Gospel Story Finder

The story is told that in ancient Rome a group of women were, with vanity, showing their jewels one to another. Among them was Cornelia, the mother of two boys. One of the women said to her, “And where are your jewels?” To which Cornelia responded, pointing to her sons, “These are my jewels.” Under her tutelage and walking after the virtues of her life, they grew to become Gaius and Tiberius Gracchus—the Gracchi, as they were called—two of the most persuasive and effective reformers in Roman history. For as long as they are remembered and spoken of, the mother who reared them after the manner of her own life will be remembered and spoken of with praise also.

In the city of Coronel Oviedo, a native Paraguayan missionary, Elder Christian Turrini, prayed that the Lord would help him and his companion, Elder Matthew Porter, find people who were prepared to listen to the gospel. After his prayer, they left their room and walked two blocks. A campesino (a poor rural farmer) came running up to them. Speaking in Guaraní, he asked, “Are you LDS missionaries? I came looking for you because I know the Church is true and I want to be baptized!”
That campesino was Isabelino Giménez. He and his wife, Estanislada, had heard the missionary discussions in a distant city a few years earlier, along with Estanislada’s family. But although her family joined the Church, Isabelino refused to be baptized or to let Estanislada be baptized. “I told her, ‘We’re going to leave this city and look for our future.’ But really, I was running from the gospel.”
Isabelino and Estanislada moved to a remote area in the Paraguayan jungle. “We walked a long, long way through the jungle,” he says. “We arrived without anything. We didn’t have more clothes than what we were wearing. We didn’t have beds, but slept on the floor. We barely had enough to eat.” He cleared some land and worked hard to grow crops. But then he developed an infected sore on his foot, and one of his sons got a similar sore. A local doctor was unable to give them any relief. I was very discouraged and unhappy. I wanted to change my life.”
Estanislada’s family moved from the city to be near them. Even though moving to this remote place caused them to lose contact with the Church, they continued to live their religion. “My brother-in-law was always reading the scriptures,” says Isabelino. “One day I told him I couldn’t sleep at night because of the pain I had in my foot. He told me I needed to pray to Heavenly Father. I asked him, ‘How should I pray?’ And he began to teach me about prayer. He told me I had to give myself to the Lord.
“That day, I knelt down and prayed to Heavenly Father and asked forgiveness. I asked him to heal my son and me of our sores. I told him I needed to work for my family. When I told my wife that I had given myself to the Lord, she smiled because she was very happy.
“My wife’s parents started teaching me about the Church. We read the Book of Mormon and Gospel Principles. They taught me to pray in the name of Jesus Christ. Our sores were healed.”
Now he and Estanislada wanted to be baptized, but they didn’t know how to proceed. They didn’t have the means to travel back to the city where the missionaries had originally taught them. Finally, four years after being cured of the sore, Isabelino made the four-hour trip on foot and by bus to Coronel Oviedo—the nearest city—hoping the Church was there and that he would be able to find the missionaries.
“I got off the bus at the terminal and asked a boy on a bicycle if he knew where The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was; he told me it was very far away. I walked about four blocks toward the center of town and asked a man; he said he didn’t know. I began praying to Heavenly Father to help me, so I wouldn’t lose hope.
“On a corner, I asked a woman. She said, ‘Wait here. I know the missionaries. They will pass by here soon.’ I waited about twenty minutes, and the woman said, ‘Here come the missionaries.’ When I saw them, I crossed the street without watching the traffic. I could have been killed, but I wanted to talk to them so much.”
The missionaries were eager to teach the Giménez family. First they received permission from their mission president to travel to the remote jungle location. Then they left at 6 A.M. and rode a couple of hours on a bus from Coronel Oviedo to a neighboring town. There they met Isabelino and rode with him on another bus for thirty minutes. Then they walked another hour and a half through the jungle, arriving at the Giménez home at 10:00 A.M. “I don’t think I had ever walked that far,” says Elder Turrini. “I had never been in the jungle like that, even though I’m from Paraguay. We saw lots of wild animals, snakes, and birds. When we got to their home, the family treated us like we were angels. The kids jumped all over us, and the adults were in tears. They had been praying for our safety and had lunch ready for us.”
That day, the missionaries taught three discussions to a group of about thirty people. Some of them were Estanislada’s family—members of the Church—who had almost lost hope of ever finding the Church again. Others were interested neighbors. After three hours of teaching, the missionaries returned home.
The next day, the Giménez family made the journey into Coronel Oviedo. It was raining, and since they were traveling with small children, the trip took seven hours. The elders taught them the last three discussions, and the following day—Sunday, 8 September 1991—Isabelino and Estanislada were baptized, along with two of their children, Aníbal and Diana; a foster daughter; and Estanislada’s younger brother and sister. They also have two younger children, Derlis and Emanuel.
“When I went down in the water,” says Isabelino, “I don’t know how it happened, but I felt that I was dead for one second. As I arose from the water, I felt so happy that I cried for joy. When the missionaries confirmed me, I felt a beautiful feeling. Then I arose to bear my testimony and couldn’t finish because of the great happiness I felt. Since then, I have shared my testimony with all my friends and neighbors. I want them to feel the joy I feel.”

Elder Trent Yeow is following in his grandma’s footsteps. Christina Yeow was a constant example of service and tirelessly served everyone, raising money for the homeless, cancer research and many other charities. Elder Yeow speaks fondly of her. “I just want to serve and make Grandma proud.”

One way he serves is by developing friendships with the residents of Regis Nursing Home, playing chess, conversing with them and just being a listening friend. All he wants to do is to serve people as the Saviour did.

Searching for a great idea for a youth conference? The Aurora Colorado Stake has a suggestion.
Work.
Now just a minute. Before you stop reading, maybe we ought to define that a little bit.
Hard work.
Like shoveling gravel, digging dirt, weeding, painting, washing cars. You know, just the sort of thing you live for on a hot summer day.
Fun.
All right, all right. There’s an explanation. See, the kids from Aurora wanted to do something different for their youth conference, something grand. So they spent three days cleaning up a city.
It’s true.
“We asked the stake youth committee what they wanted to do,” explained Richard C. Humpherys, second counselor in the stake presidency. “They said, ’something to help someone else,’ and something to build our testimonies.’ Since they asked for it, we took them up on it.”
Inspired by a story in the New Era special issue on service (see March 1988, p. 46), the youth committee looked around for a community they could help. They settled on Granby for three reasons: it was nearby; a slumping economy had hit the area hard; and the mayor, town council, and chamber of commerce seemed genuinely interested in providing projects for the youth to work on.
There was an added benefit, too. The small LDS branch in Granby, with a total of five active families, had a youth program that would love some company. In fact, while the youth from Aurora were there, they could help paint the Granby chapel.
Great entertainment, right?
Buses left Aurora at 7:00 on a Thursday morning. By 10:30 A.M., 84 young people divided into eight teams were scurrying all over Granby. Since they were all wearing identical T-shirts, they were fairly conspicuous. And a local radio station advertising the LDS youth’s free car wash also let people know who they were and what they were doing.
“We went into a store to buy some pop,” said Andy Clapton, 18, who had been shoveling gravel all morning at the train depot. “The clerk said, ‘Are you the Mormon kids? You’re doing a great job.’”
“Lots of people have asked what we’re doing,” said Sandra Hilborne, 15, as she leveled out tree bark in a planter box on Main Street. “We tell them we’re helping others and having fun at the same time.”
And that, really, is what began to happen.
“I wasn’t very excited at first,” said Liza Zmolek, 14. “But then I saw people watching us. I felt like somebody was counting on me, so I started working hard, and it felt good.”
Angelica Velez, 15, wiped her forehead, then smiled. “When we first got to the cemetery,” she said, “you couldn’t even see the tombstones. Then we brought in lawnmowers and weed whackers and raked it up and carried out a lot of wood. Now it looks nice.”
Ginny Stafford, 14, spent the morning on her knees, pulling weeds till her fingers were stained green. She said out loud what a lot of people were feeling: “It’s dirty work, but when you’re done, you feel happy, not dirty.”
Besides sprucing up Main Street, washing cars, tidying the cemetery, spreading gravel at the train depot, and chopping weeds at a main intersection on the highway into town, the youth painted the city’s historic log church, landscaped its grounds, and polished the benches and the organ inside.
“I thought that was neat,” said Daphne Motto, 17. “It didn’t matter that it’s not an LDS church. It’s like we were saying, we’re all brothers and sisters and we need to help each other.”
And of course, that’s very much what the youth were saying over at the LDS chapel.
“It was kind of scary when two full buses drove up,” said Corey Trial, 13, one of four active LDS teens from Granby.
“I’ve lived here all my life,” said Mark Bickmore, 14, “I’d never seen that many kids before with the same religion as me.”
Soon Ray Beaty, 16, of Granby, was working side by side with Aurora youth he’d met only that morning. “We get lonely up here, and sometimes we think we’re all alone. But working together like this, I think we’ve formed some friendships that will last.”
And Vickie Adams, 13, the only Granby girl active in Young Women, said, “I’m not used to this many people. It helps me feel like there are other Mormons around.”
The Granby youth and the youth from Aurora did everything at the conference together, not only the service projects, but the other activities as well. They played volleyball together. They played football together. They even played soccer with an oversized ball.
Other activities included a luau with a floor show, a swimming party, and a dance. But the main activity was conversation, a sharing of ideals and fellowship.
“I found out the Church is a lot smaller here,” said Fred Tanquary, 17. “I mean, there are only four kids in the branch. But I think we all had the gospel in common, and they just became a part of us.”
Over the three-day period, the youth from Granby and the youth from Aurora grew comfortable discussing common goals—missionary work, reading and sharing the Book of Mormon, morality and standards, maintaining faith when the world’s full of doubt. That closeness was also reinforced at nightly devotionals, where leaders stressed themes such as “Little Decisions Made Now Have Big Consequences Later,” “Gospel Tips on How to Be Happy,” and “Your Most Important Possession is Your Testimony.”
But of course, as it always is, the final meeting of the conference was the highlight. In a sunlit room at the YMCA of the Rockies, the LDS youth met Granby’s mayor, Jerry Roberts. They presented him with framed historical photos of Granby, and with a Book of Mormon, which they hope he will read. They listened while he expressed the community’s gratitude.
Then the youth and their leaders spent an hour or two talking to each other, speaking from the heart.
One young man who has been struggling to keep the commandments told the rest of the group they had helped him.
“I’ve known for a long time that I need to change some things,” he said. “And being here has helped me see how happy you can be just doing what’s right. I’m making a change. I’m starting over.”
Darla Evans, 17, said she thought it was great to do something at a youth conference besides entertain yourself. “Even the pioneer trek we went on last year—it was challenging, but it was still just for us. This has all been for other people.”
Another young man, a priest, said that he’d only been active in the Church for a year. “This is the only youth conference I’ve ever been to,” he said. “But I’ve really felt the Spirit here.”
Others, like Holly Mattison, 16, talked about living the gospel in a high school where, as a Latter-day Saint, she’s outnumbered. “It’s not always easy,” she said. “There are lots of challenges.” But she said a talk at one of the devotionals reminded her that the Savior loves her, that he knows her by name and will help her to be strong.
Of course, as they talked, the youth also offered an evaluation. “If my mom had asked me to do the same thing in my backyard, I know I wouldn’t have enjoyed it,” said Adriana Velez, 17. “In fact, before we left, I told one of my friends what we were doing, and she said, ‘My parents would never make me do that!’”
Then the president of the Granby Branch, Gary M. Cooper, spoke.
“The branch was formed 15 years ago,” he said, “and I can honestly say that this is the neatest thing’s ever happened to us. We appreciate that you took the time to come up here and bring us into the limelight in our community. It’s something we’ve wanted to do for a long time. You did a lot of work and you cleaned up the community, and that’s important. But what I really hope is that because of your example, someone will accept the gospel. That would be the greatest service of all.”
The Aurora Colorado Stake hasn’t been around that long. It was formed when another stake divided, several months before the Aurora youth went to Granby. Before the stake was divided, the planned youth conference was a river trip. When plans for three days of hard labor in Granby were announced, some of the youth thought they were losing out.
But talk to the youth now, and they’ll rattle on and on about their “service conference.”
You know—the time when they went to Granby, where they learned that work can be a lot of fun.

I am also grateful to my parents for making right choices that blessed our family when I was young. My parents accepted the call to serve as branch president in the island of Ha’ano in the Ha’apai island Group. Like many couples serving there at the time, they were penniless but they had faith that their call was from God. They made new friends and brought new members into the fold. Their needs were taken care of by the goodness and hospitality of the people of Ha’ano. I know my parents love the missionary program of this church because as a young boy growing up, we always had the missionaries living with us at our home. I remember every Monday evening, our family with the help of our nonmember neighbors, prepared meals for 20 missionaries in the area. I am eternally grateful that I grew up in a home where the missionaries were present because they were great examples to me and I wanted to be like them. Consequently, later on in life, I was blessed with opportunity to serve in the California San Jose Mission. Two of my sisters and a younger brother served fulltime missions. My parents also made the sacrifice to raise funds to take their small family to the temple. They sold all their belongings and made loans to make the trip to New Zealand in 1959. With their two children, they were sealed in the New Zealand temple to become an eternal family, and in January 1963 our mother was taken home to our Heavenly Father. Though that was not my choice, I know that was my Heavenly Father’s will and plan, and I am looking forward for that happy reunion.

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.

Although it’s been nearly 28 years since I graduated high school, it doesn’t seem that long ago. I was so excited to graduate and go to college at that time. I knew what I wanted to study. For as long as I can remember, I had dreamed of becoming a mechanical/aerospace engineer. I was fascinated with aircraft, energy conversion, and all kinds of mechanical objects. I wanted to learn how to improve the world by creating something new and innovative. I was thrilled to start taking my classes. At this time, I didn’t really think about asking the Lord if this was what He wanted me to do. I’m sure I assumed that because I had been planning this for as long as I could remember, it would be what the Lord wanted for me. As I started my first classes, I found different challenges. First, my calculus class was taught by a graduate student from China whom I could barely understand. Very quickly, I started to fall behind, and after failing my first midterm, I decided I needed to drop the class. As I got into my first general chemistry class, I soon learned that chemistry and I didn’t mix very well. Although I felt I was having a rough start, I absolutely loved my first engineering class. I persevered over the next few semesters, determined to do better, for I felt I was meant to be an engineer.

As the time got closer for me to put my mission papers in, I really started pondering and praying about if a mission was right for me. It seemed like such a sacrifice and I thought putting my education on hold for two years would be so difficult. While seeking an answer, I remembered attending the many mission farewells for my cousins. As I went to their homecomings, I remember being so impressed with the spiritual giants they had become. I decided to move forward in faith that the Lord knew what was best for me and in 1996, I was called to the England London South Mission. I will always be eternally grateful for this decision. Not only through this experience was I able to witness many wonderful miracles while teaching the gospel of Jesus Christ, I was also able to meet and baptize my eternal companion. My wife likes to remind me of what the consequences would have been if I had not chosen to serve.

Toward the end of my mission, I decided that I really wanted to understand the Lord’s will for me. I started to sincerely fast and pray about what the Lord wanted me to do with my life. Very quickly, I received a distinct impression: “Roy, you are not to go into engineering.” This hit me like a ton of bricks. Didn’t the Lord know that this was one of my greatest desires? How was I to move forward without having something that I thought was so key to my identity? But I could not deny the inspiration I had received.

A man of wisdom often offered this simple piece of advice: “David, stand tall.” My dad did not expect that I would add inches to my stature or rise up on my tiptoes. He meant that I should be courageous in my decision, not compromising principles, not violating spiritual values, and not shrinking from responsibility. When I have followed his advice, life has been very good. When I have failed to stand tall, life has usually been unpleasant. I recently asked my two young grandsons what it would mean to them if Heavenly Father asked them to stand tall. I noticed one inadvertently raised himself to his tippy-toes so as to seem a little taller. And then they quickly said in unison, “He wants us to do what is right.”

I have five older sisters who all got married in their early twenties. Growing up, I expected my life to look just like theirs—but it didn’t. I graduated college with no fiancé or serious relationship prospects, started a career, moved back in with my parents for a while, traveled, bought a house, had amazing roommates, and charted my own course. I never felt at all excluded in my family, but there were times that I felt very single and wanted a husband and children like my sisters had.
And wasn’t that what God wanted for me too?
I wasn’t always lonely, of course. And I certainly knew that God hadn’t abandoned me—I had many amazing blessings in my life. I was able to focus on my spiritual and mental health, I volunteered and met incredible people, and I had the time and energy to serve in unique ways. When I felt discouraged, I kept telling myself that I was learning and growing and that God was aware of me.
Eventually I did get married, and it was absolutely worth the wait. A few days after our wedding, I had this very clear thought: “I am so grateful for the wait. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”
I was honestly a bit surprised by this moment of revelation. Wouldn’t I have wanted to meet my husband much sooner? But for me, I was a better person and spouse because of all I had learned and experienced while waiting for this eternal blessing. I would have missed out on so much growth without that time.
Of course, one person’s timing isn’t better or worse than another’s. The timing of marriage is up to you and God, and growth can happen at any stage of life—married or unmarried, with or without children, etc. And I would continue to keep learning and growing; obviously marriage isn’t a final destination in our growth and spiritual development. But for me, there were crucial experiences that would likely not have happened under other circumstances, and I am grateful for how they have shaped who I am.

During the week, Alba Fonseca lives a busy life as a high school student. Besides school and seminary, she manages to squeeze in time for violin, piano, soccer, and dance.
But on Sundays, Alba takes on a role unlike most other 14-year-olds. Stop by her Spanish-speaking branch in Ogden, Utah, and you may find her sitting in a side pew, whispering English words into a tiny microphone attached to headphones atop her head.
Even at 14 Alba isn’t a newcomer to the world of interpreting. In fact, Alba has been interpreting for everything from sacrament meeting to stake conference since she was just 11 years old. And long before that, Alba was interpreting for parents, teachers, and students at her elementary school.
Talking with Alba, you probably wouldn’t even consider that English is her second language. Even though she has always lived in the United States, Alba’s parents are from Colombia, and Spanish was the first language Alba learned as a child.
It wasn’t until she attended preschool that Alba first started learning English. Even though she was very young, she remembers how frustrating it was at times. But she picked up the language quickly.
When kindergarten started, Alba’s teacher knew she was bilingual, so she assigned her a seat next to a boy who couldn’t speak any English. She asked Alba to translate basic phrases for him such as “write your name here.”
One day, a mother who couldn’t speak any English stopped by the office. The staff could not find anyone in the whole school to interpret for her. When Alba’s teacher learned of the dilemma, she immediately recommended her five-year-old interpreter. From then on—from parent-teacher conferences to phone calls—the school asked young Alba for help whenever they needed an interpreter.
“At least three times a week they would call me out of class,” she says. “It was exciting for me. I felt special,” she said with a laugh, “and I could get out of class.”
Eventually Alba started translating for her Spanish branch. In the beginning, she would sit behind English-speaking visitors (such as the stake Young Women presidency), and whisper the translation to them. It wasn’t until a few years later that the branch started using headphones with microphones.
Learning Church words in English was like learning a whole new language for Alba. “It was totally new for me because as a child I had never read the scriptures in English. I had never done anything that had to do with the Church in English—only in Spanish,” she says. “So it was really weird for me to learn all these English words—like the different levels of the priesthood—all these words I had never heard before.”
For the first few years, Alba really struggled with some of the English terms. But now she is in an English seminary class and has read the Book of Mormon in English. She says this has really helped.
Even though she still makes mistakes once in a while, Alba has overcome a lot of the self-consciousness she used to feel. She says she still gets nervous for the big events, but mostly she thinks it’s fun and exciting that she can help out.
Now Alba is helping out wherever and whenever she can. Sometimes it’s as simple as helping someone at the store, or sometimes it’s for big events, such as the missionary conference she helped out with last year.
“I had to translate for all these people! So I prayed, and Heavenly Father helped me through it,” she says. “Words I had never heard before, I just said them. It was really awesome, and I could feel the Spirit.”
Even though it has often been challenging, Alba is grateful for the opportunities she’s had to use her language skills to serve. “It helps me to see that I can help other people,” she says. “It has really strengthened my testimony of service.”
Alba loves helping other people feel the Spirit and better understand the messages in sacrament meeting. She also thinks that interpreting for her Spanish branch has helped her stay in tune with the Spirit.
“It has really helped me a lot, because in sacrament meeting, sometimes it’s easy for my thoughts to wander,” she says. “But now I pay attention more, I am more focused, and I understand what the speaker is trying to say.”

Some of the sweetest memories of my childhood center in the occasional summer and fall days spent with my brothers at Uncle Zene’s farm in rural Virginia. There we hiked through woods with fragrant wildflowers. We marveled at flying squirrels, colorful birds, and even occasionally discovered a fox or pheasant. Meandering streams invited us to catch sunfish, and a cool, pure spring satisfied our thirst. There were roasted hot dogs, potato salad, sweet pickles, and of course hot apple pie with homemade ice cream. Every turn of the crank heightened our anticipation of that seldom-savored treat. But the most treasured experience was the rope swing Uncle Zene had hung in a tall tree near a beautiful brook. Its long gliding passes provided hours of pure joy. We would arch our backs and fling our legs and feet to see who could go the fastest and highest. It was sheer delight.
Once, to treat me to even more excitement, my brother Gerald put me on the wooden seat, then rotated the swing until the ropes were twisted in a double row of knots. With a mighty thrust he launched me into a spin of ever-increasing velocity. At first there was a feeling of exhilaration as I began to pick up speed. That short-lived pleasure was quickly replaced by increasing feelings of dizziness, nausea, and just plain terror. When the horrible experience was over, I couldn’t walk without falling, my head reeled, and I was certain my stomach would never again be the same.
Throughout it all, Gerald jumped with glee. When I finally fell out of the seat, he shouted, “Wasn’t that terrific?”
My mind thought, “You’re crazy,” but my mouth said, “Yeah, that was great. Get in and I’ll show you how much fun it is.”

Missionary work is well to the forefront of British seminary students’ minds, though most don’t have to suffer as dramatically as 18-year-old David Clinch in order to go on a mission.
David is a dedicated fourth-year student who works in a factory on a Government Youth Training Scheme. Unfortunately, due to an uneven floor, a trolley load of heavy metal bars fell on his leg last October. As he reached out to fend off the bars, he lost the tips off two fingers and received a severely broken ankle.
David had a priesthood blessing, and in far less time than the doctors predicted, David’s body healed. The bones in the ankle knitted perfectly, and he was mending so fast the doctor prescribed ointment to slow down the finger skin growth.
Despite pain and inconvenience, David kept up with his seminary booklets and accepted the challenge of using the time to learn scriptures. His favourite has become D&C 14:7 about enduring to the end. A surprise blessing was in store. His employers paid enough compensation to allow David to go on a mission next year.

Thousands of young Latter-day Saints are learning, just as Esther and Lula Greene Richards learned, that it still takes sacrifice to save lives in his kingdom. Tanya, a Laurel class president from Tasmania, caught the vision of her responsibility as a leader of youth today. Following a visit by a member of the Young Women general presidency, she wrote:
“After the first night I got really inspired and filled with the Spirit. I can’t really remember when I have felt like it before. That night I went home and prayed to my Father in heaven and asked for strength and help so my inactive Laurels will want to come back. That night I felt a real peace come over my soul. Then when I heard you again, the same feeling came over me, and I realized how powerful and wonderful the Holy Ghost is. I immediately wrote to the girls. I love my girls in the Young Women organization because they share the same interests and goals that I hope to achieve. I realize that one day I will have to answer to the Lord, so I’m going to press on and work with my leaders. I’m not going to live on a borrowed testimony; I’m going to get my own through hard work.”

“Would you accept Moses as a prophet of God if he lived today?” I asked.
“Why, yes,” answered my friend, “without any doubt!”
“What if he wore modern clothing and drove a car? What if he were a husband, a father, and a devoted citizen of the country in which he lived?”
“Moses would never have been like other men,” my friend replied. “He was Moses, the prophet—the man who communed with God!”
It did not occur to my friend that Moses had been much like the other men of his time. For my friend, it was inconceivable that a man who lived in modern times could be a mouthpiece for God—and could act and speak in his name.
“I met a prophet once,” I told my friend. “He was a highly respected businessman, a wonderful husband and father, a devoted citizen. Even though I wa a child when I met him, I knew that he was a true prophet of God.”
The place was Hamburg, Germany—the year, 1937. President Heber J. Grant was touring the European missions. The branch of the Church to which my family belonged met in a rented hall in a soap factory, squeezed into a back alley of a thickly populated industrial district. Here people from all the northern and western districts of Germany had assembled to see and hear the prophet speak.
A gifted poet in our branch had written a long poem for the occasion, and I had been chosen to greet President Grant and recite it. The night before the prophet’s visit, my mother came to my room to say good night. “Tomorrow you will shake hands with a prophet of God,” she said. “What a great privilege that is! I am sure it is because of your faith that you have been asked.”
I was glad it was dark in my room so my mother could not notice my despair. The minute she left my bedside, I prayed, begging my Heavenly Father to forgive my sins and help me be worthy to meet the prophet. My mother spent half the night at the sewing machine, finishing a lovely new dress for me to wear. Normally, this would have excited me tremendously, but not now. I felt that the prophet would be able to see into my heart, and that he would know of my sins and of how vain I was.
The next day in school seemed like a nightmare. Every time I looked at the big clock on the wall, I panicked about how little time I had left to repent of all my misdeeds! I was very withdrawn, and my school friends thought I was ill. I preferred to let them think that way instead of letting them know my secret.
Finally the hour arrived. After President Grant was welcomed, I was to hand him a large bouquet of long-stemmed roses and then recite the poem with the aid of an interpreter.
The floor beneath me shook as I walked toward President Grant. With each breath, I had been praying. Now there was nothing I could do but go ahead.
When President Grant saw me, he rose from his chair. He seemed as tall as a mountain. His friendly eyes looked deeply into mine as he stretched forth his arms and pulled me toward him. My entire body went numb, and the bouquet dropped to the floor. President Grant bent down to retrieve the roses for me. Then he hugged me and stroked my head, waiting patiently until I was ready to begin.
Suddenly all my fear vanished, and I felt an indescribable happiness. I had always pictured my Father in Heaven as loving, kind, and sensitive, and it was natural that his prophet would have all those qualities that were so dear to me. From then on, I knew that I would always be able to recognize a true prophet—by the love and concern he shows for our Heavenly Father’s children.

When Caroline was five, she woke between 2:00 and 3:00 a.m. for many nights in a row. One night after this unwelcome wake-up call, I wrote this:
As I was changing her diaper just now, I was absentmindedly singing one of the [Primary] songs that Lizzy [our older daughter] has declared we shall now sing for bedtime every night. … “God gave us families to help us become what He wants us to be.”2 And I looked at Caroline and suddenly the words came to the forefront of my consciousness.
God gave me a family—including this 2:00 a.m. waker—to help me become what He wants me to be. … “This is how He shares His love,” the chorus continues, “for the fam’ly is of God.”
That night I felt a brief, blessed communion with God, a confirmation that He was, in that moment, personally aware of me and Caroline and our family. He loves us. And He, my Father, gave me encouragement by teaching me why we face such challenges: “to help us become what He wants us to be.”

Similar to the above accident, but with much more serious consequences, was the situation of a young man who came to see me. He confessed to a serious sin, but thought that he should be allowed to continue as if nothing had happened because “It was an accident. I really didn’t intend to do it,” he said.

No one really wants to commit sins, but at the same time, I don’t think that very many, if any, sins are really as much an accident as they are the direct result of “loss of control.”

When I interviewed in-depth this young man I found out that his life was very much out of control. He was seeing the same young lady much, much too often and was spending too many hours at a time with her, and they were going to the wrong places and doing the wrong things. They were “an accident waiting for a place to happen.” Satan provided the place, and the “accident” happened. They were living too fast. They had lost control of their speed. They were going in the wrong direction. They were not in holy places. They were not doing the right things. They were not home at the appropriate hour their parents had asked them to be. They had begun to lose their virtue piecemeal. No one was in control at all.

Dr. MacFarland also told about a World War II veteran who had heard him speak. This veteran sat down at his kitchen table and wrote a longhand letter to Dr. MacFarland. He wrote, “My wife and I don’t have much. I doubt we will ever have enough money to travel outside of Arizona. I was a soldier in World War II and was taken prisoner. For two years we didn’t hear one bit of news as to how the war was going. In all those months I never lost faith,” he said, “and then one morning I saw the American flag and a band of soldiers coming over the hill. I don’t know if anyone can understand the love I felt for my country that day, and have all of my life. I felt the same way the other night when I heard you talk.” Then he wrote, “Dr. MacFarland, you’re quite a guy. You just stay in there laying them on the landing deck.”

But on Sunday, 11 September 1983, at about three o’clock in the morning, I had a dream. I dreamed that I saw a native American woman with long braids streaked with gray. She was stirring something in a cooking pot. In my dream, I was in her home. Stretched animal skins formed the walls and roof, and poles of clean natural wood supported the walls, which were lashed together with leather strips. The home was small in circumference, but the roof was high enough for me to stand comfortably.
The woman spoke with me, and we talked for some time. I felt comfortable being with her and felt her warm hospitality. I don’t remember what was said, but she told me her name over and over again—Nanah-ku-chi. Another woman was with her, holding a child about two or three years old, with black shoulder-length hair. Their clothing, simple in design, appeared to be made from animal skins, cleaned and softened.
Three times the Spirit prompted me to get up and write, until I finally climbed out of bed and found paper and a pencil. I then sat at the dining-room table and wrote the words that came into my mind.
The Spirit made known to me that, if I were faithful, I would be led to find my ancestors’ names, and that Nanah-ku-chi, one of the women I had seen in the dream, was my ancestor. I seemed to hear in my mind, “Now is the time to labor for thy dead.”
I felt prompted to go to Philadelphia, Mississippi, where I would be given the names of those whose temple work needed to be done. “Be faithful, and it shall come unto thee line upon line,” the Spirit seemed to say. I have always believed in personal revelation, but this experience carried with it a force far beyond what I had expected.

In early 2020, within a day of each other, Gordon Matenga and Brandt Shortland were appointed district court judges for their respective New Zealand regions.
Both men are of indigenous Maori heritage and both had also served as acting chief coroners, but these are only some of the many parallels in their lives. It turns out, Gordon Matenga and Brandt Shortland are longtime friends with so much more in common.
They are both members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and have known each other since they attended Church College of New Zealand (CCNZ).
“I lived in Dinsdale, Hamilton . . . so I was a day student since 1977,” Gordon recalls. Brandt, who is a year older, enrolled in 1978. “That’s when we first got to know each other.”
It was a teacher at CCNZ, Brother Jim Kingi, who first planted the seed in Gordon’s mind that law could be a career for him. He didn’t know then that Brandt would eventually choose a similar path.
In his final year, each was elected CCNZ’s student body president, Brandt in 1980 and Gordon in 1981. They went on to serve full-time missions for the Church in Australia—Brandt in Perth and Gordon in Brisbane.
After his mission, Brandt enrolled at Waikato University to study social sciences. When Gordon returned, he signed up for pre-law at Waikato, where he and Brandt did a Maori paper together.
From there, Brandt gained a law degree at Victoria University, and Gordon finished his studies at the University of Auckland. They reunited in Hamilton in the early stages of their respective law careers.
The parallels continued.
In 1996, Gordon became the first Maori coroner in New Zealand, and a decade later, he was appointed full-time coroner for both the Waikato and Bay of Plenty regions. That same year, 2007, Brandt left a thriving law practice in Hamilton to accept his own full-time coroners’ role in the Te Tai Tokerau (Northland) region.
As coroners, they’ve each had to “manage the impact of dealing with death on a daily basis,” Brandt says. “On top of that . . . dealing with grieving whanau (families) in the rawest of times is a tough ask.” He coped by keeping himself physically fit and attending church regularly. “I have been lucky,” he adds, “with a whanau that keep my feet on the ground.”
Gordon remembers a difficult call regarding a 3-year-old who had drowned in a paddling pool. “I immediately went outside, emptied out [my own child’s] paddling pool and put it away.” But Gordon says it was only when the details of a case mirrored his own life somehow that it could affect him this way. “Otherwise, I didn’t find it that difficult . . . because of our knowledge of the plan of salvation. I knew that death is a part of life.”
Over the years, both have also served in various Church leadership roles. When they became district court judges, each had to be released as the first counsellor in his respective stake presidency.
“Everyone is entitled to be equal before the law,” says Gordon, “. . . to be represented.” Brandt says it’s about balancing human compassion with the requirements of the law. “I’d like to be remembered for being fair and respectful to all who appeared in front of me.”
These days, the friends don’t get to see each other as often as they’d like, but they continue to appreciate and support each other from afar. “Brandt has an uncanny ability. . .to remember people’s names,” Gordon says, “and he can talk to anyone . . . people warm to him. I admire that because it’s not one of my strengths.”
“[Gordon] has always been calm and measured in . . . all that he does,” Brandt says. “He has been a faithful servant. He has outlasted the trials that should have taken his life.” On top of all that, Brandt adds, “He is a great musician who loves to sing.”

Last year one of my grandsons took his wife to New York City with their parents to attend the beautiful new Manhattan temple. The hustle and bustle and noise of the thousands of people outside was deafening. As the taxi pulled up in front of the temple, Katherine, my grandson’s wife, began to cry. Even on the outside of the temple she felt its sacredness. They entered, left the noisome world, and worshiped in the house of the Lord. It was a sacred and unforgettable experience for them.