Texas

For Oksana Fersanova, that’s exactly what the Church is like. Oksana, who lives in Khmel’nyts’kyy, Ukraine, was one of the first people to be baptized when her city opened for missionary work in 2006. Not long after her baptism she was called to serve as Primary president for the small group that meets in her city.
Oksana is typical of Latter-day Saint teenagers throughout the Church here—deeply involved in serving and eager to share the truth in a land where the message of the gospel is now taking hold. In areas like Khmel’nyts’kyy, the young converts provide energy, optimism, and unwavering testimonies of the gospel, which strengthen the Church in Ukraine.
Oksana had a testimony of Jesus Christ, but it wasn’t until her friends gave her a copy of the Book of Mormon that she gained a testimony of His restored gospel.
“As I read about Jesus Christ talking to the Nephites, a strong feeling came over me, and I knew that He loved me. I prayed and had a witness that He is my Savior and the Book of Mormon is true,” Oksana says.
“I knew that if Joseph Smith translated the Book of Mormon and the Book of Mormon was true, he was definitely a prophet of God and had restored the gospel of Jesus Christ,” she says.
Her friends taught her more about the gospel because there were no missionaries in Khmel’nyts’kyy at that time. For four years she studied the gospel and lived its principles as best as she could, praying for the missionaries to come.
Finally, in March 2006, they came. Oksana and her friend Sasha Kubatov were the first two people baptized in Khmel’nyts’kyy.
Sasha was only 14 when he received a Book of Mormon from his older sisters, who had joined the Church in another city.
“They emphasized the fact that I was 14, just as Joseph Smith was when he had his First Vision. He was greatly blessed at a young age, and I could be too,” he says.
So he started reading. He read until he got to the Isaiah chapters in 2 Nephi, and then he stopped. He read the Book of Mormon again a year later, but as a historical document, not with a desire to know if it was true.
But when he read the Book of Mormon the third time, Sasha focused less on its history and more on the work of God it recorded.
“As I read it, I thought it was true, but I didn’t have a firm testimony yet,” he admits. “I wanted to talk to the missionaries.”
When the elders arrived a few years later, they answered all of his questions and helped him prepare to be baptized and confirmed.
“As I walked into the waters of baptism, all my doubts were gone, and I knew that Joseph Smith was a prophet and the gospel is true,” he says. “I was not afraid, even though I knew the rest of my life would be different.”
His life is different now. As a home teacher Sasha is learning how to magnify the priesthood he holds and serve in the Lord’s kingdom.
Within a year of his baptism Sasha baptized his mother and his grandfather. His entire family has now joined the Church, and Sasha is excited to bring the gospel to others.
“I am preparing to serve a mission so that I can preach the gospel and bring someone else to God,” he says. “His work must go forward.”
Misha Sukonosov never imagined that attending English classes with the missionaries in Chernihiv would lead him to the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. But that changed after several months of attending the classes.
Misha loved the spirit he felt as the missionaries taught him English. And when he finally accepted their invitation to attend Church meetings with them, he was surprised to feel the same spirit at church.
Finally, one of the elders invited Misha to simply do what he knew was right and be baptized.
Misha knew it would take a great deal of courage to go against his family’s traditions. In Ukraine most people are lifelong members of the predominant church. His family was no exception.
His mother wanted him to wait a few years to be baptized, so he agreed to wait until he turned 16. In the meantime he attended church every week and began serving as branch pianist.
“That helped me come every Sunday, because I had to come or there would be nobody to play,” Misha says.
Finally, when the wait was over, Misha was baptized in the Desna River on July 1, 2006. At the time, he had no idea how quickly his family would follow his example.
His mother, Olga, started coming to church to learn more about her son’s new religion. She came so often that the branch president asked her to play the organ in sacrament meeting so Misha could be called as the music director.
After six months of hearing the members’ testimonies, including her son’s, Olga developed a testimony of her own. Misha baptized his mother in December 2006.
Olga still plays the organ every week. Misha, now 17, keeps busy by helping the branch presidency, serving as a branch missionary, and leading the hymns in sacrament meeting.
“I know the Church needs me,” he says. “I am so grateful for these chances to serve. The Church helps me as I help others.”
In L’viv, a city in western Ukraine, Yuri Voynarovich and his family started searching for truth when he was just 10 years old. For years they visited different churches. Then his uncle invited them to attend a branch of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and Yuri’s parents were soon baptized and confirmed.
“I didn’t go at first,” Yuri says. “I kept searching on my own.”
But his parents, who knew the Church was true, didn’t give up on their son. They invited Yuri to English lessons and youth activities as well as Sunday meetings. Finally, the missionaries themselves invited him to English classes.
“I couldn’t say no to them,” Yuri says. So he went. Then he went to church. Eventually he too was baptized.
“Since that day I’ve had many more experiences that have built and molded my testimony and character into who I am today,” he says.
“I often see people who suffer from bad choices they’ve made,” he says. “I understand sometimes it’s hard because of temptations and peer pressure, but we shouldn’t give up. Later we can see the blessings that come from obedience.”
Yuri, now 17, serves as the branch mission leader and branch clerk in L’viv.
“I am so thankful for the Church and all it has done for me,” Yuri says. “I love this Church. I encourage everyone to hold to the iron rod and never let go.”

Although Gabriel Salomão Neto is not a Latter-day Saint, he feels blessed by the Perpetual Education Fund just the same. “This is a great thing your church is doing,” he says, speaking for many employers in Brazil.
Mr. Neto, a manager and co-owner of a large vending-machine company in São Paulo, has reason to be grateful. He was so impressed with the qualifications of Church member Silvia O. H. Parra, who earned a degree in business administration with help from a PEF loan, that he hired her as his executive secretary.
“We love the job she does. She is hardworking and efficient. We believe in her, and we trust her,” says Mr. Neto. “The investment your church made in her has paid off—for you, for her, and for us.”
Grateful for the Perpetual Education Fund and for her membership in the Church, Silvia teaches English classes at her São Paulo ward to both members and nonmembers. “As I have received,” she says, “I also want to give.”

Your Church leaders are ever ready to help you in your preparation, as are your parents. One young man’s parents encouraged him to choose carefully the music he listened to. He and his family listened to a talk by Elder Boyd K. Packer on choosing good music. He went to his room, sorted through his records, took a pile to the trash can and broke and discarded them. Following the principle of obedience helped prepare this young man to serve an honorable mission.

As a single mother working for a law firm in Phoenix, Arizona, USA, Evelyn Jeffries struggled to find the time and the space necessary for home storage. Although she attended activities and meetings about food storage and tried to be obedient to prophetic counsel, like many Church members, she found it difficult to imagine what she could ever do with the hundreds of pounds of wheat she was told she needed to have for her and her daughter.
When a sister in her ward suggested a different approach, Sister Jeffries discovered the key to successful home storage: consistently and gradually increasing her food supply.
Setting aside a particular amount in her budget for home storage, she purchased a few extra items from the grocery store each week. She also purchased one basic food item like grains and beans from the Church home storage center each month.
Many years later, in October 2002, Sister Jeffries was impressed when President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) suggested that Church members adopt a simpler approach to home storage.
“We can begin ever so modestly,” President Hinckley explained. “We can begin with a one week’s food supply and gradually build it to a month, and then to three months.”1
Sister Jeffries notes that “the beauty of this system is its appropriateness for families just starting their storage programs, as well as for those living in small homes and apartments, where space is at a premium. President Hinckley clearly recognized that change and adaptation are needed so that all of us might benefit from the Lord’s inspired program.”

On a dark December night 36 years ago, a Lockheed 1011 jumbo jet crashed into the Florida Everglades, killing over 100 people. This terrible accident was one of the deadliest crashes in the history of the United States.
A curious thing about this accident is that all vital parts and systems of the airplane were functioning perfectly—the plane could have easily landed safely at its destination in Miami, only 20 miles (32km) away.
During the final approach, however, the crew noticed that one green light had failed to illuminate—a light that indicates whether or not the nose landing gear has extended successfully. The pilots discontinued the approach, set the aircraft into a circling holding pattern over the pitch-black Everglades, and turned their attention toward investigating the problem.
They became so preoccupied with their search that they failed to realize the plane was gradually descending closer and closer toward the dark swamp below. By the time someone noticed what was happening, it was too late to avoid the disaster.
After the accident, investigators tried to determine the cause. The landing gear had indeed lowered properly. The plane was in perfect mechanical condition. Everything was working properly—all except one thing: a single burned-out lightbulb. That tiny bulb—worth about 20 cents—started the chain of events that ultimately led to the tragic death of over 100 people.
Of course, the malfunctioning lightbulb didn’t cause the accident; it happened because the crew placed its focus on something that seemed to matter at the moment while losing sight of what mattered most.

Lately I have been thinking of a time in my life when the weight of worry and concern over an uncertain future seemed ever present. I was 11 years old and living with my family in the attic of a farmhouse near Frankfurt, Germany. We were refugees for the second time in a period of only a few years, and we were struggling to establish ourselves in a new place far away from our previous home. I could say that we were poor, but that would be an understatement. We all slept in one room that was so tiny there was scarcely space to walk around the beds. In the other small room, we had a few pieces of modest furniture and a stove that Mother used to cook meals on. To get from one room to the other, we had to pass through a storage area where the farmer kept his equipment and tools, along with assorted meats and sausages hanging from the rafters. The aroma always made me very hungry. We had no bathroom, but we did have an outhouse—down the stairs and some 50 feet (15 m) away, though it seemed much farther during wintertime.
Because I was a refugee and because of my East German accent, other children often made fun of me and called me names that deeply hurt. Of all the times of my youth, I believe this may have been the most discouraging.
Now, decades later, I can look back on those days through the softening filter of experience. Even though I still remember the hurt and despair, I can see now what I was unable to see then: this was a period of great personal growth. During this time, our family bonded together. I watched and learned from my parents. I admired their determination and optimism. From them I learned that adversity, when confronted with faith, courage, and tenacity, could be overcome.
Brethren, I think back on that 11-year-old boy in Frankfurt, Germany, who worried about his future and felt the lasting sting of unkind remarks. I remember this time with a sort of sad fondness. While I would not be eager to relive those days of trial and trouble, I have little doubt that the lessons I learned were a necessary preparation for future opportunity. Now, many years later, I know this for a certainty: it is often in the trial of adversity that we learn those most critical lessons that form our character and shape our destiny.

When I was 30 years old, I began working for a retail group in France. One day the company president, a good man of another faith, called me into his office. His question startled me: “I just learned you are a priest in your church. Is that true?”
I replied, “Yes, that is correct. I hold the priesthood.”
Visibly intrigued by my response, he further inquired, “But did you study at a theological seminary?”
“Of course,” I answered, “between the ages of 14 and 18, and I studied seminary lessons nearly every day!” He almost fell off his chair.
To my great surprise, several weeks later he called me back to his office to offer me a managing director position in one of the group’s companies. I was astonished and expressed my concern that I was too young and inexperienced to hold such an important responsibility. With a benevolent smile, he said, “That may be true, but it doesn’t matter. I know your principles, and I know what you’ve learned in your church. I need you.”
He was right about what I had learned in the Church. The years that followed were challenging, and I don’t know if I could have had any success without the experience I acquired by serving in the Church from the time I was a young man.

Tonight was their third practice game. Elder Condie looked at the bleachers. The stands were already filling up! He could see lots of Church members and people the missionaries were teaching. He spotted one girl who brought pom-poms and cheered at every game. She always shared her testimony with anyone who would listen. After each game, Elder Condie and his teammates did the same. They shared pamphlets and read scriptures with people who wanted to know more about the Church.
One of the other missionaries tapped Elder Condie on the shoulder. “Tonight we’re playing the French Olympic team,” he said. “They’re really good.”
Elder Condie shrugged. “But we’re not so bad.”
It was true. As they ran plays and drills with national teams, the Mormon Yankees had gotten better and better.
That night, thousands of people came to see the French team play against the Mormons. Throughout the game, the score was close. Near the end, it was tied, 59 to 59. Cheers erupted: “Blue, white, blue white. Mormon Yankees, fight, fight!” With seconds to go, Elder Condie caught a pass from his teammate Elder Hull. Elder Condie shot the ball. It dropped into the net just as the buzzer sounded. The missionaries had won, 61 to 59!
The cheers were still ringing in Elder Condie’s ears when he wrote to his family. “We won some games and lost others,” he said. “But it’s not about basketball. I think people are wanting to learn more about the Church because we’ve shown them that we’re people, just like they are. We’re helping the Church to grow, one shot at a time.”

Once there was a bird whose feathers were beautiful. He sang lovely songs and flew very fast. He was proud of all he could do, and he thought no one was better than he.
One day a flea heard the bird singing. “Oh, I’m the best, the very, very best, the very best creature in the forest.”
“Are you sure?” asked the flea.
“What?” questioned the bird.
“Are you sure that you’re the very best creature in the forest?” the flea asked again.
“Of course,” answered the bird, as he looked all around. “Who’s talking to me, anyway? I can’t even see you.”
“Down here,” replied the flea.
Then the bird saw the flea and laughed. “Why you’re no bigger than a flea!” he snorted.
“That’s because I am a flea!” shouted the flea.
“What do you want?” asked the bird.
“I know that you’re more beautiful than I am,” the flea responded. “And I know that you can sing better than I can. But I wonder if you’re really faster than I am. Let’s have a race.”
“A race?” repeated the bird, hardly believing what he had heard. “You must be addled! I’m sure I’ll win.”
“Maybe,” said the flea. “Let’s try it anyway.”
“All right,” agreed the bird. “Where will we race to?”
“The pond on the other side of the forest,” the flea suggested, for the flea knew that the bird often went there to admire himself.
“Fine,” said the bird. “But who will start us off?”
“I will,” croaked a toad that was sitting nearby. “I will count to three, then you can go.”
The bird and the flea got ready …
“One, two, three!” cried the toad.
Just an instant before the bird took flight, the flea hopped onto the bird’s back and snuggled down among its feathers. But because the flea weighed so little, the bird did not feel it as they flew high over the trees. The flea was enjoying the ride. It had never been up so high. The flea was pleased that it had been so easy to hop on the bird. Just then they saw a big tree loaded with fruit.
That flea is so slow, the bird thought, it will take it all day to get to the pond. I have time to stop for a few minutes. Down flew the bird to the tree and ate and ate until he was full. Becoming sleepy, the bird’s eyes closed.
Nuts! worried the flea. I don’t want to sit here all day. Maybe the bird will forget about the race and never go to the pond. I must get there myself.
The flea jumped off the bird and scuttled down the tree. Hopping along through the forest, he became tired. “Oh, dear,” he sighed. “The pond is still far away. I should have stayed on the bird—he might wake up anytime.” Then the flea heard a dog barking. It was chasing a rabbit, and they were running toward the pond. “Aha!” cried the flea. “This is just what I need.”
First the rabbit sped past. Then, unnoticed by the dog as it ran by, the flea jumped onto its back. Away they went through the forest.
Good! thought the flea. I’ll beat that bird yet.
The dog ran on and on until it was quite close to the pond. Then suddenly it tripped on a stick and rolled over and over. The flea fell off, and before it could jump back onto the dog, the animal had run away.
“Oh, dear!” wailed the flea. “Why did I ever hop off the bird?” He looked up and could see the bird high in the sky.
Suddenly the flea saw a cat. This was its last chance. “Hello, cat,” said the flea. “I hope you can help me.”
“Oh?” replied the cat. “Why should I help you? I don’t like fleas.”
The flea told the cat about the race. “I see,” said the cat. “I’d like to teach that bird a lesson or two myself. Hop onto my back. I’ll take you to the pond.”
“Hurry!” urged the flea. “We want to surprise the bird.”
Soon they came to the pond where the toad was waiting. It was surprised to see the flea first. “Where is the bird?” asked the toad.
“He should be here soon,” replied the flea, hopping to the top of a tall bush.
“Here he comes,” said the cat. The bird flew down to the pond.
“I won!” declared the flea.
The bird did not know what to say. “How could you—” he began.
Suddenly the cat jumped … but not fast enough. Just in time the bird got away. The flea had won, and the cat had taken his beautiful tail feathers. The cat went away without supper.
“Come down from that bush,” the toad said to the flea. “I can’t see you very well.”
“No, I’ll tell you my story from here,” said the wise little flea, not to be tricked by the toad. And the toad hopped away without any supper either.

Margreta found the treasure! Tonight she would show her younger brothers and sisters where it had remained undiscovered for years, even though many of the family had searched for it.
She sat on the wooden chair in the kitchen, looking out the window at the landscape. She was glad her family lived in western Finland. She loved to walk with her father across the fields in winter, when the frozen grain stubble crackled and their breath hung misty and white in the evening air. Once a moose had walked out of the woods, crossed the far road, paused, then strolled toward the lake. She also loved the long summer days, fragrant and soft, when she helped her mother garden and sew.
“Hurry along, Margreta,” her mother said now. “Please set the table and finish cutting the bread. Our two guests will be here for dinner soon.”
Margreta’s family spoke Swedish and Finnish—and two other languages when they visited family and friends. But when they were home, the family spoke Swedish.
She spread an embroidered cloth on the table, then placed plates of bröd med smör (bread with butter) on the cloth. Tall glasses for the lingonberry juice came next. The last time the two young men had come for dinner, they’d said that they’d never tasted lingonberries before. One of them said that the juice tasted like something called cranberry juice. Both said that they liked it.
Margreta’s thoughts went back to the treasure. The family first heard about “Vilhelmina’s treasure” many, many years ago. Grandaunt Vilhelmina had brought the trunk with her to Finland when she returned from her travels to help a sick friend. She told the village that her Swedish trunk held something of great value to her and that she wanted to share it with family and friends. But before she could tell them of the treasure, she became sick and died suddenly.
Margreta thought about where the trunk sat now in Great-grandmother Ulrika’s home, where Margreta loved to visit. Even though her great-grandmother was frail and very elderly, the fragrance of warm bread still mingled with fragrant blossoms from plants that covered the windowsill. Poles suspended on rafters in the kitchen held round loaves of rye bread baked in the brick oven and then stored for winter meals. A spinning wheel, the footboard worn thin from years of spinning wool, sat next to a rocking chair. A woven, colorful spread lay across her great-grandmother’s bed, and handwoven curtains and bright wall hangings gave the modest home a warm, homey feel.
A braided rug filled one corner of the parlor. On the rug sat an old pump organ, and next to the organ sat Grandaunt Vilhelmina’s Swedish trunk. When Great-grandmother pumped her feet on the organ and played the keys, Margreta sang as she ran her hands over the sturdy trunk lid and the leather straps that held it closed.
Through the years, family and friends had searched closely through every item in it and had even peeled back its paper lining, hoping to find the treasure Vilhelmina had spoken of. Some thought it might be gold coins; others thought that it must be a treasure map. Sometimes when Margreta visited Great-grandmother Ulrika, she opened Vilhelmina’s trunk. Margreta loved to look through the lace doilies and linens, now yellow with age. A book, written in a foreign language, lay at the bottom of the trunk. Margreta once asked if the book was valuable or if a treasure map was hidden somewhere in the pages. Great-grandmother told her that the family had gone through the book a page at a time and had found nothing. Two sheets of paper filled with Vilhelmina’s swirly handwriting had faded words Margreta could barely make out. Her grandaunt must have been trying to translate parts of the book, but the little that she had finished was now crumbly with age.
Margreta put aside her thoughts of the trunk and got out bowls and platters for the food her mother was cooking. Her father brought in two more chairs to the kitchen table.
“I’m hungry!” Hans, Margareta’s younger brother, exclaimed as he brought in a load of firewood.
“Don’t step on my dolly!” little Sophia cried.
When the two began to argue, Margreta stepped in, brushed off Sophia’s doll, and soothed her brother. Before Margreta found the treasure, she would have joined in the argument. But now she remembered some of the words written on Vilhelmina’s papers, and she thought of the king who built a tower so that the people could hear his words as he spoke to them. He counseled them that the children should not fight and quarrel with each other, that they were to love one another, and serve one another.*
Margreta heard a knock at the door just as her mother finished making the risgrynpudding (rice pudding). The last time the elders visited, Elder Gonzales had mentioned his family enjoyed rice with beans and chili peppers. Elder Chan had said his family liked rice in a bowl with fish. And both had said that rice pudding was wonderful!
After dinner, the family and the Elders gathered around the table. Margreta could hardly wait to show the treasure in the Swedish trunk. She knew now that it wasn’t gold coins or a treasure map. The real treasure was the book at the bottom of the trunk!
Elder Chan and Elder Gonzales were excited about the book and told Margreta and her family that it was written in English. Then Elder Chan handed Margreta a book about the same size. “Here’s the same book your family has, but this one has been translated into Swedish,” he said.
Margreta’s eyes sparkled as she thanked him. She opened the book and began to read: “I, Nephi, having been born of goodly parents …”‡

Annette swung her blue vinyl scripture carrier back and forth as she ran down the sidewalk and leaped up the steps of the church. Even though she couldn’t read yet, she had wanted her own scriptures, and today she was bringing them to Primary for the first time. “Look, Sister Harris! Look what I got for my birthday!” she said excitedly, waving her scriptures.
“That’s great! We’ll be using them in Sharing Time today,” Sister Harris said, smiling.
Annette watched curiously as Sister Harris carried a big blue dishpan of water, some building blocks, and various other things into the classroom. Annette couldn’t wait for Primary to begin.
“Today,” said Sister Harris, “we are going to learn about some Book of Mormon people called the Jaredites. They lived in a place called Babel. Wicked people there thought that they could get to heaven by building a high tower instead of by keeping the commandments.”
Sister Harris placed a red block on a green one, then added blue and yellow ones to make a tower. “Heavenly Father was angry with what they were doing,” she said, “so He made it so that the people couldn’t understand each other. Voulez-vous m’aider?” she asked, motioning toward the blocks and looking around the room. “Personne ne me comprend?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.
All the children giggled. “What are you saying?” Annette asked.
“I was asking if anyone would like to help me build the tower. You couldn’t understand me because I was speaking French,” Sister Harris explained. “That’s like it was in Babel. The people couldn’t understand each other, so they stopped building the tower. The Jaredite family was righteous, though, and Heavenly Father allowed them to keep their language. He told them that He would lead them across the ocean to a promised land.”
Sister Harris picked up a round plastic container with a snap-on lid. It was painted brown to look like a boat.
“The Lord told the brother of Jared exactly how to build eight barges. Each barge, which is a kind of boat, was built to be strong and tight—like this container—and each had a closable hole in the top and bottom so that whichever hole was out of the water could be opened.”
Sister Harris put the container in the pan of water and pushed it under to make big waves go over its top.
Annette looked puzzled. “But how did they see when it was dark?” she asked.
“Good question, Annette,” replied Sister Harris. “They didn’t have electricity like we do, so the Lord told the brother of Jared to think of a plan. The brother of Jared prepared sixteen small clear stones, one for each end of each barge.”
Sister Harris counted to sixteen as she took some tiny rocks out of a box. “The brother of Jared asked the Lord to touch the stones with His finger so that they could give off light. He did as He was asked, and the Jaredites were able to travel safely to the promised land.” She swished her hand in the water until the container reached the other side of the pan, then dried her hands on a towel and picked up her scriptures. “The story about the Jaredites is in the book of Ether, near the end of the Book of Mormon.”
Annette’s teacher helped her carefully turn the pages of her new scriptures till she found the right place. “Now,” she said, “to help you always find the story of the Jaredites, draw a picture of a barge right in your scriptures. Then your mom and dad can read it to you.”
Annette chose several of Sister Harris’s colored pencils. She drew a purple boat, squiggly blue lines for water, and two tiny yellow circles inside the boat for the stones of light. Then she drew a finger so that she would remember that the Lord had touched the stones.
After Primary, Annette hurried to the Relief Society room to find her mother. “Look, Mom,” she said, opening her Book of Mormon right to the picture she had drawn. “I can find the story of the Jaredites all by myself now! Will you read it to me right after dinner, please?”