Gospel Story Finder

Paul’s counsel, “Be thou an example of the believers,” applies equally to members. Most have not been and may never be full-time missionaries. But all can be member missionaries. That statement reminds me of a report of a humorous event. On a large playing field at a missionary training center, a sign was posted. It read, “Missionaries Only!” People who also wanted to play on that field posted a new sign of their own. Their sign read, “Every Member a Missionary!”

Each member can be an example of the believers. Brethren, as followers of Jesus Christ, each of you can live in accord with His teachings. You can have “a pure heart and clean hands”; you can have “the image of God engraven upon your [countenance].” Your good works will be evident to others. The light of the Lord can beam from your eyes. With that radiance, you had better prepare for questions. The Apostle Peter so counseled, “Be ready always to give an answer to every man that asketh you a reason of the hope that is in you.”

Let your response be warm and joyful. And let your response be relevant to that individual. Remember, he or she is also a child of God, that very God who dearly wants that person to qualify for eternal life and return to Him one day. You may be the very one to open the door to his or her salvation and understanding of the doctrine of Christ.

After your initial response, be ready to take the next step. You may invite your friend to attend church with you. Many of our friends do not know they are welcome in our Church buildings. “Come and see” was the Savior’s invitation to those who desired to learn more about Him. An invitation to attend a Sunday meeting with you or to participate in a Church social or service activity will help to dispel mistaken myths and make visitors feel more comfortable among us.

As a member of the Church, reach out to those you do not know and greet them warmly. Each Sunday extend a hand of fellowship to at least one person you did not know before. Each day of your life, strive to enlarge your own circle of friendship.

You can invite a friend to read the Book of Mormon. Explain that it is not a novel or a history book. It is another testament of Jesus Christ. Its very purpose is “to the convincing of the Jew and Gentile that Jesus is the Christ, the Eternal God, manifesting himself unto all nations.” There is a power in this book that can touch the hearts and lift the lives of honest seekers of truth. Invite your friend to read the book prayerfully.

The Prophet Joseph Smith said “that the Book of Mormon was the most correct of any book on earth, and the keystone of our religion, and a man would get nearer to God by abiding by its precepts, than by any other book.” The Book of Mormon teaches of the Atonement of Jesus Christ and is the instrument by which God will fulfill His ancient promise to gather scattered Israel in these latter days.

Many years ago two colleagues of mine—a nurse and her doctor husband—asked me why I lived the way I did. I answered, “Because I know the Book of Mormon is true.” I let them borrow my copy of the book, inviting them to read it. A week later they returned my book with a polite “Thanks a lot.”

I responded, “What do you mean, ‘Thanks a lot’? That’s a totally inappropriate response for one who has read this book. You didn’t read it, did you! Please take it back and read it; then I would like my book back.”

Admitting that they had only turned its pages, they accepted my invitation. When they returned, they said tearfully, “We have read the Book of Mormon. We know it is true! We want to know more.” They learned more, and it was my privilege to baptize both of them.

Another way that you can share the gospel is to invite friends to meet with full-time missionaries in your home. Those missionaries are called and prepared to teach the gospel. Your friends, in the comfort of your home and with your constant reassurance, can begin their journey toward salvation and exaltation. The Lord said, “Ye are called to bring to pass the gathering of mine elect; for mine elect hear my voice and harden not their hearts.”

Scripture tells us that “there are many yet on the earth … who are only kept from the truth because they know not where to find it.” Isn’t that your opportunity? You can become their own disciple of discovery!

Now in this day of the Internet, there are new and exciting ways you can do missionary work. You can invite friends and neighbors to visit the new mormon.org website. If you have blogs and online social networks, you could link your sites to mormon.org. And there you can create your own personal profile. Each profile includes an expression of belief, an experience, and a testimony. Because this is a new feature, most of these profiles are available in English. Profiles in other languages will follow.

These profiles can have a profound influence for good. Two months ago a young man named Zac—a freshman in college—saw an ad for mormon.org on television in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. He connected with the website and was intrigued by the profiles of Church members. At our website he found the link that informed him where he could attend church. The next Sunday, dressed in a white shirt and tie, he attended church, was introduced to members of the ward, and enjoyed all three hours of meetings. He was invited to a member’s home for dinner, followed by his first missionary lesson. In less than two weeks, he was baptized and confirmed as a member of the Church. Welcome, Zac! (He is listening.)

Each exemplary follower of Jesus Christ can become an effective member missionary. Members and full-time missionaries may walk arm in arm in bringing the blessings of the gospel to cherished friends and neighbors. Many of them are of Israel, now being gathered as promised. This is all part of the preparation for the Second Coming of the Lord. He wants each of us truly to be an example of the believers.

I know that God lives. Jesus is the Christ. This is His Church. The Book of Mormon is true. Joseph Smith is its translator and the prophet of this last dispensation. President Thomas S. Monson is God’s prophet today. I so testify in the sacred name of Jesus Christ, amen.

In fact, some job experiences are so valuable that it might be worth your time to work for nothing. A young Latter-day Saint college sophomore in public relations (PR) volunteered to do publicity and general PR work for an entertainment center. At first his duties were far removed from public relations. He did errand work and was a general office boy much of the time. The next summer he was hired, this time receiving a little pay for his work. Meanwhile he was gaining experience and meeting people. When it was time for him to leave school, his first out-of-school job was helping to manage an entertainer and movie star he had worked with during the previous summer. His starting salary for his first job was higher than that of the dean of his college.

It’s a bright, sunny morning on June 26, 1999. The green grass at the Indiana State Capitol building is looking a little shabby. A trailer pulls up, and as 14-year-old Ryan Tripp unloads a lawn mower, it becomes obvious this is no ordinary lawn job.
There are green balloons on the lawn in the shape of a big ribbon—the symbol for organ donation—and Ryan is thronged by Indiana state officials and a large crowd. Flashing a smile, he talks from the podium about the importance of people becoming organ donors.
The idea for what turned out to be a two-year mission began on a spring day in 1997 when Ryan and his dad, Todd, were returning home after mowing church lawns around Parowan, Utah, his hometown. When their truck broke down, Ryan suggested they ride a lawn mower back to town. During the ride Ryan said, “Dad, why don’t we ride this lawn mower all the way to Salt Lake and mow the state capitol lawn?”
His dad replied, “Why don’t you ride it all the way to Washington, D.C., and mow the White House lawn!” Ryan began dreaming about his name appearing in the Guiness Book of World Records for the longest lawn mower ride in history.
But something was missing. Ryan and his family felt they needed a greater purpose for such an undertaking.
Shortly after, while Ryan’s father was getting his truck repaired, his mechanic, a neighbor, confided that their three-month-old daughter, Whitnie, had a rare disease requiring a liver transplant. The cost would be enormous, and the Penders had limited insurance and funds.
Ryan’s heart went out to the Penders. He wanted to help, but what could he do? Perhaps his goal to mow the White House lawn could work together with a fundraising project for Whitnie! Why not hand out cards to the people he met along the way asking for donations to be sent to a special fund? People could pledge money for each mile he drove.
The Tripp family members all wanted to help, and wheels were set in motion. They charted a course from Parowan to Washington, D.C.; they obtained local police permission for Ryan to drive the lawn mower along state and city roadways, and a large lawn mower manufacturer generously donated a machine. Ryan’s mom, Diane, his two sisters, Tiffany and Chantel, and his brother, Robbie, agreed to temporarily take over the lawn-mowing business.
On August 15, 1997, Ryan began his 3,116-mile cross-country lawn mower drive, with Grandpa and Grandma Meidlinger leading the procession by car and his dad following Ryan in their truck.
Sound like fun? Picture yourself driving a lawn mower at 10 mph, 10 to 12 hours a day, for 42 days through blistering heat, rain, and wind. For the first few weeks, Ryan had lots of fun. He signaled his dad on their walkie-talkies, waved to passing cars, listened to music on his CD player, looked at the scenery, and made all kinds of noises as he drove along.
Then he ran into a problem. One day he was particularly tired from their early morning starts and dozed off listening to his music. He awoke to the blasting horn of his father’s truck behind him, just as his lawn mower was careening off the side of the road. His CD days were over.
After that, the hours became long, and it seemed the cornfield-lined roads would never end. “Sometimes I got a little antsy and wanted to get off my lawn mower and go do things a normal boy would, especially when it rained. It got kind of hard to just sit there and drive along the road,” he recalls. The trek became a challenge to Ryan.
However, each challenge brings its own reward, and Ryan’s was time for serious thinking. He thought about his plans for the future; he thought about the importance of never giving up, of keeping promises and commitments; and he thought about how nice it was to have his dad so close. Reaching his father on his walkie-talkie at any time reminded him of talking to another Father: “It was kind of a lesson to me about how close my Heavenly Father is and how I can reach Him through prayer whenever I need something,” Ryan says.
Thinking about his own supportive family, Ryan’s thoughts often turned to little Whitnie. He understood her family’s love for her and knew he must do whatever was needed to help.
Ryan began to see a much greater purpose in this trip. Breaking records took a distant second to helping Whitnie. And as he thought about her, and others he learned about along the way, Ryan’s prayers took on new meaning. “My dad and I would pray every morning before we started and again when we got back to the hotel,” he says. They prayed for safety, for Whitnie, and for all the people needing transplants.
Finally, Ryan’s quest ended at the U.S. Capitol. Senator Orrin Hatch of Utah, other government officials, press members, and TV viewers watched as he mowed the Capitol Hill lawn. The trip was successful—Ryan broke the record and, more importantly, raised $15,000 for little Whitnie, who received her transplant that same year.
But Ryan didn’t see this as the end of his goal. Throughout his trip he had become increasingly concerned about the 63,500 people in America waiting for organ donors. So, even before he and his dad left Washington, D.C., they formulated a plan to further raise awareness for organ and tissue donation: they would mow every state capitol building lawn in the country, including those in Juneau, Alaska, and Honolulu, Hawaii.
Two summers later, on June 1, 1999, Ryan set out on his second mission. This time he had a lot more company—his mother, his sisters, his brother, his Grandpa and Grandma Tripp, and his Grandpa Meidlinger.
The next 72 days were a whirlwind of state capitol buildings, governors, news reporters, talk-show hosts, and families involved in organ donation. The stories they heard from the many recipients, donors, and donor-hopefuls, buoyed them up at each stop.
“One of the coolest stories was about a family in Kansas,” Ryan says. “I had been on local TV speaking about the importance of organ and tissue donation a few days before their daughter died. They told us because they were so touched by what I was doing, they decided to donate their daughter’s organs.”
Ryan encourages everyone he sees to set their goals high and work hard. “With Heavenly Father’s help, you can do anything,” he says, especially if it includes serving others. “It makes you feel so good inside, and you never know how many people you helped.”
Although Ryan met many good people and celebrities along the way, when asked who his hero is, Ryan replies, “There are a lot of role models out there, but my hero is my dad because he’s a good example to me, and he believes in my dreams. I’d like to be just like him when I grow up.”

She seemed to know instinctively that selfishness never led to happiness. I remember one summer being eager to give a birthday present to a young boy whom I babysat regularly. My mother didn’t give me a lecture on resources. Instead, we walked down to Main Street, where she purchased thirty-five cents’ worth of white broadcloth.
I helped tend my little brother as I watched her cut out a shirt with sleeves, interfacings, and a collar. After she carefully sewed the shirt together, she put on buttons from a worn-out shirt and made carefully hand-stitched buttonholes. The process seemed to take forever, but the new shirt was pressed and wrapped in time for the birthday, I remember the wonderful feeling I had as I presented the gift to the young neighbor. My mother’s gift to me was her time and effort and her support of my own desire to give.

Giving loving service is another beautiful pattern of righteousness often learned in our homes. The scriptures teach of the importance of service, and leaders testify of its importance. Harold Glen Clark, the first president of the Provo Temple, wrote a story for his grandchildren called “Good for One Pass into Heaven.” Brother Clark wrote:
“I was thinking of what one thing I had ever done that might have pleased the Lord most. Deacons quorum president? Bishop? Patriarch? Temple president?
“Then it came to me what it might be. It was when I was 16 or 17 years old. My mother, who often took in the unfortunate, had the care of two grandpas at one time. Someone said to her in jest, ‘Why don’t you put up a sign, “Grandpas wanted”?’ But it wasn’t funny because I was assigned to take care of one grandpa, who had to be bathed, dressed and undressed, and helped to the table to eat. Now I was a fun-loving 16-year-old, and here I was too many times, nursing Grandpa while a good game of basketball was going on outside.
“Once when my pals were calling me, I was inside doing the tedious chore of taking off his wet pajamas. I was impatient and upset. Then I felt Grandpa’s trembling hand on mine. I turned and met his tearful countenance and heard him say, ‘God bless you, my boy. You will never regret doing this for me.’
“I was so sorry I had been resentful. … To this day, I have a warm glow about this little service I performed for a quite helpless grandpa.
“I suppose doing something for someone else which they cannot do for themselves brings you close to God, because that’s what He and His Son are doing all the time, out of pure love for us.” (Unpublished manuscript).

Elder McKim agreed. “I’ve had several spiritual experiences since coming on my mission, but the one that comes to mind happened in Troy. We’d been working all day, but we hadn’t been very successful. Then one woman invited us in. At first she was cool toward us, polite. But we talked to her and taught her a lesson and noticed that tears were coming to her eyes. The Spirit was very strong.
“At the end of the lesson, she told us that for weeks she had been depressed and that the night before, at her lowest ebb, she prayed that the Lord would send someone to help her. The next day, there we were! It was such a great experience for me because I had heard so many stories like that before in magazines like the New Era. You hear these stories, and you think it would never happen to you. But it did!”

Like Joanne, my mother was married to a nonmember. Our bishop counseled her to put her love for my nonmember father above all else, and my brothers and I grew up watching her devote herself to that advice. The bishop further counseled her not to fret or feel guilty when she had to limit some of her Church activity when my father objected to the amount of time it took her away from home.
My parents were committed to our family. Our home was peaceful and nonjudgmental. My father, though he never joined the Church, respected it and had no bad feelings about it. He even proudly supported me financially on my mission to Venezuela and Colombia.
There were still difficult and painful times for us. I remember the day my parents sadly waited outside the temple while I was married there. Still, they respected my decision and stood joyfully by my husband and me later during the wedding reception with which they honored me. I have often felt sad that my father was not a member, and I have prayed all my life that he would someday join the Church. On the positive side, however, I am grateful that my mother never belittled him and showed me a wonderful example of tolerance and love.

While I served as bishop, one of the Mia Maids in my ward came in for her annual interview. It was a bright summer day, and the rays of the afternoon sun reflected off the dust floating in the air. She and I talked about the significance of the small things in life versus the highly visible parts of what we are doing.
Without any warning she suddenly burst into tears and wept and wept. I left the chair behind my desk and walked around to where she was seated and sat down next to her. I attempted to comfort her.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
“I am so awful!” she cried out.
“What have you done that you think is so awful?” I asked.
“I am so cruel to my best friend. I deliberately play jokes on her to embarrass her in front of other people. I am just awful.” Then she cried some more.
“Could you give me an example of how you treat her?” I asked cautiously.
She described several situations that really were vicious, well-planned attacks on this other young woman that she claimed was her best friend.
“What am I going to do, bishop?” I remember her asking me.
As kindly and gently as possible, I explained to her that she must repent.
“How?” she asked.
“Well,” I said, “you have recognized that you are doing wrong toward your friend. That is the first step. Now you have to decide if you really want to repent. Do you really want to go all the way with this decision?” She nodded her head that she did.
Through the following days and weeks, this fine young woman worked hard at learning how to stop being quietly vicious. She changed her plans to hurt into plans that would help and lift.
She confessed her sins to me, as her bishop. Then kneeling together in prayer I listened while she confessed them to God. Finally, she went to her friend and made peace. In an attempt to make restitution, my young friend went out of her way to make life easier and less complicated for her true, understanding friend. I learned firsthand how it is equally as important to forgive as it is to seek forgiveness. Fortunately, these were two special young women.
Within a few months my young Mia Maid friend had forgiven herself—her friend had forgiven her weeks earlier—and she had been forgiven in heaven.
Her heart and mind are now at peace. I am certain that she still remembers how she treated her friend. That will help her remember not to ever do it again. However, she feels no heartache or torture of mind because she has fully repented.

In October 1988, as my plane droned onward to Berlin, my thoughts were upon these nations and my heart felt concern for their people, particularly our own members who had unflinchingly borne their burdens and suffered in silence. I sat back somewhat in reverie, contemplating my lengthy assignment to the German Democratic Republic. For twenty years this had been a vital part of my ministry. My mind filled with memories. My heart overflowed with gratitude to God. I reflected on the history of the Church in the land to which I was going.
Such was the dilemma uppermost on my mind as my plane landed in Berlin that October afternoon. We went forward with the vital assignment to visit with the leaders of the German Democratic Republic. Our ultimate goal was to seek permission for the doorway of missionary work to open. Elder Russell M. Nelson, Elder Hans B. Ringger, and I, along with our local German Democratic Republic Church leaders, headed by President Henry Burkhardt, President Frank Apel, and President Manfred Schutze, initially met with State Secretary for Religious Affairs Kurt Löffler as he hosted a lovely luncheon in our honor. He addressed our group by saying, “We want to be helpful to you. We’ve observed you and your people for twenty years. We know you are what you profess to be: honest men and women.”
Government leaders and their wives attended the dedication of a stake center at Dresden and a chapel at Zwickau. As the Saints sang “God be with you till we meet again”—“Auf Wiedersehen, Auf Wiedersehen”—we remembered Him, the Prince of Peace, who died on the cross at Calvary. I contemplated our Lord and Savior, when He walked the path of pain, the trail of tears, even the road of righteousness. His penetrating declaration came to mind: “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” (John 14:27.)
Then it was back to Berlin for the crucial meetings with the head of the nation, even Chairman Erich Honecker.
That special morning the sunlight bathed the city of Berlin. It had been raining all night, but now beauty prevailed. We were driven to the chambers of the chief representatives of the government.
Beyond the exquisite entry to the building, we were greeted by Chairman Honecker. We presented to him the statuette First Step, depicting a mother helping her child take its first step toward its father. He was highly pleased with the gift. He then escorted us into his private council room. There, around a large round table, we were seated. Others at the table included Chairman Honecker and his deputies of government.
Chairman Honecker began, “We know members of your Church believe in work; you’ve proven that. We know you believe in the family; you’ve demonstrated that. We know you are good citizens in whatever country you claim as home; we have observed that. The floor is yours. Make your desires known.”
I began, “Chairman Honecker, at the dedication and open house for the temple in Freiberg, 89,890 of your countrymen stood in line, at times up to four hours, frequently in the rain, that they might see a house of God. In the city of Leipzig, at the dedication of the stake center, 12,000 people attended the open house. In the city of Dresden there were 29,000 visitors; in the city of Zwickau, 5,300. And every week of the year 1,500 to 1,800 people visit the temple grounds in the city of Freiberg. They want to know what we believe. We would like to tell them that we believe in honoring and obeying and sustaining the law of the land. We would like to explain our desire to achieve strong family units. These are but two of our beliefs. We cannot answer questions, and we cannot convey our feelings, because we have no missionary representatives here as we do in other countries. The young men and young women whom we would like to have come to your country as missionary representatives would love your nation and your people. More particularly, they would leave an influence with your people which would be ennobling. Then we would like to see young men and young women from your nation who are members of our Church serve as missionary representatives in many nations, such as in America, in Canada, and in a host of others. They will return better prepared to assume positions of responsibility in your land.”
Chairman Honecker then spoke for perhaps thirty minutes, describing his objectives and viewpoints and detailing the progress made by his nation. At length, he smiled and addressed me and the group, saying, “We know you. We trust you. We have had experience with you. Your missionary request is approved.”
My spirit literally soared out of the room. The meeting was concluded. As we left the beautiful government chambers, Elder Russell Nelson turned to me and said, “Notice how the sunshine is penetrating this hall. It’s almost as though our Heavenly Father is saying, ‘I am pleased.’”
The black darkness of night had ended. The bright light of day had dawned. The gospel of Jesus Christ would now be carried to the millions of people in that nation. Their questions concerning the Church will be answered, and the Kingdom of God will go forth.

Because of a lawsuit filed by some local residents who objected to the temple’s proposed steeple, the temple was dedicated without a steeple. Yet in a press conference on the eve of the dedication, President Hinckley expressed optimism concerning the issue.
“We wish the steeple were on it. I regret that it isn’t. But we can get along without it while awaiting the outcome of the legal action,” he said. “In the meantime, we’ll go forward performing the ordinance work of this sacred house.”

Of course, there were political and social conflicts in the lives of some of our ancestors, but even these become instructional in the ways they dealt with their circumstances. John Davies was a loyalist during the American Revolutionary War. He had been instrumental in the establishment of the Church of England in America, which became known as the First Episcopal Society of Litchfield. These early immigrants had been taught that next to religion, loyalty was the cardinal virtue. They honestly considered that none but the infidel and traitor would venture to speak of revolution from the Mother Land. Some argued that any attempt to independence was rank ingratitude. They considered the king to be the head not only of their state but also of their religion.

John Davies recounts the challenge of building their first church in Litchfield, Connecticut, only to have it seriously damaged by soldiers of the Revolution. His cattle were run off by revolutionists and much of his property severely damaged because of significant persecution of those who had remained loyal to the king. Listen to this about John Davies:
“After the close of the war a man who had taken an active part in driving off a number of cattle from his farm, and had committed other acts of plunder, having become destitute, applied for relief in his extremity to Mr. Davies, who not only pardoned him for the wrongs he had done, but liberally relieved his wants” (in Henry Eugene Davies, Davies Memoirs, 1895, pp. 21–22).

Elsie Smith, 17, whose house didn’t burn, spent nearly every Saturday for several months helping clean up sites where houses were burned. “Kids from other stakes came every week to help,” she says. “Only 2 of the more than 600 homes that burned in our ward area belonged to members, but we helped everyone.”
Elsie came to the understanding that we all have good and bad things happen to us. “Your Father which is in heaven,” the Lord taught, “maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust” (Matt. 5:45). Elsie says, “It’s how we handle what happens that is important.”

Like Boyembé, Léonce L’or Tsiba felt prompted to sign up for the self-reliance class when it was announced. Her father had refused to support her after her conversion, and she’d gone without food and shelter for a time before getting help from her bishop. Through the course, Tsiba gained greater temporal and spiritual autonomy. “I learned to put God first in my life,” Tsiba reflected later. “I also committed to pay my tithing, to serve my family, friends, and my community.”
Near the end of the course, one of Tsiba’s friends told her about a job posting and suggested that she apply. Fear and personal doubts made Tsiba hesitant. Nevertheless, with the help of her self-reliance instructor, her bishop, and other class members, Tsiba revised her résumé, practiced interviewing, and slowly gained confidence. When she submitted her application, she learned the job opening had already been closed, but she insisted on leaving her application and résumé anyway. Two weeks later, Tsiba was called in for an interview and then hired for the job. She later said, “That experience taught me that God will provide for us; He knows our need. He only asks us to have faith in Him.”

Our daughter, Alexis, was born premature at 26 weeks. Because she was born with underdeveloped lungs, she needed respiratory support to help her breathe.
Alexis was scheduled to come home after three months in the neonatal intensive care unit. But she suddenly took a turn for the worse when she developed increased blood pressure in the blood vessels that supply her lungs, a condition known as pulmonary hypertension.
The day she turned blue while struggling to breathe remains etched in my mind. It was one of many frightening moments we experienced during the 12 months she spent in the hospital. That year was a heart-wrenching roller-coaster ride for my husband and me.
Our isolation added to our worry. Because of the COVID-19 epidemic, I was separated from members of my extended family. Also, it was tough for my husband and me to find support outside the hospital. It seemed that few people comprehended what we were going through. I felt helpless and desperate, breaking down several times at the hospital.
I am thankful for Relief Society sisters who helped my family in our hour of need. I was new to the ward, having just moved from Hong Kong to Singapore. Many sisters I did not know delivered food and checked on me. I was touched by their love and prayers for my family.
During dark moments, I turned to God. He did not immediately answer my prayers, but I continued to pray. My husband, though not a member of the Church, supported me by joining in my prayers. We got through each day with faith in our hearts that God would provide. We did all we could for our precious child and left the rest to Him.
With God’s guidance, we reached a decision we had struggled with for months. We felt guided to have Alexis undergo a tracheostomy. Surgeons planned to make an incision in the front of her neck at her trachea and then insert a tracheal tube that would allow direct ventilation to her lungs. Alexis would then be able to breathe without using her nose or mouth.
During our daughter’s lengthy hospitalization, we lived through what felt like a never-ending Saturday. We faced so much uncertainty that we couldn’t see past each day. During frightening moments when Alexis looked like she might die, we had difficulty seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, much less feeling hope.
But through our experience, I learned that Heavenly Father and His Son are fully aware of us and our trials. I am grateful for the Savior and in awe of His Atonement. Through His Atonement, we can receive unwavering help to get through the Saturdays of our lives as we hold on to hope for future blessings.
Alexis’s operation was successful. She recently celebrated her third birthday. Despite what she went through, she is a cheerful toddler who loves to smile and meet new people at our neighborhood park. Her tracheal tube prevents her from speaking, but she loves to sign colors and read books. We feel blessed to spend every waking moment with her.

I have asked that serious question of myself: “Where would I be without the gospel?”
It was that gospel testimony that helped me to say no to my Navy friends when our first leave came while I was in training camp in early 1944. My naval colleagues invited me to share in their worldly activities; to prove that I was a “man” by getting a tattoo, and then going after drink and women.
I was the only Latter-day Saint in that group, and, yes, I felt a little lonely as I left them to go by myself to the servicemen’s recreation center and then to a movie. The following day I found Church services and Church friends who strengthened and reinforced a lonely Mormon boy from Provo, Utah.
To have come home from the service in world War II still living a virtuous life has held eternal rewards for me.

There were only a few days left until the start of my freshman year of college, and getting my textbooks was definitely a priority. New textbooks can be expensive, so I found a book-exchange site where I could find students who were selling their used textbooks. It wasn’t long before I found a woman looking to sell her physical-science book, and soon I was on my way to her apartment to pick it up.
When I arrived, I noticed that the outside of the complex looked fairly dirty. There was trash littering the walkway, and to be honest I was a little hesitant to knock on her door alone.
But I did need that textbook.
So I knocked, and a woman carrying a screaming baby came to the door. Behind her, I could see that the apartment looked dark and cluttered. Clothes were piled on the couch, and many dirty dishes sat in the sink. I could feel a sense of uneasiness in the atmosphere and in the woman’s demeanor.
We had a short exchange. She gave me the book, I gave her the money, and that was that.
The woman closed the door, and instantly the Spirit impressed upon me that this woman needed my help. I felt like I should knock on her door again.
But the idea seemed so awkward. What was I going to do, just knock and say, “Hi, you look like you need help”?
No way.
I quickly dismissed the idea and got in my car. But when the uneasiness and the thought in my mind persisted, I was reminded that I was being prompted by the Spirit, as “all things which are good cometh of God” (Moroni 7:12). And this definitely wasn’t my own thought.
I had never felt such a clear and specific message from the Holy Ghost in my life.
The gift of discernment includes “perceiving … the source and meaning of spiritual manifestations.”1 But even though I knew this feeling of needing to help was from the Holy Ghost, I still hesitated.
I said a quick prayer and told Heavenly Father that I felt uncomfortable and was going to drive away, so if He wanted me to stay, He was going to have to stop me. As soon as I opened my eyes, I started my car and felt the prompting again, but even stronger—it felt like the Spirit was pulling me out of my car. I knew I needed to obey the prompting, however odd the situation seemed, so I turned off my car and made my way back to the woman’s apartment.
I frantically thought of what I would say when I knocked on her door again.
“Hi, can I help you?”
No.
“Hello, I want to serve you.”
No! I was panicking now, and I was out of ideas!
But I knocked anyway, and the woman came to the door looking frazzled with a confused expression on her face.
“Hi, I felt like I should come ask you if you need any help,” I said.
The woman gave me a terribly strange look and said, “Nope, I’m good.”
After that I frantically said, “OK, thanks. Bye!” before she shut the door.
Talk about awkward.
As I got in my car and drove away, I tried to reason why God would have sent me that prompting just to have the woman deny my offer to help. I was confused but mostly glad I had followed the prompting.
Suddenly I heard a text alert on my phone. I pulled into a parking lot and saw that the text was from the woman who had sold me the textbook. She was asking me to come back and help her out if I still had time and wasn’t too far away.
Amazing, right?
I drove back, knocked on the door, and asked her how I could help. I think we both recognized the awkwardness of the situation, but she asked if I could hold her baby so she could get some dishes done while her husband was at work. I gladly agreed, and for the next few hours, I rocked her baby while she told me about her life, with all the highs and lows.
I could tell from our conversation that she was going through a challenging time in her life and that she was glad to have someone to share her burdens with. After the laundry was folded and the dishes were washed, she took back her baby and thanked me, and we parted ways.
I never saw the woman again, but I don’t think I’ll ever forget hearing the voice of the Spirit like that or the realization that Heavenly Father truly is aware of each of His children.

“I was happy when my parents, my brother, and I were sealed in the temple,” says Juanita León, 12. She explains that her father used to own a restaurant and would drink a lot. “Then one day, a boy came by and talked to my father about the Church. We received all the discussions and were baptized two weeks later. A month after our baptism, my father was called as the president of the San Benito Branch. A year later, we were sealed in the temple. My father doesn’t drink anymore!”

When the Church first came to Ghana in 1978, the government didn’t really understand it and its practices. That led to a lot of rumors. As the Church grew over the next 10 years, so did the rumors. I remember hearing people say that the United States was sending men to spy on our government. That, combined with all the anti-Mormon literature being circulated, made the government very suspicious.
On June 14, 1989, the government closed our Church buildings, sent the missionaries home, and outlawed all official Church activities. We call this time “the freeze.” But as an 18-year-old girl, all I knew was that one day it was announced that we couldn’t go to church anymore. There were even soldiers guarding the buildings to make sure we stayed away.
Since we could no longer meet in our chapels, we got permission from Church leaders to have sacrament meetings in our homes. If you didn’t have a priesthood holder in your home, you were encouraged to go to a home that did have one. It was a confusing time but also a very special one. We shared our testimonies, and it brought us closer together.

Several months later, however, I found myself feeling not quite so on top of my game. I was training a new missionary, and we didn’t have many investigators. Finding people to teach was a challenge. One afternoon I became so discouraged that I began to wonder whether we could find any success in our work. As we went from house to house, trying to find a door that would open to us, I felt as though it were impossible to find anyone who would accept the gospel, despite the success I’d experienced earlier in my mission.
Suddenly, I felt a great reassurance come over me. I received a strong impression reminding me that this work is not mine—it is the Lord’s. And if I would but have faith in Christ, we would find success.
The next Sunday at church the ward mission leader approached us. “Elders,” he said, “I have a referral from the Church offices in Buenos Aires.” We were amazed. I had never received a referral in this way before, and it had been a while since we had found someone interested in the gospel.
We went that afternoon to contact the referral and found Grisell, a woman who had already read up to Alma in the Book of Mormon, which a co-worker had given her. She believed every word about Joseph Smith and the Restoration. We committed her to baptism on the spot.

“Most of you knew Brian before he left on his mission,” she was saying. “You remember that he wanted to be an individual. He would rather take off with his dog in the hills than go to church.”
“Sometimes he would disappear for days—take off in the hills with his dog,” she continued. “We would stay at home and simply pray that God would protect him, wherever he was.”
“Brian has always wanted to worship in his own way,” said his mother.
Her boy had changed. He had gone on a mission. It had been a miracle.
“I wasn’t going to be like everybody else and go on a mission,” he said. “I was different, and I knew I was all right without the Church. I thought I was happy not going to meetings, but hiking off into the mountains for days. Sometimes my parents didn’t know where I was. I know I gave them a lot of concern.”
“But the time came when my friends were going on missions, and I had to make a decision,” the missionary continued. “It was one of the most difficult times of my life. I had never even read the Book of Mormon.
“And one of my friends who was going on a mission told me: ‘Sure, you’re supposed to go on a mission, but nobody will force you to go. Just give it a chance. Read the Book of Mormon. If you don’t want to go after that, at least you gave it a chance.’
“Well, you all know how that turned out.”
“But I want to tell you how it happened,” the missionary said. “I said okay, I’d take a couple of weeks in the desert with my dog and read the Book of Mormon. My friend drove me and my dog out into the desert 100 kilometers from any road. He left us out there with nothing but a little food and our survival equipment. I told him to pick us up in the same spot in about two weeks.”
“I finished the book in two days, and I knew it was true. I knew I wanted to go on a mission. I knew I wanted to tell the world that God still cares and that he provided this book for our guidance. I was ready now. But there I was, 100 kilometers from civilization, and my friend wasn’t going to pick me up for twelve more days.
“Well, I sat down on a rock and thought about what I should do. There really wasn’t any purpose for me to stay out there anymore. So I decided I’d try to walk out. I knew the direction I should go. I knew how far I was from the road. And, although when I look back on it I realize what a crazy decision it was, I thought I could reach the road in a couple of days if I left most of my food supplies and camp gear to retrieve later with a truck. So in the morning, I started out.
“I left camp in my jacket with only a couple of apples in my pocket, my knife, and some matches. I set out at a fast pace, probably covering almost thirty kilometers by mid-afternoon. But then it began to rain.
“It was not a usual rain. It flooded. The water fell in thick black sheets around me so that I could not even see landmarks to know where I was going. My dog and I were drenched within moments, and as the afternoon dragged on, we began to shake with the cold. I huddled inside my coat, overwhelmed with a dreadful feeling. What was I going to do?
“I’d heard enough about hypothermia—where the body gets too cold—to know that I needed to get out of the rain. It was February, and with evening so close, the rain would soon turn to ice. I needed to get dry, but I was too far away from my camp gear to turn back. Luckily, at that moment, I found some shelter in the crevice of some rocks. I crawled inside, and there was just enough space for me. My dog, wet and shaking with cold, stood outside wagging her tail. I wanted to wait for the storm to pass and stayed there for what seemed like hours. It became evident that we could not stay there in that rain. I needed to move and keep my blood circulating, yet out in the cold desert the rain was still pouring down. What could I do?
“I think it was the first time in my life that I really talked with God. I conversed with him like I never had before. I told him my dog and I were in great danger if we couldn’t dry off before the water turned to ice, and if the storm should last several days, we could not find food or build a fire.
“I told Heavenly Father that I now knew the Book of Mormon was true, and that I would serve a mission to tell others to read it so they would have the same confirmation.
“For a moment I stopped pleading with him and listened. I believe I thought he would stop the rain, but the rain continued to pour down in sheets.
“Never had I prayed like I did in those moments. Suddenly, the thought came into my mind that the Lord would do his part if I would just get out there and go. Maybe he would give me the strength to withstand the cold, but I just had to get out and get moving.
“In the moment that I left those rocks, I had a feeling of peace. My dog and I walked for a hundred meters or so in the drenching rain. I walked away from the rocks and into flat, open ground. My shoes, my clothes, my matches—everything was soaking wet, and the rain was still falling down on me in gray sheets.
“But as I continued, praying in my heart for strength, praying for purpose, a sudden soft light opened up above me. I looked around. There was no rain!
“I paused and looked at the blue hills. The rain had stopped only in a large area where I walked. On the edge of the great circle around me the dark rain was still falling, like a gray veil. I couldn’t believe it. The light came down softly around me. I felt warmer, drier, and was able to walk out of the desert.”