Gospel Story Finder

My dad had joined the Church in Utah in December 1991. When he came back to Nigeria, we went to church for the first time. I got baptized in January 1992 when I was nine years old. When I was 14, the prophet, President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008), came to Nigeria at Port Harcourt. My family drove from Owerri to Port Harcourt. When we were driving back, the airport is along the Owerri road, we saw the prophet’s car. We told my father “Follow him”.
So, we followed the prophet to the airport. At the airport, they told the prophet some members had come to say goodbye. Nobody told us to come. We were just lucky to see the prophet on the way. While the prophet was shaking all our hands, he shook my hand and held my it and said, “Will you go on a mission?”
I said “Yes”.
The prophet said, “If you go on a mission, the Lord will bless you and your family.”
I was 14 years then and had not entered university. I got my first degree before going on a mission. I entered university life in Nigeria. University life was different and influenced me. Then the miracles began. After you get your degree, you are required to do a year of national youth service. When I was called to do my national service, I was called to Lagos. Normally, a lot of people pay money in bribes to the government to go to Lagos, but I didn’t pay anything. While I was in Lagos, I had a mighty change of heart and I prepared to go on a mission. From Lagos I was sent to Accra as a missionary. I met my wife and came back to Accra after my mission, and we got married in 2010.
I am from Nigeria; but I live in Ghana. In January 2023, I went to my village to participate in the presidential election. The Church is not there. One day a man and a woman came to visit me at my house. I am married to a Ghanaian, and they wanted to talk to me. While visiting with them, what came into my mind was the question, “what can I do for this family?” I felt like the best gift I could give this family was the gospel. I asked them if I could come to their home on Tuesday to teach them. As I was teaching them, they were responding positively. I focused on family and taught them the importance of family first. I then went to the house next door to teach their neighbors. I did not even start with my kindred. My kindred came to me later and were upset. They said to me, “how can you start a church and not even tell us?”
It was not my plan to do missionary work when I was there. I took my scriptures, but I did not even take a white shirt and tie.
As I was going around teaching the people of the village, there was a man who was baptized in 1982. He joined the Church in Lagos but when he came back to the village, the Church was not there. He became a pastor and used the Church’s Bible Dictionary and Topical Guide to teach. The people there thought he was a brilliant pastor. They didn’t know where he was getting his information from. Because he was technically a member, I focused on teaching his wife and daughter. The whole family got baptized. I was using my own money to hire a van to go to church in Umuahia, which was the closest place. The bishop and stake president were happy to receive us. My father even came from the city to the village to go to church with us.
I told my elder brother, who is a stake president in Owerri, what was going on. He said we fell under the Nigeria Enugu Mission. Eventually, we got permission to worship in my village. We decided to use my grandfather’s house to hold church in. My grandfather has passed away. When he was alive, white missionaries came to him and he said he would support the Church, this was back in the 90’s.
The people helped me move all the property and clean the house. The people cleaned the house as if they were members, but they were not yet baptized. The missionaries came and on the first Sunday, we had about 19 baptisms and later more, for a total of 39 baptisms. The stake president has applied for us to become a branch. My father came and bore his testimony and said he never thought the Church would be in his village.
The group still worships in my grandfather’s house. From my village, we now have two high councilmen called. There is someone enrolled in BYU Pathways. The Church is growing, and it makes me happy.

I was ecstatic when a man called me one day and said he’d seen my bodybuilding shows and wanted to sponsor me. He would pay for my clothes and protein and fly me to Europe to do shows there. He even said I could be in a magazine. Bodybuilding was my passion, and this was my dream! The only problem was that I’d sent in my mission papers a few days earlier. I told the man I would think about his offer and call him back.
I was faced with the hardest decision of my life. For my parents, accepting the sponsor wasn’t an option. They said, “Maybe you’ll have this opportunity after your mission.” But I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I knew I should go on a mission and serve the Lord, but my dream was sitting right in front of me.
I asked a lot of my friends what they thought I should do. Some said I should take the sponsor, and others said it was Satan working against me because he didn’t want me to serve a mission.
One day, a great friend of mine shared with me a quote from President Ezra Taft Benson (1899–1994): “Men and women who turn their lives over to God will discover that He can make a lot more out of their lives than they can. He will deepen their joys, expand their vision, quicken their minds, strengthen their muscles, lift their spirits, multiply their blessings, increase their opportunities, comfort their souls, raise up friends, and pour out peace.”1
That quote hit me hard. So did a scripture I read in the Book of Mormon: “And if it so be that the children of men keep the commandments of God he doth nourish them, and strengthen them, and provide means whereby they can accomplish the thing which he has commanded them” (1 Nephi 17:3).
With the help of this quote and scripture and the support of my friends and family, I decided to serve a mission and was called to serve in the Bolivia Cochabamba Mission.

Three years later I went to Rome, Italy, to visit my uncle. He kept telling me about this church he went to. One Sunday, he took me with him. I will always remember walking toward the church’s doors for the first time and feeling the love of Heavenly Father when I went in. It felt like home.
I started going to church every single Sunday and to every activity during the week. I loved being with the youth of the Church. They made me happier. They thought and believed in the same things that I did. Then, after three months, my summer holiday finished and I had to go back to Albania.
When I returned home, I told my dad about the feelings I’d had and how happy I’d felt during those three months going to Church activities. He didn’t like it. He told me he wouldn’t allow me to continue to go to church. So I would have to be patient for the next three years until I turned 18 years old. Then I could decide for myself and be baptized.
During this time I was blessed with so many people who would tell me about what they learned each Sunday at church. One of those people was Stephanie. She’d been living in Italy when my uncle joined the Church, but she had returned to her home in the United States. My uncle thought it would be good for us to write to each other, so I added her as a friend on Facebook.
Even though we’d never met in person, I will always be grateful to her for helping me build my faith and learn more about the gospel of Jesus Christ. She wrote to me almost every Sunday and told me everything she learned in church and then would answer my questions. She was a great friend to me.
Finally, after years of being patient, I was baptized just two days after my 18th birthday. And soon I will share with my mother the happiness I felt that day, because I will be baptized for her. I know she will be proud of the life I have chosen.
I feel blessed by Heavenly Father because He was with me during my entire journey in so many ways. I just had to wait and be patient because He had a plan for me. He’s the one who gave me strength to go through all the challenges I faced. He was always there, helping me be happier.

This summer my family went on vacation to California. On the way we stayed overnight at a motel with a swimming pool. We went swimming for a while, then got out. Later my two sisters and I decided we wanted to swim some more. We dressed in our swimming suits and went back to the pool. Near the pool we saw a sign that said the pool was closed. We talked about what we should do. I remembered what I had learned in Primary and told my two sisters, “We should choose the right.” We decided to obey the sign and not go swimming. The next morning after breakfast we went swimming again.

As in Christ’s time, some people in our day are not blessed with the actual gift of sight. There was a blind man who, in an effort to sustain himself, sat day after day in his usual place at the edge of a busy sidewalk in a large city. In one hand he held an old felt hat filled with pencils. A tin cup was extended by the other hand. His simple appeal to the passer-by was brief and to the point. It had a certain finality to it, almost a tone of despair. The message was contained on the small sign held around his neck by a string. It read, “I am blind.”
Most did not stop to buy his pencils or to place a coin in the tin cup. They were too busy, too occupied by their own problems. That tin cup never had been filled, even half-filled. Then one beautiful spring day a man paused and added several new words to the shabby sign. No longer did it read, “I am blind.” Now the message read, “It is springtime, and I am blind.” The compassion of human feelings could not now be restrained. The cup was soon filled to overflowing. The coins, however, were a poor substitute for the desired ability to actually restore sight.

I have learned from personal experience that spiritual preparation for the coming of the Lord is not only essential but the only way to find true peace and happiness.
It was a crisp fall day when I first heard the words “You have cancer.” My husband and I were stunned! As we drove home in silence, processing the news, my heart turned to our three sons.
In my mind I asked Heavenly Father, “Am I going to die?”
The Holy Ghost whispered, “Everything is going to be OK.”
Then I asked, “Am I going to live?”
Again, the answer came: “Everything is going to be OK.”
I was confused. Why did I receive the exact same answer whether I lived or died?
Then suddenly every fiber of my being filled with absolute peace as I was reminded: We did not need to hurry home and teach our children how to pray. They knew how to receive answers and comfort from prayer. We did not need to hurry home and teach them about the scriptures or words of living prophets. Those words were already a familiar source of strength and understanding. We did not need to hurry home and teach them about repentance, the Resurrection, the Restoration, the plan of salvation, eternal families, or the very doctrine of Jesus Christ.
In that moment every family home evening lesson, scripture study session, prayer of faith offered, blessing given, testimony shared, covenant made and kept, house of the Lord attended, and Sabbath day observed mattered—oh, how it mattered! It was too late to put oil in our lamps. We needed every single drop, and we needed it right now!
Because of Jesus Christ and His restored gospel, if I died, my family would be comforted, strengthened, and one day restored. If I lived, I would have access to the greatest power on this earth to help succor, sustain, and heal me. In the end, because of Jesus Christ, everything can be OK.

But Bishop Carvalho did not come from a close family, and joining the Church helped him learn how to be a better parent and spouse. “I didn’t understand my responsibilities as a father. Sometimes, when I came home from work, all I could think of was how tired I was,” he explains. “The gospel was like a light that showed me the way. I began to understand my purpose as a man and as a father.”
Now, Bishop Carvalho says, he could not handle his many work and Church responsibilities without the support of his wife and two children. He says it is a great blessing to have been called as a sealer in the Swiss Temple, because temple work is so important to him. He functions in the calling when he travels to Switzerland with Portuguese temple excursion groups.

“Are we going to make someone’s day today?” David asked as he fastened himself in his car seat.
“We’re going to try to make someone’s day,” Mother answered.
Mother buckled baby Jeffrey into his car seat. Jeffrey squealed his let’s-get-going squeal.
“Who are we going to surprise?” David asked.
“Remember Mrs. Martin?” Mother said. “She just got home from the hospital.”
“I can sing for her,” David said. “Singing helps people feel better.”
“Mrs. Martin will enjoy hearing your songs,” Mother said. The car stopped. Jeffrey squealed his get-me-out squeal.
“May I carry the cinnamon bread?” David asked.
“Sure.” Mother laid the loaf of bread in David’s arms, then unbuckled Jeffrey.
David breathed in the buttery, cinnamony smell. He felt the bread warm his arms and hands.
Knock, knock.
No answer.
Knock, knock, knock.
“Come in,” a quiet voice called. Mother opened the door.
Jeffrey tried to grab the bread. He squealed his let-me-have-it squeal.
“Well, look who’s here,” Mrs. Martin whispered from her chair.
“Hi, Mrs. Martin,” David said. “Here’s some cinnamon bread for you, and it’s swirly inside. I sprinkled on the cinnamon.”
“Thank you, young man,” Mrs. Martin said. “I love cinnamon bread.”
David put the bread in the kitchen so Jeffrey couldn’t get it.
“We came to help a bit,” Mother said. She held Mrs. Martin’s hand while they talked about hospitals and medicine.
Jeffrey pulled himself up to the low table by the couch and pushed off all the papers. David picked them up.
A few minutes later Mother started washing dishes. After David dried the knives and forks and spoons, he plunked them into the drawer bins. Jeffrey tugged on his mother’s pant leg.
Mother swept the floor, and David held the dustpan. Jeffrey squealed his let-me-do-it squeal. So she helped Jeffrey dump the dustpan.
Mother tied up the trash, and all three of them carried it outside. David and Mother put a new plastic bag in the wastebasket. Jeffrey pulled a long train of bags out of the box. He squealed his see-what-I-can-do squeal.
Mrs. Martin laughed.
“Is it time to sing now?” David asked.
“It’s always time to sing,” Mrs. Martin said.
David sang “Two Little Blackbirds” while Jeffrey’s thumbs helped with the actions.
Then David did the actions as he sang, “Eency weency spider went up the water spout.” Jeffrey made a pretend spider climb up his arm, too.
David, Mother, and Jeffrey danced in a circle and sang:
“Happy helpers sing a song,
Happy helping all day long.
Happy helpers help you, too.
(They pointed to Mrs. Martin.)
Happy helpers now are through.”
Then all three happy helpers fell to the floor and laughed.
Mrs. Martin clapped a clap so tiny that no sound came with it. But a big smile did. She opened her arms to hug all three helpers.
“You have made my day,” Mrs. Martin said. l

As a full-time missionary I have the opportunity to read the Liahona (Spanish) and to share copies with others.
One time, my companion and I were approached by a young man who asked if we would give him any copies of the Liahona we had finished reading. He explained that he likes to read the Liahona because he learns much from the experiences and counsel published in the magazine.
As we left to get him a copy, we asked him which ward he belonged to. He replied that he was not a member of the Church but had been reading the Liahona for quite some time because members of the local branch had shared it with him. We asked if he wanted to know more about the Church, and eventually, after hearing the missionary discussions, he was baptized.
This new convert continues to read the Liahona because, as he says, the words of the prophets “really apply to our lives.” The messages in the Liahona are not just for members; they are for everyone.
Elder Moctezuma Meza,México Guadalajara Mission

Later President Spencer W. Kimball became a great influence in my life. I am mentioning only a few Church Presidents because of the shortness of time here this morning. How President Kimball taught us! In his wonderful manner, he taught from the scriptures and discussed principles and policy and doctrine in a way that would help lift our hearts and souls. He told a story of a young soldier who had gone into the army. He had written a letter home to his parents saying that he had been at the shooting range learning how to handle a rifle and that he had been taught how to handle a hand grenade. In writing home, this young man said, “In learning how to handle a hand grenade, we were throwing duds, ones that weren’t real.” Then he said, “When we were throwing duds, I was able to get 35 feet away, but today they gave us the real thing and I got 80 feet away.” President Kimball could touch our lives in a way that helped us see and understand things to be done.

Mark had been working for a railroad, counting freight cars, but what he really wanted to do was be a newspaperman. The city editor of the Deseret News became accustomed to the sight of the tall, slender young man who presented himself before his desk every afternoon asking about a job. Mark’s shy demeanor hid an iron determination. He approached the editor nearly every afternoon for six months asking about openings at the newspaper. His persistence paid off. The reporter assigned to cover the Church Office beat quit. Mark was offered the job at a lower salary than he was making at the railroad, but he jumped at the chance to be a reporter.

Let me share an experience from my own youth, an experience that taught me the importance of obedience in doing even small things well. I loved to play football in high school and at the university. I wanted to be a good athlete. I especially remember one game. Our university team faced the University of Colorado in a contest for the conference championship. We were well coached and really well prepared.
The star of the Colorado team was Byron “Whizzer” White, an all-American who was a tremendous athlete. He was a fast, versatile, and powerful quarterback. His athletic prowess was legendary. His scholastic abilities were equally impressive. He later became a Rhodes scholar and retired recently as an associate justice of the United States Supreme Court.
Our wise coach was Ike Armstrong. His warnings before the game included two simple instructions: one, do not kick off or punt the ball to Whizzer White, and two, never let him get past the line of scrimmage.
We followed his instructions and held Colorado scoreless throughout the first half. Early in the second half, however, Whizzer White kicked a field goal. We answered with a touchdown and kicked the extra point. We were ahead seven to three at the end of the third quarter.
On the second play of the fourth quarter, we punted. The ball sailed deep into the corner of the field, near their end zone. Whizzer White plucked the tumbling ball out of the air at his fifteen-yard line and dropped back to his five-yard line to evade the first of our tacklers. Then with the speed, strength, and agility that had built his reputation, he started upfield and sidestepped every player of our team. I managed only to touch him with my little finger. He ran the entire length of the field for a touchdown—thrilling for Colorado, but disappointing for us.
Later in the fourth quarter, Whizzer dashed around his own right end and beyond the line of scrimmage and ran fifty-seven yards for another touchdown. The game ended with a score seventeen to seven. Colorado won the game and the conference championship.
Though we lost, I learned the importance of constant obedience to detailed instructions of our leader. Failure to obey our coach’s two pregame warnings for just two plays—two brief lapses in an otherwise outstanding effort—cost us the game and the conference championship. That is all it took for us to lose something we had worked so hard to achieve.

Dirk set the tip of the shovel into the sod and pushed hard on it with his foot. The shovel made a crunchy sound as it cut through the tough grass that had started creeping into his mother’s iris garden. Although his arms and shoulders were tired, Dirk had to admit that the iris bed was beginning to look much better. Earlier his mother had told him that if he helped her Saturday morning he could do whatever he wanted in the afternoon.
While he was digging and shaking the soil from the tangled grass roots, Dirk thought about batting a few balls with Ethan, Rick, Chad, and some of his other friends over at the park. Spring had seemed so late that they’d hardly had any time for baseball practice.
Dirk set the shovel aside and went to get the rake to finish his job. His mother had been separating and thinning her iris plants while he worked and had a pile of them at one end of the garden.
“What are you going to do with all of those?” Dirk asked.
“Aunt Maria wants a few of the yellow ones. And Mrs. Cox asked me to save her half a dozen of the blue irises.” Mother shook her head. “It seems a pity.”
“A pity?” Dirk echoed.
“A pity to throw the rest away when they could brighten a yard somewhere. If we just knew someone who could make use of them.” Mother laughed. “But through the years as I’ve separated my plants, I’ve given starts to everyone in the neighborhood who had space. The neighbors have traded back and forth until every yard on the street is filled with flowers.”
“Not every yard,” Dirk said. And he looked surprised as an idea popped into his head. “Hey, Mom, may I have the extra irises?” he asked eagerly. “There is one spot on our street that doesn’t look good. You know, the old vacant lot that’s too little for a house. No one takes care of it.”
“That’s true,” Mother said. “Mr. McCarty lives right next door to it and kept the lot looking nice for years. But now he’s barely able to keep up his own yard and no one else has cared about doing it.”
Dirk nodded in agreement. “Everyone says it’s an eyesore, but no one does anything about it. People passing the lot often throw papers on it and the kids don’t care either. I guess we’re all to blame. Maybe we’d all be more careful if a few flowers were growing there, and iris plants spread fast.”
“And they don’t need as much water as most flowers do,” Mother added.
“I could carry water until they get started,” Dirk suggested. “I believe even a few flowers near the sidewalk at the front of that lot would make people think twice before they threw trash in there.”
“I’m sure they would,” Mother said. “You have a great idea, Dirk, and are welcome to all of the plants you want. Maybe I can even find a little time to help you later this afternoon.”
After lunch Dirk was so busy raking leaves and grass and rubbish from the spot he had chosen for planting his irises on the little lot that he hardly looked up. He collected three bags of rubbish before he cleared a spot large enough to suit him. Then he started spading up the earth. When Ethan saw Dirk digging he came across the street to find out what his friend was doing. “That looks like work!” Ethan said.
Dirk answered with a grin, “It’s work all right, but it’s fun.”
After he explained about the iris plants he asked, “Do you want to help me?”
Ethan thought for a moment and then he nodded. “I’ll go home and get a shovel. This old lot has looked awful for a long time.” In a few minutes Ethan came back with a shovel and a rake. He was grinning as he explained, “I told my mother about your idea and she thinks it’s great. She’s separating some big double shasta daisies and we can plant them right next to the fence. My dad says he’ll come help us after while.”
The boys worked fast, pausing only to grin at each other now and then. They were so busy they didn’t see Monica walk by until she asked them, “Why are you raking and digging in this old vacant lot?”
The boys explained about the iris plants and the daisies. In unison, they asked, “Want to help us?”
“The old lot looks better already,” Monica said. “I’ll be glad to help. I’ll go home and get a shovel.”
In a few minutes she was back with her older sister, Andrea, who carried a box with six peony plants to put near Ethan’s double shasta daisies.
Before Dirk had finished spading his iris bed, Chad came to see why they were all so busy and decided he wanted to help too. He went home for a rake and brought back four yellow rose bushes to put at the back of the little lot where they could grow tall against the back fence.
Mr. McCarty hobbled out to see what was going on next door. His eyes brightened with interest. “I’ve wished many times that I could still take care of this plot,” the old man said, smiling happily. “If you folks are willing to plant and care for some flowers, then the least I can do is provide the water for you. We can just pull my garden hose through the fence whenever the place needs watering.”
Dirk was grateful for Mr. McCarty’s offer for he hadn’t looked forward to carrying water to get all the plants started.
The afternoon went by quickly. With so many working together, there was a lot of talk and laughter and fun. Before the sun went down, nearly everyone on the street had come to help, to offer plants or fertilizer or hours of care to keep the garden blooming.
When they had finished and each family had taken a few boxes or bags of rubbish to put out with their own garbage, they all came back to look at their new garden.
“I believe that this will be the loveliest garden in our whole neighborhood,” said Mr. McCarty. “It’s a very special spot now because it’s everybody’s garden. Not only will we enjoy it, but everyone who walks or drives past will have a spot of beauty to enjoy in place of that awful eyesore.”
Everybody’s garden, Dirk thought happily as he walked home. It was going to be fun to have everyone working together to make something beautiful.

I have seen that faith and courage many times when believing Latter-day Saints have faced fearsome trials. For one example, I was in Idaho when the Teton Dam broke on June 5, 1976. A wall of water came down. Thousands fled from their homes. Thousands of homes and businesses were destroyed. Miraculously, fewer than 15 people were killed.
What I saw there, I have seen whenever Latter-day Saints stand firmly on the rock of a testimony of Jesus Christ. Because they have no doubt He watches over them, they become fearless. They ignore their own trials to go to the relief of others. And they do so out of love for the Lord, asking no recompense.
For example, when the Teton Dam broke, a Latter-day Saint couple was traveling, miles away from their home. As soon as they heard the news on the radio, they hurried back to Rexburg. Rather than going to their own home to see if it was destroyed, they went looking for their bishop. He was in a building that was being used as the recovery center. He was helping to direct the thousands of volunteers who were arriving in yellow school buses.
The couple walked up to the bishop and said, “We just got back. Bishop, where can we go to help?” He gave them the names of a family. That couple stayed mucking out mud and water in one home after another. They worked from dawn to dark for days. They finally took a break to go see about their own home. It was gone in the flood, leaving nothing to clean up. So they turned around quickly to go back to their bishop. They asked, “Bishop, do you have someone for us to help?”
That miracle of quiet courage and charity—the pure love of Christ—has been repeated over the years and across the world. It happened in the terrible days of the persecutions and trials at the time of the Prophet Joseph Smith in Missouri. It happened as Brigham Young led the exodus from Nauvoo and then called Saints to desert places all over the western United States, to help each other create Zion for the Lord.
If you read the journal entries of those pioneers, you see the miracle of faith driving out doubt and fear. And you read of Saints leaving their own interests to help someone else for the Lord, before getting back to their own sheep or to their own unplowed fields.
I saw that same miracle a few short days ago in the aftermath of Hurricane Irma in Puerto Rico, Saint Thomas, and Florida, where Latter-day Saints partnered with other churches, local community groups, and national organizations to begin cleanup efforts.
Like my friends in Rexburg, one nonmember couple in Florida focused on helping the community rather than laboring on their own property. When some Latter-day Saint neighbors offered help with the two large trees blocking their driveway, the couple explained that they had been overwhelmed and so had turned to helping others, having faith that the Lord would provide the aid they needed at their own home. The husband then shared that before our Church members arrived with offers of assistance, the couple had been praying. They had received an answer that help would come. It came within hours of that assurance.
I have heard a report that some have started calling the Latter-day Saints who are wearing yellow Helping Hands T-shirts “The Yellow Angels.” One Latter-day Saint took her car in for service, and the man helping her described the “spiritual experience” he had when people in yellow shirts removed trees from his yard and then, he said, they “sang some song to me about being a child of God.”
Another Florida resident—also not of our faith—related that Latter-day Saints came to her home when she was working in her devastated yard and feeling overwhelmed, overheated, and close to tears. The volunteers created, in her words, “a pure miracle.” They served not only with diligence but also with laughter and smiles, accepting nothing in return.
I saw that diligence and heard that laughter when, late on a Saturday, I visited with a group of Latter-day Saints in Florida. The volunteers stopped their cleanup labor long enough to let me shake some hands. They said that 90 members of their stake in Georgia had created a plan to join in the rescue in Florida just the night before.
They left Georgia at 4:00 in the morning, drove for hours, worked through the day and into the night, and planned to labor again the next day.
They described it to me all with smiles and good humor. The only stress I sensed was that they wanted to stop being thanked so they could get back to work. The stake president had restarted his chain saw and was working on a downed tree and a bishop was moving tree limbs as we got into our vehicle to go to the next rescue team.
Earlier that day, as we pulled away from another site, a man had walked up to the car, taken off his hat, and thanked us for the volunteers. He said, “I’m not a member of your church. I can’t believe what you have done for us. God bless you.” The LDS volunteer standing next to him in his yellow shirt smiled and shrugged his shoulders as if he deserved no praise.
While the volunteers from Georgia had come to help this man who couldn’t believe it, hundreds of Latter-day Saints from that very devastated part of Florida had gone hundreds of miles south to another place in Florida where they had heard the people were harder hit.
That day I remembered and understood better the prophetic words of the Prophet Joseph Smith: “A man filled with the love of God, is not content with blessing his family alone, but ranges through the whole world, anxious to bless the whole human race” (Teachings of Presidents of the Church: Joseph Smith [2007], 426).
We see such love in the lives of Latter-day Saints everywhere. Each time there is a tragic event anywhere in the world, Latter-day Saints donate and volunteer to the Church’s humanitarian efforts. An appeal is seldom needed. In fact, on some occasions, we have had to ask would-be volunteers to wait to travel to the recovery site until those directing the work are prepared to receive them.
That desire to bless is the fruit of people gaining a testimony of Jesus Christ, His gospel, His restored Church, and His prophet. That is why the Lord’s people doubt not and fear not. That is why missionaries volunteer for service in every corner of the world. That is why parents pray with their children for others. That is why leaders challenge their youth to take President Monson’s request to immerse themselves in the Book of Mormon to heart. The fruit comes not by being urged by leaders but by the youth and members acting on faith. That faith, put into action, which requires selfless sacrifice, brings the change of heart that allows them to feel the love of God.
Our hearts, however, remain changed only as long as we continue to follow the prophet’s counsel. If we stop trying after one burst of effort, the change will fade.
Faithful Latter-day Saints have increased their faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, in the Book of Mormon as the word of God, and in the restoration of priesthood keys in His true Church. That increased testimony has given us greater courage and concern for others of God’s children. But the challenges and the opportunities ahead will require even more.
We cannot foresee the details, but we know the larger picture. We know that in the last days, the world will be in commotion. We know that in the midst of whatever trouble comes, the Lord will lead faithful Latter-day Saints to take the gospel of Jesus Christ to every nation, kindred, tongue, and people. And we know that the Lord’s true disciples will be worthy and prepared to receive Him when He comes again. We need not fear.
So, as much as we have already built faith and courage in our hearts, the Lord expects more from us—and from the generations after us. They will need to be stronger and braver because they will do even greater and harder things than we have done. And they will face increasing opposition from the enemy of our souls.
The way to optimism as we go forward was given by the Lord: “Look unto me in every thought; doubt not, fear not” (D&C 6:36). President Monson told us how to do that. We are to ponder and apply the Book of Mormon and the words of prophets. Pray always. Be believing. Serve the Lord with all our heart, might, mind, and strength. We are to pray with all the energy of our hearts for the gift of charity, the pure love of Christ (see Moroni 7:47–48). And above all, we are to be consistent and persistent in following prophetic counsel.
When the way is difficult, we can rely on the Lord’s promise—the promise President Monson has reminded us of when he has often quoted these words of the Savior: “Whoso receiveth you, there I will be also, for I will go before your face. I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear you up” (D&C 84:88).
I testify that the Lord goes before your face whenever you are on His errand. Sometimes you will be the angel the Lord sends to bear others up. Sometimes you will be the one surrounded by angels who bear you up. But always you will have His Spirit to be in your heart, as you have been promised in every sacrament service. You have only to keep His commandments.
The best days are ahead for the kingdom of God on the earth. Opposition will strengthen our faith in Jesus Christ, as it has since the days of the Prophet Joseph Smith. Faith always defeats fear. Standing together produces unity. And your prayers for those in need are heard and answered by a loving God. He neither slumbers nor does He sleep.
I bear my witness that God the Father lives and wants you to come home to Him. This is the true Church of the Lord Jesus Christ. He knows you; He loves you; He watches over you. He atoned for your sins and mine and the sins of all of Heavenly Father’s children. Following Him in your life and in your service to others is the only way to eternal life.
I so testify and leave you my blessing and my love. In the sacred name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Earlier this year widespread flooding hit Washington state. “West Ellensburg was hit especially hard and about 200 residents, including my family, were evacuated the first night as up to four feet of water went into our homes,” says Krista Lindsay, a Laurel in the Ellensburg First Ward. “My family stayed with our bishop for a couple of nights since we had lost electricity and heat in our house. The next couple of days, after the flood had receded, were a whirlwind of cleaning up. The American Red Cross had contacted local churches to help with the flood relief. The Church recruited 445 volunteers who donned yellow shirts and invaded West Ellensburg with squeegees and lots of compassion. They cleaned up our yard and helped put our basement back together again. In other homes, they dragged out soggy carpet, moved furniture, and cleaned debris from yards. The flood damage was cleaned up and life does go on, but the helping people in yellow shirts remain a happy memory for all the victims.”

Aïolah and Evaline V.

Aïolah V. of France is a 12-year-old Beehive. So is her sister Evaline, who turns 13 in a month. “I’m glad my sister is here to help me move from Primary into Young Women,” Aïolah says.

One of their favorite things is Personal Progress, but when they read about one goal, they laughed. “Learn to play a musical instrument,” it said.

“We’ve been playing for years,” Evaline says. But then they talked with their mother. She helped them to see that they could use music to fulfill another goal: service.

Aïolah and Evaline are now preparing to perform in sacrament meetings and talent nights, give concerts for children and seniors, and accompany missionaries as they sing.

“Personal Progress is nice,” Evaline says. “It lets you do what you love and do new things too.”

Many years ago, our family had an experience which left an indelible impression as to the importance and value and power of a father’s blessing. The lessons learned may be of interest to you.
When our oldest children were ready to begin formal schooling, Sister Bateman and I decided that a father’s blessing would be given to each child at the beginning of the school year. The family home evening preceding the start of school would be the occasion. The year our oldest son, Michael, entered the third grade holds special memories for us. During the preceding summer he had participated in Little League baseball. He loved the sport. When we gathered for family home evening just before the start of school, Michael announced that he did not need a blessing. He had completed his first season in Little League, and blessings were for younger children.
Sister Bateman and I were stunned. We encouraged him, suggesting that a blessing would help him with his schoolwork. It would be a protection to him. It would help him in his relations with his brothers, sisters, and friends. Our encouragement, along with some coaxing, failed. He was too old. Believing in the principle of agency, we were not about to force a blessing on an eight-year-old. All of the children except Michael received a blessing that year.
The school year proceeded normally. Michael and the other children did well in school, and the family enjoyed their associations together. Then the following May arrived, and it was time for Little League baseball to begin. Following the last day of school, Michael’s coach called a team practice. Michael’s anticipation could not have been greater. His dream was about to be realized. He was to be the starting catcher. The baseball diamond was only a few blocks from our home. The boys and the coach walked to the baseball field, crossing a busy highway. Following the practice, the boys and coach started for home. Michael and a friend ran on ahead of the coach and the other boys. As the two boys approached the busy highway, Michael failed to look and darted in front of a car driven by a 16-year-old young man out for his first drive. Can you imagine the fear that must have struck the young man’s heart? He slammed on the brakes and swerved in an attempt to miss the boy. Unfortunately, the side of the front fender and bumper hit Michael and threw him down the highway.
A short time later, Sister Bateman and I received a telephone call from the police. Michael, in critical condition, was in an ambulance on his way to the hospital. It was important that we hurry. Before leaving, I called a friend and asked him to meet us at the hospital and assist in giving a blessing. The 20-minute drive was the longest of our lives. We prayed fervently for the life of our son and to know the will of the Lord.
As we parked the car by the door of the emergency room, we saw a policeman exiting with a young man who was crying. The policeman recognized us and introduced the young man as the driver of the car. We knew enough of the story to put our arms around him and tell him that we knew it was not his fault. We then entered the hospital to find Michael. As we entered his room, the doctors and nurses were working feverishly, attending to his needs. My friend had arrived, and we asked if it would be possible to have two or three minutes alone with him. My priesthood brother anointed, and I sealed. As I laid my hands upon Michael’s head, a feeling of comfort and peace came over me, words flowed, and promises were made. He was then rushed to the operating room.
For the next four weeks, Michael lay in a hospital bed with his head bandaged and his leg in traction. Each Wednesday, his Little League teammates would visit him after the game and give him a report. Each Wednesday, tears would well up in Michael’s eyes and run down his cheeks as the boys relived the game. After four weeks in traction, Michael was put in a body cast from his chest to his toes. On two or three occasions we took him to a game to watch his friends play. Another four weeks passed, and the body cast was replaced with a cast from his hip to his toes. Two days before school was to begin, the final cast was removed. As the family gathered the next night for school blessings, is there any wonder as to who wanted the first blessing? A nine-year-old boy, a little older and a lot wiser, was first in line.
Over the years our children have come to understand that accidents are not always prevented by priesthood blessings, but they also know that more than one type of protection is available through the priesthood. Today, our grandchildren are the recipients of priesthood blessings. The tradition is in the second and third generations. We believe that this practice, like the family, will prevail through the eternities.

Ross Anslow said glowingly to his wife, “Ann, our three sons will make fine farmers. I’ll buy more land for Sam and Joey. And when Bob is old enough, he’ll have his share too.”
Sam and Bob smiled happily, but Joey said quickly, “No thanks, Dad, none for me. I’m going to be an ice skater.”
Bob snickered. “A skater!” he hooted. “You don’t even have a pair of skates!”
Sam laughed too. “What’s wrong with you, Joey? Why would you want to spend your time twirling around on the ice like a top, when Dad’ll buy you land to work?”
Joey answered his brother, “I don’t want land to work. I want to skate on the ice in a fancy costume and have crowds cheering for me.”
“Just because you went with your school to see an ice show,” his dad said irritably, “doesn’t mean that you’re going to make a career of ice-skating. You’ll get over it.”
Joey’s mom wasn’t so sure their son would get over it.
“Joey is different,” she cautioned her husband later that evening when the boys had gone to bed. “It could be that farming isn’t for him.”
“Certainly he’ll be a farmer,” Joey’s dad continued stubbornly, “after he gets this silly notion out of his head. I’ll let him grow a calf for the boy’s club. Then maybe he’ll show more interest in farming.”
That night Joey dreamed that the sun was hidden by a heavy mist and that he was running through it. Always ahead of him, just out of reach, moved a pair of glistening silver skates.
Joey thought about his odd dream all the next day. Will it always be like this for me? he wondered. Will I never get a chance to wear those silver skates?
When his dad told him he could have Nellie’s calf, Joey was pleased. He supposed it would be interesting to watch it grow, but he didn’t dance for joy like his brothers would have.
Joey began to daydream about the skates gleaming in the fog—leaping, twisting, bounding along just out of reach. He next imagined that he was clad in a sparkling costume and white boots with shimmering silver blades attached to them. Joey signed. Maybe it was best to forget his dream.
One cold winter morning Joey’s mother asked him to take a loaf of freshly baked bread to some new neighbors. To his delight Joey found that they had a girl his own age. She had sparkling brown eyes and dark hair. Her name was Sabrina.
Sabrina’s parents were pleased to find that they had friendly neighbors, and asked Joey to stay for lunch. When they were through, Joey and Sabrina talked about sports, and Joey found himself telling her about his longing to become a professional ice skater someday. Then with a rueful smile he admitted, “I don’t own any skates. I’ve never even had any on. But I always dream about skating.”
Sabrina’s eyes sparkled. “I’ve something to show you,” she said, disappearing into another room. When she returned, Sabrina was holding up a pair of shining silver skates exactly like those in Joey’s dream!
“They’re my dad’s,” Sabrina explained. “He used to be a professional skater. He’s Don Carber—have you ever heard of him?”
Joey was excited. “Wow! He’s your dad? I’ve read about him!”
Sabrina nodded. “Would you like to see his scrap-books?”
“Would I!” was all Joey could manage to reply.
While they were going through the books, Joey imagined that he was Don Carber—leaping, spinning, and waving to the enthusiastic crowds.
Before Joey left, he told Sabrina, “I’m going to wear silver skates, too, someday. I want to be like your dad was—a star on ice.”
Sabrina smiled. “I know you’ll be a star, Joey, and I’ll help you.”
That night Joey summoned up the courage to ask his dad for a pair of skates.
Joey’s dad was unbending. “You’ll have to forget this nonsense, Joey,” he said. “No son of mine is going to waste his life scooting about on the ice.”
Joey persisted. “If I keep up with my chores and schoolwork, then earn the money for skates, may I sweep the snow off the pond out in the pasture and try to skate on it?”
His dad was going to say no at first, but then he thought that Joey might come to his senses and forget about ice-skating after a few falls on the ice. So he replied, “Go ahead, Son, but remember—chores and schoolwork first.”
“Yes, Dad.”
“Don’t expect me to pay for lessons either; you do this on your own.”
The boy nodded. He decided not to mention that he was being encouraged by Sabrina and her father.
Joey worried about a job to earn the money for skates. If it had been summer, he’d have had longer evenings. But now the days were so short that by the time he finished his chores, he didn’t have time for a lengthy job. Joey asked his neighbors about a job, but any available work either took too long or was too heavy for him.
Then Joey remembered that he hadn’t asked Bill Jones about a job.
Luckily for Joey, Mr. Jones said that he could use some help during the evenings. And when Joey had earned enough money, Mr. Carber offered to help him choose the right skates to learn on.
His brothers teased Joey when they saw him with his skates. “We’ll likely be watching you on TV tomorrow,” they joked.
Joey smiled and answered good-naturedly, “Not tomorrow, but maybe someday.”
Dad remarked, “I could understand getting excited about playing hockey or skiing—but figure skating!”
Mom smiled and said, “They’re lovely skates, Joey.”
At first Joey was awkward, and he fell a lot. But whenever he became discouraged, Sabrina was usually there, skating with him and encouraging him.
Mr. Carber sometimes came to watch and to coach. He was amazed at how quickly Joey learned. Figure-skating movements seemed to come to the boy naturally.
With a broom and shovel kept close by to clear the ice of snow, Joey spent every available moment on the pond. Early mornings and late afternoons he practiced the motions suggested by Mr. Carber. Joey’s family took neither the time nor the interest to watch him.
Once, when she saw him hurrying out of the house with his skates slung over his back. Mom called to him, “Don’t try to learn everything in one season. You have years ahead of you.”
Joey answered, “No, Mom, I haven’t. I was late starting.”
His mom sighed. With Dad against the boy’s skating, and his brothers always teasing, things weren’t easy for Joey.
One Saturday afternoon Joey was busy sweeping the pond when he saw the tall figure of Don Carber striding between the snow-laden cedars. Mr. Carber took the broom from Joey and said, “You won’t be needing this today. You’re going to have a chance to try some better ice. I have business in town, so if it’s all right with your folks, I’ll drop you and Sabrina off at the rink for the afternoon.”
Joey felt so happy he nearly shouted for joy as he ran home. Rink ice for the first time!
When Mr. Carber finished his business, he went back to the rink to watch the children going through the movements he had taught them on the pond. He thought Sabrina was good, but Joey had a special talent. If only his parents could see him skating …
The remainder of the winter Don Carber took Joey and Sabrina to the rink often. Sometimes he skated with them, and Joey eagerly copied his movements.
In the spring a notice was posted in town announcing that an amateur skating contest would be held.
Before the contest Don Carber went to the Anslow farm to talk with Joey’s parents. He invited them to come and watch the competition.
Joey’s dad sputtered, “Really couldn’t. Chores, you know. Lambing time. Then there’s—”
His wife interrupted. “We’ll be there, Mr. Carber,” she stated firmly.
“Good!” Don Carber said happily. “And let’s surprise him.”
But it was Joey’s family who were surprised. When Sam and Bob saw their brother swoop down the ice, they were truly astonished.
Even before Joey won a prize, everyone at the rink knew that his sharp routine was the best one seen during the competition.
As the crowd cheered, Ross Anslow smiled proudly at his son.

I was a few months into my mission in the Illinois Chicago South Mission and still serving in my first area. The sisters’ area next to us had recently been closed, so we had responsibility for all of the Spanish-speaking investigators from that area. Among them was a woman named Rebecca.
The first time we met Rebecca, I was impressed by her faith. She lived in the basement of a house, so we had to knock on her window for her to come open the door for us. The previous missionaries had begun to teach her after she requested a Church video. If she had not called for a video, the missionaries may never have found her.
I could tell from what she told us that Rebecca had a hard life. She had once been a very happy person, but now she was separated from her son and other family. Although she was in humble circumstances, I felt the Lord’s love for her.
As we taught her, I could tell she was feeling the Spirit. Our visits would lift her mood considerably. Unfortunately, she lived far away, and it was hard to visit her as often as we would have liked.
One Friday when we had zone conference, we planned to go out to that part of our area afterwards since we were already halfway there. We asked Rebecca if she would be home, but she said she would be working. We decided we would still visit other investigators we had in the area.
We ended up with some extra time there, and we weren’t sure what to do. Then my companion said, “I think we should go see if Rebecca is home.” This suggestion didn’t make sense to me since Rebecca told us she would not be home. It was then I heard a voice telling me, “Go back and visit her.” I felt as if my body was literally being pulled in the direction of Rebecca’s house. It was the strongest impression I have ever felt.
I told my companion to turn the car around, and we went to Rebecca’s house. We knocked on the windows twice, and no one answered. I was so disappointed because I knew there had to be a reason the Lord sent us. I suggested we knock one more time. We waited, and then just as we were about to leave, Rebecca answered the door.
She was home because she had just been fired from her job, and she really needed someone to talk to. She had been praying that we would come. She told us we were her angels. We were able to talk to her and help her feel better by teaching her more about the gospel.
I’m so glad Heavenly Father cares for each of His children and listened to Rebecca’s prayer, and I’m glad we could follow the prompting to go visit her, so we could be that answer. Our Heavenly Father knows all the things that are going on in each of our lives, and when we rely on Him and ask in faith, He will help us with the things we need.

I shouted for joy. My whole high school must have heard. Other students stared at me, wondering what had made me shout, but I could not contain my delight when I saw my name on the list of students admitted to the Philippines’ premier university. I truly felt blessed.

When people learned that I would be attending the university, they looked at me in awe. In moments of reflection, I couldn’t help smiling. My future was set. I was very grateful to the Lord for helping me succeed in the qualifying examinations.

“Heavenly Father, I can’t go on a mission right now. There is so much for me here. Let me continue my studies. After I get my degree, I will go and proclaim Thy gospel.
“I need to continue studying, Father. I need this for my future.
“Thou knowest that I have tried to persuade the department head to grant me a leave of absence for two years. She would not allow it. She told me I had to apply for an honorable dismissal from the university if I choose to go.
“Heavenly Father, I can’t go on a mission right now. I need this for my future.”

My heart was heavy as I approached the office door of the college secretary. He would tell me that I was out of my mind, that I would be sacrificing a promising future. How could I explain to him that the Lord had called me?

“I am here to see the college secretary.”
“It is about applying for an honorable dismissal.”
“No, I am in good academic standing.”
“No, I have not been involved in any criminal offense.”
“The reason? I have received a call from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to serve a full-time proselytizing mission. I need to give up my studies at the university to serve the Lord.”
“No, the mission cannot be postponed, and I will serve for two years.”
“I know that means I cannot return.”

“What? I can apply for a leave of absence? My department head said that I had to leave the university because a leave of absence can be granted for only one year.”
“The university policy was recently changed? She must not have known that, nor did I.”
“Thank you very much.”

After I served in the Philippines Ilagan Mission from 2000 to 2002, I resumed my studies at the University of the Philippines in Quezon City and then transferred to Brigham Young University–Hawaii. I look forward to marrying and raising a family in the gospel.
The Lord would have us sacrifice everything to Him. That does not mean we cannot receive the desires of our heart. Sometimes He just wants to see if we will put Him first.